From Joshua

Dear Analin,

I love you so much. I really want to hug you and kiss you.

Love, Joshua.
(Age 6)

Flowers

Dear Analin,

Your baby brother was born healthy and handsome on 8/14/15, but I can't talk about that here. Not yet. My emotions between your loss and his birth are too raw right now, too mixed and dizzy. So we'll save that for another day.

Today we'll talk about flowers. I'm allergic to flowers, so they rarely come into my life outside of Nature. Today was an exception because your grandma had surgery this past week and is now home, so your brothers and daddy decided she needed some flowers to help her feel better.

Of the whole family, it was decided I would go into the flower shop myself, after your daddy made sure I would survive it. ;-) So, in I went, breath held and fingers crossed.

On the plus side, there weren't that many flowers in the flower shop today because they will be closed for the holiday weekend. That also meant my selection was quick and relatively painless. The shop itself, on the other hand, was not.

I blinked a lot in that store, not to fight back the dry itchiness of allergies, but against the prick of tears.

Not being a regular visitor of these stores I forget what they are often used for. Sympathy.

There were pillows for tears, stones for memories, blankets and plush animals for comfort. All for loss.

It's not fair to be blindsided like that, in case you didn't know.

I had a few minutes to look around the store. One of the flowers in my arrangement needed to be replaced. I focused on some knitted leg warmers made in the local school colors for almost five minutes. I'm sure they expected me to buy some.

Eventually, the repaired arrangement came out. The florist said something or other about how to shape the flowers if I wanted to. I told him they were beautiful to get him to go away. I'd already paid so I could get out quickly, back out into the late summer and a heated breeze that helped dry my eyes.

I really don't like flowers.

Your grandma loved, them, though, so that's what matters. They were purple in a purple vase, her favorite colors. I bet purple would have been your favorite color, too. I just get the feeling you two would have been really close. She loves you so very much, there's no way you couldn't have been.

I love you, too. So very much it hurts. It hurts too much to tell you about your little brother, yet. But I will, I promise. I know you love him, too.

Forever, my sweet.

Mommy.

Humbled

Dear Analin,

Your big brothers love your little brother so much. They hug my belly, kiss it, talk to the baby through it. Sebastian is convinced he can only be heard through my belly button and directs all his words there. Joshua will pretend he wants a hug or kiss from me, then duck away at the last second to bestow the hug and kiss onto my belly. He presses his mouth against my skin and growls against the baby, his own favorite noise from when he was born.

The other day we were cuddling on the couch, Joshua caressed my belly and whispered, "I love you so much, baby brother."

How I didn't cry, I do not know.

All of this love, unconditional and unharnessed from the boy who hid under a blanket for 2 days after we lost you. These words from the boy who told me he didn't want a baby any more because this one wasn't a girl. The hugs and kisses from the boy who didn't want to go to any more ultrasounds unless there was a chance boy might change to girl.

Now he's picking out silly names for the baby. He's pushing me to do things faster, like set up the crib, put together the mobile, wash his clothes, get his toys ready. And I can't do a single one of those things without him there to help and supervise.

Sebastian helps and loves and supervises as well, but he doesn't remember, not like Joshua.

Here I am, worrying about all the different things. I need to switch my blood thinning shots in case I go into labor early. I won't, but it's a smaller worry. I want a specific type of bouncer because the one I had broke, but it's so expensive new and cheaper used but the ones I find being sold are too far away. I found one at a second-hand shop, one more small worry checked off.

The small worries keep my mind off the bigger one, the one that reminds me even though this baby is being induced somewhat early, he's being induced at 38 weeks and 1 day, three days after you passed in your own time.

How I wish I could be like Joshua, my six year old, first born. Broken hearted from your loss, missing the sister he'd hoped and prayed for, but so in love with this little boy on the way that none of that matters. He humbles me and I envy him because I know there's very little chance I'll be able to copy him. I'm just so happy he hasn't caught on to my own stress to let it affect him. Perhaps these little, distracting worries have helped with that, too, telling him it's these things I'm worried about, and not this new life.

Whatever it is, I'm thankful for it. I'm grateful for his reminder that love is there and can be greater than the fear if we let it be. He helps me breathe a little easier and bond a little deeper with the mover and shaker on his way as he forges his own connection between their hearts and shows Sebastian how to do the same.

My kids are awesome. I'm such a proud Mommy of all of you. You, as well, for teaching us how precious life is and to take each moment we can to learn each other, no matter how close or far we happen to be.

Thank you for being such a great big sister. I love you, beautiful Analin.

Mommy.

Getting Ready

Dear Analin,

I don't know exactly when excitement turned into fear and sadness, but I almost cried on the way home today. I've been in bed most of the day since. And all I did was buy some things second hand.

Last night I found a post with two of our big things plus some little things for the cost of one of those big things. Within an hour, I had the meet and greet set up for today, got the cash ready and did a little dance for happy deals.

I just do not know when it happened. Even looking back, I don't know for sure. Your brothers were being challenging this morning so I was focused on keeping them on task and out of each other's hair without losing my own. I had set up the meet at a fireworks shop and thought to grab a few sky lanterns while we were there. The boys behaved. They had heart-shaped and American flag and colored lanterns and Joshua was excited for all of them.

When we walked out with our new lanterns, the other Mom was there, toddler in the car, new belly growing just like mine, ready to unload her old stuff into our car. We chatted a minute about the items, she showed me how a few pieces worked and had even thrown in a few smaller things into the deal since I was getting so much and she just wanted it gone.

Price paid, car loaded, your brothers back in the car. I rolled the windows down for the drive, a novelty for them, and they actually laughed and played for the first time that day.

A dry sob burst out half way home.

The boys stopped to ask me what was wrong. When I didn't answer, they went back to playing.

I didn't like the stuff. It was second hand, dusty, dirty, and I'd just spent a lot of money on it.

Except, I loved the stuff for the price we paid and it was in great condition after only one kiddo's use, just dusty from storage from a Mom who'd had a boy and was clearing that stuff out for her baby-girl-on-the-way.

Maybe that was the moment, when I realized what she was doing and why. Maybe the moment happened during the lanterns, or sometime before or sometime after, when money exchanged for things bought for a baby who hasn't been born yet and who I now know may never get to use those things.

Whenever the moment happened, it was about all of that and more.

I have a box of your stuff in the attic you will never use. Why the hell did I just spend so much money for this baby?

Okay, logic time. Do I expect this baby to make it? Yes. Do I expect this baby to need things? Yes. Will he care if things are new or previously loved? Not a chance. Will this stuff make my life easier? Yes. If the worst does happen, am I stuck with it? Only if I choose to be.

He's moving around now as if to tell me it's just a few more weeks.

I really, really wish that meant something that wasn't shadowed with dread.

I'm not going to stop moving forward. We have this stuff now, a baby shower scheduled a month before his due date, a list of names we may throw out at the last minute or choose from after all once he's born.

I just wish I knew what we were getting ready for. Even a when might help, but the doctors aren't committing to an early delivery. All our tests are still perfect, still showing proper progress.

So were yours.

I'm going crazy with worry and sadness. I'm breathing through it and using logic to work through it but come on. There is no preparing for this. There's just the jump and then the experience of it, survived in any way we can survive it.

31 weeks yesterday. We lost you two days before week 38. These next few months are going to be tortuous. I pray so very, very hard that in two months, none of this even matters and is lost in joy.

I'll be okay. I've always known I'd be okay, even when they told me you'd be gone. But life is something we experience, not something we skim through.

Here's to the experience.

I love you like crazy, Analin. I can't wait to send off one of those heart-shaped lanterns to you. <3

Love,

Mommy.

Your baby ....

Dear Analin,

This post should have come a week and a half ago. Yet, as these things go, there was a hiccough.

On the day we found out you are having a little brother, we also discovered we're of a higher risk for Trisomy 13/18 deficiency. Both are considered non-compatible with life because the chances for a live birth are 50%, then a 5-10% chance the baby would make it through the first year of life.

Today, we found out that not only does DNA confirm this baby is a boy, but all chromosomal markers came back normal for the Trisomy's. We are headed down the path for a healthy, live baby boy.

I haven't made that announcement yet because of the pending test results. A few people know, though, people who have known we were going in to find out and specifically asked. Even fewer people knew about this test.

It has been a rough week waiting for these results. There were thoughts of, should we pick out a name? Should we work on the baby registry? Are we only meant to have two boys? That was just on my part. I know your daddy had a hard time, too, thinking small percentages (0.5% chance) might do us in, yet again.

Today, we found out voluntarily taking that test was very worth it. Bonus, DNA confirmed what the ultrasound basically shouted. We are having our 3rd boy.

It's poetic. I like it. Our fourth baby, but our third boy who will be our third baby to bring home.

Not everyone was thrilled with the news. I wouldn't say they were upset this baby is a boy. It's easy to understand people wishing a girl for us, not only with our two boys but with your loss as well. Someone mentioned they'd hoped we'd have twins - one of each.

I'm happy with a boy. I love boys. I'm scared of girls, to be honest. I'd figure it out, of course. And there were a lot of mother/daughter things I'd been looking forward to and that I miss not being able to have with you. Especially now, knowing this pregnancy could have taken a completely different path so early on, healthy is the name of the game. Boy or girl equals love any way you cut it.

On the other hand, a house full of boys. What's a mama to do? Lol. Someone mentioned if they all get through high school and on to college, I'd be up for Sainthood. Well, I'm up for the challenge of college, at least. :)

I love you my one little girl.

Mommy.

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 ...