Dear Alma,

 

When August 1 came, I knew today was just around the corner. Part of me has been dreading it, and the other part of me is excited to have a whole day to remember you by.

Lately I have watched other one-year-olds, imagining you walking around with them at church and having to stop you from stealing another baby's toy. I wonder if you would have cute, chubby cheeks that I wouldn't be able to resist kissing all the time.

It seems like this whole week leading up to today was full of reminders. I think it was Heavenly Father's way of letting me know that He remembers you too.

August 27 was just the beginning - exactly a year after we found out you died. I woke up, ate breakfast, took a shower, got ready for the day, and headed out the door to a dentist appointment at 11:00.  I had forgotten when I made the appointment that it was the same time as the doctor's appointment last year when I went in to listen to your heartbeat - the heartbeat that never came. I miss that sound.

As I drove to the dentist office, I tried not to think about that doctor's appointment, but then I saw that the dentist office was right across the street from the funeral home where I saw you last. I couldn't help myself and parked in plain sight of that funeral home. My mind flashed back to when last year your dad and I parked in the funeral home parking lot, and it took me about five minutes to walk from our car to the door because I had just given birth to you the day before. As that memory flashed in my mind, I was surprised to find that I was smiling instead of crying as I got out of the car again, this time across the street, and remembered something your dad said when we drove past the funeral home earlier this week, "Isn't that a special place?" It took me aback at first when he said that, wondering how in the world a funeral home could be a special place. But looking back, it really was. 

I walked into the dentist office, and having never been there before, began filling out the paperwork. As I stood up and gave the receptionist the paperwork back, one of the workers walked in to get me, saw that I was pregnant, and asked me when I was due.

I responded with a smile, "October 2."

She looked shocked and said, "You look great! You are tiny!"

I kind of smiled inside because that is what I heard all the time when I was pregnant with you. Yet another reminder. But the conversation didn't stop there.

"Is this your first pregnancy?"

I have had such a hard time with this question. Answering no and then having to explain about how you died has made the situation awkward so many times. But I feel like I'm betraying you if I say yes. I just couldn't bring myself to deny your existence, so I said:

"No, this is my second pregnancy," 

She said, "Yep, you are tiny! A boy or a girl?"

"A boy."

"Well, congratulations!"

I followed her to the back and slowly slid into the dentist chair. She asked me some routine questions about x-rays and when my last dentist appointment was. Then after a brief silence, she asked me, "Do you have a little boy or a little girl at home?"

I was a little thrown off by the phrasing of at home, but I responded, "Um, a little boy."

"How old is he?"

I knew I couldn't keep this up, so I said, "Well, he would be one-years-old."

But she didn't catch it and said, "Oh, how fun!"

Then the dental hygienist came in, and there wasn't a chance to talk about it again. However, at the end of my appointment, the same worker turned to me and handed me two toothbrushes - one for my little boy at home and one for the little boy inside me. I stared at the toothbrushes in my hand for a moment and mumbled a thank you. 

I drove home and told your dad about it. How I didn't have the heart to tell them that we don't have you, a cute one-year-old at home. Yet, at the same time it was kind of fun to pretend you were waiting for me at home - waiting for me to scoop you up and show you your new toothbrush. 

Then that same night your dad and I walked through the temple doors, and guess who was there to greet us? The funeral director who took such good care of you. I could tell he didn't recognize us, but it was good to see that tender, caring face again and seize the opportunity to keep you in my mind once again.

And as we were in the temple, the same question popped up again. A temple worker asked me, "Is this your first pregnancy?"

I had said no earlier that day, so I couldn't possibly answer different this time. I said, "No, this is my second pregnancy."

She looked surprised and said, "You don't look old enough!" 

I don't feel old enough to have already had almost two children, but at the same time, losing you has aged me in so many different ways...

And then today did come - your birthday. When I woke up this morning and remembered you're not here to call out to me, to ask me for your birthday breakfast, to eat your first birthday cake, or to play with your new presents your dad and I would have surely bought you, I cried and cried. As I cried, I remembered the same time last year when your dad held me just as he held me this morning as I cried and cried, wishing that things were different. 

But as much as I miss you, I know you are watching over our little family. I know families are forever, and that someday I will get to see you and hold you and kiss and hug you all day long. You are my Alma, and I will never forget you. 

I hope you have a happy one-year birthday and that someone up in heaven is giving you a big hug for me and celebrating this day with you. 

As for your dad and me, despite how hard it is not having your here right now, we will be celebrating you too. Celebrating your existence and influence in our family. Celebrating the memories we have of you. Celebrating the day we got to hold you and feel of your presence all day long. 

Celebrating that because of our loving Savior, the "grave shall have no victory, and...the sting of death should be swallowed up in the hopes of glory..." (Alma 22:14). 

Celebrating that you are safe, happy, loved, and cared for.

I love you,

Mom

33 Weeks: Update

 ~ Baby Update ~

Size of a pineapple (about four pounds).

His skeleton is hardening.

Acting more and more like a baby outside of the womb. 

Has his own immune system. 

The past couple of weeks have been kind of rough, but there have been so many blessings too.  This pregnancy has been hard - more emotionally than physically, but there is still that physical aspect of it.  I knew that when we got pregnant again it wouldn't be all excitement and happiness.  I have to keep reminding myself that I am blessed to be pregnant again and to have made it this far.  

The hardest part about this pregnancy is the fear and anxiety.  It has been hard fighting the darkness and hopelessness that always seem to linger right by me waiting to make its move.   

After Alma died, my mom sent me a book she filled with quotes.  I was looking through it and one in particular caught my eye:

"Even though we may feel lost in the midst of our current circumstances, God promises the hope of His light....Even after the darkest night, the Savior of the world will lead you to a gradual, sweet, and bright dawn that will assuredly rise within you.  As you walk towards the hope of God's light, you will discover the compassion, love, and goodness of a loving Heavenly Father, in whom there is no darkness at all."

~ Dieter F. Uchtdorf ~

  

So, in an effort to throw off that darkness and look to the light, I thought about some positive/funny things that go along with pregnancy.  After thinking about them, I've realized that this almost 9-month journey has had many highlights and joys weaved in, not just darkness.

Kicks:
This little baby kicks a lot, and I LOVE it.  Sometimes it hurts and is uncomfortable, but I don't care because it helps me know he's still alive.  Whenever he's not moving and I'm pretty sure he's just sleeping, I still get out a popsicle, lay on my left side, and count ten movements.  With such a panicky mom, I'm not sure this baby gets much sleep at all.  I wonder if when he's born and sleeping, I'll go up to him and poke him, just to make sure he's okay.  I'm not sure I'm going to like him sleeping so much...hopefully he'll snore. :)

Another fun thing about him kicking so much is I like to put my empty water bottle or my phone on my stomach and watch him kick it around. 

Maxi Skirts:
The best thing that has happened to me in a long time regarding my sparse wardrobe is my black maxi skirt.  It is the most comfortable thing ever, stretches as my belly stretches, and is forgiving to my body as I get bigger.  If they were only $5 each, I would have a closetful right now. 

Waddling:
I have been more achy this pregnancy (probably because I never work out anymore), and I find myself waddling more than walking now that I'm bigger.  It's nice to be entertainment for those who watch me try to walk down the grocery aisle...

Nurses/Doctors:
I have heard four times this past week from both my nurses and doctors that I'm not a "nut job."  It is so reassuring having a great staff who looks after me and my baby and who don't care if I come in for a random heartbeat check or if I think my Braxton Hicks are real labor when they're not.

Stains on Shirts:
My belly is so big right now that when I look down I can't even see my feet, let alone any stains I might have at the bottom half of my shirt.  But those stains just mean that I'm pregnant and there's life inside this big belly of mine.

Dreams:
I have crazy dreams practically every night.  They are always about what happened the day before too.  For example, Jayze always has a pen on him, and I'm notorious for never having a pen.  I always borrow one from him, but I've lost pens so many times that he's a little wary about letting me borrow his pen longer than five minutes.  The other day we needed a bunch of pens and pencils to bring to a party, and we had to hurry and scour our house for them because they are everywhere.  Anyway, that same night I dreamed of Jayze holding up a big bag of his pens and saying to me, "I'm willing to bring all of my pens."

I also had to ask him one time, "So I just remembered something...you did this and then I did that and then this happened.  Did that happen in real life or did I just dream it?"  

And Jayze answered, "You just dreamed it."

Having to go to the bathroom 50 times a day (exaggeration? probably not):
Not much to say about this one except that I now call it my second home.

But the nice thing about this one is I never have trouble taking the urine test when I go to the doctor. :)

Prepping for the Baby:
Despite how hard this one has been emotionally for me, it has also been fun when I let go of the fear and dream of having another person in our home.  We just bought a pack 'n play and set it up in our bedroom, along with the rocking chair and ottoman Jayze's mom and sisters gave us last year.  It was hard having them in the bedroom with us at first - a daily reminder of what might not be - but I also find myself staring at the pack 'n play imagining a baby inside it.  I love that it's so close to my bed.  The fear is still there, but when it's not as strong, I love the feeling of excitement that I get when I think of bringing this baby home.

Talks with Jayze:
I love talking with Jayze about my fears and excitement because I think both of us have really tried hard this pregnancy to connect, spend time with each other, and really be on the same page.  He has been my anchor, and it's been comforting to know I can lean on him during the good and bad times.

Priesthood Blessings:
In times of darkness and anxiety, priesthood blessings have helped me so much.  I used to think that priesthood blessings were only reserved for when you were sick or before school started, but I've come to realize that I can ask for one whenever I feel the need.  Whenever I feel sad, overwhelmed, stressed, or hopeless, priesthood blessings help buoy me up.

Pictures:
It's amazing how gradual pregnancy bellies grow.  Some days I feel huge and other days I feel smaller than the day I did before.  It's fun going back to the beginning of this pregnancy and looking through the pictures, watching my belly get bigger and bigger. 

Ultrasounds:
In addition to pictures outside the womb, I love the pictures inside the womb, too, when I can actually see the baby's basic outline and features.  Ultrasound pictures help remind me that there is an actual baby inside of me full of life, growing bigger and stronger every week. 

 

4-7 more weeks to go...

 

Is Time a Healer?

The beginning of August is here, and it's so hard to believe that it has been nearly a year since we lost Alma.  Has it really been that long?  Sometimes it seems like just yesterday when I was in the ultrasound room straining to see any sign of movement on the screen.

I've heard people say that time is a healer.  I've said it myself.  Time should heal all wounds, right?

Losing Alma caused this gaping wound.  I keep telling people that yes, time does heal, but then I have also wondered if time will eventually make everything better.  If somehow the wound will magically go away as time goes by.  Realistically, I don't think the wound will "magically" disappear.  The pain has lessened, and a scar is forming where the wound used to be so fresh, but I will always remember the moment I found out my baby boy had died and that I wouldn't get to bring him home.  I will always remember the pain of that moment.  How can anyone be expected to recover quickly from a moment that changed his or her life forever?  I will always wonder what he would be like if he was here.  Whether his hair would still be dark brown or if it would have turned white blonde.  If he has Jayze's hazel eyes, my dark brown eyes, or a pair of shockingly blue eyes.  If he would be tall like Jayze's family or my Mom's side of the family, or if he would be shorter like my Dad's side of the family.  Those questions will always run through my head.  Even now, being pregnant, I wonder what it would be like to be chasing two little boys around, laughing their heads off as they mischievously and knowingly exasperate me.  But for now, all I get to know is what it's like having my firstborn baby boy in heaven and his little brother here with me (I hope) and keep wondering.  People who have lost children say that those same children are still watching over them.  The siblings of that child somehow still have a relationship with the child who is in heaven.  I have been desperately hoping that will happen when we finally get Alma's little brother here.  That they will have a special bond and that this little boy inside me will get to know his older brother through more than just pictures and his story.

Last month on the 29th, I couldn't stop thinking that Alma would be 11 months old.  I didn't think it would affect me very much, because the real landmark is his actual year-birthday, August 29.  But I thought about him all day long.  I came home from work, and I couldn't concentrate on what Jayze was saying.  I just kept staring at him and nodding my head.  In a sudden moment, tears began pooling in my eyes and falling down my face and when Jayze asked me what was wrong, I couldn't get out the words.  I just kept shaking my head.  Finally, I was able to say, "He would have been 11 months old," and then buried my head in my arms and sobbed.

How can I have gone 11 months without holding my little baby boy? 

If the 11-month mark was that hard, I know the year-mark is going to be even harder.  It seems like August 29 is looming, and I'm not sure what to do that day.  It's all such a mix of emotions.  I'm not sure whether or not to celebrate that day or to shut myself in my house and let grief overtake me.  How can I celebrate his birth when at the same time it was his death?

Sometimes time brings hard days, and grief has its victory.

Those hard days are still going to come up.  Time is not going to take those away, and I don't think time will ever change the fact that losing Alma has changed my relationship with Jayze, my relationship with others, the way I feel when I hear of someone who has gone through the exact same thing as me, or the comments I hear from other people who haven't gone through the same thing as me.  Time goes by and life does go on, but the memory remains.

But, as I look back, I do think time has also helped to strengthen my mental, physical, social, spiritual, and personal capacity to deal with this trial.

I can say "stillborn" to strangers without crying anymore. 

I don't cry every day.

I am not on autopilot anymore.

I can look babies in the face again and smile.

I have an appetite now.

Jayze and I, despite everything, are even closer now because of losing Alma.

I don't avoid looking at or walking through the baby section at Walmart anymore.

I can sleep without Alma's baby blue blanket.

I can look back and remember all the earthly angels who helped us out during those dark days.

I know without a doubt that families are forever.

Yes, death has changed so much.  Yet, despite many of the tragic things death brings, it has also let me see what I can do because of it.  It has allowed me to choose to become closer to my Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ.  Because what I have found is that I am happy.  Not every minute of every day, but I am happier than I was a little less than a year ago.  I can laugh again and not feel guilty because I know Alma doesn't want me to mourn him forever.  He wants me to move forward and live life - to live life in such a way that I will be able to see him again.

I really don't think time is the real healer, but I do think it helps.  God is the real healer.  He uses time to teach me.  

When I read over Alma's story again the other day, I realized that I have forgotten to figure out what I'm supposed to learn from this trial.  Instead, I have been hoping time will go by and that things will just go back to normal and I can be the same as always.  But I know that's not what my Heavenly Father wants.  This life isn't about staying the same - it's about changing and growing and becoming better.  I hope that my wound caused by Alma's death will be a reminder to me to always choose God despite my circumstances and allow Him to change me for the better. 

"Our wounds are often the openings into the best and most beautiful part of us."
~David Richo~