delighted to be » baby amelia

a lack of feeling / may 19, 2014

amelia_holdhands-Recovered

I don’t even have words in me anymore these days.

It’s like I’ve shut off the thinking and feeling part of my brain so I’m not in constant tears all the time. It’s how my body copes – I either feel so deep it’s almost destructive or I just don’t feel at all.

And towards the end of this pregnancy with Owen (28 days & counting today!) I guess I’m subconsciously choosing not to feel at all.

What I do feel, I wish I didn’t. Yesterday at church I felt like this could be my last pregnancy. And I was completely, 100% okay with that. It wasn’t that I was in severe pain or was uncomfortable, either. Owen would just wiggle inside of me and I felt like, “I’m not really going to miss this.” It’s like I’ve hardened my heart but I wish I hadn’t.

Maybe it will change when he’s born. But right now (and it’s not due to my large, 36 weeks physical state of being) I just don’t ever want to be pregnant again. Done, done, & done; this ship has sailed.

My heart isn’t completely numb. I’m still excited for little things like the clothes Owen gets to wear, breastfeeding, and the brotherly bond he and Jack will develop. These are things I missed out on with Amelia. She was a newborn – she came home with us – yet she didn’t get a nursery or a crib or diaper changes. Jack didn’t even realize she was there, and then all of a sudden gone from our lives forever. And it’s kind of unfair to me, when I think about it.

Maybe this is why I don’t think. I’m afraid if I open my heart I’ll be an anxious puddle of tears all day long, swallowed up in the ifs and buts and couldhavebeens.

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The Gap / may 6, 2014

flowers

It’s been a while. We have six weeks left. (Or more, or less. Let’s pray for less.)

My point is that my belly is huge and it’s getting real.

I’ve been trying really hard lately to prepare for Owen, mentally and spiritually. I don’t know what kind of child would want to come to our family to complete an Amelia sandwich, but he must be one incredibly persistent and compassionate spirit to love a broken mama like me.

I’m nervous for what it will feel like to hold him in my arms, because I still avoid babies. I’ve held my 7-month old niece a handful of times, but it took me months and months to get the courage to do so and frankly it doesn’t feel very natural so (no hard feelings but) I kind of avoid it.

I’m sure all those feelings of being a mama will come back to me, right? Right?

When I’m not ridden with anxiety about meeting Owen, I’m trying to relish my last few weeks alone with Jack. He’s so grown up but in the best way ever. I never, ever dreamed I’d have my kids spaced so far apart, and over the past two years in some ways I’ve learned to embrace and love the gap. But in many ways I’ve come to hate it.

This morning Jack read a book to a snail outside (completely his idea, I had nothing to do with it) and was very intent on making sure “Mr. Snail” could see the pictures. My heart rejoiced at his cute innocence but simultaneously broke a little that he had no siblings and had to resort to reading a book to a snail instead.

So I’m finding there’s a little bit of guilt associated with me and this so-called gap. I know there shouldn’t be, but all the same, there it is, staring me right in the face. I can’t help but feel like I’ve somehow messed up along the way and our circumstances are my fault. That The Gap between children is my fault.

I’m the Mom, and I should be able to fix this. I should be able to cover this wound with a band-aid and kiss it better. But deep down in my heart I think Amelia must in heaven preparing Owen to do that instead. I think he’s probably one tender and sympathetic spirit to come heal our family.

I can’t wait to meet you, Owen. Your daddy is going to cry, and your brother will no doubt kiss your cheeks and call you a “tiny baby!”. I might stay really quiet at first, but I’m here, I promise.

I’m here, I promise.

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thoughts / april 24, 2014

tyleralieapril2014_blog

It’s weird for me to think back five and a half years ago to the day when I married Tyler. There were a lot of good and bad decisions I’d made in my life up until then, but I can (and will always say) that marrying him is the single best decision I’ve ever made. I remember we both had big, toothy grins through the entire ceremony and the sealer who married us just laughed and said, “I’ve never seen two people smile as much as you two are today!” We just fit together, unlike any relationship I’ve ever seen or been in.

And the best part is, nothing’s changed since then. Despite all the crap our little family has been through, we’re still that giddy, innocent, smiling couple. I wish I knew our secret.

But on to other things that weigh much heavier on my mind. I think I’ve mentioned before that this pregnancy has been unexpectedly hard. Hard on me physically, and hard on me emotionally. I thought going in that I would get an overwhelming sense of gratitude, for this is supposed to be the great blessing I’d longed for, the great blessing that was robbed and ripped from my arms.

It hasn’t felt like I thought it would. I’m still scared and uneasy, when I should be full of excitement and gratitude for my rainbow baby Owen. I’m trying. It should feel like a blessing to be pregnant again with a healthy baby, but why can I not wrap my head around it? I have nightmares that he is taken away from me, or born with anencephaly like Amelia. I’m scared he’s not truly mine.

I’ve really struggled to know where I fit with friendships and acquaintances since we moved here. How much of my burden should I give to my new friends and how much do I need to hold within myself? I’m tired of being the “broken” friend, the one who is emotionally vulnerable and weak. I lie and say I’m fine most of the time, but I can only keep it in for so long before I start to explode with my deep, dark feelings upon some poor, undeserving individual.

I’m a feeler, a crier, a compassionate and emotionally sensitive being that apparently cannot be tamed. I’m exhausting as a friend, is what I am.

Baby Owen is not unwanted or unloved, but he hasn’t been easy to accept, either. I know our family needs him. I need him. And I’m sure, just as everyone tells me, that when I see those baby blues look up at me when I hold him in my arms, that I’ll fall in love. I believe it, because I’ve seen it. But where is the peace and solace to be found until then?

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let’s go fly a kite / march 31, 2014

kiteflying1

Goodness, especially with lighting like this I’m never disappointed when I pull out my big camera. :)

Tonight after dinner it was a little breezy, so we headed down the street to the park to try out our new kite. Jack was completely full of joy, with the biggest smile on his face. He ran through the grassy field screaming with delight when he saw the kite take flight, yelling after Daddy, “my turn! my turn!”

I could feel them, through the bright sun in the sky and the breeze swaying through the palm trees. My sweet little Amelia was there with us, and Owen was too. It’s little moments like this spent as a family that make heaven seem so real and so close.

kiteflying2 kiteflying3 kiteflying5

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