Loss and hope

A friend that I haven't seen in a really long time came over for a visit today with her three boys.

Our kids had fun terrorizing each other and making a mess. And as mothers - we were constantly refereeing the mayhem.

In between the yelling and the playing, my friend asked me about my pregnancy. Questions about how I was feeling and what it was like to be pregnant again so soon after losing Sawyer.

Everytime a question came up, one of our children were about to hurl themselves off a chair or decided that the toy somebody else had was worth beating each other up over.

Amidst our shouts of discipline, I didn't really get a chance to answer...

But the thing is, she asked me things that no one ever asks - questions that I think a lot of people are afraid to ask.

But, at that moment, it meant the world to me that someone was acknowledging my pain, my loss - and my hope.

Always heavy

Today is one of those days where I could just cry forever.

The more this baby grows inside of me, the more I miss him.

Two days. Not even two days.

I held him while he died. I held him for his entire life - the end of his life.

It doesn't stop. It doesn't stop.

Time does not make it easier. The person who said that is wrong. It's bullshit.

The weight of the grief? Is always the same. Maybe some days, it's easier to pick up - but the size never changes. It's always heavy.

Please, help us save babies

Each year since Sadie's birth, we have joined the March of Dimes to promote a healthy start for babies everywhere. On our third anniversary of the March for Babies, this year's walk means more to us than we could have ever imagined.

This year, we walk in memory of our son, Sawyer.

For the first time, we are joining the Joliet March for Babies and I will be there as a special guest to promote support and awareness for pregnancy and infant loss as well as speaking about prevention.

I know times are tough, but what the March of Dimes does for our babies goes beyond the NICU. When Sawyer died, the March of Dimes personally contacted our family to lend their support through bereavement materials and pure love.

A huge reason we continue to support the March of Dimes is that they support grants that fund Congenital Heart Defect research. A CHD took the life of our son, and thousands of babies and children each year. Did you know that TWICE as many babies and children will die from a CHD than from ALL forms of childhood cancer...COMBINED. Those numbers have to change, so that another family doesn't have to let their child go, just like we did.

Please take a moment and consider donating to our team this year "Sawyer's Heart Heroes" - any amount helps greatly, and we appreciate EVERY donation. So please, help us honor Sawyer's brief life and the lives of all other babies gone too soon.

Just follow this link to make your secure donation. And again - Thank you. http://www.marchforbabies.org/mktarrant

Life, without him

Sometimes, I wish the people who knew me the most could really see how we face life every day without our son.

It will never get better than what it is right now.

The hole in my heart will never heal.

I will never forget.

They say that time heals all wounds...

But one thing time cannot do, is erase the scars that those wounds leave behind.

Hope

An old friend gave me a heaping dose of hope a few nights ago.

I received a beautiful card from her, congratulating us on our pregnancy and tucked inside the tiny package was a newborn sleeper.

Until that moment, the mere thought of buying anything for the new baby hadn't crossed my mind. When you lose your baby, things drastically change the next time around.

You fear everything. Anxiety grips you at nearly every turn.

You become too afraid to have hope.

But, that's just the thing that my dear friend Kristi gave me...

Hope to dream of a future for our baby.

Hope to imagine this child in my arms someday.

Hope for the rainbow at the end of the storm.

14 weeks

So far, so good.

This has been my quietest pregnancy so far. And quiet is good.

I go back to my MFM at the end of the month to start the dreaded 17P injections. Thankfully, I have a sister and sister-in-law who are able to administer the shot for me each week so that I don't have to find an "injection clinic" to visit as an alternative. The 17P injections are to prevent preterm labor and while I'm on the fence about them, I'd deeply regret it if I passed on the shots and something happened to the baby.

Two weeks after this we head to Comer Children's Hospital where an ECHO will be done of the baby's heart. We are both anticipating this appointment very much and pray each night for a healthy heart and baby. A pediatric cardiologist will do the ultrasound and we should know about any structural abnormalities or defects of the heart right away.

We continue to thank God every day for what he has given us - Sadie, Sawyer and now our new baby - each has blessed us in so many ways.

We would appreciate prayers for this baby's health along with a few for my emotional strength which has been tested greatly the past few weeks. I'm having a difficult time trying to balance my grief and joy while not worrying about the outcome of this pregnancy. It's a fine line to walk, and I'm not sure I know what I'm doing really.

We're all very thankful for the continued support from our loved ones and will keep everyone updated on the new baby and some big news about "Sawyer's Heart" project.

Instant

There are these moments that I can't imagine will ever escape me.

The moment of panic.

The moment I saw my son for the first time.

The moment they said, "There's only so much we can do."

The moment I touched him.

The moment I thought I was going to die.

The moment he died.

They revolve in my head almost constantly - a merry-go-round of beauty and suffering.