Jinxed

Written by Brianna

During my pregnancy with Rainbow Baby A I became very superstitious, and avoided certain practices and/or past times.  For example, for the entire pregnancy I wore a pair of February birthstone earrings (month A was due) that my husband, Nate, got me while I was pregnant with Alex (also due in February) that I couldn't bear to take off.  I also wore a Tiffany's "bean" necklace that Nate got me for Christmas while I was pregnant with our first daughter... I figured it worked that time.  Beyond that I would not announce the pregnancy as I had either of the previous two.  I would not start working on the nursery (that ended up being a labor of love on Nate's part) as I had started cleaning it out before and lost Alex two short weeks later.  I declined to go on a girls get away that was a long standing tradition because the gestation of my pregnancy, and I couldn't take a chance of a deja vu.

Now I want to make note that I am a logical person, and what I lack in logic I make up for in faith.  Neither of which lead me to believe that any of the above would make one ounce of difference in my pregnancy outcomes.  That being said, sometimes that all goes out the window when you are terrified of being jinxed.  Complete sanity during pregnancy after loss is just a hollow promise or a pipe dream at best.

This pregnancy I have done better with the superstitions.  I only have had this one I have been holding on to, and today is the day I conquer it.  Approximately four and a half years ago we announced we were pregnant with Demree by having J wear this shirt...

My insides still ache when I see this picture, oh but how I can't help but feel blessed by that smile.  Anyways, several months ago I came across this shirt while cleaning some things out.  I didn't know what to do with it so I shoved it up in A's closet.  Well today I am thirty-three weeks pregnant, and it was time to take this picture... and yes they are full biological sisters. ;)

Milestones are good... even the littlest of ones. ;)

Reminders

Written by Brianna

Two weeks ago I went to my target ultrasound appointment, because I was nearing the 22 week mark in my pregnancy.  I love this appointment because I am able to get amazing images like these of our little...

I have also learned that any and all OB related appointments usually begin with the medical history questions, and go something like this:

Ultrasound Tech: What pregnancy is this?
Me: Seventh.
UT: Do you have six children at home?
Me: No, three.
UT: So three miscarriages?
Me: One early miscarriage, and two second trimester losses.

This is always when their stare breaks away from their computer screen.  This is when they look at me with either pity or bewilderment, wondering if I am simply crazy to be back in this place again. This is when they ask in what order were my losses, and when they like me can't believe I had two blissfully uneventful, text book pregnancies to begin our family.  This is when they ask if we ever knew why.  This is when, if they are good at their job, I see amazing amounts of empathy coming from another woman (my techs have always been women), a mom, as she thoroughly checks every inch of our unborn child to offer us as much hope as possible.

Honestly, it is not until these kind of reminders that I realize my differences.  No I haven't forgotten, how could I.  Not to mention I have an ever growing belly to remind me of such.  But I have just come to accept that this is my history... my journey.  It is still heart breaking at times, and I still maintain emotional scars.  BUT... this is our family.  This is our dynamic.  I own it.  I embrace it.  I like to think I have taken point from my amazing older daughters.  They just accept that we have babies in heaven and we have babies here.  They have no doubts about this reality, and are confident in us seeing them again some day.  I doubt they think it's ideal, but their innocence allows them to accept that it will all be okay.  It is honestly no wonder we are told repeatedly to "become as little children".  They really have it all figured out... just ask them. ;)

Remembering

October is National Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month, as well as October 15th being National Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Day.  I love taking the time to celebrate my babes who were born still, and taking stock of the ways they have touched our lives.

In October Utah Share holds "The Walk to Remember".  This event is a symbolic walk for loved ones to take the steps their babies will never take.  After a small walk around the park there is a giant balloon release.  During this balloon release they read off all the littles names as their families release balloons heaven bound, some with messages written on them.

I love the walk.  I love the symbolism of it all.  I love that my babies here get a chance to remember sisters they don't see every day.  I love that for those few hours I get to relish in the thought of five daughters instead of three, and when people ask how many kids we have they really want to know about them... all of them.  I am saddened to see that there are others who are living without a piece of their hearts too, but find strength in our ability to lift each other up.  I love giving our babies an "event" of  their own.  I love to remember. :')

The other way we like to remember is by participating in the Wave of Light.  I usually post something like this on my Facebook in hopes of spreading the word...

I love when friends, and family either post or send me pictures with their candles lit on October 15th.  It is such a small gesture, but usually that's the best kind.  I feel of their love for me, our family, and our babies that they never got to know.

Happy October little babies.  May your short, little lives continue to change the world for the better. 

Memorial Ceremony for the Twins

Written by Rachel

Three days after we found out we were probably having a miscarriage, the hospital held their annual memorial for all the stillborns lost that past year who were buried in the nearby cemetery. They had just had the previous ceremony a week or two prior to the birth of Maddox and Sampson, so we barely missed it and had to wait almost a whole year before the twins were finally honored there.

It was a heavy weekend for me. We had the opportunity to honor and remember our angel boys, and at the same time, I knew I was carrying another little piece of our family that wasn't going to make it, either. My heart felt like it had weights wrapped around it, pulling it to the floor, and wherever I walked, I was just dragging the weight behind me like a shadow filled with cement. I had hoped with all my might that by the time this ceremony came, we would be preparing to welcome a new member to the family.  I had hoped I would finally be close to using the new car seat cover I had bought when I found out we were having twins. I wished I was 50 pounds heavier and that my feet were swollen beyond recognition. But once again, my tear-filled eyes were the only things swollen.

The ceremony was held in the cemetery.  It was different than I expected, but the sentiment was there and I greatly appreciate the people who cared and put it together.  We had family members there showing their love and support. As I read the boys' names out loud during the ceremony, it reminded me how real they are.  It was a nice day to reflect on how lucky we are to be the parents to Maddox and Sampson.  Even though they were only here for a moment, they are forever a part of me, for which I am eternally grateful.

^^luckily the ceremony wasn't short of entertainment, er, bugs for this kid ^^

It seems like I can describe a lot of my recent experiences as bitter sweet, and this was no exception. Honoring my lost babies and preparing to lose another one that same week definitely played with my emotions. I was still holding on to that minute chance that my next ultrasound would magically show a healthy, growing baby, but I was also bracing myself for the worst, a skill I feel like I could now confidently put on a resume.

Grateful

Written by Brianna

Two nights ago I was asked to share some of my experiences at our church during a women's activity.  The meeting was focusing on trials and hardships, how everyone struggles with different things, and how our Heavenly Father loves us regardless.  While I was honored to be asked I was equally petrified.  Writing your experiences for everyone to read is entirely easier than getting up in front of people and speaking about them out loud (at least for me).  Luckily I was able to make my thoughts audible, and I can only hope I got the message across I was trying to.

I have to admit that I feel incredibly blessed to be at a place in my journey to be able to take on such a task.  It has been a long time coming, and a mostly up hill battle... BUT I have done it.  I KNOW I can do hard things.  I am a survivor.  Now this is not an invitation to the Lord to "bring it", but more of my way of showing gratitude for such opportunities.

That's right.  I am grateful for my heartache.  I am grateful to know the bitter from the sweet.  I am grateful to be able to recognize miracles when I see them.  I am grateful for the family dynamic that I am able to have, including the daughters I have yet to know.  A family in which I know I wouldn't have if life would have remained on it's uneventful path.  I am grateful for the perspective I have gained, and because of this perspective the kind of mother I have become.  I loved and appreciated my children before we lost our babies, but no where near the way I do now.  This perspective has also allowed be to realize that problems and struggles I used to think were a big deal really are not, and I am constantly trying harder to relish the seemingly insignificant moments with my littles.

Know that I have lots of room for improvement when it comes to living in the moment, and I still whine with the best of them.  But I am grateful for the small glimpse of the eternal perspective through Heavenly Father's eyes, and how humbling it can be.  I am grateful for a Heavenly Father who loves me enough to give me far bigger trials than I ever thought I could handle, and for a loving Savior who helps me with the growing pains.

The DON'Ts

Written by Brianna

Last time I posted I talked about the DO's when trying to help someone who has recently lost a baby.  Well I have found that with every "do" there usually is a DON'T to go with it.  So here goes my general list of things NOT to do.

The DON'Ts

::  Don't stop by in the middle of the day unannounced to a mom who has recently lost a baby.  If you want to drop something by, then just leave it at the door and go.  Better yet wait until you know someone else will be home so you can leave it with them.

::  Don't expect mom to pick up the phone.  I found talking on the phone to be excruciating... I cried worse over the phone than I did in person.  To this day I still screen my calls pretty heavily... kind of my own form of PTSD.

::  Don't compare your situation (your hardships and trials) with their's.  Even after losing babies I try (I am sure I am not perfect at this) not to compare.  Everyone's situation is different even if they have similarities.  As time goes on there will be time to relate to one another, but let them take the lead on that.

::  Don't disappear.  Even if this loved one does not allow you to be there for them as much as you would like to be, that is not an invitation to withdraw.  The vulnerability felt leaves you feeling raw and exposed, and few people want to display that to others... even those they are closest to.  Just try to remember this is not about you.  If more people remembered that, (sigh) grieving would be so much easier... well maybe not easier, but better.

::  Don't decide when they should be "all better" or "over it".  There is no time line on grief.  I talked more about that here on the first post I wrote.  This brings me to my next don't...

::  Don't expect them to be the same person they were before.  I feel now that I am closer to the person I used to be, time has helped with that.  But not the same and I probably never will be.  I can even look at pictures and identify the "before" me and the "after" me.  But really that's okay.  I am good with that.

::  Don't say "well at least you don't have to lose as much weight (since you had the baby early)".  I would have been the size of a bus for the rest of my life if it meant a healthy baby.  And on top of that I remember being really sad watching my swollen belly go down.  The physical changes to your body after loss are apparent enough, and sharp little reminders all on their own.

::  Don't say... oh there are just so many... "your baby is in a better place now", "God needed another angel", "your baby was just too perfect for this earth", etc., etc., etc.  While these statements may be true to a person of faith, they don't always make you feel better when the pain is so new and all you want is to have your baby here with you.  These also make a huge assumption that you know this family's belief system.  Honestly the best thing to say is, "I AM SO SORRY FOR YOUR LOSS."  And that is enough.

::  Don't say "well at least you can get pregnant again".  This statement makes SO many assumptions about the grieving mom.  Such as what they are emotionally, mentally, and physically capable of.  Also, it may just remind them of the real fear they have that they will never have another healthy, living baby in this life.  But most important it minimizes the importance of the life they just lost.  I didn't want to be pregnant again, I wanted to still be pregnant.  I wanted to get to know, love on, and watch grow the baby I had held in my arms.  Granted the time for subsequent pregnancies does come (for some), but they should not be treated as a consolation prize.


Now I realize this is not all the DON'Ts out there.  How can it be?  Every situation is different.  Because of this I invite anyone who has a "DON'T" they have found to be particularly hurtful to please share it in the comments.  I have found for the most part people mean well, and they don't want to hurt feelings or make things more difficult.... they just don't know any better.  Educated people are always more empathetic. :)

Last but not least, a picture of my sweet Demree's tiny feet...

Behind Closed Doors

Written by Rachel (see other posts labeled 'Rachel')

When we got home from the hospital after losing our twins, things were different.  I was changed.  But I knew that at that moment, I needed to make a resolution of how I was going to handle myself.  Should I withdraw and keep to myself?  Should I put a smile on my face (whether it was fake or not) and just try my best to continue as before?  Obviously things weren't as they were before, and everyone handles grief in their own way, but my husband and I decided that, for us, the best thing to do was to move forward as best we could.

Friends and family continued to show us amazing love and support.  We received meals, notes were written, people babysat our little girl, gifts were given to us to help us remember our sweet little boys, and people provided a listening ear and a shoulder to cry on.    For the first week or so after being home, I was still in a state of shock.  I still wasn't completely convinced that it all had happened the way it did, that my boys were really gone.  Also, having a sweet, energetic little toddler helped force us to keep up our daily routines out of necessity.   I kind of felt like I was just going through the motions each day, numbly doing all the things that still needed doing.  But, at least I was doing something.

We still had this girlie to keep us busy and happy

The day after we returned from the hospital, Matt even called our good friend (Alli’s husband) to see if he could come help work in the basement, a project they had been working on for a while.  I think they were surprised that we would jump right back into doing that sort of thing so soon after losing our boys, but our feelings were that if we weren't keeping busy, we would be wallowing in our own sadness.  We liked having distractions.  I know that many people are the complete opposite, and that’s OK.  Grief is a very personal thing and even we didn't know that was where ours would take us, but it did, and it seemed to help and worked for us.  I feel the need to point out that just because we kept active and social, it did not mean that we weren't devastated over losing the twins.  They were in our minds 100% of the time.  We were not being insensitive to our own situation.  We moved, we just moved slower.  We laughed, we just laughed more quietly.   We managed to find joy in our hearts, but the joy did not replace the void that our loss had created.  It simply softened the sharp edges of our pain that would often and unexpectedly sting.

^^Checking out the basement a few days after the twins were born^^

^^Out to see Christmas lights the week after the twins were born^^

It was in the moments everything was still, or the times I was home alone, while my little girl slept peacefully in the other room, that I felt it…those are the times I would break down.  I would hold the clothes Maddox and Sampson wore in the hospital up to my face, wetting them with my tears, as I remembered how they smelled, how they felt.  I never did wash those clothes.  I didn't want to wash away the sweet smell.  It has now faded, but I still remember it whenever I pull those clothes out.  After everyone would fall asleep at night, I would lay in bed wide awake, and I would start sobbing.  Like I mentioned before, I have never been a huge crier.  But I would cry for hours at a time at night.  That is when the pain felt real to me.  My pillow would be drenched before I would finally cry myself to sleep.  I don’t even think my husband knew that I did that every night for a while.  I felt the agony of loss the most behind closed doors, where no one could see or hear me.  Behind those closed doors is where I poured my heart out in prayer, not asking why this happened, because I tried to have the faith to know that I will find that out one day, but instead asking for the strength and comfort I needed to endure this trial in my life.  Asking for the courage I needed to still be an attentive and present mom to my little girl, who was still too young, thankfully, to understand what had happened.

Over the next few months, and even the next few days after I delivered Maddox and Sampson, we had family gatherings, holidays, and church and work responsibilities (although many helping hands stepped in to lift many of those responsibilities off our heavily-burdened shoulders).  Whenever we'd respond to people that we'd attend something, they would always ask, "Are you sure??"  But life did not wait for us to find our bearings.  We couldn't push a pause button to make the world around us stop.  We couldn't postpone Thanksgiving until later…it just came.  We couldn't wave our magical wand and make the bills and insurance issues disappear, as much as we would have LOVED to have done that.  It didn't matter that all this money was going toward a hospital visit I felt I had nothing to show for.  I still needed to pay the bills.  If we stopped living, it wouldn't bring back the lives of our boys.  It’s just not how things work.  That’s how life is supposed to be.  We are here to be tested and grow.  We are all inevitably going to face trials in our lives, and when they do come, we will still have to continue on our journey.  We will have to endure.

I am a firm believer that our attitude plays a major part in how we endure these trials.  I love this quote by the prophet of our church, Thomas S. Monson.  He said, “So much in life depends on our attitude. The way we choose to see things and respond to others makes all the difference. To do the best we can and then to choose to be happy about our circumstances, whatever they may be, can bring peace and contentment.”  I also love the message another of our church leaders, Joseph B. Wirthlin, gave back in 2008 (wow, I’m getting old, because it feels like he gave this message just yesterday).  I won’t repeat the whole thing (go check it out here because it is good!), but in it, he said, “If we approach adversities wisely, our hardest times can be times of greatest growth, which in turn can lead toward times of greatest happiness.”

I definitely fall short…a lot…and I do sometimes get sucked into negative thinking and I wish things were different, but I've learned that thinking that way hasn't gotten me anywhere.  Things aren't different.  Things are as they are, and they happened for a reason.  But the times I have focused on the blessings that I do have are the times when I have felt the most growth, peace, and happiness.  I still love my boys and miss them everyday.  But I do have one amazing little girl here with me that is the light of my life and a hubby that keeps us both entertained.  And I truly am one lucky girl.

The DO's

Written by Brianna

I have been asked many times "what can I do?" in reference to someone losing a baby.  I have a small running list of some general things that I found helpful myself, or that I have seen helpful for someone else.  First I feel like I need to share some back story on my support team.  After losing my babies I know now more than ever that certain people are put into our lives for a reason. :)

Losing my first baby, Demree, was my first personal experience with loss, but it wasn't my first encounter.  My first encounter came before I was a mother myself.  Ally, my best friend from childhood, lost her first baby, Carter, four short days before his due date.  Oh how I ached for my friend, who was the closest thing I had to a sister, and her loving husband.  Also, this was my first time being the helpless friend.  I realize my sadness and helplessness didn't compare to her's, not even close, but I wanted so badly to do something.  I wanted to ease her burden, I wanted her to know how much I loved her, and I didn't have a clue how to go about it.

My second encounter came after my second baby J was six months old.  My friend Beth, whom I met through church and pregnancy water aerobics, had just received word that her third baby, her first daughter, no longer had a heartbeat at twenty-one weeks.  Beth and I were friends, but more like surface level friends.  We didn't talk one on one much, but still socialized with each other often.  After she lost Addelyn, I just felt the need for her not to be alone.  I am sure I overstepped a time or two, but I wanted her to realize that I wanted to be there for her.  Addy helped mine and Beth's relationship grow into what it is.  I can't wait until the day I can meet her in person, and thank her for helping me realize my best friend.

Both of my two friends' losses unfortunately were my gain.  Due to their painfully gained knowledge, when I lost my babies I had an AMAZING support system (which only started with them... we were loved by many).  The acts of service they each did for me are almost too sacred to share.  I now only wish I were able to do for them what they were able to do for me.  So now I just try to pay it forward when I can.  Not everyone is as lucky as I was, and please don't ever be discouraged if you are not able to be this kind of friend for someone who is grieving.  Sometimes it won't even be a possibility.  It's a very private and vulnerable thing to experience, and no two people handle it the same.  But there are plenty of things to do that may seem insignificant at the time, but end up meaning a lot as someone looks back on them.

The DO's

::  Do get them a little gift if you feel so inclined.  My best gifts were books ('Gone Too Soon', 'For They Shall be Comforted', and 'Tear Soup' were my favorites), jewelry, Christmas ornaments, and basically anything that acknowledges they actually really lost someone.

::  Do send notes, cards, emails, and text/instant messages.  In my opinion, best form of communication in times of sorrow.

::  Do "the little things" that lighten their load.  Neighbors mowing our lawn, taking our children to school, filling in on our church responsibilities, and any small acts of service that can be done without asking are the best kind.

::  Do try to coordinate through the husband.  It's just better, trust me.

::  Do try to offer up some kind of monetary donation to the family.  This usually only applies to the immediate family, but not always.  Just remember this family is now faced with unexpected expenses when it comes to funeral costs, and preemptive medical bills.

::  Do acknowledge mom and the family when they attempt to insert themselves back into social situations (i.e, work, church, social gatherings).

::  Do make the arrangements when trying to help.  Such as "I will bring dinner on this day at this time", or "I will be by to pick up your kids to play on this day at this time".  This may seem silly, but I felt so scattered at the time that just trying to make arrangements for my kids made me want to go get back in bed.

::  Do let them talk about their baby and/or their experience if they want to.

::  Do know that as much as you don't want them to be uncomfortable, they are that much more concerned with you being uncomfortable.  This was very much the case right after my losses (especially my second, I was like a circus freak ;), but still holds true now.  I spend a lot of time trying to ease other people's awkwardness with MY situation. (This one may be less general, and more my perception.  Thought I would include it anyway.)

:: Do pray for them. :')  I promise we could feel the strength from everyone's humble prayers in our behalf.

::  Do say "I am so sorry", and most of the time leave it at that.

I remember when Beth told me that she now really knows what the phrase "it's the thought that counts" means, and I completely agree.  When you are broken inside it really is nice to feel thought of. :)

Leap of Faith Part II

Written by Brianna

To read part one click here.

Originally written, OCTOBER 10, 2012

Trying...

I would assume that most people reading this know how a baby is made, and I don't need to get into the real logistics there.  A little history on me would be that I have a mixed bag when it comes to my fertility.  It took me almost 18 months, and the help of medicine to conceive my first baby M.  My second baby J was with in three cycles.  Demree, my next pregnancy (6-week miscarriage), and Alex were all immediate.  By this point I thought my body had really figured out how to get pregnant, maybe not stay pregnant, but definitely get there.  I was mistaken.

It's all a little blurry because of how emotional I was at the time, but I went for two cycles "trying" on my own.  The first of which I was very casual about.  I really just wanted it to happen so I could place it all on the Lord's will, but like so often in my life the Lord wants me to express my free agency, and will hold me to being an active part in the route my life will take. Since I did not conceive on my first cycle like I had with my previous three pregnancies, I went more direct with ovulation tests.  When ovulation tests exposed that I was not ovulating I called my doctor.

Julia (my OB) had no problems with prescribing me a fertility drug to help me ovulate.  She assured me that neither drug had any connection with pregnancy loss.  She gave me the choice of Femara or Chlomid.  I went with Chlomid, because it was remarkable less expensive.  I tried this for two cycles... no pregnancy.  I was worried, even though my body was probably just trying to recover and needed more time, but not being able to conceive only seemed to magnify my grief and lack of control.  I called my doctor's office, and they strongly suggested I switch to the Femara.  Great I thought.  I had priced out Femara, and the cheapest I could find it was for approximately $252 for the ten pills I would need for this one cycle.  The thought of this made me sick inside, but I was leaping here so I agreed to it.  I went to pick them up at the Walmart Pharmacy, and I was already to throw up in my mouth when I was told my total and the pharmacy tech said I owed like $4.52.  I asked him to check again that he had the right person and prescription to which he did and confirmed what he said above.  I paid the man with a $5 bill, and left with my mouth wide open.  I even called the pharmacy again the next day to be sure they were not mistaken, and they weren't.  This was a true witness for me of one of the Lord's tender mercies.  I was thrown a little life line that some would consider insignificant, but for me it meant the world.  Also, for the first time on this journey I felt I was moving forward on the path I was meant to be on.

So the rest is history.  I took the Femara, ovulated, and had a positive pregnancy test two weeks later.  Now the real journey began.

Extra precautions...

When I found out I was pregnant I called my doctor's office so they could put me on low dose Heprin.  This is an experimental option I went with to insure I was doing everything possible to give this baby a chance.  Like my doctor told me, "no guarantees, but you have nothing to lose (by using the Heprin)".  Heprin should help to thin and increase blood flow to the placenta... healthy placenta equals healthy baby.  Also Heprin could help with any blood clotting agents that are thus far unknown to the medical world.  Heprin can only be dosed via injection, so that's what I do twice a day until I am 30 weeks along.  No it is not fun, and my stomach and thighs are bruised like I let small children treat me like a pinata, but it's the least I can do to give this baby every chance at making it. 

At first I went into the doctor every two weeks to check my progress.  Then it went to every week during my high stress, anxious weeks.  This last time I made it three weeks without going in!  I know that may not seem like much, but for me it is huge.  It helps that this baby is very active, and I can feel a lot of movement.  I still get anxious, but the baby moving gives me relief in between the moments of panic. 

Where we are now...

I just went to my 22 week target ultrasound appointment, and our baby looks wonderful.  Everything looks great, the heartbeat sounds great, and out baby is right on track for size.  We pray daily for a healthy baby that we can raise here in this life.  I guess when it comes down to it, as much as I love being in control I just had to give it up.  I have no control over what happens, and as much as that scares me, fear was not a good enough reason not to take this leap.  We love this baby come what may, and while we are hopeful... we know our family's fate is truly in the Lord's hands.  We love and appreciate all the prayers and support you all give us.  We feel of your comfort every day.  Thank you.

The rest of my pregnancy thankfully was not quite as anxiety ridden as those first twenty-two weeks.  I still worried ALL. THE. TIME.  Every night I would go to bed exhausted, from anxiety (and pregnancy), but feeling accomplished that I had survived another day, and kept this baby alive.  Every morning I would wake up with what felt like an elephant sitting on my chest due to the anxiety of not knowing what the day might bring.  I would wake up frequently in the night panicked that I hadn't felt the baby move in while.  Which of course I hadn't because I had been asleep, but logic is wasted on an irrational, grieving pregnant lady.  I can't tell you how much ice water and apple juice I drank, or how many prayers I offered up just to be able to feel another wiggle or kick.  Pregnancy after loss is exhausting, emotional, scary, and refining.  It took the little faith I had left (that of the mustard size seed variety), and all the hope I could work up.  It was all I had wanted for years, and I am eternally grateful that I again had the opportunity. 

On January 27, 2013, I was able to give birth to a perfect blonde haired, blue eyed baby girl.  I could gush for days about her, that moment, how she has helped me to heal, and the mother I am now... (big loving sigh)... but for now...