Conditional Acceptance

Dear Analin,

It's snowing again. Mimi always says it snows on her birthday, but I hoped we could get that early March warmth and hold onto it.

Not so much. We live in the Midwest. I really should know better by now. Haha.

Last year we still had snow about this time, but lots of it. Your daddy's broken leg was healing. Your brothers got their one day of snow play because the Winter had been far too cold. I kept hoping the cold would stay just a little longer.

Last year I didn't mind the cold. In fact, I loved it. I feel a peaceful type of pleasure when the weather matches my mood.

Outside could stay cold so I could stay cold inside and keep the pain at bay, fed to me in tiny melting rivers as I could handle it.

This year, though, I'm ready for warmth. I'm ready to open the windows, let in the fresh, cleansing air and get to work, make things better and new.

To be clear. I am not over anything. Nothing is erased or forgotten about your loss. It's a little more assimilated, a little more part of every day life. Those little rivers are carving their canyons in my soul every single day. I haven't accepted your loss any more today than I had the day we found out.

I've accepted the pain. I've accepted everyday grief. I've accepted I cannot change a dang thing. Not for one heartfelt minute does that mean I've accepted you're not here. Losing you is still stupid and pointless. I still feel the undercurrent of shock.

My life is so wonderful. I could make hours of lists. A life that wonderful should not feel loss like this. The two should not coexist.

But they do. So acceptance is gradual, complicated and conditional.

Last year, I forced myself through the motions. I pushed myself as far as I could push. I left early, broke down in the middle of parties and strangers, and flat out refused to go when it was too much. I was coddled and nudged, pushed and looked down on when I couldn't quite make it to that one last party of the month. I do not regret a single decision, a single party attended or missed no matter the opinion (or even the support, to be honest) of others. There will be more of both, I'm sure.

I'm ready for the warmth to come. I really want to feel sun again, to have warm skin and a little more melting of that cold place inside me. Pain is not a friend, not something I want to feel every day. It takes engagement with life and our loved ones to help move us beyond, something I'm beginning to crave.

Too much Winter and you forget there is ever Spring, much less Summer. So bring on the season change. Bring on the family gatherings and birthday parties, baseball practice and backyard soccer games, vacations and lazy days. Bring on a healthy, happy pregnancy with a Summer baby come the end.

We'll deal with Autumn when it gets here.

Until next time, beautiful love.

Mommy.

Big Sister Analin

Dear Analin,

I have a very, very good reason for such a long silence. I have been sick. Super sick. Going on 16 weeks now, and still not quite through it.

(Right. Bandaid method.)

You're going to be a big sister.

Well, I guess you already are.

(See, not so bad. Okay, then.)

We don't know if it's a little brother or sister yet. We find out in April. There's absolutely no way we wouldn't. I'm terrified. Hence the bandaid method comment.

It's a little funny, a little understandable. An extended result of this fear is that new infants, particularly girls, scare me right now. It's a gut reaction and not something I really have control over, other than to breathe through it.

The reason is - in my opinion - ridiculous. I'm really scared of my reaction to the sex of this baby. I'm afraid I'll be disappointed if it's a boy. I'm afraid I'll be even more terrified it's a girl, since the only girl I've carried before didn't make it.

I may, but I doubt it. I fully expect this to be one of those fears that proves without bite when the time comes. I am thrilled to be pregnant. I hate the symptoms of pregnancy and I always have, but the end result is a miracle worth having.

This miracle will happen about 3 weeks early and with a blood-thinning shot a day that's left my stomach a ring of bruises. I assume we'll be induced around then, anyway. We had a confusing test result we won't be able to discuss with the doctor until April regarding my hormone levels and their effect on the baby's growth rate. As the option for an appointment was ours and not a requirement, we're going on faith it's not a huge deal, particularly with all the other monitoring this baby already requires. The accompanying 12 week scan was perfect and the chromosome portion of the test came back normal. That leaves us firmly and relatively safely in to the second trimester and free to share the news.

We haven't told many people so far. We told the mothers first very early on. My mom because she needed time to adjust. Daddy's mom because she needed so much to hear we were pregnant again. We told a few other inner circle people because of how sick I get in the first trimester and how much help we need. Then after this baby's 12 week ultrasound, we started telling others as we met them.

Now it's officially public. It will be interesting to see how people react.

I don't mean whether or not we're congratulated. I mean how it's handled after. So far, we either receive a ton of questions, or none. Acknowledgement of our pregnancy or ignorance of it. Either reaction is fine. I'm really not expecting one or the other, I'm just truly curious about how each person reacts in an observer kind of way. I'm a little weird like that sometimes.

I don't think this pregnancy is easy for anyone, remembering what happened with you. My 6 year old neighbor summed it up perfectly when she said to my son during a play date, "Your mommy had a baby in her belly before but it died, so hopefully this baby will make it."

Guileless. I loved it, actually. Her words made me smile in their painless honesty. Kids say the darnedest things, right?

So I may be a bit sea sick now, and a lot busy later, but I will always be thinking about you. I'll not be able to stop the comparisons, to try and figure out where you would be in the mix if you'd stayed. Of course there will be more letters. I can't wait to explore you with a younger sibling.

I miss you. More now, to be honest, with another baby growing. I'm scared for a lot of things but trust this is the way things are supposed to be, whether or not I understand it. Deep breaths. Lots of rest. We'll make it to our August due date eventually.

I love you, beautiful girl.

Mommy.

And now to hit publish ...