9 months

It's been 9 months since Alma was born.

It's crazy to think that these past 9 months is the same amount of time (give or take a little) that I was pregnant with Alma.  It seems like we have always had him, but it also seems like only a short amount of time has passed.

It's also crazy to think that for 5 of those 9 months I have been pregnant with his little brother.  Who knew Jayze and I would have two kids in the first two years of our marriage?  I sure didn't plan that out!  It feels like an extended pregnancy.

I was talking to someone at work, and she was saying that her first two kids are 11.5 months apart.  She tells everyone she had twins, but it was just a reallllly long pregnancy.  That is exactly how I feel!  Alma and his little brother will be only about 13 months apart.  I constantly wonder what it would be like to have two baby boys here in my arms and wish that I could go back and do something - anything - different to make Alma come back.  But then it's so good to think of Alma always being our guardian angel, watching over his parents and siblings.

It's amazing the differences and similarities between my pregnancies with little brother and Alma.  This little man seems more active, probably because I could feel him sooner than I felt Alma.  He responds well to music, so hey, we might have the next Mozart coming in October!  He is also pretty active whenever I lay on my side or drink something cold.  He must know how paranoid his mama is and moves around to reassure me.  Alma is already teaching him how to be a little angel here on earth.

Jayze asked me what it felt like to feel the baby move, and I thought about saying something like "butterflies," but that seemed too cliche.  So I told him, "It's kind of like a small bouncy ball bouncing up and down in one spot in your tummy, but in medium motion."  Which sounds kind of weird, but at least it's better than a boring description of, "It's like a muscle twitch, but inside my belly." 

I think of this baby inside me and part of me smiles and the other part of me wants to cry because he should have an older brother here on earth, both of them getting into mischief together, playing baseball, and watching over each other at school.  I like to think they would be best friends.

But then I'm happy because Alma will always be a part of our lives - here on earth and when we see him again in heaven.

So keep holding on to your little brother's hand, Alma.  It's so fun to have you two so close in age.

Of Teacups and Emotions

"It was meant to be that life would be a challenge.  To suffer some anxiety, some depression, some disappointment, even some failure is normal.  Teach our members that if they have a good, miserable day once in a while, or several in a row, to stand steady and face them.  Things will straighten out.  There is great purpose in our struggle in life" (Boyd K. Packer, "That All May Be Edified," [1982], 94).


Throughout my life, I have heard that struggles and hardships and trials are just a part of life.  I have heard that they are not only a part of life, but they are an essential part of life.  They apparently make you stronger.

I would listen to these talks, believing every word.  That yes, I can do hard things.  That yes, Heavenly Father cares about me and will carry me through my trials.  That yes, blessings come after the trial is over.

And I did go through some hard times in my younger years and in high school, but until I actually had to go through a hardcore, deep-down, soul-wrenching, in-the-fire trial, I didn't really understand.

I would listen to the story of Joseph and Emma and how they lost so many of their children.  I would feel sad for them, but nothing more than that.  Being sad for them and then moving on would be as far as I would get.

One Sunday, not too long after Alma had passed away, Jayze and I were watching the Joseph Smith movie.  As I watched the scene where Emma had their first baby who lived only a few hours, and later she's holding the little coffin as Joseph is digging the little grave, I started crying and couldn't stop.  Because for the first time, I knew how they felt.  I knew what it was like to watch my baby be buried in the ground.  I knew what it was like to have so much anticipation and excitement, only to have my heart broken.  I knew what it was like to have a baby and then to not have a baby.

When Jayze and I lost our own baby, the experience felt surreal.  Everything had happened so fast.  One minute everything seemed fine, and then bam! Life changed in an instant.  And even though life changed in an instant, I sure have not changed in an instant.  That moment when I found out my baby died, I didn't really realize that my life was going to be completely different.

Now everything seems different.  Sometimes things still seem the same.  I still go to church, to school, to work, to baby showers, to birthday parties, to the movies, on dates with Jayze, and to the temple.  I still eat dinner, drive my car, do the dishes, and listen to music.  Even though it doesn't seem like it should because something happened that changed my life forever, life still goes on.  The bills still need to be paid, the fish (I say fish instead of dog because our three goldfish will do for now-we'll get a dog someday!) still need to be fed, and the floor still needs to be swept.

 It feels like this push and pull and tug all the time.  I feel happy, then sad, then angry, then panicked, then peaceful, then hopeless...it's amazing how many emotions can be felt in five minutes.  I guess that comes with grief, pregnancy hormones, and girl hormones all trying to make their own statement at the same time.

This week has been especially hard.  I have felt hopeless, depressed, and panicked.  I cry so easily now.  I turn into a watery mess every night when I talk to Jayze about what's going through my head.  I panic every time someone looks at my bulging belly, wondering how I'm going to answer the questions he or she might ask.   

It reminds me of a story my counselor at an EFY told my group that has stuck with me all these years:

There was a couple who used to go to England to shop in the beautiful stores. They both liked antiques and pottery and especially teacups. This was their twenty-fifth wedding anniversary.

One day in this beautiful shop they saw a beautiful teacup.They said, "May we see that? We've never seen one quite so beautiful."

As the lady handed it to them, suddenly the teacup spoke. "You don't understand," it said. "I haven't always been a teacup.

There was a time when I was red and I was clay. My master took me and rolled me and patted me over and over and I yelled out, "let me alone", but he only smiled, "Not yet."

"Then I was placed on a spinning wheel," the teacup said, "and suddenly I was spun around and around and around.Stop it! I'm getting dizzy! I screamed. But the master only nodded and said, 'Not yet.'

Then he put me in the oven. I never felt such heat. I wondered why he wanted to burn me, and I yelled and knocked at the door. I could see him through the opening and I could read his lips as He shook his head, 'Not yet.'

Finally the door opened, he put me on the shelf, and I began to cool. 'There, that's better,' I said. And he brushed and painted me all over. The fumes were horrible. I thought I would gag. 'Stop it, stop it!' I cried. He only nodded, 'Not yet.'

Then suddenly he put me back into the oven, not like the first one. This was twice as hot and I knew I would suffocate. I begged. I pleaded. I screamed. I cried. All the time I could see him through the opening nodding his head saying, 'Not yet.'

Then I knew there wasn't any hope. I would never make it. I was ready to give up. But the door opened and he took me out and placed me on the shelf. One hour later he handed me a mirror and said, 'Look at yourself. And I did. I said, 'That's not me; that couldn't be me. It's beautiful. I'm beautiful.'

'I want you to remember, then,' he said, 'I know it hurts to be rolled and patted, but if I had left you alone, you'd have dried up.

I know it made you dizzy to spin around on the wheel, but if I had stopped, you would have crumbled. I knew it hurt and was hot and disagreeable in the oven, but if I hadn't put you there, you would have cracked.

I know the fumes were bad when I brushed and painted you all over, but if I hadn't done that, you never would have hardened; you would not have had any color in your life. And if I hadn't put you back in that second oven, you wouldn't survive for very long because the hardness would not have held. Now you are a finished product. You are what I had in mind when I first began with you.

(illustrationstoponder.blogspot.com) 


Right now I am definitely not the finished product.  I think I am still at the spinning wheel part--feeling dizzy and out of control.  This second pregnancy is not easy.  I have had way more emotions than I thought possible and have felt my confidence slowly ebb away.  My heart has failed me, anxiety has filled my soul.  I am still working on trusting in God and keeping His commandments.  But one thing I know is that He loves me.  He wants me to succeed.  He wants me to be molded in His hands and become more like Him because that is where the greatest happiness, peace, and comfort lies.  

20 Weeks: Rainbow Baby

"And now it came to pass that the burdens which were laid upon Alma and his brethren were made light; yea, the Lord did strengthen them that they could bear up their burdens with ease, and they did submit cheerfully and with patience to all the will of the Lord" (Mosiah 24:15, emphasis added).

When I found out I was pregnant again, I was stoked!  I ran in the bedroom where Jayze was and said, "Come here! I have something to show you!"  We both ran back to the bathroom and hovered over the pregnancy test I had set on the counter.  And it was still there--two dark red lines in the shape of a plus sign.  We hugged and kissed and sat on the bed, both of us feeling a mix of emotions.  I was excited and relieved, but also worried.

As the weeks went by, the worry kept growing, and I realized I kept pushing it away.  I started repressing my feelings, which in turn repressed a connection to the baby.  We found out we were pregnant really early, when I was about four weeks, and by the time I was 8 weeks along, I really had no feeling for the baby.  And that scared me.  It scared me that maybe I wouldn't love this baby as much as Alma, or even at all.  It really boiled down to the fact that I was scared this second baby would die too, any moment, so what was the point in getting connected?  What was the point in loving something I was just going to lose anyway?  What was the point of setting myself up for more heartbreak?  What was the point getting excited about each milestone...when the baby was the size of a blueberry...when the baby was able to clench and unclench his fists...when he could suck his thumb...when he could hear...when he was the size of a plum...?

When I was pregnant with Alma, I remember receiving the weekly emails from a pregnancy website stating how far along I was, what the baby was like now, and what I should expect my symptoms to be.  I would eagerly open the email, devour the information, and then excitedly text Jayze all about our baby.  I couldn't wait to post pictures on Facebook, letting everyone know how much I loved the baby and how I couldn't wait to hold him in my arms.

With this second pregnancy, I didn't like talking about the pregnancy at all.  At first, we only announced to our parents, and then later on to other family members.  I didn't want to announce it on Facebook.  I didn't want to start showing because then even more questions would come.  Questions like:

"Is this your first pregnancy?" (bad question to ask any pregnant person by the way--is she supposed to count all of the miscarriages and maybe even a stillborn?)

"How are you feeling?" (emotionally or physically? because unless you are just searching for the candid answer of "Good," don't ask us pregnant ladies because we can go on and on about how we are feeling)

"Do you think it's wise having another baby so soon after what happened last time?" (no comment)

"Are you doing anything differently this pregnancy?" (it was my fault last time?)

Even when we began announcing it to people face-to-face, I had to put on a fake smile and say, "Yes, Jayze and I are really excited."

And Jayze was excited.  He was worried too, but more excited than worried.  He didn't mind telling people at all.  I felt like I should be excited, but I just wasn't.  Reality struck, and I realized that I didn't want to have to go through everything again.  I didn't want to plan another memorial, figure out a way to fly down to Arizona, rearrange my school schedule and add classes, and go through the heartache of saying goodbye to another baby.  Another layer of grief was being added upon me, another layer of worry and "what if's."

Jayze could tell I was having a hard time--probably because I kept telling him I was having a hard time.  But more than that, he could tell that I didn't like announcing we were pregnant.  I didn't like talking about the future.  I didn't like planning for what we should buy for the baby.  I changed the subject when the topic of our baby came up.  It brought up too many memories of when we were expecting Alma.

So, I decided to take it to God.  I decided to get down on my knees for the millionth time and just lay it all out.  Tell him how I was feeling, how I was doing, and that I really did have a desire to connect to this second baby, but I was just having a hard time.  I wanted to cherish every moment I had with this baby like I had with Alma.  I wanted to be grateful I was pregnant.  I wanted to love this baby with all my heart...to fill a hole...to help me heal.

And I prayed.  And prayed again.  And kept praying.  For weeks, I prayed and prayed.  But the connection didn't come.

Jayze gave me a priesthood blessing, but the connection still wasn't there.

I had a couple of ultrasounds, and I posted them on the fridge, but didn't really acknowledge them.

We found out early, because of blood tests, that we were having a boy.  I tried to feel some emotion when the nurse told me on the phone, but I went into the bathroom and had a little cry.  I had been hoping for a girl because then maybe this pregnancy would be different.  Maybe if the baby was a girl, I could have different symptoms and more of a hope that the outcome would be different, and we could take our baby home in a car seat this time.  That our little girl would be a symbol of hope.  So when the nurse told me we were having a boy, I tried really hard to feel excited, but nothing was there.  Just that same old numbness that I couldn't seem to get rid of. 

And then...a lesson was learned.

I remember it wasn't a day of significance.  I couldn't even tell you what day of the week it was or what the weather was like outside.  But I do remember that I was just talking with Jayze at dinner--about the baby--and suddenly a warm, wonderful feeling spread throughout my whole body.  I realized I felt happy talking about the baby.  And more than that, I felt this sudden love for the baby.  That he was mine and he was supposed to be in our family.

On my knees again that night, I thanked my Heavenly Father for that feeling.  I asked him to please let me continue feeling happiness and love for the baby.  The baby deserves a mother who wants him.  A mother who loves him.  And I want to be his mother.

It wasn't this earth-shattering event that caused my love for the baby.  It was something simple, small, and sweet--something that had to come from the Lord.  Sometimes He answers right away, and sometimes He patiently waits until we are ready to receive the answer.  And looking back, I know the answer came at the perfect moment for me.

I was reading about stillborns trying to find some comfort, and the term "rainbow baby" kept coming up in the comments.  I didn't know what a rainbow baby was and decided to look it up.  I came across a beautiful definition that is now close to my heart:

It is understood that the beauty of a rainbow does not negate the ravages of any storm. When a rainbow appears, it does not mean that the storm never happened or that we are not still dealing with its aftermath. It means that something beautiful and full of light has appeared in the midst of the darkness and clouds. Storm clouds may still hover, but the rainbow provides a counterbalance of color, energy and hope.

 This second baby boy of mine is my rainbow baby.  I may be going through a storm right now, but I am trying to have an attitude of gratitude during the storm.  I am so grateful I have Alma in my life.  Without him, this second baby might not be inside of me right now.  I love an image my friend gave me that Alma is probably holding his little brother's hand, preparing him to come down to Jayze and me.  Alma has already changed me in ways that I could never have imagined--good ways.  The storm Jayze and I have gone through has not been easy, but there has been joy amidst the storm.  The storm sometimes is still raging, and I'm sure there are even more storms ahead, but I'm grateful to know the Lord has promised to be with us and that a rainbow is coming.

In his talk "Grateful in Any Circumstances," President Dieter F. Uchtdorf stated, "How much of life do we miss by waiting to see the rainbow before thanking God that there is rain?"

I don't want to miss taking belly bump pictures.  I am so grateful I took week-by-week pictures when I was pregnant with Alma, because I feel I have a record of him.  He was inside me, growing and getting bigger.  He had and has a personality.  He was and is real.  I love him, and I want to love his little brother too.

I don't want to miss the excitement of being able to see my baby on the ultrasound machine.

I don't want to miss the joy of feeling the baby move.  I absolutely love that feeling.  It helps me know he's alive and I think of him saying, "Hi Mom! Don't forget about me! I love you!" every time I feel him.

I don't want to miss feeling grateful for the fact that I can take my baby with me everywhere right now without having to cart around a diaper pad, diapers and wipes, a car seat, an extra change of clothes for the baby, bottles, a binkie, and who knows what else...It's fun being able to take him with me everywhere without having to wonder if it's allowed to bring a baby with me or not.  Don't get me wrong, I'm soooo excited to cart around diapers and wipes and everything, but it's nice to be able to cherish that little bit of freedom right now.

I don't want to miss the hard times, the good times, the easy times, the loving times, the sacred times, the stretching times.  I need to learn to enjoy the rain right now.

I love Joseph B. Wirthlin's talk "Finding a Safe Harbor."  It speaks straight to my heart.  You can find his whole talk here, but I will just reference a small portion:

"Many today feel troubled and distressed; many feel that, at any moment, the ships of their lives could capsize or sink. It is to you who are looking for a safe harbor that I wish to speak today, you whose hearts are breaking, you who are worried or afraid, you who bear grief or the burdens of sin, you who feel no one is listening to your cries, you whose hearts are pleading, “Master, carest thou not that I perish?” To you I offer a few words of comfort and of counsel.

"Be assured that there is a safe harbor. You can find peace amidst the storms that threaten you. Your Heavenly Father—who knows when even a sparrow falls—knows of your heartache and suffering. He loves you and wants the best for you. Never doubt this. While He allows all of us to make choices that may not always be for our own or even others’ well-being, and while He does not always intervene in the course of events, He has promised the faithful peace even in their trials and tribulations."
 

...

"When you feel tossed by the storms of life and when the waves rise and the winds howl, on those occasions it would be natural for you to cry in your heart, “Master, carest thou not that I perish?” When these times come, think back upon that day when the Savior awakened in the stern of the ship, rose up and rebuked the storm. “Peace, be still,” ¹³ He said.

At times we may be tempted to think the Savior is oblivious to our trials. In fact, the reverse is true; it is we who need to be awakened in our hearts to His teachings."

In our own storms in life the Savior is our solace and our sanctuary. If we seek peace, we must come unto Him. He Himself spoke this eternal truth when He said, “My yoke is easy, and my burden is light.” ¹⁷ When our souls are anchored in the safe harbor of the Savior, we can proclaim as did Paul: “We are troubled on every side, yet not distressed; we are perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not forsaken; cast down, but not destroyed.” ¹⁸ 

So I want to enjoy this

in the faith, hope, and knowledge that this

will come after the rain.

19 Weeks: Update

We have hit 19 weeks. I can't believe how fast this pregnancy has gone. With all its emotional ups and downs, with more to come I'm sure, I have still loved being pregnant again. No, it's not easy, but I love feeling the baby move inside me and am grateful for the opportunity to be pregnant again.


Cravings: Mostly Mexican food, but I love a good burger now and then too. Actually, chocolate malts/shakes sound good ALL the time.

Aversions: Spaghetti all the time and sometimes everything. Depends on the day.

Weight gain: About three to five pounds...working on it! I lost about ten pounds during the first trimester due to morning sickness, but I have finally gained it all back and am working on gaining weight now. Bring on the stretch marks! :)

Movement? I feel him a lot, especially in the mornings, when music is on, or when Jayze is talking or laughing. I think he recognizes his dad's voice and wants to say hi back!

Awesome moment of the week: Jayze got to feel him kick for the first time yesterday morning! Our baby boy kicked about four times in a row, and Jayze got to feel each kick. It was amazing.

Heartburn? Yep...it's coming on strong.

Other weird symptoms: I have crazy dreams a lot.

Have I started to show? A baby bump is coming through! A lot sooner than last pregnancy too, which I'm excited about. Although if you didn't know I was pregnant, I just look like I've been eating too many cookies.

Missing anything? Being able to go running. Being able to sleep through the night without having to go to the bathroom.

Gender: Boy.

Next time we get to see the baby: This week! I'm nervous, but I also can't wait. I hope he jumps around on the ultrasound as much as he jumps around in me!

How big is the baby? Size of a mango.

Appetite: Around 17 weeks, I was hungry all the time. I felt like the Brad Pitt character in Ocean's Eleven where I was constantly eating. (Have you noticed that in every scene he's in, he's eating something?) Then this past week I got a kind of flu-bug of some sort and lost my appetite again.  I feel better now and am trying to get back on the six-meals-a-day, so I eat something every 1.5-2 hours. So now I feel like Brad Pitt again.


19 weeks down, 21 weeks to go...

18 Weeks: Hope is in the Air

When Alma died, some people told me to wait a little while before we had another baby so my body had time to heal.  I kind of nodded when they told me that, but I wasn't sure if I agreed.  It wasn't my body I was thinking about that had to heal--it was my heart.

At my 6-week doctor's check-up, my doctor didn't say anything about waiting to try to have another baby, and I didn't even ask. I remember at that check-up feeling numb again.  It was weird going to the doctor's office again--this time not pregnant and without my baby.  I sat in the lobby waiting for one of the nurses to come get me, feeling like I didn't belong there anymore.  I felt like my body was healing just fine, and I wasn't sure if I should really be there.

I was grateful that the six weeks had gone by quickly, though.  I remember keeping count because I knew I could start exercising again after the appointment, and I guess it was good to officially know that everything with my body was healing.  The hard part was just getting mentally, spiritually, and emotionally healed.  I didn't know then at the six week check-up that it was going to be such a long road.  Sometimes I get frustrated with myself, thinking that I am finally "over it," but then something during the day that makes me remember that Alma would have been 2 months old, 3 months old, 4 months old, 8 months old...cutting his first tooth, smiling for the first time, rolling over, laughing, spitting up all over the carpet, having blow-outs, growing out of his newborn clothes, dressing him up for his first Halloween, showing him off to family and friends during his first Christmas, crying during the night, crying during the day, trying solid foods for the first time, learning to hold onto his toys...

And I have realized that I will never be "over it."  I am learning it more and more even as I am expecting another baby...another boy.

I catch myself having little panic moments.  Moments where I can't feel him moving and wonder if he's okay.  Moments when I realize I don't know why Alma died last time and wondering if it was because of something I ate, or I exercised too much, or I didn't exercise enough, or because we didn't have air conditioning and I let my body get too hot, or I didn't eat enough, or I didn't get enough sleep, or because I missed taking my prenatal pills once in awhile...there are so many things that run through my mind.  Every time I sit down and eat something, every time I go exercising, every time I go to the doctor's office and wonder if it's going to be that day when I won't hear this second baby's heartbeat either...

I remember just last week I had a doctor's appointment.  It was just a routine check-up--no ultrasound or seeing the doctor.  I had made sure that when I made the appointment I would get the same nurse who wasn't able to find Alma's heartbeat.  I knew that she knew what had happened, and I wouldn't be too scared or embarrassed to ask her "silly" questions.

But when it got right down to it, I got really, really scared.  I was almost to the point of having a panic attack.  It was just so similar to the day when we found out Alma died.  I got up that morning knowing that I was going to leave work at 11:00 a.m. to go listen to this baby's heartbeat on the doppler...just like I did with Alma.  I was going to see the same nurse who wasn't able to find Alma's heartbeat on the doppler.  And I was going alone--Jayze wasn't going to be there with me.

I was able to hide my feelings at work, but once I got outside and started walking to my car in the sprinkling rain, I started losing it.  My hands started shaking, and I had a hard time breathing.  I shakily got out my phone from my purse and dialed Jayze's number.

He answered, "Hey cutie!" and I, out of breath, was able to get out a quick, quiet, "Hi" back.  He said, "What's wrong?  Are you okay?"  And I of course burst into tears as I drove to the clinic and said, "No!"  I told him how I was feeling, and he talked with me and was able to calm me down.  I parked in front of the clinic, said thanks and bye to Jayze, hurriedly wiped my tears away, and trying to hold my head up, I walked into the clinic.

I tried to distract myself by watching the movie that was showing, but I couldn't tell you right now what was playing.  I remembered being that nervous the day I had the appointment for Alma, and I was worried that was a sign the nurse wasn't going to be able to find a heartbeat that day either.

I jumped when a nurse opened the door and called my name.  I was feeling numb again as she took my blood pressure.  I didn't quite hear her when she asked me to follow her to a room, so I just sat there in the chair.  Finally, what she had said soaked in when I saw her looking confused as to why I wasn't getting up and following her.  I stood up and numbly followed her down a long hallway.  There, just outside the door to the room she was taking me to, talking to another nurse, was the nurse who was going to see me.  I quickly looked away from her face, hoping she hadn't recognized me as I walked past her, even though I was going to see her in just a few minutes.

I sort of hopped/climbed onto the mini bed thing (why do they make those so high?) and sat there trying not to cry.  As I looked around the room trying to distract myself, I figured, "What the heck?  It usually takes them awhile to come back so I'll just sit here and cry until they do."  Once I thought that, the dam burst and a flood of tears came streaming down my face. 

And of course, the nurse who had led me to the room popped in again sooner than I expected, and started saying, "The nurse will be here in a min...hey, are you okay?"  She suddenly looked concerned as I frantically tried wiping the tears from my face and putting up a good front again.  It didn't work.  My voice trembled slightly as I habitually answered, "Yes, well, I'll be okay in a minute."  She asked if I wanted her to ask the nurse to wait a little bit to come in.  I didn't want them to forget about me, so I said, "No, it's okay."  I kind of laughed through my tears and said, "You guys usually take awhile to get in here!"  She laughed and went out to go get the nurse.

I sat there and tried to get somewhat more control of myself.  It worked...a little.  I was still sniffling and kind of crying when the nurse walked in.

She said, "Hey, how are you doing?"  And from there, the tears came again as she handed me some kleenex. 

I told her that I thought I would be okay seeing her again, but I just wasn't.  It caused a trigger in me that I didn't seem to be able to control.  She sat down and talked with me a little bit and then said, "Let's listen to that heartbeat.  I think that will make you feel better."

I slowly laid down on the mini bed thing and watched as she put some lubricant on the heart doppler and then held it to my bare stomach.  I held my breath as the couple of seconds that went by seemed like a couple of hours.  She moved the wand around on my stomach, and then--there it was.  My baby's heartbeat!  He was alive!  She let me listen to it for a little bit and then helped me sit back up.

She listened to me ask questions I had about the pregnancy and patiently answered them.  I felt so much better after that appointment.  Instead of walking out of the office crying, I walked out with a light step and a smile.  I called Jayze once I got back in the car and happily told him the baby's heartbeat was wonderful.

As I was back in the car I realized that it wasn't just happiness I was feeling, but I was also feeling hope.  Hope that maybe this pregnancy would go right.  Hope that I could take a baby home with me.  Hope that everything was going to be okay.

I know I'm still going to have those panic moments.  I'm still going to look at other families who have two boys who are the same age Alma and my next little boy would be and wonder what it would be like to have Alma here.

But I can still have moments where Heavenly Father is nudging me, letting me know that He is there and that He cares about me and how I feel.  He knows how important it is to me to feel the baby move, to hear the heartbeat, and to finally (hopefully) hold this baby in my arms and see him look up at me alive and breathing and beautiful.

I am realizing more and more that I can have hope in my Father in Heaven.  That no matter what happens, He will be right there.  He will be with me every step of this pregnancy.  And even though I don't know what the future holds for me, I know that because of Him, I can still have hope.

As one pregnant woman who had experienced a similar loss quoted her husband, "While all other pregnant couples are expecting, we are hoping.”

So, here's to hoping.