kindness

Tidings of Comfort and Joy

Hey friend, I’m about to let you off the hook.

You are allowed to NOT love Christmas.

That’s right. I said it.

It’s ok if Christmas sucks for you. Or if you flat out hate this season.

You don’t have to be Buddy the Elf.

You don’t have to radiate Christmas spirit and put antlers on your car.

It’s ok if the shopping crowds give you anxiety and you just can’t bring yourself to go to any parties.

I’m giving you permission to be a bit of a Grinch if you need to.

For a lot of us….Christmas isn’t as fun. Family pictures make us sad. Shopping for gifts feels incomplete. Decorations feel lacking. And Christmas spirit feels forced.

Because we are missing someone at Christmas.

Whether it’s the first year or the 50th Christmas will never be the same.

I used to be the person that was over the top, Buddy the Elf, I LOVE CHRISTMAS AND IF YOU DON’T LOVE CHRISTMAS THEN YOU ARE LAME!!!! I didn’t see the mourners at Christmas. I didn’t understand not being able to set aside sadness for Christmas Spirit.

It’s Christmas after all. ‘The Most Wonderful Time of the Year.’

But I get it now.

I get what it feels like to know the Joy of Christmas, the Reason for the Season….but to be kind of uninterested in the commercial frivolity of it.

When your child has cancer during the holidays it changes your perspective.

When you find out your child is dying 3 days before Christmas then dies 10 days after Christmas….the holidays are forever different.

Even with a new baby this year, I’m still missing my other baby. The joy is incomplete.

I do, however, have a newfound appreciation for the true meaning behind Christmas. The birth of the Savior of the World. Mighty Counselor. Prince of Peace. The Lamb.

Jesus.

Without the birth of the Savior, there would be no point to any of this. No reason for Hope. No source of Joy. And no comfort in sadness.

Without Christmas there would be no Easter.

If the Baby in the manger wasn’t born to die on the cross, then He would never have risen from the grave to save us from sin.

Because of Christmas, those of us missing someone can find hope and joy in this season that is hard.

So I’m letting you off the hook friend, you can ‘hate’ Christmas….but still love the Christ.

“She will bear a son, and you shall call his name Jesus, for he will save his people from their sins.”

Matthew 1:21

Relearning Lessons

The beginning of last week was rough.

We had a busy weekend so baby Connor slept all day Sunday. That’s not an exaggeration. He barely woke up to eat every few hours but those eyes stayed closed all day long. So, of course, he was up partying all night Sunday night. I even took him to our guest room so Jonathan could sleep because I figured at least one of us should get some sleep.

Monday morning, we were supposed to get up and head to Dallas for Connor’s first visit to Children’s. Since SO many people donated to Gold Network’s prize closet fundraiser in Sophie’s name, we wanted to go help deliver all of the goodies and show Connor where his sister was so brave. However, after him not sleeping, we decided putting him in the car for two hours just wasn’t what was best for him. And I was so bummed. I wanted to go so badly. We haven’t been to visit since Sophie’s birthday in March and I just really wanted to go. I know there will be other trips when he’s older and we’ll take him soon and it’ll be great. I was still just disappointed. With Connor’s birth at the beginning of September, I didn’t get to participate in any Childhood Cancer Awareness Month events so I wanted to do this for her…and for me honestly. But we didn’t, and I was sad.

That sad carried into a long Monday at home alone with a very fussy and clingy baby. You’d think after partying all of Sunday night that he’d sleep a lot on Monday? Not so much. He was awake and wanting to be help from 10AM until about 4 when he took a 40 minute nap and then it was back to being fussy and clingy.

So, you’re thinking that means he must’ve slept so much on Monday night right?

Wrong.

He slept in basically 90 minute intervals and was awake for an hour in between those intervals with gas and wanting to use me as a chew toy and pacifier. It was rough.

Tuesday dawned and we started our day with him peeing all over his own face and my bed because…mom keeps forgetting she has a little boy this time. Then there was an up the back blowout and so much spit up. Like the thick, sticky spit up. He also barely let us put him down and mainly wanted me.

And I was frustrated.

While I am so incredibly thankful for the gift of my sweet son-knowing how short life can be, how precious it is, and how hard we tried to get him here. So thankful. I love him so much and am so obsessed with him. But I was still frustrated. Its hard being in the throws of postpartum hormones and the things that come with that. For me it’s constant hot flashing, dry skin, breakouts, neck and back aches from nursing A LOT, hormone headaches, and sore breasts from, again nursing A LOT. (For real-this kid nurses 35 hours a day I swear.) It’s hard for me relearning kind of how to be a mom. I haven’t had a newborn in almost 5 years and I haven’t ‘mommed’ anyone since January 4, 2018. So it’s hard momming a new baby while grieving his sister. And being tired is just hard for anyone but I think especially for a new mom.

Connor is way more of a mama’s baby than Sophie was. Soph was independent from day one-perfectly happy in the swing or bassinet by herself. Connor on the other hand wants to be held and cuddled. He wants me 90% of the time. My heart loves it-God knew my heart needed a cuddly baby that loves me as much as I love him. It does get tiring though never getting a break.

But-God stepped into my chaos in the form of my husband.

Jonathan walked in the door Tuesday evening, took one look at me…walking around the living room with a fussy baby that had just projectile spit all over me. My face must’ve looked a bit scary because he said ‘Why don’t you give me the baby, leave a bottle with me, and go get an uninterrupted workout and a hot shower’

Bless that man.

He knew he was in for an hour of a fussy baby that wanted me and hates the bottle. He knew he’d probably be bouncing and shushing him. But he loves him and he loves me and he knew I needed that hour. Plus-he doesn’t get near enough cuddles so obviously he could care less if he got fussy cuddles as long as there were cuddles to be had. And guess what?

We all survived and hit the reset button.

I got a great, sweaty workout in a AND a hot shower. Jonathan got some much needed one on one time and cuddles with Connor. And Connor…well, he did begrudgingly accept 4oz of milk from a bottle and fell asleep in his daddy’s arms.

I instantly felt better.

We ended up getting great sleep that night.

And the rest of the week has carried on uneventfully.

We are parenting. We are grieving.

I wish my girl was here for it so much….but I sure do Love these two boys and our imperfect life together.

Time Goes On

One year ago we were visiting the hospital and our sweet Addie Leigh after a hectic day in airports coming home from my sister’s wedding in Seattle.

At the time-one of these nurses had a tiny human, One was cooking a sweet baby, I was in the middle of a chemical pregnancy, and two of them were just being awesome.

Today…one year later…Addie Leigh is done with hospital chemo and almost done with treatment. My sister has been married a year. The tiny humans are basically grown up, two of us now have perfect baby boys born 3 days apart, and another has a new blingy ring on her finger! And we are all still being awesome. (Obviously)

But time has gone on. As it does.

It may seem weird or morbid to miss them and I miss life at the hospital but….it’s where I see my baby. It’s where I walk where she walked and get to hug people that love her and us.

The people that held her and held us. The only people other than us that know just how brave my girl was…they know every aspect of those 8 months of our lives because they were there. They didn’t read about it on Social Media. They didn’t get text updates or secondhand stories. They didn’t try to make us feel ‘normal’. They didn’t avoid us or get uncomfortable around us. They witnessed just how sick she got and just how disabled she was.

They lived it with us everyday for 232 days. And I miss it.

I miss rounds. I miss keeping up with the Beads of Courage Journal. I miss writing everything in my notebook. I miss asking for meds and helping with therapy. I miss the terms that were part of my daily life. I miss unhooking the feeding tube and changing the sheets. I miss cleaning the room with alcohol wipes. I miss weighing diapers and hoarding bath wipes. I miss our walking route on the 6th floor. I miss catching up with whoever was on each day. I miss our techs, PA’s, NPs, and nurses. I miss Dr. Watt and Dr. Slone. I miss wagons and wheelchairs. I miss mouth swabs and diaper cream. I miss blood work printouts and medicine schedules. I miss gloves and hospital grade hand sanitizer. I miss the pink fuzzy pillow and the stack of clean blankets we changed out daily. I miss strawberry water and the best tator tots ever. I miss Princess Bibs and Minnie Mouse Hospital gowns. I miss the trains at Children’s and the stars on the ceiling. I miss massaging tiny feet and rubbing a fuzzy head.

I even miss the stupid talking elevators, beeping IV pumps, and sleeping on an egg crate.

I miss being around people who truly got it.

Most of all….I miss my sweet Sophie that all of these things revolved around. Everything about her…even the hard stuff because she was still here.

But just like this picture….time has gone on.

One year, 9 months, and 6 days.

Time without her and time away from life at the hospital that felt so normal. That time was so hard. So uncertain and so stressful but it’s part of our story. It’s part of who we are. And in a weird way, I love it. Just like I love these 4 (and SO MANY MORE on CCBD) and I love reminders like these of time spent with them.

Because ultimately these reminders remind me of my girl.

My brave brave girl.

And I can’t wait to take her little brother to this place and show him where she walked and all the people who love her too.

A Month in the Life of Trying

Another month has come and gone without getting those two pink lines on that stick. Even though you did everything humanly possible to try to get the perfect chance of a positive.

You tracked your basal temperature and used an ovulation stick every single day, waiting for that line to darken for your best chances of conceiving.

You and your husband tried every other day, for five days, right in the middle of that “perfect fertility window”.

You bought conception friendly lubricant and you sat with your legs in the air to try to let gravity help things along.

You took the expensive prenatal vitamins, fish oil, and every other supplement you’ve read about daily. You drank fertility tea and haven’t had a glass of wine in MONTHS just in case you were to conceive.

You cut out soy and anything processed that could interfere with healthy hormones.

You tracked every symptom and mood change in your fertility app.

You maybe even went to the doctor for blood work to make sure your hormones weren’t needing any extra help.

You sat anxiously through the “two week wait” overthinking anything that could possibly be a sign.

You scrolled past daily pregnancy announcements, bump updates, and precious baby milestone pictures on Facebook just hoping this time you’d get to join in on it.

You’re happy for your friends but also so disappointed that you haven’t had your own announcement yet. You Googled “early signs of pregnancy” and tried to find any of them.

Your breasts are bruised from trying to determine if they were getting sore or not.

You prayed for some nausea every morning before you got out of bed.

You tried to tell yourself that even though mood swings are also a symptom of PMS . . . that this time it was because of pregnancy.

You maybe even gave in and took a pregnancy test a few days early and when it was negative, you gave yourself the “well it hasn’t been two full weeks yet” pep talk.

You did it all. Everything the blogs and all of your well-meaning friends suggested you try.

Then on test day you did it. You peed on the stick and then you sat on the ground with your phone timer set for three minutes and you prayed. Please, PLEASE, let it be this month.

Your timer went off and you took a deep breath . . . 

And there was still only one line on that test.

And whether it’s your first month of trying or your fortieth . . . you’re deflated.

Another month of nothing.

Another month of waiting for your period to come and go, then waiting for the two weeks to pass until you ovulate, and then again another two-week wait to take a pregnancy test . . . and that’s IF you have a regular cycle.

If you’ve been trying awhile, you will call your doctor and cry and maybe it’s time for blood work and an ultrasound to see what’s going on in your body. Maybe it’s time for your partner to get checked out, too.

You might be battling PCOS, endometriosis, side effects from chemotherapy or other medications you’ve taken. You could be against fibroids, cysts, limited eggs, low sperm motility, and a whole host of other obstacles. Your age may even be a factor by now. You’re so discouraged, maybe even over it. You’ve made the decision to start or further your family and once that desire is inside of you, it’s so hard to deal with not getting it right away. It’s even harder when you’ve experienced loss along the way. Miscarriages, chemical pregnancies, giving birth to a sleeping baby, losing your baby after birth, or even losing a child that you had years with . . . all loss makes that desire to be someone’s mom burn inside of you like a furnace.

Even if you have other children, it’s OK to want more and be sad when it’s just not happening. People will say “Why don’t you just be done? Be happy with the kids you have.” Or, “There are so many kids who need adopting, why don’t you spend your money there.” There’s truth in that but, you’re just not there yet for whatever reason and that’s OK. You want to carry life inside of you. You want the experience and the bonding. You want the kicks and even the labor.

And that’s OK.

But it’s also OK to be done. Whatever you and your family and doctors decide . . . is OK. And it’s OK to keep trying. Because maybe, next month, you’ll see those two pink lines.

Originally Published on Her View From Home

It’s OK to Just Listen

Grief makes us uncomfortable. Being face to face with someone else’s intense sadness is really hard. In my life, people feel doubly awkward because my child had cancer and died. There are two subjects that make people painfully uncomfortable. No one knows what to say or do, so many people follow the “I’m sorry” up with “my (insert relative or friend or random acquaintance) has/had cancer”. While yes, that matters and it’s terrible that anyone had to fight such a horrible disease . . . it’s just not helpful to compare an adult who fought and survived or even fought and died to someone’s child.

That in no way means I don’t care about other people and their struggles and losses. If anything, I’m MORE compassionate for loss and suffering now. I see the need for compassion and encouragement everywhere. I constantly think, I wonder what that stranger next to me is going through.

I also completely understand that when you’re hit with “my child died” it makes people uncomfortable and they are trying to show you they care or that you’re not alone because they know someone who had cancer and died.

I get it.

I’ve done it!

Before we started walking this road, I’ve known several people who have lost children and you don’t know what to say so I filled it in with:

“I can’t imagine.”

“I don’t know what I’d do.”

“I have a friend whose daughter died.”

“I lost my (insert person) so I get your pain.”

ALL of those things are valid and sweet things to say and no one is terrible for saying them. Our instinct is to ease people’s pain because it makes us uncomfortable—it’s 100 percent normal and human. BUT to be completely honest—which I’ve promised to be since Sophie was diagnosed—now that I’m on this side of it . . . it’s just not helpful.

It makes me feel like I need to stop in the middle of my grief to be sad for an adult who lived a much longer life than my baby. Again, I’m not saying I don’t care about others and their pain or that my pain is more important.

It’s just that when someone is sharing their grief with you, it’s OK to just listen and not try to take their mind off of it with a story of another.

If someone is sharing their grief with you, it’s because they want to. They very, VERY easily could suck it up, say “I’m fine” or avoid talking about it at all. So if someone is sharing with you, it’s OK to just listen. I want people to know that it’s OK to not know what to say.

It’s OK to say nothing.

It’s OK to start crying because what I just said shocked you and broke your heart.

It’s OK to say “I don’t have words for that.”

It’s OK to just say “I’m so sorry.”

It’s OK to simply say “I love you.”

It’s OK to say “I don’t know what to say but I’m here.”

It’s OK to say “I know it’s been a few months/years since your loss but I remember . . . I’m still here.”

It’s OK to grab my hand and just sit in silence.

Really, I don’t expect anyone to know what to say because . . . there’s nothing to say.  I promise, I don’t know what to say back to you. I can’t say “it’s OK” like I normally would if someone apologized to me because, in this case, it’s not OK. I can’t say “Well at least . . . ” because there’s no at least.

My child fought, faced every worst case scenario imaginable, and then died. Something terrible and broken happened and there’s no “good” response. Just be there to listen. You don’t know how to help even though you desperately want to, but . . . we don’t need help. Nothing you can do or say will fix the grief, but feeling loved and not alone can make a bad day a little better.

Just be there to listen . . . because that’s what we need.

Originally published on Her View From Home https://herviewfromhome.com/its-ok-to-just-listen/

2 years of cancer and a lifetime of loss

I started writing this on the 18th but I just couldn’t keep going. The night of the 17th was really hard for me. I just couldn’t quit thinking of May 17, 2017…. our last night of normal at home. It was a simple night…we put together the pink princess tent that Sophie had received for her birthday and she was SO PUMPED. While Jonathan put it together she kept bouncing around him saying ‘oh boy! Oh boy! Oh boyyyyyyyy!’ And we played and played in that tent….then she went to bed….just like every other night.

The next morning, the 18th, I got up to get ready for school…I walked into her room and touched her hair, found her paci for her, and whispered goodbye….just like every other morning. Then I went to work for a long day of 3rd grade field trip.

Completely unaware that I was living the last hours of normal. The last hours of being ‘the old me.’

So that’s why I stopped writing the other day. Because thinking of those moments….the lasts… it was a lot…and trying to add two years of thoughts to that just felt like too much. But today, I’m going to keep going so….here goes…

May 18, 2019 5:00pm

It’s been 2 years, almost to the hour since Sophie stopped breathing at home and we were rushed to our local ER and then transported to Children’s in Dallas. Sometime around 2 or 3 in the morning tomorrow, will be 2 years since we heard the words “There’s a softball sized mass in her chest, it’s definitely cancer…we just don’t know what kind yet.”

And life stopped.

Right there in that Critical Care Unit room of the Children’s ER, our life stopped. All current worries and problems seemed so small. Work didn’t matter….nothing did. Just that our baby had cancer and any future we had ever pictured was gone.

We were so positive that she would beat it. From day one….even in our shock and disbelief, we knew she’d win and have this incredible testimony! Especially when her story went crazy. I started Sophie The Brave the morning after diagnosis just to keep all updates in one place and it hit 5,000 people that day. Our GoFundMe went absolutely insane. We were humbled, shocked, terrified, hopeful, thankful….surely this amazing story reaching SO many people would end out well….her purpose was to show God is Bigger!

Right?

But….if you’ve followed us then you know….it didn’t end well.

From May 18th to January 4th we fought every 1% complication and extreme side effect. A 12 week relapse that NONE of our doctors had ever seen before and catastrophic brain damage that was so rare….it wasn’t even on the side effect list. In fact, it was SO rare that she was the ONLY CHILD LIVING IN AMERICA (maybe in the world) with early onset relapsed Lymphoma and this severe chemo toxicity. And that fact came straight from the doctor at Duke University who CREATED THE DRUG.

So to put it simply….we got screwed. That’s a tacky way to say it but….it is what it is.

And we remained positive that we had a long road ahead…but that she would beat it and be this huge miraculous testimony.

So long story short…she died. Less than 9 months after that night on May 18th in the ER, she was gone. After enduring so much more than she ever should’ve had to endure.

But does that mean she still didn’t have a miraculous testimony?

According to the World view, yeah that’s what Death at 2 years old means but, not to us. We know that even though her being gone sucks so much, that her Life and even her death meant so much more than we could’ve ever planned for her. I could go on and on with example after example of that but, this is already getting kind of long and wordy so I encourage you to go back and read the stories of her. Because she very much was and IS a miraculous testimony of the love, sovereignty, and faithfulness of God.

You know, we live in the reality that we’ve had three lives. Before cancer. During Cancer. And now.

It’s not ‘After Cancer’ because once your life has been closely touched by it…or by any serious/chronic disease I’d imagine…there is no ‘after’…there’s just now.

I know families with children in remission and others who are ‘off treatment’. I know men and women who are years without disease. But….they all know the same thing…that remission doesn’t mean a whole lot. It means they don’t CURRENTLY have disease in their body. And don’t misunderstand me….that’s amazing! Remission and off treatment are HUGE and important and a relief. But. There’s always the next blood-work appointment whether it’s once a month or once a year….you’re never done with the cancer. You’re never done with making sure it’s gone.

For us it’s not much different. Even though Sophie is gone and done with cancer, we aren’t. We don’t sit and dwell on it waiting for a terrible diagnosis but It creeps in in moments of doubt and fear.

It comes when I wait for my routine prenatal blood work. Why haven’t they called yet? Is it because I’m dying? It came in the form of horrible dreams that Connor had a tumor in his chest on his ultrasound. It came when Jonathan had a bad cold and I NEEDED him to get a chest X-ray just in case. It came when my friend’s 2 year old had high fever and leg pain and I went into a panic terrified he had leukemia (he didn’t.) I can’t even think about the first time Connor gets a cough that won’t go away without starting to sweat.

Cancer seems to find us now…we hear it all the time. Most medicine commercials have ‘lymphoma’ as a possible side effect. St. Jude commercials come on literally all the time. My best friend’s dad has Metastatic Melanoma. My chiropractor’s 2 year old was diagnosed with Leukemia. My sister’s best friend just beat Lymphoma for the 3rd time. It’s time for my annual dermatologist skin check. And on and on and on it goes……because there is no ‘after’ cancer. Even when the one with cancer isn’t here anymore.

But God.

We couldn’t deal with the anxiety and fear without the Faith that He has us in His hand. That even if the worst happens, Again, that God is still Bigger than all of it. And no matter what the last 2 years has brought….and it’s brought a lot…. but still through it all, He is Bigger.

He was bigger before cancer.

He was bigger during Cancer.

He’s still Bigger now and will continue to be Bigger forever.

Next steps are really hard

I did a really hard thing.

A thing that has been hanging onto my mind for weeks.

The thing I’ve been dreading ever since we found out that Baby #2 is a boy.

I cleaned out and packed up Sophie’s things.

She was never at our current home. We moved shortly after she relapsed. We wanted to be closer to our local hospital, to our support system, and we wanted a new clean environment for her to come home to.

But she never came home.

Most of her things were already in bins in the closet but, clothes were in the dresser and the whole closet was hers…but little brother is coming. And I’ll confess to feeling immense loss at that. Don’t get me wrong, I’m SO EXCITED to meet my son. I already love him and want him here. But I’m also mourning being a girl mom. I’m so sad that there won’t be any bows or tea parties. I probably won’t be watching Sofia the First or Tinkerbell. My favorite baby girl outfits won’t be getting reworn. And I’m sad. So freaking sad.

So, this week, I got It all out and packed it up. I touched it all. Every piece of clothing. Every blanket and towel. Every bib and burp cloth. Everything she once wore or touched. I cried and smiled and admittedly really wished I could’ve had a glass of wine while I was doing it. But I got it done.

I was even able to pull a few gender neutral outfits out that brother can wear and some towels and blankets that he can snuggle in. I got out the bottles and nursing accessories. And I packed the rest up for my parents’ attic…praying that one day, we’ll be blessed with another girl that will use them.

The best part though, is what didn’t get packed up. We decided that some things are just too special for storage. Too important to be packed away. And those things now have a very cherished place. We got a storage ottoman for our room…and I set aside things for that place. So now, she has a place in our room with us. And that makes my heart happy.

I can’t say that doing this made me feel ‘better’…it sucked. Every second of it just plain sucked. I should be setting up her own ‘big girl’ room AND baby brother’s room-not packing her stuff away. But I do feel a sense of a weight lifted off. This big thing on my to do list that I don’t have to stress about anymore. Now, I feel better about preparing for Connor…because Sophie’s things have been cared for and placed in a special place.

#SophietheBrave #DoMoreForSoph #GodisBigger #OneDayCloser #childhoodcancerawareness #cancermom #childloss #lossmom #rainbowbabybrother #ConnorJackson #BigSisterSoph #livingwithgrief

2nd Annual Sophie The Brave Day

I’ve been reflecting on Sophie’s birthday for the last week and it was such a sweet day. A day that carried a lot of anxiety but also so much happiness.

We visited the hospital and it was so special. I reached our to friends and family on my personal page about wanting to shop for the Child Life department and they showed up in an amazing way! Over $800 was donated to go towards this shopping!

We were able to get a HUGE haul of activity packs, books, and supplies for the prize closets. We got 4 nurse goodie baskets for each of the Oncology units. We were even able to get extension cords and phone batteries for parents as well as laundry pods for Ronald McDonald House.

And we delivered it all!

I love this hospital. I love walking where she walked and seeing the places she loved. I love the people there. They know us in a way that no one else ever will. They knew and loved our girl. They cared for her in her weakest and us in ours. For me, being there feels like going home and the people there feel like family.

It was a sweet day in spite of the sad.

Beauty from ashes.

And next year, little brother will get to visit too.

You should be 4

4 years ago, on March 19, 2015, I hoisted my very pregnant self out of bed at 6:15 and started to get ready for work. I was 38 weeks pregnant exactly and feeling great. I had been to the doctor the day before and she said she’d be surprised if I made it to my due date. I had had zero Braxton Hicks contractions and really no other signs of labor so I started my day like I always did. I was in the bathroom brushing my teeth when….I sneezed….and my water broke. Like movie theater, complete fish, water breaking. I froze toothbrush still in my mouth and stared at myself in the mirror.

Oh man.

This is happening.

So, I threw a towel on the floor and started calling! I called my doctor, my boss, my mom, and finally Jonathan…who of course, had woken up earlier than normal and decided to go on to the gym. I knew he’d take a bit to get home so I finished getting dressed, packed the last few things in my labor bag, and folded the last load of laundry. Our house was officially ready for Sophie.

When Jonathan got home, we loaded up and headed out. I hadn’t started contracting or anything yet so we weren’t even frazzle. Just ready to meet our girl. Then, they started. I started having some pain about 20 minutes before we got to the hospital and of course…it was 8AM so we went through 200 school zones!

We finally got to the hospital and I knew something was off. The contractions weren’t terrible but my back/tailbone area hurt so bad I couldn’t stand up. Upstairs in L&D we got checked in and settled into a triage room with my nurse Jacinda and I couldn’t even sit down my back hurt so bad. She suspected back labor was the culprit. Everything else was great. My water had, in fact broken. Sophie was doing great with a strong heart beat. My contractions were coming 3-5 minutes apart and I was dilated to a 3. My blood pressure was great…it was just that dang back pain. I had to stand up with my elbows on pillows. I

Initially hadn’t planned on getting my epidural until I was a little further along because I wanted to be able to walk around. But the back pain was too much so Jacinda was an angel from heaven and got the anesthesiologist to me 45 minutes after I checked in.

After that, the rest of the day was pretty low key. I was pain free…stuck in bed…but I was comfortable. Friends and family came in and out, I took a nap, Sophie was still doing great and my contractions were still progressing. It was slow but not too bad.

FINALLY, at 5:30pm I was a 10 and it was time to push. The first push was hard but my doctor said ‘I see her head! This will go fast!’……but an hour later, still no baby. She was stuck. We realized that the reason I was having such horrible back labor was that Sophie was what they call ‘OP’… meaning she was face up instead of face down. So her shoulders were stuck in my pelvis. She was still doing great, her heart rate was fine…but I was exhausted. We decided one more push and if she didn’t come out then I’d have to have a c-section. At that point I was honestly fine with any option that got her here safely.

Thankfully, that last push, with a little help, brought out my perfect 6lb 9oz 19 1/2 inch long Sophie Kay Skiles. She was perfect! They immediately put her on my chest and I just stared at her. I don’t remember anything else…Jonathan cutting the cord, my doctor finishing up and leaving….nothing…just her-on my chest-looking at me.

She was perfect. The hospital stay was uneventful and honestly pretty great. She nursed like a champ. We got pretty decent sleep all things considered. And we had our perfect one.

I miss her today. So much. But, I’m also overcome with thankfulness that I was able to spend 2 years 9 months and 16 days with my perfect Punkin. I’m thankful for every second.

So today, be thankful for those you love…and those you lost. And maybe today, Do More for my Sophie. Be kind…go out of your way to make someone’s day. Because she made every day amazing.

Happy Birthday my little love.

I loo much.

A New Chapter

I realized today that I hadn’t posted on the blog in awhile and that some of you on here do not have social media! So, I wanted to quickly share our news….

It’s been a rough year for us and will continue to be rough without Sophie but, we are thrilled to announce that she’s a big sister. We’ve had two sonograms and Baby Skiles is measuring perfectly with a strong heartbeat. My doctor is being proactive since I’ve had trouble staying pregnant in the past but, we all believe that Sophie picked us out the perfect one to send to us.

While our family will never be complete without her here, we love being parents and can’t wait to have this baby in our arms….and to tell them all about their Brave big sister.

Please be in prayer for us. For health for me and the baby and also for all of the emotions and anxiety that come with any pregnancy but especially with one after loss.

#Sophiethebrave #DomoreforSoph #Godisbigger #onedaycloser #childloss #rainbowbaby #BabySkiles #BetheLight