Elena at 4 weeks old.

These photos were taken one year ago today. It’s safe to say that April 24, 2010 was the most joyous day of our life together. Sure, we were quite glee on our wedding day, but the day we found out we were finally expecting our first child – we were high as kites.

I was very impatient (no, me?) and tested 2 days before my missed period. Jim was taking a Praxis exam and he literally had minutes between coming home and heading back out to perform a show for an Earth Day Festival. He was coming to pick me up, so I text him to tell him that he had to come inside. I grabbed my camera and handed him the test.

Clearly, he was happy.

As for the rest of the 8 weeks that we knew we were pregnant, well, you know how that went. And then on a warm day in mid June, it was over.

But as type this, our little girl seems to be trying to escape from my uterus by way of my abdomen  (You’re not coming out that way young lady), and I’m filled with gratitude. I will be 36 weeks pregnant tomorrow.

The happiness and excitement of April 24th could not compare to the emotions felt when we got our next positive test on September 12th. But so, so soon, we’ll have a new “most joyous day of our life” to speak of.

Of course, I submitted mine. I plan on writing some more. I feel that it’s important to share these stories with one another. And this comment from a reader named Megan should tell you why:

Oh, how I needed to read this right now. As I type this I am still in the process of miscarrying at six weeks. Even though I already have one healthy child, I need a reminder that healthy pregnancies do happen after miscarriage. I need as many reminders as I can get, actually.

visit Unspoken Grief.

“Today, when writing to a friend about our struggles with trying to conceive, I thought about what that therapist said. Writing, “Perhaps we are the lucky ones after all.”

Reflecting on this has been what’s getting me through today. Hopefully I can hold onto this…this realization of just how amazing my relationship will be with our eventual baby. Not a single day, a messy-faced kiss or even a poopie diaper will be taken for granted. I imagine cuddly moments wherein I tell my little one how they were a long awaited dream come true.

I dreamt about being a mommy my whole life.  When I met Daddy we learned that we shared the very same dream. Then one day, our little dream came true. That dream was you”

I love this post. It wraps up my growth nicely. And I’d like to think I am sticking to my guns. Not a single ache or pain is taken for granted. I am so lucky to be carrying this child. I look forward to her cries just as much as I look forward to her smiles. Whether I have an uber painful natural labor or end up in hospital being cut open, my level of joy will remain the same. The word “suffer” will never be associated with the experience.

I cannot wait to be a mother – through good times and in bad.

***No more than 10 seconds after I hit publish, I saw my belly MOVE. The first visible kick, followed by another. TRUE STORY. I guess she liked my post.

Unfortnately, on June 15th, it became a day to dread. Now it’s here, and just like the one year mark, I am surprisingly okay.

We had our 20 week appointment today and when I told my midwife that I was fine in regards to the date, she said, “bullshit.” But really, it’s true. I can’t be sad. I certainly can’t cry. I have so much to look forward to. I have my baby girl to think about.

Oh, and I have this little thing called gratitude that refuses to let me feel sorry for myself.

Giving up drinking was definitely the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. Marking 2010 as my most challenging right from the start.

It came in like a lion

After the disappointment I felt on New Years Day, I decided that was it. I was done. No more broken promises, no more “I’ll have this many, by this time” games. Done. I didn’t make any promises to anyone or grand announcements. I just stopped.

A few days into the year, Jim and I decided it was time to make a baby. We were tired of putting it off and waiting until everything was absolutely perfect financially. I had gone off the pill in October and there were no accidents. It was time to get down to business.

Planned sex, abstaining from coffee (on top of booze!), leaving behind the Paxil I’d come to love. Peeing on sticks, crying at the sight of red. 3 months of let downs. Then – a blue cross! Hooray! Share the news, buy clothes, decide on names.

Even in June, the lion continued to roar.

Bleeding, followed by: “Your uterus just doesn’t feel like it’s where it should be for 11 weeks.” Our first baby was gone.

I spent days in tears. An entire summer filled with sadness. Though in spite of all this, I don’t remember feeling the anger I felt at the start of the year. This was because in January, along with getting sober and making a baby, I made another quiet decision: I wanted to start anew.

It became clear to me that getting sober wasn’t going to happen until I rid myself of the negativity that had plagued me for years. I began rubies and love songs, and even on days when finding something cheerful to post seemed impossible, I stuck it out – missing just one week last month.

If it weren’t for this commitment to seeing the best in things, I know for sure that I never would have made it through the first few months of sobriety, let alone been able to deal with my miscarriage. I’m so grateful for that. :pats self on back:

The Lion grows tired and shuts up

My summer ended with the celebration of my mother’s 50th birthday, and another pregnancy. That same weekend, I became pregnant again, just 10 weeks after the loss of our first baby. How lucky?

The fall was spent worrying. Sure I was excited, but mostly, I worried. Then as this trying year came to a close…

The Lion was replaced with a lamb

We saw our beautiful baby girl on the screen, alive and well, and growing, just as she should be.

—–

There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t think about having one, or three. I miss drinks. What I don’t miss is what comes along with them. And after the year I’ve had – the growth, the new found strength, the amazing insight – I really can’t imagine going back, or having to start again. I’m truly happy, even when I’m sad. Which is the opposite of being inherently angry, even when you’re happy.

So why isn’t the magnitude of one year sinking in? Why am I not extra emotional or overflowing with pride? Because I know there’s still work to do, there always will be. And that’s alright.

It’s a wonder I’ve doubted that notion since.

During the week where everyone is talking about what they are thankful for (aka, to me anyway, gratefulosity), I have to take a moment to talk about my dogs. To some, it may seem silly, but I am so, so thankful for their cute faces, little personalities, and endless amounts love and affection. Of course, there are several moments a day when I want to put them on the front porch wearing a for sale sign, but those moments are never worth talking about. Besides, they’d bark and bark to come back in anyway.

The other day my aunt was praising me for rescuing Lucy. It’s true, Lucy is a rescue dog, but this term makes me feel silly. If it weren’t for us, another amazing family would have scooped her up. We’re not talking about a 8 year old pitbull with fleas. Anyway, I commented on the wall post “sometimes I feel like she saved me.”

It’s true. Many people who know me probably think I got Lucy to make up for Lemon. The truth is, I’ve wanted another dog since soon after we welcomed JJ into our lives. I think dogs need a dog pal. So, briefly, Lu did occupy my aching heart and idle hands. But now? She’s just snuggled up into our hearts and JJ (though he’ll never admit it) adores her. Late at night you’ll find them head-to-butt, sleeping together. Or, when he’s snoozing in his bed she’ll waltz on over and you can catch him making room for her.

Our days are far more entertaining because of them. And our hearts, fuller. While I can’t wait to meet our human baby in May, there’s another moment that I long for – the meeting of all three of my children. I just know it will be love at first sight for all of us.

it seems that throughout my pregnancy, they’ve never left my side

sunday morning on the couch. note Lucy watching TV.

Reading all of the stories shared so far, and coming across the blogs of women who have experienced losses of all shapes and sizes has been wonderful.

I am so grateful to Kimberly for putting it all together.

Thanks Kimberly. You rock.

The moment I laid eyes on JJ, I cried. I was immediately attached to him. I fell in love instantly. When I met Lucy, this didn’t happen. My heart didn’t melt, the tears of joy didn’t flow. I told myself it was because of the different circumstances. I met her and her sister at her foster mother’s home. We had to decide which of them we would take home and we were sort of being interviewed. Days passed…well at this point 9 days have passed and I just don’t feel completely in love or totally connected.

She jumped off the couch last week (so brave!) and cried a little bit. Her eyes were closing and I was so, so scared. I thought she could have gotten a concussion. I put her tiny face up to the air vents and I kept her awake by talking to her. It was just before we were headed to bed, so after I put her in her crate, I went and woke her up three times over the course of the next hour. I Googled and Googled information about puppy head injuries. The thought of losing her shook me up. I thought to myself, this is love. I finally fell in love with Lucy.

Though still, nothing,

A few days ago, she jumped out of my lap and hit the floor again (I swear I’m a good puppy mom, she’s just a hell of a lot braver than JJ ever was). Once again, I freaked out. She was fine.

Nothing.

More than a few times, I’ve caught myself thinking about her dying. The groomer told me her ears were dirty and that she’s scratching at them too much. I made a vet appointment. Google “can dogs die from an ear infection.”

It just hit me.

I’m not connecting with her. I frequently have thoughts about her dying. Lemon. Duh, Lemon.