Coming Home.

During our stay in the PICU...we realized soon that Adalyn wasn't going to get better. I still wasn't ready to accept that though. Countless times I prayed....Telling God exactly what I wanted. Exactly what we need. Begging....bargaining.... and pleading for things to be different. For results to come back better...

Yet over and over....David and I got the same answer.  It was time for us to let our brave, perfect little girl go home. 

Making the decision to remove Adalyn's breathing tube was the absolute hardest of my life. To know that we would only have a short time left would instantly throw me into a panic. Even today, I struggle to think of that.

After removing the tube, Adalyn never again had a seizure. It was our miracle. Her entire countenance radiated wisdom...comfort...and peace. She was tired, yet her eyes were so calm. She even "talked" in those days after removing her tube.

First time holding her after the tube was removed...best feeling! 

We had a big meeting, with absolutely everyone involved in her care. Best case scenario, with each treatment option we could try....it would maybe buy us another month. As much as we wanted to keep her with us, we couldn't put her through what we knew was only a chance at more time.

Some of the physical angels we were surrounded by helped arrange for us to be flown home.

November 10th, we finally came back home. 

There are no words to describe how I felt leaving some of our family...both mine and David's sister...knowing that would be the last time they got to shower her in kisses.

Her life-flight nurses dressed her perfectly. She looked so cozy and beautiful. My eyes could hardly leave her perfect face the entire flight home. Almost as if my heart was trying to etch each and every detail of her into my memory. 

As soon as we were settled in that night... it was clear how much Adalyn had wanted to be home too.

That night was the last perfectly calm night we would have. I won't go into detail, because it's too close to my heart.... But that night was one of the most sacred of my life. The capacity of love that filled that room was beyond anything I had ever felt. I know angels were present....and the prayers from so many were comforting us...

The days that followed...we spent every single second next to our sweet girl.

As I have reflected on that day... so many thoughts have come to mind. I wanted to hope that this November would, in some ways this year, be much more calm...and give my heart a chance to find the pieces of itself again.

Oh how I miss this..

Yet, this past weekend has once more set David and I into a tailspin. 

On Saturday, David's defibrillator (much like a pacemaker) started beeping every few hours. Most people might not know the feeling of their body randomly making beeping noises...or sounding like an English ambulance...but David sure does. We wanted to hope it was just his device malfunctioning and sending off a false alarm.

As it would turn out...one of the leads going from the device into his heart has shattered. Meaning, David needs immediate surgery to replace it. 

When we heard the news....I wanted to say, "You're kidding me, right?" How is it possible to so frequently have such horrible timing... When we found out we were pregnant earlier this year...one of my fears was something going wrong with David around the same time we were having a baby again. I told myself I was being irrational....and shell shocked from the past year. Yet here we are.

The complicated part is that David already has too many excess wires in his heart from old leads. They generally don't remove old leads because of the risk it poses. However....they can't fit a new lead in...unless they remove an old lead.

The risk with removing a lead is that it can puncture a hole in the heart wall. Having a hole in your heart is not a good thing... 

The lead they need to replace is one David rarely needs....but essentially...it is his life saving lead. If anything goes wrong, like heart going way too fast, it's the lead that delivers a shock to his heart to get him back into a normal rhythm. Imagine the paddles you see in medical shows....that's what his device does.

In the mean time...David gets to wear this fashionable "Life Vest" It monitors his heart....and can deliver a shock if needed. 

You can tell he really loves it. 

So, this week, on the 17th...David goes in for surgery.. Not because his heart itself is having problems..His heart is doing great. It is just the device/leads inside. His doctor set us up with one of the best lead extraction surgeons in the nation. If all goes well, the surgery will be several hours...and we'll get to come home after a couple days. Worst case scenario... if a hole is punctured, they do emergency open heart to fix the hole.

And....our little boy is set to arrive on the 27th. 

Needless to say....there have been many tears shed in the Brown house these past few days. It's hard to not understand. Hard to feel like the rain clouds are so constant.

I have no doubt Adalyn gets so much of her amazing courage and strength from her brave Daddy. They are the two most incredible souls I have ever known.  I feel beyond lucky I get to call them mine....but feeling so helpless to fixing things is debilitating at times.

I wish I could say I have some sort of insight... All I know for sure....is that some days are hard. Really hard. 

Some months are hard. Really hard. 

So....this week...I find myself begging, bargaining... and pleading once more. Mostly just trying to remind myself to trust in Someone greater. We are praying that all goes so smoothly with David's surgery. Praying that we feel Adalyn so very close. And praying that our growing little boy stays inside for as long as possible.

"She's Sick.."

November 4, 2015

I had gone to bed at 5am that morning. Adalyn couldn't sleep more then 45 minute stretches by this point. So one of us was always with her.

That night she had been so calm, even through her seizures. Her breathing, for her, seemed normal. Her saturations were good. Some moments now, I try to filter through that entire night, thinking maybe somehow I missed something... That somehow... I should have been able to change the course of events...

Around 9am, David's hand touched my shoulder. He whispered, "Amanda, I think she's sick. She has a fever. Her breathing is labored."

Those words still ring in my head at times. 

My eyes popped right open. Mentally putting on my fighting gear. At that moment, it didn't even cross my mind that later that day we would be life-flighted to Primary Children's. In my mind, I thought we would get through this like every other sickness she had.

We gave her tylenol....and she calmed down.

By 12pm...we were in her pediatrician's office. When you have a special needs child, there is never a delay when you say you need to come in. Her pediatrician was amazing, and right away sent us for a Chest X-Ray.

What I remember most about that day is how brave our sweet girl was. She wasn't fussy. She didn't cry. In fact, she was so incredibly calm.

Within 15 minutes, we had the results. You would think by then, I would have known it wasn't good news. Her doctor told us we needed to get over to the hospital immediately. Her lungs were completely whited out..... Meaning....there was almost no room for oxygen to move in and out. Breathing is sort of a non-negotiable.

Even at this point, both David and I were oblivious to how seriously sick she was. This is odd...because we both have a medical background. We know how serious it is to have those type of results.... I guess in those moments...we were just prepared to fight whatever it was we were facing. Whatever we were up against, we were going to win the battle. 

In my mind, this would just be another quick hospital stay...we would get her all better....and be back home before the end of the week.

By 3pm...we were at the hospital. We didn't even have to check in...they had been notified we were coming. And right away took us to a room. We laid her on the hospital bed....and before we knew it...our world started spinning. 

*Here is a few things you need to know. St. George, as wonderful as it is....is not equipped to handle pediatrics in a critical situation. They aren't set up for Pediatric Intensive Care Unit....We hope someday, they will be. Even so....we are forever grateful for what they did for our girl.

For the next 2 hours....they attempted to get an IV in...and failed over and over. They needed blood cultures, and to start medicine. She was poked more times then I can count. David and I held her perfect little fingers. Whispering over and over that she was the bravest girl we knew. Even through all that..... She didn't cry.  She would squeeze our fingers and cringe with each poke. We stood close by. Rubbing her sweet arms and legs.

At this point. I started panicking. More and more people were flooding into the room. Her blood results came back and showed her CO2 levels way over double what they should be. Meaning, her body was becoming dangerously toxic.

Life flight was dispatched...but would take over an hour to arrive.

They attempted a CPAP machine, but didn't have the right size for her. With her numbers continually increasing, they had to get her intubated. Immediately....

David and I moved to the foot of her bed...and watched them attempt 3 separate times to get the breathing tube in. Failing each time. Her oxygen would drop close to 0.....and they would need to bag her back to breathing once more. Something that still creeps into my nightmares.

It was then my heart began to feel like glass. And the blows it was sustaining....were shattering. 

By nothing short of a miracle...Adalyn didn't seize that entire time. Almost as if....amid the all the chaos...Angels were carrying her. 

I stepped outside her room and couldn't fully breathe. Her room had over 20 people attending to her. Carts were surrounding the room...drawers haphazardly pulled out...

By 8pm...Life Flight finally arrived. They had got her stable by this point...and hooked up to the ventilator. They loaded her up into the ambulance...and off to the airport we went.

By 9pm....we were wheels up in the air. The dark of the night seemed to match my fear of what was to come. David and I could hardly exchanged words...mostly just utterly panicked looks. Tight hand squeezes. And tear filled eyes.

I stared at Adalyn that entire flight. Somehow trying to will myself to wake up.

By 11pm...we were taken to the PICU at Primary Children's. Once more, a team was already waiting for us. Right as we got there, David and I were pulled aside by two doctors. They told us because of her history...there were no guarantees she would make it through the night. No guarantee that she could recover from this...

I wanted to throw up.. I couldn't even find the words to respond. It felt like there was no air to breathe in the room. I was waiting for someone to say the words "Just kidding, false alarm!"

But those words were never said.

After midnight, Adalyn was all set up in her room. All was calm. She was sedated pretty heavily...and for once...able to sleep somewhat peacefully. David went to try to sleep for an hour in the parent sleep rooms..

I sat next to her bed....watching the mechanical rise and fall of her chest on the vent. Soaking the side of her bed with my hot tears. I laid my head next to hers and held her hand. I kept telling her I wasn't ready for this. I wanted her to know how much I needed her. How much we still needed time....

The next morning, her neurologist came to see us. Right as she walked in, she wrapped me in a hug...and once again...I sobbed. Again...we had to begin discussing what this all meant....This event didn't necessarily happen because of a sickness alone. Her seizures caused her to aspirate.. until the point that her lungs collapsed. Which was why it was onset so suddenly.  They could get her lungs cleared....but for some reason...her lungs were not in great shape to begin with. They were too stiff. And not exchanging oxygen well. Neurologically...even not taking into account her seizures...it would be uncertain if her body could return from this. Add her progressive, unstoppable seizures...and the outlook continued to darken..

At this point...her seizures had returned. Sedation...and 3 separate rescue medicines weren't even stopping them completely.

We would be there for the next 6 days... though honestly...in felt like one giant....long...horrific day. 

David and I would take turns every so often, sleeping for 1-2 hours. Yet without fail...we would have nightmares the moment we fell asleep. Nightmares of losing our Adalyn...

Waking up did nothing to remove those nightmares. 

It's odd the things the mind remembers... I remember frequently people commenting the fact I was wearing sandals with it being winter. We lived in St. George....and a life-flight trip wasn't exactly a planned part of our day. I remember the hum of her machines. I remember the smell of the  bed we had to sleep on. I remember the yellow subway tile in the parent showers. I remember how quickly it seemed that our "troops" assembled. Our incredible family dropped everything  at a moments notice to support us. Our friends were amazing... We were flooded with messages of comfort and prayers. Even people we hardly knew dropped off baskets of snacks and packages.

For the rest of my life, I will never forget that...I will never forget how it felt to be on the receiving end of the goodness of so many. 

I remember sitting in the bathroom, pleading with God to let me wake up.... to let this just be a dream. Pleading with Him for more time. I needed years and years more to love on her. 

I remember aching to hold her. Wanting to wrap her in my arms and pretend the world around us didn't exsist. Instead..having to settle for just rubbing her head, arms and legs...holding her sweet fingers.

I remember them telling us....that absolute best case scenario...we would have up to 3 weeks. 

I remember the moments Adalyn would wake up....look at us...and instantly wash us both over with the calmest of feelings. How was it possible that a girl so small....so fragile...could be the one to remind us to have courage? To remind us of her love with such simple hand squeezes? How could it be that she was the one to hold our hearts together, when our world felt like crumbling?

Honestly.... I have never been more afraid in my life than I was those days. In fact....a year later...I'm still scared of those days.  I still feel like I can't fully breathe when I think of them.

In reflecting of that day....I feel so overwhelmingly proud of Adalyn. She was the calm in the middle of the hurricane. I feel so humbled and grateful that I get to be her mom....so grateful for all the things her beautiful, perfect, soul teaches me. I'm beyond convinced she is among the bravest and most graceful souls to ever live. Her middle name Grace couldn't be more fitting for her. She fought the hardest of battles...yet did so with so much grace.

I couldn't prepare for what was to come. Neither of us could. Yet....somehow...in the middle of our deepest darkness...Her light remained constant. Her goodness remained so pure. Her love...remained so full.

Even today, that hasn't changed one bit. 

Just Be Held.

For most of this year, I have worked to push the thoughts and events of last November to the back of my mind.

I thought time would stop....or freeze....and that certainly there was no way November would come again. (I'm not always the most rational). Yet here it is. And my heart....my heart is full to the brim of emotions. Almost to the point that some days, it simply hurts to feel.

There were so many days last November that shook my world to the core. Especially the first two weeks. I know it's time for me to face those feelings. And as always...I do that best through writing.

November 2, 2015:

Adalyn turned 6 months. "Monthies," as I referred to them, were a big deal for us. Each passing month was a tender mercy. We clung to the gift of time. David's amazing mom had the idea of having a small party for her. A "Half-Birthday" party. We thought it was brilliant.

She even baked the most perfect half-birthday cake. 

I loved it.

That day....Adalyn had some stretches of awake time. Which was incredible for her. We adored just getting to spend time with her. Nothing more was needed. Her seizures had progressed so severely by that point. Even now, there is nothing I hate more than seizures. They took so much from her...especially as they became more life threatening...and we were helpless to stopping them.

Her simple party was perfect. She slept through the whole thing! We sang her "Happy Half-Birthday" and ate her cake.

Little did we know....this would be one of the last days before everything would take a spiraling turn for the worst. How could we ever process that we would only have 11 more days with our beautiful girl?

I think of that now....and I was to run back in time and shout at myself to hold to every. single. second. To memorize the sounds...smells..feel of each moment. As if doing so would stop that day from coming.

How is it that we are here now....a year later...coming up on that heart-wrenching year mark? And in the same month....welcoming a new baby? 

As I was driving a few days ago....I turned on the Christian radio. I don't remember the song...or even the tune...but shortly after turning it on I heard the words "Stop holding on, and just be held"

That has rang in my head ever since. As I think of our lives...this month....my feelings...and all that is to come....I feel like I'm scrambling to hold on to everything. Thinking that somehow, if I can hold on to everything....I can control it. As if I can stop anything bad from happening.

Yet the more I try to hold on to everything....the more my feelings seem to spiral away from me. It's as if I'm trying with all my might to pick up the pieces of my fragile heart...to hold them close. The more I try, the more the pieces keep dropping out of my hands.

Thinking of that simple line has made me realize that I just want to be held. To be held in the love of our sweet Adalyn. Held in the constant love of my husband. Held in the tender comfort of our growing little boy... 

Held in the hands of God....who will never drop or lose those fragile pieces of my heart. 

So that is what I will try to do as we reflect on these days. I will try to just be held. Knowing that even in the hardest of moments, love was our constant. We were never left alone.

Happy 18 months Addie baby! To say I miss you is the most drastic understatement.
Stay extra close my darling. I'll be looking for you. 

XO

Mom


Here are some picture highlights of the end of October last year:

So perfect!

Also....thought I would share my ever-growing self! 

Changed.

Right from the moment I found out I was pregnant with Adalyn.....my heart was filled with such adoration and excitement. It was thrilling to imagine that a beautiful little life was growing. A little life that would be ours....a life that would change every part of our day....make life a little messier and chaotic.. but a life that would turn our lives into something even more beautiful. 

From that moment....she was on my mind every single day, even before knowing she was a little girl. From that moment...I began changing. 

When we found out she was a little girl, our hearts felt like bursting with how much we loved this child we hadn't even met yet....

Perfect capture of how much David adores her. 

Before we knew it...our world was turned upside down..and given a hard shake. 

Each and every day we prayed hard....prayed that our little girl would survive. Prayed desperately that we would have time to hold her and whisper to her every ounce of love we felt for her. Prayed that we would get to hear her cry....and see her smile. We prayed that the doctors would be wrong....that she would be able to live and thrive. We prayed ultimately...for a miracle. 

As you know.....we got our miracle. Just a different miracle then we had planned. Adalyn's life was like the brightest streak of light across our skies. She has illuminated every part of us. On my darkest days, she continues to be a light.

Since that second I knew her life was growing inside....she still has never left my mind.

I find myself rather introspective these days. Every aspect of our lives seems so surreal.

People have asked a lot how I'm feeling...and inside, I guess I don't quite know the answer. My pregnancy with Adalyn was different in every possible way from this pregnancy with her sweet brother.

With Adalyn, we were praying so fervently that she would survive. We had countless appointments....meetings...scans....and conference meetings with teams of doctors...all telling us the statistics of her surviving.

Instead of picking out her "coming home" outfit...we were having to discuss what level of medical intervention we would want in a variety of scenarios.

This pregnancy, our little boy has been growing in just the right way....and I've been completely healthy. Yet..I still have all those fears written on my heart. David and I know with certainty how there is never a true "guarantee"  with life....and what a vulnerable feeling that can be.

We never pass a certain milestone....or hit a point where you get a ticket that says "No bad will ever happen, and all your loved ones will have perfect health!" 

Instead, we are given moments. Moments with each of the people we love so deeply.

I feel like I'm on this constant emotional roller coaster these days. It's hard for me to sometimes even understand what I am feeling.

After everything we have been through...I am a completely different "me." I look the same. Sound the same...but every part of me feels different. I don't quite know yet this new version of me. The new version that has frequent break downs, is full of anxiety and fears. Sometimes, it feels uncomfortable...foreign...and hard.

However, I wouldn't go back to the old version of me for a second. I wouldn't want to go back to a life that didn't know Adalyn. 

I look each night at the pictures we took this day last year...and I feel flooded with gratitude. Adalyn radiates love and light in her pictures. I'm so grateful for each picture I have....

Yet...I can see her getting more and more tired...and I'm scared to relive the days that are ahead. My heart aches in wishing for more. More pictures. More videos. More kisses. More cuddles. More time... 

I sat down to write this post not knowing the words that would spill out. I'm not even quite sure they make sense. So...if you made it this far in reading, props to you. I knew I wanted to write something in honor of October 15....pregnancy and infant loss awareness day. 

1 in 4 parents will lose a child before the age of one. That's 25% my friends! Which also means...there a many, many hearts out there who have a part of their hearts missing. Parents with arms that ache to hold their child. A child that is still deeply loved, fiercely missed, constantly remembered...and ever prayed for. 

So as you go about your evening....take a moment to remember those beautiful, sweet babies. And take an extra moment to hold close those in your life that you love. 

To you, my sweet Adalyn...we're coming ever closer to that year mark. The day our entire world fell apart. The day my worst possible nightmare became our new reality. Some moments, I just sit and imagine how it felt to hold you close and press my lips into your soft hair...and feel you relax into my arms. I miss watching you sleep....and seeing how beautiful the tender rise and fall of your chest was to me. I miss hearing your daddy sing to you...and hearing him tell you stories. I'm slowly trying to figure out this new person I see in the mirror..You changed me sweet girl.. I guess the hard part of change is that it's never easy. It's hard and refining. But even with the the hard days, my booger filled cry sessions, and my longing for you... You have changed me in every way for the better. Your life and light continues to reach people Addie baby.

When I lay awake at night I imagine your little brother. We just about have everything ready for him to arrive, which is still hard to wrap my mind around.
I imagine the things you talk about...and the connection you have. I've been praying so hard that he will always feel of that connection. I have a feeling he will. I hope you both know in each and every moment how deeply Daddy and I love you!

Stay close my darling, always.

XO,

Mom

Imperfection.

When we were discharged from the NICU with Adalyn last May, we were given a POLST form....and asked to spend time together thinking about it. If you know what a POLST form is, your stomach is already cringing at the thought... It is a form that no parent should ever have to think about for their child..

It stands for Physician's Order for Life-Sustaining Treatment. It is given to those with often terminal conditions....as a type of Advanced Directive....to help first responders, doctors and nurses all know your wishes.

I love seeing all of those perfect arm rolls!

Once we were home, I took that form and ripped it up. I didn't even want to think about it. At that time, we kept Adalyn at a "full code" meaning, we wanted to do all we could to keep her. We were going to fight for her....every step of the way. 

At this time last year, we were at Primary Children's once more for appointments....when that form was once more placed in front of us. Adalyn's condition was getting worse....her seizures were becoming life-threatening at the rate they were progressing. The medicines she was on and had gone through...weren't working. Her little lungs, for some reason that confounded everyone....continued to decline.

Once more...we said we would think about it. In my mind....I wanted to push out the thought completely. How could I ever sign that?? I couldn't even let myself go there. I wasn't done fighting.

Little did we know, our time with our sweet girl was already ticking down. And within a month and a half....we would have to re-visit this form.... The time was coming when we would realize our fight for Adalyn needed to be different...

As October and November draw near....I want to hide. To somehow run backwards fast enough to stop these months from coming. 

Those months were beautiful....sacred...and so very tender. Yet...they were also incredibly hard, devastating....and heart breaking

I'm scared of re-living those days. Scared of the year mark that will come in November. 

As I have thought about all our emotions...I have had a few thoughts. I think, all too often, there is a stereo-type among us. A feeling that we all need to put on our happy faces....that we shouldn't admit to have a hard time....to being vulnerable...to having faults..or to being afraid. When we do...others often feel the need to "fix you" to make you happy and perfect once more.

Throughout this past year.....and in thinking of the days to come....I think more and more of all the imperfections I have. I fall apart quite frequently. I'm anxious. I'm often scared. Some moments trigger PTSD from events of last year. I feel the breaks in my heart. I feel unsure of myself...and the person in the mirror seems so foreign to me. At times I feel lost...and my yearning to hold Adalyn once more...to breathe in her sweet smell feels overpowering.

There are no words to take those feelings away. No sudden change that will take away that grief....or change what we went through.

And honestly....I wouldn't want anyone to.

Conference weekend last October will forever hold one of my favorite views! 

Adalyn's entire life.....and even in the months since she has been gone....I have felt the greatest depths of gratitude. I have felt greater empathy for those around me. I have found the beauty in the small and simple. I see the more clearly the good. I have loved intensely. I sit in the shower at times...and stare at my growing belly and see what a true miracle this little life already is...

The days we are walking through have been the darkest I have ever walked...yet I have been acutely aware of the beautiful lights we have been sent. Acutely aware of the prayers on our behalf. Acutely aware of the incredible people we have in our lives.

I say these things because I think there is something beautiful about imperfection....and it shouldn't be shameful.

I think to have true joy, we will have a fullness of sorrow. A fullness of grief. A fullness of pain.... Because experiencing those things, shows us the absolute miracle of light. It shows the comfort in friends and family...Most of all...it shows us the power of love. Joy doesn't mean we never experience dark days. I think it's rather the opposite. It means we've walked through the dark days... and we've received our scars. The pain of those days doesn't disappear. Instead, it is all apart of who we have become...but the love we've gained through those dark days is far greater, deeper and more beautiful than before. Maybe joy is knowing and trusting that there will come a day when God heals our hearts perfectly. 

I think I now understand what it means to "Mourn with those that mourn"  It isn't about trying to say words to take away another's pain. It isn't about "fixing" anyone. It's simply being present. Holding a hand. Crying with them. Reminding them that they are loved.

It's admitting that some things we face are absolutely, undeniably hard.... Admitting it's okay to have a hard time. It's okay.. (as the amazing author Brene Brown would say)...To have the courage to be vulnerable.

I am completely imperfect.  I miss Adalyn more than my words could ever convey. I question myself so very often...wondering if she knew in each and every moment how much she was wanted....and deeply loved. I still pray for strength to get through each day.

I'm not implying that our imperfections should rule and control our lives. Nor do I want to stay feeling the way I do forever. I want to be better. For Adalyn...for David...and for our growing little boy...but I'm trying to remind myself to be patient with where I am now...

Maybe sometimes....imperfect is exactly what we need to be. 

I think maybe....it is those very imperfections that help us to find God...to feel Him near. To feel His hands of comfort holding our tender hearts.  

To you my sweet Addie Grace....goodness how the days feel so long without you! As fall creeps in..so do the fears on my heart I had last year at this time. The fear of losing you still haunts me...even as we are slowly coming up on the year mark of you being gone.

I've had so many moments where I've felt you so powerfully...almost as if I could close my eyes and feel you in my arms...Yet I'm realizing that it's like trying to hold the rays of the sun....or grasp the breeze...I simply can't...as much as I want to in every way.  I have to just let myself soak up the feeling of your closeness....Knowing you are never far.  Trusting in the day I will get to hold you again. I imagine you spending time with your little brother....I'm certain he loves you so much! Last week...on an evening when Daddy and I were especially missing you...we went to the cemetery and read books to you and your brother. It was good for our hearts.

Last week...on an evening when Daddy and I were especially missing you...we went to the cemetery and read books to you and your brother. It was good for our hearts. 

I am ever grateful for your beautiful life and light my darling. We have so many projects in the works for both you and your brother...I'm hoping they all come together soon! Please stay extra close to us as these next two months come. I need you so very much.

I love you Adalyn, always and completely.

XOXO
Mom

Fragile.

Hello my darling, 

We have now passed 9 whole months since you returned back to heaven. My heart still has a hard time comprehending how days....weeks...and months continue to pass.

Lately I've been struggling. I feel so lost Addie baby. My heart feels so very fragile. The pieces feel like they are barely being held together with a mixture of old tape and elmers glue... ready to fall apart with the slightest of impact.

I think the past couple months have been hard for me....I have slowly began to work through some of those emotions that I've worked to avoid...or numb. Sleep has still been my nemesis. The nights I sleep best...usually means I got a couple stretches of 2-2 1/2 hours of sleep.

We made you a new wreath! I think it's perfectly fitting for you.

I still have panic attacks. More often in the evenings....especially when I'm tired. It feels like I'm in the ocean....just a few inches away from where my feet would touch the bottom. It's like I'm bobbing up and down in the water. Popping back up to gasp for air......yet I still can't fully breathe...because waves are crashing down on me.  I desperately want to bridge the gap of those few inches....to be at a place where I can stand fully...and just breathe.

I think of you in each and every moment. I wonder what bright and beautiful things you see each and every day. I wonder about the people you see.....and the good you are doing. I think of how utterly blessed I feel to get to call you mine.... I think of what you would look like now....as your dark curly hair grew longer. I think of you perfect and healthy...with your bright blue eyes and beautiful smile.

I'm scared Adalyn. Still scared of life without you here. 

You opened my heart to a whole new level of loving. You infused our lives with such powerful, tangible, and tender love. Holding you was like holding a piece of heaven. As hard as the days were, I was so much stronger with you in my arms. 

Often I hear people or strangers say, "Now you are pregnant again, you can finally move on." I know they mean well...but I disagree.

Moving on means leaving something behind. Left in the past. No longer a part of the day to day. There are moments in each of our lives.....moments that are life-changing...moments that change hearts. Those moments become a part of you. Forever entwined with your soul.  

That is exactly what you are...You are forever a part of me my darling. Carrying you in my heart every day is what makes me a better person.

There have been days this past month, when I desperately needed to feel you close. The 13th was one of those days. I dislike the 13th of each month... Do you remember how I lost the stamped footprint of your little feet? I was so broken about it. I had all but given up hope that I would find them again...

That day, I was going through the box of cards we have that we received all through last year. As I read through some of those words again, tears pour out of my eyes in a steady stream. I don't know if people will ever know how much their words have touched my aching heart....and gave me comfort....even still today. You became a light to so many sweet girl.

I opened an older envelope...and your cute little stamped feet fell into my lap. I felt you so strongly in that moment. Your own beautiful way of wrapping your arms around me....reminding me that your are still very much with me. Loving me....strengthening me. I still don't know how they got into that envelope...or into that box.

Your little brother, I think, has been practicing baby Olympics in the womb these days. Honestly, feeling him move so frequently is a comfort my fragile heart has needed. I have so many fears with this pregnancy....feeling him is almost like his sweet way of letting me know he's doing okay.

Clearly he takes after you. Already being one to give me comfort. 

Daddy carries this picture with him in his pocket on days that are hard...Clearly it is well loved. Looking at your sweet picture gives him strength and comfort I think...And reminds him he can do hard things. He loves you deeply sweet girl!

There is another thing I want to thank you for.....and let you know I'm still working on. Each and every day of your life was a reminder of how important each moment is...Of how lucky we each are to be given each day with those we love. 

Your life was a reminder of the beauty in simplicity. I think we are each so often spending our time looking forward...to the next holiday...next weekend...next appointment....that we lose sight of the here and now. We take for granted the day we are given.

This picture captures exactly when I mean. The perfect in the simple.

You gave us perspective on that...each day with you....everything else of less importance drifted away.

With you gone....I have to remind myself each day to be here. To be here in this moment. The here and now.

While I work during the week...I listen to a radio show...at the end of each show he says..."And remember, when you get home tonight, hug the ones you love."

We never know how many little moments we are given. I long for the day with my moments are once again filled with seeing you....with your Daddy....and your little brother.

I love you Addie Grace. Always and completely.  Your life reminds me that sometimes....that which is most fragile and delicate...is also capable of magnificent strength and love.

I am the luckiest woman in the world to have you for our little girl.

Stay close my darling.

XOXO

Mommy