We do it with love.

Yesterday, and for the very first time in my life, I met a blogging friend. Face to face. Charis (pronounced Ka-Reese) over at, at the gate called beautiful, has been so kind and encouraging as I wrote about life with Savannah. Or life there after.

See, her and her husband, just welcomed their fifth addition into their family. Hosea. Oh he is beautiful. Truly perfect. (Go visit her page, and you will see just how adorable he is!) She is truly a woman after my own heart, having five precious little ones, and a marriage that is few and far between these days. By that I mean, a genuine, real, true love kind of thing.

She made Davis the sweetest little crocheted hat when he was born. She sent some of her own little hand me down clothes, and really made me feel that Davis was loved; Treasured; Adored.

Don't mind the yucky camera phone picture!

I know, I know. Isn't the hat adorable?! She took time from her own life... her own busy, pregnant, (at the time) mommy life, to make something, for my tiny (at the time) baby. 

So obviously I couldn't resist to do the exact same. I made sweet Hosea a teal, and brown blanket covered in wide eyed owls. (Owls are in. And owls are cute. Just so you know.) At first I wandered aimlessly up and down the isles of Joann fabrics, looking for something with giraffes. You know, because giraffes are Savannah's thing. I wanted to share a piece of what makes me think of Savannah, a deep seeded piece of my heart, with this loved, treasured, adored baby to be. But just as I have come to find, "giraffe" is not so easy to find in "boy." It is right now, a very popular "girl" attire. And I will be completely honest, it breaks my heart over and over again, when I see the giraffy print girly things...Outfits, blankets, towels, socks, pants, pacifiers, bottles, nursery decor... trust me when I say, the list goes on and on. 

Hello sweet girl!

There are times that I do though, want to share what made Savannah, Savannah, with others. And Hosea's blanket was definitely one of those times. Yet again, and not much to my surprise anymore, there was not a single giraffe fabric, that could even be "gender neutral." We spent at least an hour, my four children and I that is, examining every last fabric for the potential snuggled recipient. On our last rounds, feeling very much like Goldie Locks," I found the owls. And the owls found me. The owls were Davis approved. And baby approved is like a five star rating in my book. ;)

As I drove that blanket over to her house last night, I was giddy. And a little nervous. Here I was about to meet a friend, one I felt like I knew already, yet I had never once been in her presence. We pulled onto her street, and I instantly saw her mini van parked in the garage. (Minivan families unite!) I got out of MY minivan, and of course unloaded Davis from his car seat. My heart smiled as I walked to the door and could hear the voices of numerous little boys. Did I neglect to mention, all five of her children are BOYS?! 

I. love. it!

We chatted for a bit, and I was thrilled to meet her family. I awed over the baby (*swoon*) and it felt just as normal in person, as it does from her computer screen to mine. 

Her life is (as I know from experience) busy and chaotic. She probably finds herself humbled and at a loss for words when people ask her "how do you do it all?!" And like me, she probably just does it. Naturally. With lots of hugs, kisses, noise, grace, faith, and love. 

Because that how mommies of five do it.

Congratulations Charis & Bill. ♥

We've waited so long. {Written January 19th,2012}

He is officially here. 

Safe, healthy, and more handsome than my mind ever could have imagined. Today he is eight days old. And tonight, I am having a hard time with that. Eight days old. I look at him, this tiny helpless little person and remember what it was like to have to say goodbye after only eight short days. I cannot imagine telling him, how much I love him, and that I promise I will see him again. How did I do that once before? How was I ever able to let go of a little person I loved and still love so very much?

I want a pause button. These past eight days have gone more quickly than I remember Savannah's time with us going. Maybe that was a gift to us? Feeling like time was suspended during those eight days so we felt like we were given a lot longer. I don't want my time to go so quickly. I already know I am not ready. I was not ready for him to be a week old. I am not ready for him to be one month old. I want nothing more than an opportunity just to push pause. I want to cherish this moment of him being so tiny and fresh to my world as I process everything he is and everything he means to me.

He does not look much like Savannah. And I am perfectly fine with that. He does though, look like his older brother Brody. The night he was born and filled his perfectly formed lungs with beautiful scream worthy air, I knew that it wasn't just Davis. A piece of Savannah came back with him. Now I don't ever want to sound like Davis will always live in the shadows of his big sister. Because he won't. And he isn't. He is loved for just who he is. But he is much more than that. He was the first, and only person who fit right in the empty wounded spots of my arms.

I anticipated January 9th, for my little one's birthday. My body naturally desires to give birth at 36weeks, and I didn't expect any different from the way this pregnancy seemed to go. January 9th, not only marked 36weeks, it was also the full moon (say what you want) and it was my birthday! I fully expected to have the best gift for my birthday! That morning I had my weekly non stress test at the hospital. The night before the contractions were fairly regular but not painful enough to where I felt the needed to go in. Now if you know me, regular contractions are not cause for alarm in my case, and even the ob nurses knew that was the case. I went to bed that night, knowing I had an appointment first thing in the morning and I would wait it out until then.

Once I got to the hospital the following morning, and was hooked up to the monitors, sure enough the contractions were regular, every four minutes. The nurses all laughed being I had bonded with many of them, and knowing that I had predicted a birthday baby. After the 20minutes of monitoring, and making me drink a sugary drink to get Davis to move and groove like he usually did, the nurse called the on call doctor. My doctor was out of town for the holidays all the way in Europe. The on call doctor, also the doctor who delivered my Michael, said that being I was 36weeks, he would not give me anything to speed labor along, but suggested I walk. The nurse assumed it was getting close since Davis, our usual A+ non stress test achiever, had slowed down a lot.

By the time I made it home, the contractions were stronger and getting closer together. My mom brought over my birthday gifts, and took me to the park for a walk. Considering we took her one year old terrier, it was more like a slow jog. And by the time we made it back to the car, I could hardly sit down.My husband had dinner and a movie plans for my birthday, and in not wanting to ruin the few and far between chances to be alone with all of his attention, we proceeded with the plans. I indulged with a vanilla Italian soda, at a quaint Italian restaurant, where the contractions stayed close by. Afterwards we went back to the park in hopes that another walk would be just what was needed, but the contractions remained the same so we drove over to the movie theater. With not much of a selection, and knowing my husband was interested, we sat down to see "War Horse." Before the previews even had a chance to begin, I said, "maybe we should go." Because just in sitting down to watch a movie the contractions got much more intense. My husband, said "lets just wait and if you need to go we will." Me being cheap "frugal," I hated the thought of watching 15minutes of a movie only to have to leave and not be refunded our money. Haha! So knowing my husband really didn't want to leave, I endured all 146minutes in pain.

YES, 

I AM THAT LABORING PREGNANT PERSON IN THE MOVIES.

As we walked out the doors I said, "okay time to call the hospital." And we went straight there. I was checked only to find that I was dilated to two centimeters. Exactly what I had been dilated to, two weeks prior. The contractions were two to four minutes apart, so they planned on monitoring me for an hour, and check me again... 

One hour later: 2cm. No change.
I was being sent home... In pain.

On the way home, I cried. So much had taken place during this pregnancy, and it seemed like hospital stays and hospital visits were a permanent part of my future. (Pregnancy has a tendency to be a little irrational.) I tried my best to sleep through the contractions, but by six in the morning, I sat up mulling over the fact that I could very possibly continue contracting for another four weeks. At eight, when I heard my husbands alarm go off, I was discouraged to find out he had every intention on still going to work. After he left, I continued to clean up the house before I headed to my mom's to pick up the kids. (They had stayed there the night before.) My mom suggested we go on another walk, and I was all for it if there was even the slightest possibility real labor would be imminent.

We walked around her subdivision, which was what felt like a ten mile hike, since it consisted of a pregnant waddling whale, a hyper puppy, and three kids on bicycles. By the time we made it home, Koady was back from work already, and the kids went to Zumba on the WII. I figured I'd go home and talk to Koady and probably call the hospital back. It just didn't seem normal for someone to be in that much pain, and not be "in labor." I walked through the door and told him he should probably submit his paperwork for the day, just in case they told us to come back in to labor and delivery. Not too long afterwards, there was a tell tale sign that we needed to get to the hospital to be checked out. (I'll spare the gory details.) On the drive there, I knew I had to be in labor. Heck, if you saw how I ever so slowly waddled my way into the hospital, you would have known I was in labor too.

4-5cm. I was admitted. 

We we're finally going to meet our little boy.

The night nurse came on, and was so supportive to my desire to have a natural birth. It was 4:45pm January 10th, and I guessed I would have him before 10:00pm. Koady guessed 2:17am. The nurse brought in a birthing ball, which is more commonly known as an exercise ball. I walked, bounced, rocked, stood, and laughed. Yes, you can ask the doctor who sat on the edge of my bed, I was still smiling up until I pushed him out! (With no pain meds what so ever! Yay me!) We laughed hysterically after I referred to "pushing" as "the burning ring of fire." And as I bounced on the ball, my husband put on Johnny Cash's "burning ring of fire." We were creating enough of a commotion to bring the nurse in to see what was so funny. (For anyone who has experienced natural childbirth, the song is quite ironic, and dedicated to you.)

Not too long after being dilated to 4-5, I was dilated to 6cm. And I was six.... And six.... And six again.... No matter what I tried I was stuck at six. And since the doctor still wouldn't help anything along, it was up to me. In the beginning he said that if my labor did for some reason just stop (because I guess that can happen) he would probably send me home. As the night continued and we passed by my 10:00 prediction, by 1:30am, I was beginning to become discouraged. The birthing ball seemed to be calming my contractions. Still 6cm dilated, my contractions were beginning to span to 6-7minutes apart, and everyone was tired and falling asleep on me. I began to cry. "They just need to discharge me. They need to send me home. I'm stuck at 6cm, and my contractions are going away. All of this pain is for nothing. I just want to go home!" (Didn't you know that pitty parties are all the rage during labor? Especially pitty parties wanting to be sent home?)

Almost as soon as my sobbing stopped, wham! Three contractions in a row, that we're unbearable. Thinking I was going to be laboring for the next 24weeks, I said, "go get the nurse I think I need an epidural!" My mom went out into the hall, and said she knew something was happening because she could hear me breathing outside of my room. I don't even know how you can hear someone breathing, and I honestly don't have any idea what I sounded like, just as long as I didn't sound like the dying moose in the room next to us. The nurse came in and asked, "you want an epidural?... I think I need to check you." I was 7-8cm, and she went to call the doctor. As she came back she informed me that I needed to go through an entire bag of saline drip before they could give me an epidural. (I hadn't been on an IV at all.) My exact words were, "I guess its worth a shot." Not too long after they started the IV, the doctor came in. He was half asleep and literally must have rolled out of bed and come to the hospital because he had the ever glamorous bed hair! :)

The nurse asked him, "does she have time for an epidural?" He looked at me like I had lost my marbles and said, "AT EIGHT CENTIMETERS? NO! You still have thirty minutes for your IV, 15minutes for him to get here, and 15minutes for him to give it to you. Your looking at 3am!" I sadly acknowledged my fate, and the doctor got his scrubs on while the nurses set up the room. In between contractions I muttered, "oh I'm so scared of crowning!" But the nurse was still so encouraging. "You're almost done, your baby will be here so soon." The contractions at this point were about five minutes apart, which they said was very good for relaxation of me and the baby. I said, "everyone take note, my pain is at a ten and I am still smiling." During some of the last few contractions I remember grabbing the handrails and yelling, "stupid epidural guy!" His ears probably burned that night; wherever he was...

The doctor sat on the edge of the bed waiting for the fully dilated mark, nodding off during contractions. He checked me once more and I told him, "I don't know what hurts worse the contractions or your fingers!!" I was 9cm, and the doctor told me I could probably push through the last centimeter. He told me, "with the next contraction, go ahead and push." I replied, "WITH YOUR FINGERS IN THERE!?" Still dozing, he gave a slight nod, with a easy going, "yes." I gave a good push, and we decided to wait until I was fully dilated. So as we sat anxiously waiting, the doctor held his gooey gloved fingers over his pants with his eyes closed. Koady and my mom watched as his fingers dripped onto his pants, yet no one wanted to disturb his slumbers to point out the mess that was dribbling onto his scrubs. He cracked his eyes open enough finally to very casually flick the next glop back around his fingers.My mom, casually laughed and said, "looks like brass knuckles!" And finally it was time to push. One. Baby moved down, head right there. Two. Head out, sharp scream. Three, shoulders and baby came out, and I lunged back on the bed, smacking my head into the head board that I was COMPLETELY unaware hospital beds had until that very moment. The nurse said, "op, we've got a jumper!" And in three pushes he was out.

They had asked me if I wanted him laid on my chest. I said yes, only if it was okay to do so. In his first moments he squeaked. That same tiny squeak Savannah made. The only sound she made. And though it was only a moment, it felt like minutes went by before he cried. The most beautiful cry I ever remember hearing after giving birth. A cry I've waited a very long time to hear. And they laid him into the crook of my arm, and I stared at him. Speechless. Everyone began talking about him. But it was literally as though someone took away my ability to talk. I couldn't process "what he looked like," or "how long his fingers and toes were." All I could process was my overwhelming love for him in just those first few minutes. All I could think about was my little girl who I missed out on all of those glorious traditional milestones with. And then, they whisked him away to the warmer to be checked. I could not see him, but I studied the looks on the respiratory therapist, and the nurses face, for any signs that "he was not okay." I watched for any look of concern. Stress. Uncertainty. I held my breath every time they held the tiny stethoscope up to his chest.

And then something amazing happened. They gave him back to me. There was no reason they couldn't. His temperature was a little low, and for that they laid him on my chest, where I was told he needed to stay all night. There wasn't any place in the world I would rather him stay.

We didn't wait nine months for Davis to become a part of our lives. We waited nine months for Savannah. We waited another eight months to conceive. Finally a very tragic and long 26months became a reality, as he stared back into my eyes. And now, I want nothing more than to savor every blessed moment I have with him. This little boy has been healing. Yet he has pulled greatly at my heartstrings over and over again. I cannot begin to explain the love you feel for children once you have lost one. But it is one of the most overwhelming, and breath taking emotions a mother could ever experience. I cannot imagine my life without this baby boy in only eight short days, just as I can't imagine life without Savannah in only her eight short days...

Davis Emmett

January 11th, 2012

2:33am

6lbs 2oz.

19.7inches

To whom it may concern,

To whom it may concern,

Let me just get it out in the open. You did notice correctly as I walked passed with my three children in tow. I do have another on the way, my belly sure doesn't lie to you these days. Ultimately, if I did the math correctly that does in deed make four children. Socially speaking that is. What my belly and my row of ducklings do not announce to the naked eye, is actually, counting the child I carry in my heart, I do in fact have five children.

So, though I will always be polite, smile and respond to your questions or comments, I will never fully understand why society, strangers, friends and family, really care to know, if this is our last. Or to remind me, in case I was just a mental case for, heaven forbid wanting all of my children, that I must be "pretty busy." (Insert wide eyes here.)

So let me explain a little about my family. Since you, dear stranger in the grocery store, care so much to know if we are going to have any more...

My husband is not a doctor. He is not a lawyer, dentist, surgeon, or business executive. He is though, what a vast majority of American's are not these days. He is a full time, hard working, employee. He has gotten up five days a week, and promoted through chains of command, for years, and through each of the five children we have. One income mind you. Yes, that is correct. I am also a stay at home mother. I provide all of the daily care. All of the nurturing, discipline, compassion, and self-sacrificing love that I could pay obscene amounts of money to receive from a complete stranger.

I spend twenty four hours a day, seven days a week, with my four, (to your naked eye) children. So thank you for reminding me how busy I am. If you don't mind, I would like to remind you of something,

Children are a choice. They are a gift. They do not come with a paycheck, nor should you receive a paycheck for having them. They are joyful and delightful. They are not an obligation. They are not a reason to cringe if you see more than two in the grocery store. They can be stripped from us at any given moment. They are fragile lives, and fragile spirits. They require one hundred percent of our love and devotion or they will always feel like society sees them as "one more."  But they are not one more. They are human beings. They are a decision and a desire from one mothers womb to the world. They hold the future in the palm of their tiny hands. They are miracles. They transform from literally nothing into living, breathing, souls. Noisey, messy, chaotic, and as you wont let me forget, busy souls.

So even though my barefoot and pregnant lifestyle may not appeal to you, I like it. No, I love it. And since the question will probably never evade me... no right now we do not plan on having anymore. And I apologize if we should have stopped after we buried our last. If years down the road we do happen to discuss that option, please let me take down your number so I can get your consult on the matter.

If you don't mind me asking, since we are being so open, you didn't have children did you? Because I can tell how much you cherish each and every one...

Sincerely,
Mother of Five.

The month of thankfuls.

Just a week ago, my husband and I stood in our kitchen. We talked about how perfectly everything in our life was going right in that moment. No not in a conceded, boasting kind of way. Just in a "love this moment," and very grateful kind of way.
I do not believe my life has to be perfect to only find things to be thankful for. As we all know, in the midst of life's hardest tragedies, I've tried to see the beauty through it all. Standing in the kitchen, only a mere week ago, I said, "I am just prepared for things to go not so perfectly."

It really sounds negative right? Possibly. More than anything I don't feel an entitlement to some kind of happily ever after. God took my baby. There is nothing I can do to change the outcome of his plan. He does not owe me some kind of repayment, perfection, or greatness due to my loss. With beauty always comes pain. In this life, there will always be pain.

I've been concerned for our little boy since the very beginning and we found out he was being graced into our lives. I worried for congenital defects. I worried for so many anomalies that I learned about through so many beautiful mothers who said goodbye to their own precious beings.
In the beginning we prepared ourselves to say goodbye, once again. From the second our hearts locked with his, this pregnancy has thrown us curve balls so to speak. "Subchorionic Hemorrhage." What did that mean? What risks and hurdles did we face for our little one? With all odds against us, we fought. I subjected myself to tiring, emotional draining, and not even promised to "save him" bed rest. And Davis sailed through. Our fighter. Our champion. As a mother, even when I failed to provide the strength, hope, and courage for our rainbow baby, there he was, willing his heart to keep beating. With such a purpose. Such a small understanding of what he needs to do. A soul so brand new, had more focus and drive than his mother could and tried to provide through the uncertainties of life.

Tonight, as I still count my handful of thankfuls, I really haven't neglected this month when so many people really pull forward everything they have to be grateful for.
In the middle of the night, November 8th, I woke up in the middle of the night to a cold wet feeling. I knew I had a doctors appointment early the very following morning, and I couldn't bring myself to believe it was anything more than typical lovely pregnancy side effects. As I mentioned and described the events to my doctor the following morning, she as well, wasn't convinced it was anything alarming. She of course ran a strip test just to be certain. To set my mind her mind at ease. Instantly the paper turned green. Which is a measurement of pH levels determining whether or not your amniotic fluid was leaking. Green is not the color you want to be seeing at 27weeks, 3days pregnant. They swabbed me to be sure my water had broken by running a slide under the microscope. The slide revealed "ferning." ::""A fern like crystal indicating the fluid is in deed ruptured membranes.

More doctors filled the small exam room to break the bad news. Instantly I was sent up to labor and delivery. Where I have been admitted. For how long though, no one seems to know.
And here I am. Uncertain. Feeling a little broken. Surrounded by so many people being thankful out there in the real world. And the brokenness that is inside, makes me feel worse. For three days now, Davis is fighting. He has shown no signs as to being ready or prepared to make this fight for life in this, real world.
There has been no more leaking. The contractions, with the help of a magnesium sulfate IV drip, have become next to non existant. But I am still here. For they cannot send me home with such at stake.

I cannot help but feel awful for the situation. For I have to sacrifice myself completely for Davis to continue growing and thriving. But at the same time, I have to sacrifice my three other children completely for unseen circumstances. How can I work through the guilt of feeling like I am sitting at the hospital while everyone else is stuck having to pick up the pieces. All because I am not there. And no one asked for this.

I most certainly did not. I read so many stories of friends near and dear to me, continuing with their pregnancies so smoothly. How can I choose between my three living children and my husband, and all of the family members who most definitely didn't want this burden, over an unborn child? That is like living between a rock and a hard spot.

Today I am thankful for so much. The opportunity to hold Davis, full term. The feeling of hope when I thought for sure, I would be limited to only touch once more. For days, weeks, possibly months. I still have a chance for a healthy baby boy, that leaves with us. Not before us. I'm thankful for the meticulous care the hospital has given me since I first arrived Tuesday afternoon. I am thankful for an awnry baby boy who refuses to stay put so we can closely monitor his rapidly beating heart. I am thankful for medical technology that stopped an arrival no one was prepared for, most of all my precious son, and for the medical technology that could and can save his life had he been set on his own timing schedule. I'm thankful for my mother, who will drive from vacation all night to pick up my children in life's most delicate moments. I am thankful for her complete sacrifice to help care for my family while I am unable to do so myself regardless of her own schedules and to-do's. I am thankful for my husband who still gets up and goes to work, though I am sure this causes great stress to him as well. I am thankful for family and friends who have sent flowers that really do brighten my little hospital room. I am thankful for so much this November, I really am.

I will be even more thankful if I get a second chance to live out the remainder of this pregnancy at home with my family. And with Davis, safe and sound inside mommies tummy for another good three months...

30 days of Thankful {Day Three}

Today I am so thankful for Mercy Maternity Center. When I found out that my obstetrician who delivered Savannah was leaving her practice after thirty years of delivering babies, I'll have to admit, I found myself crying hysterically in the parking lot of the Mercy Maternity Center after being told "they would take good care of me."

Any mother-to-be is usually nervous at the idea of deciding on the doctor they entrust not only their well being in, but that of their unborn child's. Savannah's condition, no secret here, was completely undiscovered even through prenatal care, and numerous ultrasounds. I did not hold that against my doctor. I do not believe that eight years of medical universities can make a human being, capable of performing miracles. Healing all. I just don't. Because they are, and always will be, only human. Do I think people are capable of careless mistakes? Of course. But I will not hold Savannah's diaphragmatic hernia against anyone. Had it been discovered, all I manage to see is months of agony and heartache spent, wondering, worrying, living day to day life broken hearted. There was nothing that could have been done to that little body inside my womb to help her. And through God's grace, "Savannah's frame was not hidden from Him. When she was made in secret." {Psalm 139:15} This scripture, used on behalf of so many babies growing and thriving in their mother's tummy. It spoke to me much deeper. Koady and I used it at her funeral. As much as this world offered us during my pregnancy, countless times, Savannah's body, her frame, was hidden. But not from God. Only from us. The Lord, most definitely kept her makes a secret. And His secret, became our blessing. We got to live with Savannah for nine months, just as she was. "Fearfully and wonderfully made." {Psalm 139:14} That was all we knew. We were not scared for the future. We got to live in the moment.

And lastly, the piece of the scripture that fit our little girl so perfectly. "Your eyes saw my substance, being yet unformed." {Psalm 139:16} People argued with me as I spoke of this scripture; I was told I was reading into those simple words way too much. But it says UNformed. So easily, could it make more sense to say, formed; Created; Established. After all, this is God. He isn't making all babies unformed. But my Savannah was most definitely UNFORMED.  Yes every baby, every being, starts out unformed. That being the sole purpose behind the mother's womb. In our tragedy, this scripture was speaking of my little one.  No amount of time would have ever made Savannah whole. No doctor in the world could have saved her.

Starting over with a new doctor, I was unsure if they would connect to my story. My history. Would they treat me with the compassion I was so desperate for in this pregnancy. Would they accept that I lost my daughter, and sacrifice all they have to see to it I don't loose another?

The doctors, specialists, and nurses have exceeded my expectations in every way imaginable. They have grown to know my story. They know Savannah's name, and are not afraid to speak it. As most medical professionals try to avoid it, the ones overseeing my care have not held back any attachment to my baby boy. They are fighting for him. Every appointment. Every recommendation. Every referral. As I said, I do not blame Savannah's doctor for anything, but I feel blessed to have changed doctors. I feel like I could not be receiving better medical care anywhere else, other than one Medical Center that has stolen and will forever carry a piece of my heart. A piece of my soul...

Today, I'm thankful for Mercy Maternity Center. Like the entire Pediatric Intensive Care Unit at UC Davis, they truly are my fighting angels...

30 days of Thankful {Day Two}

Day two already. I cannot fathom where the time has been going lately. Let me sit and ponder for a minute which one of my "thankfuls" takes second place. Lets just say, each one cannot be measured.

Today, I am thankful for my husband. Our far from perfect marriage. And our almost {December 27th, to be exact} eight years of "I do's."

My husband is my soul mate. Cliche right? Nope. Not when you know. By soul mate, I do not mean we don't drive each other nuts. By soul mate, I do not mean we like all the same things, and are completely alike.

We are opposites in many ways. He drives me nuts at times, and I know that I repay him in the same way. He plays video games, and loves movies and electronics to the point sometimes that I would like to walk into Best Buy with a baseball bat and smash, well everything. He leaves dirty socks lying, well wherever they happen to fall. His idea of organized usually can be defined as "unseen."

But these are his quirks. And without them, I am realizing that he wouldn't be exactly who his is. Mine. And I take him with his "flaws." Because he has taken me with all of mine.

Everyday, he helps me grow. Marriage is not easy. It wasn't the first year. It wasn't the fifth year. It isn't the seventh going into the eighth. I know it will not be any easier the twenty-fifth. But we are both imperfect. Without the grace of my husband in my life, I would not have the relationship with Christ that I have today. From one very intelligent God fearing man, I discovered Faith. I discovered true love.

My husband wakes everyday, and provides for our entire household. Through him, his dedication, and his ethics, I am able to spend everyday at home. Guiding, teaching and nurturing our children. He has never once made me feel resented for this.

One of the the most important reasons why I am so grateful for him. The strength he provided through the death of our daughter. For the prayers he prayed for me. For the encouragement and support. For being able to teach me that goodbye does not mean forever. For the gift of life he gave to me. I am a mother only through his love. Our Savannah, was half of him. The best of both. And he held my hand and my heart as we held our heads high, and looked death straight in the face...

For him, and everything he means to me. On this day, and everyday, I am thankful.

Gifts of Life

baby shower

n:

a party given for a pregnant woman, 

to which guests bring presents for the baby

The question has been asked. And I find it more frequent these days. I've had three out of four baby showers. My fifth pregnancy. People still wonder, "when is your baby shower." My, uh, baby shower? I cannot help but be taken by surprise. 

Your first baby. That by far was my most extravagant baby shower. Of course it would be. First time parents, that is a given that the family has nothing "baby." By your fifth? People stop offering advice. People hardly ever ask how your feeling. I see commercials about pregnant women being lavished in "stretch mark lotions" during their pregnancy. Cocoa butter has yet to show up on my doorstep. And let me tell you, I think there is an invisible stamp on my forehead that says,  

"it's not my first baby,

it's not exciting, 

please feel free to NOT touch my belly

or ask when I am due."

Sometimes the awkward "baby loss mommy" inside me cannot help but wonder, "can they sense that I've lost one? Do complete strangers even not want to get too attached?"

So when the question arises, "when is your baby shower." From the beginning I've said, "I'm not having one, I don't see family members and friends really wanting to take that chance again."

Two weeks ago, giving my typical answer, I received a new response. It took me a little by surprise. The voice on the other end replied, "yeah. I'll send something after the baby is born." Now I am no stranger anymore to people saying things that sometimes hurt my feelings. And it really doesn't sound like much, but it got me thinking.

I don't see family members and friends really wanting to take that chance again.

-Yeah.

I feel guilty for every last gift received for Savannah. Every dollar spent to forever sit cold in a tub in our garage.  I had really hoped I would be able to put those gifts to use with this pregnancy. But God felt my life needed something a little different.

The night Savannah died, as I leaned over her body, gently caressing her skin, the nurse said to me, "if you ever need anything, don't hesitate to call us." I looked at her through teary eyes, "Can you tell me what I am supposed to do with everything I received at my baby shower?" She looked at me, her eyes empty with an answer to my question. I said, "I'm thinking I'll give it back to everyone who bought it, so they can get their money back." She shook her head no, "don't do that, you hang onto it for awhile, and one day you will know what to do with it."

And I did I kept most everything. We returned some big unused items that were in definite pink colors. The car seat. Some blankets that weren't really sentimental. In it's place we purchased floating shelves to hold the ceramic figures bought for us to remember her.

The idea of sitting around once more opening presents in front of the same people who bought gifts for the hope that was our Savannah, I just cannot come to grips with. 

What would they be thinking? {"I hope I didn't just throw my hard earned money away again."} Would they only look at me and Davis through sad uncertain eyes? Would a day of celebration become a day of remorse?

But at the same time, I am an expecting mom. It is my fifth baby. My fifth pregnancy. Yes, I have a crib. I have a changing table. I have a glider rocker that I never got to rock my baby in. I've got some saved items through the years, and I have bought many of my own outfits for my little guy to be. 

Davis is a completely different person. He is a great gift in itself. He will show me and my husband that no matter what, Hope and Life can emerge from anything. I hope he can bring that message to those who did and didn't attend Savannah's baby shower. And though I feel every baby is worth celebrating no matter what the circumstance, I feel Davis deserves a celebration. He deserves a gift... Because he is our gift...

Because his mommy needs to know that herself, her husband, and Grandma are not the only people in the world to trust that he is here to stay. 

How many second, third, or fifth time mothers made the decision to celebrate? Or celebrate after a loss?

So on behalf of this journey that you all have walked through with me, I want to share my Gift of Life idea.

If you've followed along with "Savannah's story," I thought it would be inspiring, touching, and hopeful for anyone who would like, sent something USED from one of their own little ones. 

Sounds weird right?

Well, I'm not asking for you to buy anything.

I'd just love to see how many people Savannah's life has reached,

and I'd love to receive something from all of my readers whom have

been there for me and my family this past year

  from their own babies. 

A gift of life. Something that has seen life. Something that has seen love.

For the hope we have for Davis.

I would love to be able to share the hope that others have too.

You do not have to. At all.

But if you would like to.

If you have something you wouldn't mind parting with.

I would cherish every last glimpse of life.

{And please share with me about your little one, and your gift choice.}

<3 Leave a comment below. <3

 {25weeks}

The Final Day.

Today was it. It was the last. The final. Savannah's very last day with "hope" on earth. It was the very last day that we prayed for her in "that" way. We prayed that if it was her time, that she go peacefully. That our hearts we're filled with peace. I never truly knew what "peace" actually meant until I experienced it. Peace in the sense, prayers around the world were silently spoken to God for me and my husbands hearts. I have never experienced grace as I have by the comfort we recieved after her death. Prayer does work!

But as I sit here tonight I think back to this time last year. I've thought of it a lot this past week. What we were doing this time in 2010. And I want to go back. I want to relive that week with our Savannah again and again and again. But I know I can't. All I have is the sweet memories I will always cherish of our girl.

This morning, I received a phone call. It was a dear family friend. My mom's best friend you might say. All she wanted to say to me was that she loved us. That she was thinking of us. Not just tomorrow, but today. Because she knew that it's not always just the day of, but the days and moments leading up to that moment. That simple phone call, meant more than she will ever know.

It's a reminder that through this first year anniversary, there are some people who are thinking of us. Not oftheir pain, or memories, just Savannah's mommy and daddy. In these final days, we are the ones that really lost something. No matter what the connection was to anyone else, her mommy and her daddy are the ones who have thought of her every moment over the past year. We are the ones who hold an overwhelming love for the little person we met for a brief moment in our hearts. And one simple phone call assured me, that there are people who care enough to acknowledge that.

So on the evening before Savannah's death, I wanted to share her story with you all, once more...

Gone but never forgotten. 

~Savannah Victoria~

{Please pause playlist on the right!}

Blog Giveaway? Um, YES PLEASE!

A few days ago I received a random email. Usually I delete anything in my inbox out of the ordinary, but for some reason, I was drawn to this particular email.

When I opened it, I was deeply honored and more than excited with the contents. It was from a website called My Memories. They had fallen across my blog {don't you LOVE when new people grace you with their presence?} and the women liked what she saw! You like me, you really do! She asked if I would be interested in hosting a giveaway.

Would I be interested?

UM, YES!!

In case you have never heard of this website, My Memories is "a quickly growing collection of fresh and unique digital kits as well as My Memories Suite, the number one rated digital scrapbook software out there."

You heard me right scrapbook and photo-a-holics!

A SCRAPBOOK GIVEAWAY!!!

Are you drooling? I am.

Just kidding.... {Maybe.}

So in a few days, I will be giving away, courtesy My Memories, "My Memories Suite Scrapbook Software, Version 2.0!" 

With this complete software kit you can make scrapbook layouts, photo books, cards, videos, you name it! Or if you are savvy and daring {like me} you can even make your own BLOG LAYOUTS with it! Oh baby!I was given my own free software so I can try it out first! I love it!

Feel free to check out the website if you like your crafts and scrapbooking supplies, you will love it! I guarantee it!  Don't miss the giveaway! It is a $40 dollar value, yours FREE! Even if you aren't a "scrapbooker" everyone know someone who is. Send them my way!!!

It's Savannah's birthday gift to one of YOU!   

The ones who bring us up.

Even though I feel like there's nothing to say, I feel as though I have nothing else to do. Literally. Although I am still very much pregnant, and things are very much okay, I've been sentenced to temporary bedrest. "Take it easy.--Put your feet up.--Relax." All of these things, every mother dreams of. But when it comes down to it, it isn't as luxurious as it sounds. It is actually pure torture. I've spent as much one on one time with my couch that I ever wanted to, particularly at the beginning of summer.

After my emergency room visit on Sunday, I had my first follow up appointment Tuesday. It didn't start exactly as I had planned it would. My doctor is planning on leaving her practice. Thirty years of nurturing babies into the world, and my doctor was finishing up her days.
I knew that this meant she was not going to be there. She was not going to be the one. She was not going to cherish the moment that I hold the baby I've longed for.

Dr. Thomas Perry has taken over my prenatal care. I am currently going to to Mercy Maternity Center, so I can be seen regularly by the UC Davis Perinatologist, and she can schedule me a level 2 ultrasound at UC Davis to check for any possible problem this baby could possibly have.

At first I was not thrilled at the idea of just being seen at the Maternity Center associated with the hospital. During my follow up appointment, Dr. Perry discussed many things that comforted my mind. Based on my last menstrual period, the doctor said I was supposed to be 6 weeks, 4 days pregnant. But I continued to stress that I do not have 28day cycles. Usually more between 33-35.
He assured me that Sunday at the ER, my beta levels {or HCG/pregnancy hormones} were 6,958mlu. Which were again, perfect for where they were supposed to be. He wanted to do more lab work, and schedule yet another ultrasound to check the progress of the baby. He then told me, for things to look positive my beta levels needed to at least double what they were.
I asked many questions, and another 30year OB assured me... assured me...  that subchorionic hemorrhage is extremely common. And he see's them all the time. And since I am sure doctors just love and appreciate google, I asked some of the things I had heard. This kind of bleed reabsorbs into your body, or bleeds out, and the placenta does heal. So when I asked him if this increases the risk of placenta abruption the bigger the baby gets, his exact reaction, was a quaint smile, a kind eye roll, and a "not at all." Right now with the gestational sac being so small, it makes the hemorrhage seem so big in comparison. But as the baby grows, the sac grows, and the placenta grows. Making the clot smaller and smaller and less evasive. Until it eventually is gone. He said the hardest thing about Subchorionic Hemorrhage is that in the beginning, when the placenta attaches, or "implants", and causes the clot behind the placenta, there is a chance that it doesn't deliver proper nutrients to the baby, which can end development.
So another tube of blood was taken, and I sat in the parking lot in my car crying over my new environment, and saying goodbye to my doctor, while my mom listened and tried to comfort me on the phone.

I headed up to the hospital that same afternoon for a "doctors orders" squeezed in appointment. The technician who did my ER ultrasound, greeted me once again, and told me she was surprised to see me so soon because we wouldn't see much change in just two days. But we looked again anyways. Being she wasn't a doctor she isn't at liberty to give any information. I asked her a question about the previous ultrasound she had done. Hesitantly, she asked, what my doctor had told me. So I told her what I knew. She excitedly agreed. I told her as well that I wasn't a typical 28day cycle. She said that makes a big difference in fetal age, and the accuracy on where development stands. She showed me the screen, and said she knew it was just to early to see a heartbeat. If the doctor would wait another week, she would be able to see more.
Wednesday afternoon, my mom came down to join me on my second follow up appointment. My levels had doubled. 13,528mlu. He was pleased and said that my numbers were great. He also showed me the change in just a few days between my two ultrasounds.
I was rescheduled a third ultrasound for Monday June 13th, as well as a repeat blood draw. Which brings me to today. Friday. Still a complete two days, for final answers. A healthy heartbeat. What every doctor needs to see to be comforted in any early pregnancy.

So knowing all odds are in our favor, I find myself anxious for the news. For some news.

Which leads me to an irritable pregnant mood. Maybe it's the couch. Maybe Oscar was such a grouch because he was limited to his garbage can all the time. It's a good theory I think. Bed rest no matter how temporary can lead to insanity.

My Sarah turns seven years old in eight short days. I have exactly 41 people, including every child in her class invited to a party, I can not yet prepare for. My husband celebrates his 28th birthday in only four days. This year, I had plans to go above and beyond for his birthday. But this has limited me to what I had planned. And I don't like it. My husband is my everything, and I want him to know that he was born for me. His birthday is important. Something to be remembered. Something to not be late on. Because if you truly care for someone, you would never be late on their birthday.

He called his mom the other day. I could tell in his voice that after he had talked to her, he seemed happy. He called me afterwards, {Where was I? You got it, the couch...} and told me his mom asked if we were still going camping, and he said no. She asked if she could take us out to dinner for his birthday. As he was telling me this, I said, "I can tell that my hormones are still rising. Because first it happened when all my dear friends left encouragement for me on Facebook before my doctors appointments. The ones who care, are always there for us, not just when it is convenient for them. And it means so much, that your mom can make plans for your birthday when she knows I can't!!!" ::SILENCE:: My husband asked "Are you crying???" ::SNIFF SNIFF:: "Yes!"

So yes... Aside from my irritations. There are so many people who have touched my heart. Through the death of Savannah. Through this pregnancy. You've left congratulations. You've sent positive prayers and wishes. You've offered nothing but encouragement in a angel mommy and daddies worst fear moment. {The danger of loosing yet another baby.} I am a mother who has buried my daughter. I am far from Naive. Babies die. But to offer nothing but encouragement, means alot to me. Because you all know that my mind is already running with the possibilities. The statistics. Right now, love and encouragement is all we need... Thank you to everyone who has been less than selfish through this. You are the ones that matter. (((BIG HUGS FROM MY COUCH TO YOURS!!)))

It is far from simple.

This new life? It is far from simple. Being pregnant again is far from simple. Saturday makes me approximately six weeks pregnant. I won't be sure exactly when my due date is, until we go have our early ultrasound appointment in just a few short weeks. This is a journey I am desperately trying to take one day at a time.

In the back of my mind, I find myself constantly throwing myself at the feet of God. "You wouldn't ask me to give another back would you? How could I possibly prepare my mind, my heart for that possibility? Please, I am begging, don't make me give this one back.  "

Deep in my soul, I feel Him telling me it's going to be okay. But is it going to be okay in the sense, this baby will stay, or will it be okay in the same way that He held us through Savannah's heavenly arrival? This I don't know. But everyday I choose to believe that everything will be okay.

But I know too much now. I know too much about infant death. I know too much about congenital defects. I know too much about miscarriages, preterm labor, stillbirths and sudden infant death syndrome. I want it to go away. I want to go back to the time that I didn't know too much. When I didn't know anything. And what I did know, was only under the "it would never happen to me" illusion. Please make it go away.

Right now I know, in just two to four weeks I will have a baby with either a formed or an unformed diaphragm. And it is terrifying. As mother's we want to heal. We want to fix. We want to nurture, protect, and love our children. And while we think, taking our vitamins, eating healthy, and taking care of our bodies is enough, I know it isn't. Because I live in this new life.

But I believe. I believe that while I do everything in my power to make it all okay, He will step in with whatever divine purpose He withholds from us for our future. Only one person, has the power to make it all okay. Everyday on my knees, I am thankful for another day closer to the beautiful sound of a crying baby.

"I can do all things, through Christ who gives me strength. "

                                                                     -Philippians 4:13

 

Family is so much more.

We've talked recently about moving. Not moving up the street or across town. Moving two thousand miles away from our the life we call home now. My husband's job was kind of pushing him towards taking a position they needed filled in Peoria Illinois.

Now if you know us personally, you would know that the Fraser's are not strangers to cross country moves. We've done it once. Or twice. {Or Four times...}

We spent quite awhile considering it. Although I was hesitant to pack our life into boxes, and uproot our family to a new state, I was also really wanting the opportunity for change. I wasn't sure what it was I was wanting to change exactly though.

Recently we decided that we are not going to move to Illinois, though my husband got quite a chuckle in informing our family and friends we were in fact moving three weeks from now in celebration of April Fools Day.

My mother-in-law didn't find the same humor in this, because she lives in Kentucky and would be a mere seven hours away from us. Which is a far more convenient trip, compared to the five day drive or plane ticket purchase. So when her heart was lifted at the thought of us being so close to her, we did have to break the news that no, we weren't coming. {In my defense I told Koady he should go with a different April Fools joke.}

We had a friend over for dinner this last Sunday. Seems God always sends people to us at just the right moments in time. We realized that family doesn't have to be blood related. This is something that we haven't been seeing. It was amazing to have someone over to our house for fellowship. We shared stories. The kids were beside themselves and fawned over our guest the entire visit. We sat around the dinner table talking about the intimate details of our lives. Both ours and his. I have to say, my heart has not been graced with anyone... anyone... willing and open to discuss Savannah. And by discuss Savannah, I don't mean we do all the talking. I mean someone who also talks about her, knowing that Savannah's life isn't just past tense.  Someone that includes her in talking about "our children."  And right there at the dinner table we prayed together... And the tears streamed down my cheeks. It was so nice to have someone else that deeply cared for our emotions. Deeply cared about us.

You may be given a family that you cannot impress.

You may have a father that is incapable of caring

about anything but himself.

You may have family members that say they care,

but are never around.

But then you have the family

that God places in your path

all throughout your life.

And you know that your family, 

will always be where ever you are.

This was the change I was looking for.
And we didn't have to move 2,000miles to find it.

Everything rides on hope now.

Getting "pregnant" like I said before was to say the least, getting a little discouraging. Two days before finding out I was indeed expecting, I hit my breaking point. What was the trigger you might wonder? A simple picture on facebook of....

Someone's positive pee pee stick.

Yep, that's all. I went up the stairs to my bedroom, and cried. Hysterically. In a moment of sure selfishness and self pitty, I thought it would never happen to me. To finally hold a healthy baby that was mine to keep. Koady came into the room and held me, silently, as I cried. And just when I had no more tears to cry, a song came on the lightly playing radio in the background.

"Everything rides on hope now.

Everything rides on faith somehow.

When the world has broken me down.

This love sets me free."

The gasps for air, were quickly silenced. I knew the song. I had heard it a million times. It was and is on my playlist right here at A Story Unfolding. "Okay God," I thought. "Your speaking to me through songs again." I intently listened.

"When my life is like a storm,

Rising waters all I want is the shore.

You say it'll be okay,

and I''ll make it through the rain.

You are my shelter from the storm."

I knew right then, that I was focusing too much on what I didn't have at that moment. But everything rides on hope now. Hope that I would have that baby in my arms someday. Everything rides on faith somehow. Faith that God has our plans cradled in the palm of His hands. Like my husband said, "this baby will come when it's God's perfect time. And not a moment sooner."

Little did we know...

...Two days later...
...would be His perfect time.

A Different Child.

A Different Child 

By: Pandora MacMillian

People notice there's a special glow around you.

As you grow, surrounded by love,

Never doubting you are wanted;

Only look at the pride and joy

In your mother and father's eyes.

And if sometimes between the smiles,

There's a trace of tears,

One day you'll understand.

You'll understand there was once another child.

A different child who was in their hopes and dreams.

That child will never outgrow the baby clothes.

That child will never keep them up at night.

In fact, that child will never be any trouble at all.

Except sometimes, in a silent moment,

When mother and father miss so much that different child.

May hope and love wrap you warmly

And may you learn the lesson forever...

How infinitely precious.

How infinitely fragile.

Is this life on earth.

One day, as a young man or woman,
You may see another mother's tears,

another father's silent grief

Then you, and you alone,

will understand and offer the greatest comfort.

When all hope seems lost,

you will tell them with great compassion,

I know how you feel.

I'm only here 

Because my mother tried again.

We are in fact pregnant.

Thank you all for your unbridled prayers and support.

We will continue needing them from now until...

well forever.

When you think of my baby.

I just have to share this because it has been on my mind lately. Tonight as I laid in a bath, it came jogging back into my thoughts. And there it ran, over and over again...

First of all, my mother in law and I have had our ups and downs. There have been hurt feelings on both sides, but one thing is for sure, she always loved her grandbabies. All seven of them. Sarah was her first-04'. {Girl.} Then she was blessed with Michael-05', Noah-05', Ryder-07', Brody-07', and Asher-10'. {Boys!} Following shortly behind Asher, {because my sister-in-law and I have a strange way of having babies in the same year if you noticed} came Savannah-10'.

She lives 2,500 miles away in Kentucky. We called her one night while we were at Davis, and told her, her granddaughter was here. Being there is a three hour time difference, if I remember correctly {because there were so many phone calls} she was half asleep. She knew the phone call was announcing her latest grand baby. I could hear the excitement in her voice. And then we had to finish with what we should have never had to say. Savannah was not the healthy grandbaby she was used to welcoming. She sobbed into the phone. And then went right to work, as the prayer warrior I know she is... Along side all of her family and friends as well.

The night Savannah passed, the message we had to relay was far worse than the first message she had to receive. Only it was much later for her than the first time. Her sobs were enough to wake her husband, Johnny, whom is also devoted to the grandkids. Before we had even made it home from Sacramento that night, she called us back scheduling a plane ticket out here. She wasn't going to miss her granddaughters funeral.

Sadly, her trip was over before it ever began. She rode with us to the funeral. As two brokenhearted grandmothers, her and my mother cradled each other as they cried, sitting behind Koady and I at Savannah's funeral service.

She shared something with Koady recently in a phone conversation, and this is what has been on my mind...
For Christmas she received a very special gift. {A gift very special to her heart, but little does she know it is just as special to mine.}

A gym bag. 

Now, I know you must all think I've gone off the deep end, but let me continue. This isn't an ordinary gym bag. Johnny had it personalized. On one side it reads:

Sarah, Michael, Noah,

Ryder, Brody, & Asher

On the other:

In loving memory,

Savannah Fraser

8days

A simple gift. A gift that continues to acknowledge that Savannah was and is her granddaughter. She isn't afraid to share with the world she too, has become an "angel grandma." 

Sarah and Savannah. Her only two girls. 

When you think of my baby...

...even after she is gone...

...the love I have for you is far greater

than any love you could 

ever

imagine.

Thank you for remembering Savannah's name.

Despite our trials and hardships.

Thank you, for loving our girl.

Thank you.

I wanted to take a quick moment today, to say a quick thank you for the comments I just read from my wonderful friends/followers.

What I asked was a very hard and blunt question. As a parent, {especially those who have made that decision} you love your child more than your own life itself to want to make the decision to say "when" God's time for them was here.

After reading those of you who said "everyone is given a time from God," it brought tears to my eyes. And not in a bad way. Sometimes I just need that little reminder and guided encouragment. My husband told me today after reading my last post that he wondered the same question shortly after Savannah was gone. "Was it the right decison."

And yes, it was.  

The doctor told us very frankly, "she has no chance." ECMO may have been able to sustaine her life from now until eternity, but that is just it. Savannah, didn't have a chance. And that my friends... was God's plan. In saying goodbye to a piece of our heart that night, we may have saved other babies in the process. Other babies with every chance in the world.

The evening when we first recieved the news, through teary eyes, I asked, "can't I just give her one of my lungs?" Clearly the answer was obvious. No I truly didn't believe an adult sized lung would be a perfect match for an eight day old newborn, but it was sheer desperation. But the fact of the matter is, I would have. I would have given both my lungs if I could have. I would have given her every organ, and laid down my own life for that precious being. We had and have so much love for such a tiny little girl, turning those machines off was not and will never be, murder. It was love. 

She did though in fact, take my heart with her to the grave.

Thank you.

I am so blessed to call you my friends.

A birthday is upon us.

Since Savannah passed, Brody Peyton will be the first birthday I celebrate since August. Now I am not saying I haven't "celebrated" for anyone, there just hasn't been anyone to celebrate close to us.

Till now. December 19th, my not so little guy will turn three years old. 

As a mother, on your children's birthdays you cannot help but think back to their births. Atleast I know I can't. Thinking back to Brody's birth this year, I can't help but think of what a different situation it was from the birth I just recently witnessed.

Five and a half hours, including pushing. Brody was "posterior," or as some call it "sunny side up." I delivered him face up, and it was the first baby I have ever had a hard time pushing out. He came into the world screaming. {Pause.}

Brody Peyton Fraser

December 19th, 2007

1:22pm

6lbs. 5oz.

19.5inches

Alive. Breathing. Screaming.

Another baby born into our arms. Our ignorant parent arms. Ignorant to the fact that in the split second a piece of heaven entered our world, our lives could have changed. In a "not new baby" kind of way. Ignorant to the fact that even though we had an entire nine months of the best possible pre-natal care, took vitamins daily, and had the "everything looks perfect" stamp from an ultrasound technician, our new baby boy whom our lives were wrapped around in that very second could suddenly, very well have been...

not okay. 

As Brody's birthday approaches. I DO find myself thinking back to his day. The very special day when he was welcomed into our arms and hearts forever. The very minute, the very life altering second that he filled his lungs with ever precious, ever delicate life. Don't take this the wrong way because I am not in any way wishing I could substitute one for the other, but what makes Brody so special that he got to stay? Or Sarah... or Michael for that matter...

When actually I should be asking...

What makes Savannah so special,

that she got to go?

Brody I am so thankful

for your healthy, 

living,

life altering,

Birth.

...which was another blessing,
because you were born in a hospital
with NO NICU.
I believe EVERY hospital should have one.
No baby is guaranteed to be "okay."

Where our heart is.

After Savannah passed, as most of you know, I created the photo slide show of her "little life." I edited and re-edited it. I knew it had to be just perfect. Something that I would have forever, but also my tribute, her mother's tribute to her time here. 

The days after it was created, Koady and I watched it over and over. We uploaded it to youtube, and shared her video with anyone we talked about Savannah with. Our mission first thing each morning, was to check and see how many people had watched it... and ofcourse to watch it ourselves. Again and again throughout the day. 

Time has passed. Savannah's video isn't watched much anymore in our household. Occasionally I'll stop in to take a peek of a different time. But it doesn't feel the same either. In the beginning there was comfort, awe, and inspiration in those first grieving days. Now it feels almost like a time that never really existed. Almost as though we captured a dream on video. 

Things are easier now. We don't need that extra crutch we once used in a slide show. I am so thankful that we have so many beautiful pictures of our girl. She will always be displayed in the picture frames on our walls. She will always be a piece of the Fraser family puzzle. 

This morning, I stopped in to see her video once again. Seems like years ago we were taking our "sunglass" pictures with Savannah.... Was it years ago? Nope it was only almost four months. Four short months ago...

We buried a part of our heart here in Redding, California. I don't think we will be moving away anytime soon.

This is where our heart is.

Cherry on Top

In honor of today's 50th blog posting since Savannah's death,

I would like to share that a dear friend and blog reader,

gave me a blog award!! 

Though I am honored,

I don't feel my blog is of "award" material.

I know there are only a few avid readers out there,

but because you still feel I am worthy,

I would LOVE to say...

THANK YOU
TIFFANY & JULIUS!!!

*50 Posts*

Look how far we've come Savannah!

When the crickets chirp.

There has been a silence around this page recently. In the beginning after Savannah passed I didn't post everyday. Of course I was finding myself busy with funeral arrangements and wrapping my mind around the fact that I had just lost my anticipated fourth child. Lately, with the wonderful Christmas season upon us I have found myself busy yet again. 

As I mentioned in my earlier post, life is good again. Savannah's memories will always linger, but my husband and I smiled as we talked about how the pain lingers no more. Last night, we agreed it was time to pack up her stuff until the time we might need it again. You know, with the whole 50-50 chance thing. We know that we want different furniture for the next baby. Savannah never did and will never use the room. That's okay. It was her's. We will always remember "Savannah's room." She has a much better home now. 

Saying goodbye is a positive thing. We accept that she is gone. She will always be "ours," but she has passed like a spring breeze. The love in our hearts is the important thing to always keep around. Though my blog posts have become fewer, I still plan on writing. On Savannah's first birthday I plan on making this blog into a book. 

Remembering Savannah.

A year of grief and growth.

There was sadness, but there has been tremendous growth as well. I feel like a better person because of that special soul that graced us with her presence for eight short days. Eight days, I will always be grateful. 

Savannah, mommy and daddy are still keeping their promise to you little one.

The promise we made to you in our arms your last night...

That we will always be together.

Coming up on seven years December 27th,

precious girl... with many years of love to spare!

But 2011? It might just be one of the best years of our lives.

 Pink or blue... you tell me?

*Smiles & Winks*