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~

 

2 years

I can't believe it has been two years since Jayze and I sealed the deal.  It has gone by so fast, yet it seems like we have been married forever.  I had no idea that in two years we could have so much joy, sorrow, pain, laughter, love, forgiveness, enduring, and change.  What a rollercoaster ride!  I'm grateful I am on the ride with Jayze.  I can honestly say I love him more now than I did when we got married.  

 

May 11, 2012 - Engaged

Engagement Pictures

 Sealed in the Snowflake, AZ Temple - July 31, 2012

Pregnant with Alma

Alma Jayze Flake - August 29, 2013 - August 29, 2013

Families are Forever

Jayze running in St. George Marathon

Expecting Alma's lil' brother 

Cheering Jayze's sister on in her half marathon

Spending our second 4th of July in Rexburg

Second time in Montana - Celebrating 2-year Anniversary

Who knew that two kids and two years later, we would be even deeper in love?  So here's to two years and many more years and eternity to come!  I sure love you my Jayze B. Flake.  Thanks for sticking with me through it all.

30 Weeks: Update

On Thursday, I officially hit 30 weeks along with our second baby.  Finally!

-Baby Update-

• Size of a large cabbage - about 3 lbs.
• Eyesight is continuing to develop.
• New fat cells are regulating the body temperature.

 

-Pregnancy Update-

Cravings: Brownies, potato salad, any food I don't have to cook.

Aversions: Spaghetti still does not sound good to me ever...until I start eating it. :)

Weight gain: 17 lbs., and I think I have gained a LOT of inches too this pregnancy.

Movement: He likes to hang out low as well as nestle in my right side in my ribs.  My right side will get numb sometimes...maybe he likes sitting on a nerve?

Awesome moment of the week: Hitting 30 weeks along.  Seriously, it sounds so much farther along than 20-something weeks along.

Heartburn: Eased up.  I hardly get it at all anymore (knock on wood).  Maybe this baby will come out bald!

Missing anything? Hard-core exercising, not getting leg cramps at night, and being able to wear my smaller clothes.

Next time we get to see the baby: In two weeks.

Appetite: I'll get super hungry, start eating, and then get full really fast.  Then I'll be hungry again half an hour to an hour later.  If I skip meals or don't eat for a while, then I get really light-headed, so I always have to pack snacks and water around with me.

 We're slowly getting closer.  I'm getting more and more excited for October 2.

Mountains to Climb

Since I forgot to keep checking the school website regarding on-campus parking permits, all of them were sold out by the time the spring semester started.  Because I'm working full-time and not going to school this semester, I really didn't worry too much about it.  I clicked on the option "free parking permit," went to campus to pick it up, and hung it up on my rear-view mirror.  I didn't think walking from the free parking parking lot to my work would be a big deal.

It ended up being a big deal.

There it is - a mountain of a hill that gradually becomes steeper and steeper - looms in front of me every single day when I get off work.  It is about a third of a mile long, and of course the wind is always against me as I climb it.  Imagine a pregnant woman trying to keep her purse on her shoulder with one hand and her skirt down with the other.  It leads to a stooped over, hobbling up-the-hill, out-of-breath, grumpy pregnant woman.  Every single day.

But the options are to climb the stupid mountain hill, wait an hour for Jayze to get off work so he could climb the stupid hill and get the car for me, or walk home.  I opt for climbing up the stupid hill. 

It's kind of funny really.  I get off work, hoist my purse higher up on my shoulder so it stays there, turn off my phone so I don't have any distractions, and plow ahead.  My eyes are located a few feet in front of me, and I concentrate on putting one step in front of the other.  As I walk, I mutter to myself, "It's okay.  You got this.  This hill doesn't have ANYTHING on you!  Don't let it beat you down!  Don't let it win!  It's not even that steep.  Almost there...look, the parking lot is in view!"

Yes, I do give myself a pep talk.

A couple of weeks ago I was having a really hard day.  Things just weren't going right, and I felt really down and discouraged.  By the end of work, I was ready to go home and crash.  I didn't want to think about making dinner or even eating dinner, doing the dishes, cleaning up our cluttered house, or anything.  It was all just too overwhelming that day.

Five o'clock finally came, I signed off, and headed out the door.

And when I walked outside and started in the direction of the parking lot, there it was again - that stupid hill.

I didn't think I could take it.  My feet were heavy and didn't want to move, and it seemed like my whole body was resisting walking up that steep hill.  It was windy, and my eyes were tired and couldn't handle the dirt flying into them.  All I wanted to do was sit down and not walk up that stupid hill.

But, I weighed the options again and decided I didn't want to sit somewhere on campus for an hour waiting for Jayze to get off work and began the upward journey.

I kept moving forward knowing that each step got me closer to the sanctuary of my car.  I knew if I stopped moving, I would stop for good.  But it was so incredibly hard that day.  About halfway up the hill, tears started rolling down my cheeks, and I felt like I couldn't go one more step. 

I lifted up my head to see how much farther I had to go and if it was even worth walking up the rest of the way when something white caught my eye.



https://www.lds.org/media-library/images/temples/rexburg-idaho?lang=eng

The temple.

Somehow seeing it helped me keep going.  I knew I wasn't going to go all the way to the temple because the free parking lot isn't as far as that, but somehow just seeing it gave me the strength to hang on.  To keep going step by step.  To not lose hope.

As I renewed my concentration of putting one step in front of the other, I remembered that my family is forever.  I remembered the covenants I made with Jayze and my Heavenly Father the day Jayze and I were sealed for time and all eternity in the temple.  I remembered that Alma is sealed to us too, and I'll get to see him again someday.  I remembered that the baby inside of me is sealed to us, and whether he lives or dies, he is still part of our forever family.

Somehow, I made it.  I was still crying, there was still dirt flying in my eyes, and my feet still felt heavy, but that day I really did have victory over that stupid hill.

I opened the car door and practically collapsed in the driver's seat, still out of breath. I glanced again at the temple that had given me renewed strength and the quote came to my mind:

"You are never lost when you can see the temple. The temple will provide direction for you and your family in a world filled with chaos. It is an eternal guidepost which will help you from getting lost in the 'mist of darkness'" ("Sacred Homes, Sacred Temples," Elder Gary E. Stevenson, April 2009). 

Climbing that hill is nothing compared to the every day "mountain" I climb each day.  The mountain of not being able to hold Alma every day.  The mountain of waking up and knowing no tiny hands are reaching out for me, needing me.  The mountain of knowing I gave birth to a baby, but no evidence of it happening.  Yes, there are pictures on my shelf, but there's no carseat in my car, no toys strewn across the front lawn or across my living room carpet, no pile of baby clothes waiting to be washed, no children's books in our book collection...

Even though we have had a baby, Jayze and I are already empty nesters.  I know what it's like being pregnant and giving birth, but I don't know what it's like actually taking care of my baby.  Some people talk to me like it's my first pregnancy, and I talk to others like it's my first baby; when in reality, neither of those are true. 

Like the temple quote says, some days my world is filled with chaos.  Some days I feel lost and without direction or hope.  Some days are dark, and I just want to give up and not take one step further up my mountain.  Trying to heal from the loss of my firstborn baby and trying to find hope in my pregnancy after that loss has been difficult, to say the least.  Deep down I know Alma is okay and that my Heavenly Father is really aware of me, but it doesn't mean I don't miss my baby. 

Mountains come in all shapes and sizes and none of us are exempt from climbing our own, personal mountain.  Everyone has a story.  Everyone is struggling with something.  Whether it's trying to fight an addiction, feeling depressed all the time, being spread thin because of all the activities you have going on in your life, fighting with a sibling, wondering what school to go to after you graduate high school, trying to heal from the loss of a loved one, feeling lonely, wondering if God is really there...

...and so many more...

Yet, I know that as we climb our mountains and make the effort by keeping the temple, eternal priorities, and God in sight, then we will be able conquer those mountains.  We will be able to come out on top.

You will be able to look up the mountain from the bottom and know that with grit and determination you can climb that mountain and succeed.   

Because front and center, God and angels are giving us a pep talk, too: "Don't give up.  Almost there.  You're getting so strong.  We're right here with you.  We love you."

Then when the mountain levels out, and you're finally able to catch your breath, you will know that you can do hard things.  You will know that it was worth it.

So I'm going to keep climbing my hill every day.  God and his angels are with me - I am not alone. 

"If we have faith in Jesus Christ, the hardest as well as the easiest times in life can be a blessing" 

("Mountains to Climb," Henry B. Eyring, April 2012).

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xdN8rfwW3SI

Feeling Loved

A few weeks ago I received a text from my sister Emily that went along the lines of:

"I'm thinking of going to see Mom and Dad.  Would you want to come with me?"

I wasn't feeling particularly homesick, but I felt like it would be nice to see my parents again, spend some one-on-one time with my sister, and get away from Rexburg for a week.  So, we booked the tickets, I said goodbye to Jayze (first time ever being away from each other since we started dating - so hard!), and we were off to Arizona.

It was good to be back in sunny and warm AZ.  I love the smell of the valley, the hot sun on my face (I think I'm addicted to it after enduring Rexburg negative degree winters), and the familiarity of being in the town where I grew up.

As we pulled into town, I thought about being able to visit Alma's grave while I was there.  I hadn't seen it in person since Christmas.

The week went by fast, and it wasn't until the end of the week when I finally made it to the grave.  I wanted to visit it by myself and decided to make a quick trip to the cemetery before church started.

I jumped into my parent's van and drove to the cemetery.  Butterflies danced in my stomach along with Alma's baby brother.  What would it be like seeing Alma's grave again?

I parked in front of the cemetery and slowly got out of the van.  A breeze flipped my hair around, and the dirt path crunched under my feet.  I searched for the grave, nervous about what kind of condition it might be in.

And suddenly, there it was.

It was beautiful.  It was smaller than I remembered, but decked out with flowers, pinwheels, and Easter eggs!  I knelt down in the soft grass and placed my hand on it, hoping to feel Alma there.  I couldn't stop the tears from coming - I was so grateful he wasn't forgotten.  I was so grateful people put flowers on his grave when I couldn't.  Then and there I knew that my small family was loved.  It was a humbling sight to see, especially since I live so far away from him and I'm not able to visit on a regular basis.  

As his mom, I wanted to do something special for him too.  Would what I had bought for him be good enough?

My mind went back to the purchases I had made on Friday.  My mom, dad, sister, grandma, and I had a picnic and made a trip to Walmart that day.  While we were there, I was determined to get something for Alma's grave.  However, at the flower section, the pickings were slim.  I had been hoping to get some gerber daisies because those were the first flowers Jayze and I put on his grave, but there weren't any there.  My mom helped me look around, and we finally spotted some white lilies that were farther down the aisle.  It wasn't my first choice, but I grabbed one and then saw a yellow tulip peeking up behind the back of the other lilies.  I grabbed that too, and with both flowers in my hand, I went back to where the other flowers were for a second look, hoping that maybe some daisies would miraculously show up.  No such luck.

I wasn't fully satisfied and distractedly followed my mom to the craft section.  What else could I get him?

As we were walking down the aisles, a wooden letter "A" caught my eye.  I took it down from the wall, inspected it, and decided to think about getting it with the flowers as we kept walking around.  It still didn't seem like enough.  I told my mom I would be right back and went to the "party" section.  Surely there had to be something there I could put on Alma's grave.

I found myself wandering around, walking from aisle to aisle.  I kept picking up different things and then setting them down again.  Nothing seemed right or special.  Something felt weird.  Then I realized what that weird feeling was.

I realized that I don't know what Alma likes.  Does he like trucks?  What's his favorite color?  Is he into the Ninja Turtles?

I had a lily and a tulip in one hand and a wooden letter "A" in the other.  Was it enough?  Would he even like the flowers or the "A"?

Standing there in Walmart was a wake-up call for me.  It made me remember that I only realize how much I don't know someone until I try to buy a gift for them.  I struggled to not have a breakdown in public and had to walk around some more before going back to where my family was.  How could I not know my own son?

I like symbols and connecting things.  I like having a reason to buy something special.  I looked down at the items I had picked out in my hand and determined what they could represent.  Something that would have to be good enough...

• The white tiger lily represented Jayze's and my commitment to each other.  They were the main flower at our wedding reception.  Knowing that families can be together forever has kept me hopeful, and this flower represented that hope.

• The tulip represented a flower there at Alma's graveside and a flower at our home in Rexburg.  When warmer weather came to Rexburg, Jayze and I unexpectedly found out we had tulip plants growing in front of the place we live in.  Jayze was stoked!  Every time someone came over, he would proudly ask them if they saw our tulips, even before they were in bloom.  Plus, Rexburg itself was bursting with tulips.  It seemed like everywhere we went - to campus, to and from our home, and at our home there were tulips softly waving to us in the slight breeze.  I wanted something good to remind me of Alma when I went back to Rexburg, and I knew the yellow tulip would do the trick.

• Lastly, I picked the wooden "A" because it was something I could paint and personalize.  It was something I, as his mom, could make something for my baby boy.  We haven't been able to get a headstone yet, and my parents were the ones who thoughtfully made and put the name plate up, so I wanted something from me personally for my baby.

My mom put wires in both flowers to help them stick in the ground easier and stay upright.  Once I painted the letter "A" a darkish blue, my dad helped me glue on a couple of wire sticks to that.

When I knelt down in the soft, green grass once again and lovingly stuck the flowers and "A" in his grave, I leaned back to see how they looked.  They were beautiful.  They were good enough, and they were the perfect touch from his momma and dad.

It's hard not knowing, really knowing, my son; however, in the end, all that matters is that I love him.  And that he knows I love him.

It gave me a sweet and tender feeling knowing Alma's grave was showered with love from others and now from his mom and dad.  I could walk away feeling relieved and comforted knowing others care about my small family and that I left my own mark on Alma's grave.

The day before Emily and I left to go back to Utah and Idaho, we (and my mom) were able to drive past his grave one more time.  And guess what?

Even more flowers were there.

And when I got home, Jayze surprised me by having a bouquet of flowers on the table - complete with tiger lilies and daisies - with our tulips outside our front house.

I feel loved.

"The Lord does notice us, and he watches over us. But it is usually through another person that he meets our needs."

~Spencer W. Kimball ~

27 Weeks: Contaminated?

At my six-week check up, I was scheduled to not only make sure my body was healing correctly, but also to make an appointment to get my blood drawn. 

"Fifty percent of the time we know what happened, and the other fifty percent we'll just never know or understand why," the doctor told Jayze and me at the hospital when he advised that our baby get an autopsy.

"There's a chance we'll find out the reason why when he's born.  But if there's no visible reason, then it would be good to get the body, placenta, and blood checked out."

When Alma was born, there was no visible sign of something gone wrong.  There wasn't a knot in the cord, the placenta looked normal, and Alma's body was perfect.  So, hard as it was, Jayze and I opted for the autopsy.

As we awaited the results, Jayze and I went back into the doctor's office the morning after my six-week check-up and had my blood drawn.  This time, they weren't just looking for any abnormalties in the placenta or in Alma, they were also looking for anything wrong with me - with my blood.

 Later, as I was on campus soaking up the warm sun in the late afternoon waiting for Jayze to get off work, I received a call from the doctor himself.  Usually it was a nurse who called me, but this time it was the doctor.  I answered, and he let me know that the autopsy results had come back and there was nothing wrong.  The blood work was normal, Alma's body was normal, the placenta was normal - something just went...wrong.  "Again, it's a 50/50 chance we know what happens, and this is just one more case where we won't ever know what went wrong."

I said thank you and hung up the phone, not enjoying the sunshine as much as I had been before.  It seemed odd that I was getting phone calls from the clinic, from the doctor personally, about my non-living baby.  Hardly anyone I was in contact with on campus (except those from work and from my Church ward) knew about Alma anymore, and there I was on campus getting a phone call about him.  It didn't seem normal.  What used to be my normal was cheerily walking on campus, people taking second glances at my bulging belly, and me feeling excited about expecting a baby boy in September.

Now my new normal was that there was no baby with me.  He was in Snowflake, and I was in Rexburg taking a full load of classes again.  I had the stretch marks to prove I had had a baby, but like my broken heart, that evidence was hidden.

My new normal was walking around with a weight on my shoulders, constantly blinking tears from my eyes, and knowing that going to work and full-time school should be my old normal.

When the doctor told me the results of the autopsy, the weight on my shoulders got heavier, the tears behind my eyes weren't as easy to blink away, and the reality that I wasn't living the "expected" normal - raising a baby after giving birth to him - set in once again.

I wish I knew why.  Why, if everything was normal and my baby should have come out perfect AND breathing, he had died.  Later, my blood results came back normal too.  There was no explanation, and I was going to have to live with the fear of "I don't know how to prevent it because I don't know what to prevent."

With this second pregnancy, I have found myself longing even more to know the reason why.  Was it because I craved and ate only corn dogs during my first trimester with Alma - because it was the ONLY thing I could eat without throwing up?  If it was, well, then I won't eat any corn dogs this time.  Was it because I missed taking my prenatals once in a while...then no matter how sick or tired I feel, no matter how much I hate swallowing pills, I'm going to take them every. single. day.

But I can't do that.  I can't hard-core avoid anything.  I can only guess, which makes it harder.  I feel like doing so many things, and then I think, "But what if that's the reason why it happened last time?"  Then I find myself doing nothing and then I think again, "But what if I do nothing and it still happens?"  I have no control.

At the beginning of this pregnancy I got my blood drawn again so they could test me and my second baby for anything wrong.  Panic would set in every time I saw the clinic's number on my caller ID.  Was something wrong this time?

And every time they said, "The results came back normal..."

But they were normal last time....

I feel like there is a trigger inside of me waiting to go off and take this baby's life too.  And sometimes I feel like other people are watching me, other pregnant women, waiting for something to go wrong.  Waiting to see what they can do to prevent their baby from dying too.  

And I find myself wondering, "Is there something wrong with me?"

I was looking at this one girl's blog who went through a similar thing, and one of her posts really stood out to me about how she can't relate to other pregnant people.  First she quotes another angel mom who said:

“Around other pregnant people I felt, ‘Well I’m not really pregnant the way you are.  I’m sort of pregnant. I might be having a baby.'"

And then the girl followed up with:

"Then I laughed out loud at how absurd the comment sounded, a full belly laugh, while my brain screamed, 'THAT’S IT!' That’s what if feels like this pregnancy, like I might be having a baby or that I’m only a little pregnant. This whole time while pregnant with baby No. 2, I have felt distant from the child growing inside me, almost in denial that I am actually pregnant.  This denial stemming from fear that this baby, too, might not come home. The quote I found put my denial into words perfectly.'"

And that's exactly how I feel!  Like I'm not really pregnant.  I look down at my belly sometimes and think, "It's not going to last long."  Sometimes it surprises me when people give my swollen belly a second look, or when someone congratulates me on my pregnancy.  I think, "Oh yeah, I guess I am pregnant.  But don't they know I'm not really pregnant?"

Can't they see that I'm broken?
Can't they see the big, gaping hole left in my heart that no earthly doctor can ever heal?
Can't they see that one simple question they may ask might set me over the edge?

Can't they see there is something wrong with me?

Insecurities talk loud and clear.  They fill my mind and days with darkness.  They give me the desire to feel no connection towards the baby.

I was having a particularly rough day a few weeks ago.  Jayze and I like reading books out loud together, and that night, he was in the mood to read one of our books and asked me to pick one.  I wasn't really in the mood, but I looked over our books and picked the shortest one, "You Are Special."

Even though the book is mostly about not caring what other people think about you and not judging other people, one quote in particular ended up being the perfect source of comfort for all of my pent-up feelings of hurt, anger, frustration, loneliness, insecurity, panic, depression, worry, and exhaustion.

"'Remember," Eli [the woodcarver] said as the Wemmick [one of the wooden people he had made] walked out the door, "you are special because I made you.  And I don't make mistakes.'"

I don't know the outcome to this pregnancy.  I don't know why Alma died.  But I do know that I am trying my hardest to be okay.  To be happy.  To find hope.  To cherish every moment I have with this second baby.  That same girl who wrote about only being a little pregnant was reminded by her therapist that she would only be pregnant with her second baby once.  The same thing applies to me: I'll only be pregnant with my second baby once too.  He is his own person with his own personality and character traits, and he deserves to be celebrated. 

Dark days still come.  Disconnection from the baby is still there from time to time.  Panic, worry, exhaustion, and sleepness nights never quite go away.

But it's so nice to know that I am special to my Savior.  That I am not a mistake because He doesn't make mistakes.  That Alma is not a mistake.  We were supposed to have him, and we are supposed to have this baby too.

That, despite Satan trying to make me feel otherwise, there is nothing wrong with me.  My Savior loves me no matter what.

As I keep trying to grasp ahold of my Savior's love and support, I know it's still going to be hard.  It still is hard.  There are days when I still can't look at a baby.  There are still moments where grief hits me hard and leaves me feeling even more discouraged than ever before.  There are still flashbacks of when we had Alma, of how hard that was, and how hard it would be if it happened again.

But, again, like that one girl reiterated, all Jayze and I have are moments with this baby - and I want to hold onto those moments for as long as I can.