PSA

Hey heart.... stop it! Stop being broken.

I  mean it. I am tired of it.

Unexpected trigger

A warning to my readers, this post is graphic and possibly very upsetting.

Today was a beautiful day. I was happy and spending time with my beautiful children and my husband, and feeling motivated to try something new.

We had a gallon of milk in the fridge about to go bad, so I figured I would try and make some feta cheese! How crafty! How exciting!

I put the milk on to slowly boil and put the kids up to their beds for a nap. Todd was getting ready for work, and I was watching my milk warm. It took a long time to boil.

Finally is started steaming, and I would stand over it and stir. The smell was not unpleasant to me but for some reason it was making my stomach turn. As I kept stirring and it got hotter and hotter, I just kept feeling sicker and sicker. I wanted to be by it, watch it boil, tend the project... and be by the smell... but I also wanted to run and cry and vomit.

I couldn't figure out what was wrong with me. The milk achieved boil, and I pulled it off the heat and added the lime juice and vinegar. All of a sudden it hit me... as the smell wafted up to my face it hit me... it was the same thing I smelled as I gave my infant son CPR. The smell of the milk, warm and curdled. When I gave him CPR his stomach emptied. It got all over me, all over him and the floor. I had a baby blanket that I'd wipe his face with as I tried to resuscitate him.

All that night in the hospital that I what I smelled on me. I smelled it as they told me my son was dead. I smelled it when I made the phone call to my family. That smell... the death of my son.

It really ruined my day. I feel so upset, so heart broken all over again. What a horrible memory. It made everything so fresh.

Wee ones.

There is a really big empty spot in me where my son once was. I held him, and talked to him. I nursed him and loved him and was his mother. I had three beautiful children, and now when people ask me how many kids I HAVE, I am force to say two. I HAVE two amazing and beautiful children... and for that I am blessed.

... but I should have three.


Today my husband told me he would love to have another, if only we didn't have to endure the horror that is me being pregnant... well, not in so many words, but that is the general idea.

Pregnancy does NOT suit us. When we are pregnant... yes we, because he suffers too... we are not compatible. I get sensitive, and scared, and anxious. I feed off of all the insecurities that I might feel on any given day. My expectations of him SOAR. I think "Why should I do the dishes?! Why should I cook and clean, work and deal with the kids... I'm busy creating life here!!!" and then I get belligerent when he doesn't read my mind. It's not fair to either of us. And he withdraws. He finds other things to occupy his time because he can't handle that.

So how do I fix that? I can try and make promises, but we all know all reality goes out the window when pregnant hormones kick in.

Part of me is begging to have another, begging for the life in my arms. Begging for the sweet baby breath, the soft snugly head to rub my chin on, the soft little one inch of foot to rub my thumb along. Babies are amazing, and I don't feel like I would be having one to replace my dear Rhys.

NOTHING. NO ONE. will ever replace the child that I lost. The little boy that I am supposed to be loving right now will NEVER have a replacement.

That is not to say I can not love another child.

We love Sawyer. My sister-in-law has an amazing little baby. I thought meeting him would be the end of me. I thought jealousy, shame, fear, sadness... I thought all sorts of negativity would overwhelm me upon meeting him. All I felt was LOVE. Pure love, as any mother to any other mothers child would feel. The feeling of needing to love and protect and nurture.

The bottom line is that babies are amazing...and that I have drank too much tonight and so should stop talking.

Good night.