2 years ago

I know it’s been awhile since I blogged.  Not much to say.  Everything has been going along fine.  We’re back in school so it’s been crazy busy and to be honest I spent the last month of summer just soaking the time up with my WeeMan.  He’s growing like a weed – we had a frantic end of summer rush to find jeans in the next size because over the summer his 4’s turned into flood pants – and we were having trouble buttoning them.  Unexpected!  He won’t be 5 until December.  

What brought me back tonight?  Just reflecting.  Two years ago today was gut wrenching, heart breaking as we suffered through the end of a dream. On August 11, 2011 we learned our last round of IVF worked and our first round of beta levels were excellent.  On August 18, 2011 I began to bleed and have horrible cramps.  On August 25, 2011 we gave up hope of a miracle and admitted to ourselves what we should have known on the evening of the 18th – we had lost our baby, Zion Amie, before ever getting to say hello.  We fought the good fight.  We endured ultrasounds, blood tests, and all kind of tests to make sure he/she was really gone before I would take the meds to end what had already begun.  My heart shattered into a billion pieces as I knew that I would never hold that sweet miracle in my arms on earth.  For awhile – the darkness was so deep I didn’t know how we would ever find our way out and it’s hard to explain to a world that thinks our baby never really existed how something so tiny and gossamer can matter so much.  During that first year there were dark days every month – times when I cried for no reason and every reason. Times when I shouted and shook my fist and lost hope in a God that could show me a dream only to jerk it out from under us before we ever realized it.   Times when WeeMan was the reason why we got out of bed and kept it together.  People said it would get better with time.  When you’re in that deep dark place it’s hard to believe that they could have any idea what they’re talking about, and I apologize to them all for not believing, for thinking angry mean thoughts when they shared their words.  

After all is said and done, they were right it does get easier with time.  Last year the darkness didn’t come as often – it was still there.  But it was lighter and it was easier to fight through.  We’re marking the second anniversary of our loss of Zion and while my heart still aches for a baby I will never hold here on this earth, my anger has lightened, my bitterness has eased.  I will always miss my second miracle baby that I never got to know, but I know now that we can move forward through the ache and the loss – that someday I will meet my second child in Heaven.  I know that God’s plan isn’t always my plan and even though I can’t see the end result right now, I can move forward and trust that He holds us all in His hands.




I want to post a happy – life is hunky dory post, but I seem to have fallen into the doldrums.  I’m staying busy, I’m enjoying the moments.  I’m digging in the dirt, mowing the yard, and thanking God that spring finally arrived.  But my heart hurts.  It positively aches down to my toes.  

Hubby and I have been knee deep in conversations about the future and growing our family.  Our WeeMan includes wanting to be a big brother on his daily list of things he wants to do when he grows up, and I know that I’m holding Hubby back.  I know that if it were completely up to him we’d have our home study done and be waiting for the right fit on the state’s list.  But my heart isn’t there.  I want to jump full force into adoption.  I want to love that we can grow our family by adopting, but I don’t.  I’m tired.  I’m resentful.  I’m scared.  I’m heartbroken.  I’m the fly in the works, the thing keeping us from moving forward.  I’m the guilty party – the one that doesn’t want to give up on having a baby of our own.  I  don’t even pray every night anymore for a miracle.  It seems hopeless.  Every month I hold my breath and plead for a miracle, and every month I’m crushed again.  

I feel like it’s my fault that our sweet Zion – never got to breathe air on earth.  It was something I did or didn’t do.  Maybe it was the poppyseed chicken we had for dinner that week – I didn’t even think.  Maybe I didn’t pray hard enough, or believe deep enough.  Maybe I was too happy, too optimistic.  Maybe I wasn’t trusting enough.  I would give almost anything for another chance.  

I know for my marriage’s sake and for WeeMan’s sake I need to pull myself out of here, but I just can’t seem to find the light right now.  


Work has me exhausted this week.  Most of my kiddos are being as good as can be expected two weeks before Christmas, but there is one that just wears me out daily.  Our class spends most of the day tiptoeing around him, hoping we don’t set him off.  Usually we only set him off when he doesn’t get to do what he wants to do, when he wants to do it – or if I (now here’s a gasp) ask him to do some school work at school!! (I know how dare I have the nerve!)  I just keep thinking hang in there I can do it.  

I’ll admit that part of my problem in the last couple of weeks have been from non-school related things.  I’ve been fighting a little sadness.  My heart aches a bit with longing for a baby – for a sweet little girl.  Most days I am fine and I am okay with WeeMan being our only, unless we finish up the adoption process – but other days are a different story.  Some days it’s like a fist to the heart squeezing and twisting, until you gasp for air.  I know that my sister’s approaching due date has a lot to do with these aches.  Truly I am so happy for her – but I can be happy for her and sad for me at the same time.  I also know that it’s just flat out the holiday season – the longing, the missing, and the stress, all rolled into one.  I’ll pull through and I’ll be stronger for it.  But knowing that in my head and getting it with my heart – are sometimes two different things.