My heart still hurts and it always will. While the pain has dulled, it is still present. There is not a day that passes where I don't think about the baby we lost. I imagine how my body would have been changing to accommodate that growing life. I imagine how we would be telling Little Miss all about becoming a big sister. How those tiny movements would feel to me, pressing my growing belly, those movements showing me how full of life this baby in my womb would have been. But none of this is our reality, these are all just figments of my imagination, lingering wishes, hopes and dreams, my prayers. The days have passed, the condolences are no longer spoken, this little life seems to have been forgotten by this world. I know our baby is in a better place, but I can't help but to selfishly want that baby here with me. I don't want this little ones life to have been forgotten. I pray for me sake and others who have lost a child (regardless the gestation or age), that the taboo around discussing loss would disappear. We need to talk, we need others to talk, and to understand that sometimes, maybe, it is okay to not be okay.

Plumb "Exhale"

"It's okay to not be okay

This is a safe place

This is a safe place

Don't be afraid

Don't be ashamed

There's still hope here

There's still hope here

No matter what you've done or who you are

Everyone is welcome in His arms

Just let go let His love wrap around you

And hold you close

Get lost in the surrender

Breathe it in until your heart breaks

Then exhale

exhale...."

It's hard to believe this year is coming to a close. I feel like 2015 just began. 

As a family, we have been through so much, grown so much, and learned to surf the waves of life. 

I entered 2015 in such a fog. A new mom, covered in breastmilk, spit up, unwashed hair, rocking nursing tanks and pajama pants. A new mom who was still in those hazy early days of figuring out how this new mom life would be, searching for our new normal, and just praying to make it through the day in one piece. 

I've grown, I've learned to live unashamed of who I am, of who God created me to be. I've loved, lived bigger, and trusted in where my life is going. God has been so good to us this year, through the ups and downs. He has taught us to lean on Him, let Him carry us, and that sometimes, we just have to step out blindly on faith and trust that He has us. We've learned that loss hurts, it hurts so bad. Through losing our precious angel baby, we've also learned that the pain of loss will never go away, but it does numb. And it's okay to have bad days, but that we don't have to remain in that place. God has shown us that by leaning on Him, we can grieve our loss, and keep going. I've learned that it's okay for my faith to be shaken, but that I can stand strong knowing that God has a plan for my life. 

We've been shown through a tiny human being what earthly love is. There is no love like the love God has for us, but this tiny one has shown us a real love as well. She's tried us, scared us, loved us, laughed at us, with us, cried, and grown so much over this past year. She's taught me what it is to be a mother. Through her, I've learned to trust my motherly instincts, my gut, and that there may not be an instruction book for being a mom, but together we can navigate through each day. 

I've learned that friendship is so important, but it's so hard. We all find it so easy to make an excuse about how busy our days are, how busy life is, then the days go by, the year grows short, and you realize it's been weeks, even months since you last spoke or saw one another. I hope to learn to slow down, build relationships, friendships that will grow and become more intimate. Friendships that benefit us in multiple ways. Friendships that will last a lifetime, through the good and the bad. 

Family has taught me so much as well. We are constantly in each other's lives, we can't pick and choose who family is. We may not always get along, heck some days we may not even like each other and that's ok. But, we always know that when needed, they will be there. 

I pray 2016 brings us all a year of growth, of joy, and of pure unending love. 

For I know the plans I have for you,” says the LORD. “They are plans for good and not for disaster, to give you a future and a hope. Jeremiah 29:11

It's so incredibly hard to believe Christmas is just a few short days away. I've been looking forward to this Christmas. It's going to be our first where Little Miss is more aware of what's going on. She's going to be a blast with all of the paper and boxes floating around the living room. I can't wait to see the joy on her face Christmas morning. I've been looking forward to spending time with family, seeing those who we don't see often enough. Yet, I've found myself not really feeling the Christmas spirit. Isn't this supposed to be the happiest time of year? The time when we are full of joy? My heart has been heavy, hurting with loss, disappointment, and well, just hurting. We are all entitled to those days, right? This past year, we've had so many ups and so many downs. We've experienced the hardest loss we have ever faced as a family. We have had dreams crushed, yet, we know our God is sovereign, our God is in control, and He has a plan for our lives. He holds us even in the darkest times. He comforts us when we feel as if no one else is there. He promises us that He has a plan. Sometimes we just have to let Him hold us, carry us and trust that He is in control, even when the world around us is crumbling down. 

Just today, I was driving around town with such a heavy heart. I kept trying to figure out how I got to this place, where did I go wrong, what could I have done differently. As I'm questioning myself, I catch a glimpse of the most angelic sleeping face that I have ever seen. Oh sweet Little Miss, you are a constant reminder to me that God has His own perfect reasoning, His own perfect timing and we don't have to understand why. We just have to surf the waves with Him. We have to step out on faith and trust that our God will keep us afloat. 

I'm always being reminded to hug those who are there for you unconditionally just a bit tighter, let the kisses linger, and don't be afraid to tell them how much they truly mean...especially this Christmas. You don't always know what someone else is going through, but you can always be the shining light they may need. 

It's hard to believe that three weeks ago our world was turned upside down with the loss of our sweet baby. 

“For You formed my inward parts; You covered me in my mother’s womb....Your eyes saw my substance, being yet unformed. And in Your book they all were written, The days fashioned for me, When as yet there were none of them.”

Psalm 139:13,16

I sit here three weeks after the loss, watching my healthy and very much alive one year old play and I'm ok, really ok.  There isn't anything I can do to change what happened, nothing I do will bring that baby back to me here on this earth. As hard as it is to accept, I have accepted that. God is in control, He knows what He is doing, He has a purpose. We may never know why we had lose a child, and that's ok. I can live in knowing that my child is with God and that gives me peace, comfort, and the ability to keep going. It's ok to live. 

I know I will still have down days, dark moments and things that trigger sadness and I know that is all in God's plan. I'll take those days as they come, allow myself to feel those emotions and know that it's ok to go on, I don't have to wallow in my grief, I don't have to live in depression. It's ok to take time and work through the stages of grief, and there is no set time. I am filled with joy and gratitude over the people God has placed in my life. People to listen to me, hold me, cry with me, and to be apart of this journey with me. 

It hurts. It hurts like hell. Never in my life could I imagine that in less than 24 hours, I could feel my entire world flip upside down. Watch time stop, yet move in a whirlwind. Fall in love so quickly, yet know something isn't right and have that love literally pulled from you. A love that never had a chance, would have never survived. Yet, somehow existed. People say God has a plan. There's a reason for this. And while I believe it, it's so hard to. I want to cry. I want to scream. I want to have my time to mourn this love that never even had a chance. For a brief moment in time there was a baby, a growing baby. A baby causing my body damage by where it decided to call home. And I still loved her. I still wish I could have done something, anything for her to have been able to be ok. From ultrasound to surgery, I was numb. I don't remember much. I felt that I shouldn't become more attached to my baby, so I shut down. I pushed the world away. I wanted to hear nothing, say nothing, do nothing. Silence. That's all I asked for. Doctors asking questions. Family trying to provide support and comfort. I wanted none of it. I wanted to be left alone. Nurses asked multiple times what surgery I was having done. I realize it's their job, it's their policy. But me having to speak those words over and over again didn't get easier. Laying on an OR table in tears because you are having to tell the nurse for the third time that your surgery is to remove an ectopic pregnancy isn't easy. It's hard. It hurts. It feels like you are just laying there saying, just take my baby. Take the one that can't make it, the one that doesn't have a chance. The one that is potentially threatening my life, yeah take that one. I let the numb feeling last for a day, it was the easiest way to cope, just feel nothing. I just wanted life to go back to the way it was and I've realized that will never happen. A little piece of my heart will always and forever be with that baby. As a friend told me, the pain will dull, but it will never go away.  

So, now I'm faced with family and friends finding out. I'm ok with it. It's life and sometimes life throws a curve ball that quite literally hits you right in the gut. And it hurts, it's cruel, but some how we move on. People have been so kind and I know they mean well, but it's so hard to not burst in to tears when they ask how I am. I'm hurting. Period. That's it. I'm hurting so bad. Then comes the dreaded question, were you trying? Like if we weren't trying would the pain hurt less? Would I not have loved that baby as much? No, so what's the point. Small talk? Why does loss have to be so hard to talk about, such an awkward thing for people to just understand. I just want a hug and an I am here for you. No need to tell me you can relate or that at least you still have a chance of having another baby in the future. Those aren't things I need. I need time, time to hurt, time to mourn, time to cope, time to heal, time to realize that my life will still go on and I have a beautiful daughter who teaches me every single day what true joy in life is. 

10/22/14 I left the hospital with newborn baby Lana. 

10/22/15 I left that same hospital without my baby. 

Hands of a Mother

There's a tiny hand laying on my chest, so soft, so dainty and yet so full of life. She's asleep on my arms right now and I just can't put her down. The toddler years are just around the corner and I know these sweet snugly naps won't last forever, so I'm choosing to live in this moment and study everything about her. 

These tiny hands, they aren't as tiny as they used to be. Every day, they are looking more like the hands of a toddler, ready to play and explore in the world around us. I find myself wiping them clean throughout the day because they are bound to end up messy, between playing and independently feeding herself. But these hands, yet still so new tell a story. This thought prompted me to look at my own hands.  Have you ever just sat down and looked at your hands? Felt grateful for the things that have done, can do and are doing (typing this post). Our hands are powerful. I look at mine and as I see my daughters slowly turning in to sometimes slimy, dirty little toddler hands, I'm watching mine turn in to the hands of a mother. They are strong, though they are young, they are beginning to show the years of work they have done. These hands have changed hundreds of diapers, bathed a squirmy baby, rocked a fussy baby to sleep, helped guide a newborn baby to the breast, held hands as she took her first assisted wobbly steps. These hands have experienced so many beautiful moments in life. They are doing the same thing my mothers hands did, and hers did the same that my grandmothers hands did. We have all cared for our child, shown our child love as we slowly stroked their hair in the middle of the night, used them to play peek-a-boo, just to hear that sweet baby giggle. My hands are slowly turning in to the hands of a mother, powerful, light, and beautiful. I'm slowly turning in to a mother, it's not something that happens immediately. Yes, instincts happen, but truly becoming a mother means living the life of a mother, each day, each new experience opens a new meaning, a new sense of what motherhood truly is. 

"The hand of a bride becomes the hand of a mother. Ever so gently she cares for he precious child. Bathing, dressing, feeding, comforting-there is no hand like mother's. Nor does its tender care diminish through the years." 

-Thomas S. Monson

A Breastfeeding Blog Post

This week is World Breastfeeding week, I haven't taken time to really talk about breastfeeding on here, and I think it's time. 

Over the past 9 months, I have become passionate about breastfeeding, the benefits, the connection, what more could you ask for? Breastfeeding is natural, biologically our bodies are designed to nourish our babies, with our breasts. However, it's not easy. The first few days, weeks and even months are awkward. You spend your nursing session trying to get comfortable with this tiny new baby in your arms. You wonder if you're holding baby in the right position. Is baby getting enough? Is her latch ok? There's a million things running through your mind, you're exhausted, and all this baby wants to do is nurse. 

Luckily, as time goes by, you and baby figure things out. You become comfortable with each other and slowly, but surely breastfeeding becomes your quiet time, your time to bond with and love on your baby. I've often found myself stroking her face softly, staring at every detail of her tiny body and marveling in this tiny miracle. 

Breastfeeding is a journey, and it's not always the easiest one. From the early days of discomfort, to the endless opinionated comments. You'll hear that you should cover while breastfeeding because why would you want to flaunt your breasts for others? You'll hear that you should pump so others can feed your baby. People may comment about how often baby is eating, or even comment on your child's weight. But, eventually, you find your groove, you ignore the comments, you do what works for you and your baby, because, at the end if the day, that's all that matters. 

So, to all the mama's, I support you. Breastfeed exclusively from the breast, or pumped in to bottles, however you choose. If you use donor milk, I support you and the moms like myself that are pumping for your little ones. The moms that weren't able to breastfeed for medical reasons, or maybe you just didn't want to breastfeed, I support you too. There's too much shaming in motherhood and it has to stop. Support each other, love on each other and remember you are not alone. 

I know that one day my own breastfeeding journey with my daughter will end, but today is not that day. So, as I sit here typing this, I have a groggy eyed, breastfeeding baby staring back at me. I will soak her in, I will enjoy every tiny detail, because I want to remember the work we put in to this journey. 

Thank you to Paulina Lana of Paulina Lane photography for the beautiful photos of myself and my little nursling, and for the group shot. These photos are from an empowering mothers photo shoot, where over 20 moms stood side by side and nourished their babies their way.
Check out more of Paulina's work at www.paulinalanephoto.com