In a quiet house

It is 3:30am and I'm up again.  This has become a nightly tradition. I wake up due to heartburn, my tiny full bladder or just to attempt to roll over my ever expanding body.  Not getting comfortable, I get up and stumble out to my computer.  The heartburn will slowly dissipate and I may climb back into bed around 5ish, hoping to get a few hours of sleep before our morning begins.  While I certainly would like a full nights sleep to feel more refreshed each day, there is something I like about these middle of the nights, just me and my little guy kicking away.  While I can't wait for the 3:30am feedings, where I can actually study him and cuddle with him, it is still just me and him right now in these wee hours of the morning.

While my body is physically tired from the 35 weeks of growing and sustaining a life, I find it difficult to sleep.  My mind is active every night as I lay down to sleep.  Filled with excitement, anticipation and apprehension.  I can't believe I'm 5 weeks away from my due date and so close to actually meeting this little one who has been so wanted and loved for 9 months.  I can't imagine what it will be like to look into his eyes and breathe him in. To feel his soft skin and know he is here to join our family.

Today marks the 30 day countdown to when I delivered Oliver.  Almost 1 year since we found out we lost him and I think that his anniversary date and my due date coming together makes for an overly emotional mother.  I want nothing more than May to be a month of happiness and closer, but worry what lies ahead.  Blind to the future and which path I will head down this year.  It is hard to process most times and I often just don't know how to feel about it all.  I know I am most likely the only one that even thinks about Oliver often and knowing how to honor him falls on me. I will always think of him and what may have been.  Wondering why he couldn't live, but a year later meet his brother.  While he will rarely cross the minds of other people and his brother's birth will most likely overshadow the tragic event of his delivery, his memory will always be carried in my heart.  It is a mother's love that is strongest and I've realized that while others may never think of my children, all that matters is how I continue to love and honor them.

Soon enough my pregnancy after a loss journey will come to a end and I will begin the stages again of parenting a newborn.  I'll have a renewed faith that there can be happy endings and that I am lucky enough to have two living children.  This past year has been a journey of heartbreak and growth, as I picked up the pieces in trying to understand why I lost Oliver and welcomed a new tiny resident in my third pregnancy journey.  It is hard to believe that everything is culminating at once and that it has already been almost a year.

There is so much tragedy in the world, that often times it is hard to be optimistic.  I am certainly a more optimistic person, but when the pain can still be felt, it is hard to let hope win.  But hope is what gets us through.  The hope for better days, happiness to find us again and love to replenish our hearts. I've put my heart and soul back on the line and feel my heart fill with excitement and love as I count down the days to meeting our little one.  While it could certainly be crushed again, I'll continue to be optimistic. I am already thankful for the 35 weeks I've been able to carry him, bond with him and feel him move.  I just have to patiently wait, with hope as my guide, for him to arrive.