I was SO off yesterday. I couldn’t get it together in just about any way. Not with my family, not with myself, and definitely not on the blog. It was an incredibly overwhelming day that I positively could not work out in my head, and that just made me feel crazier. I would go upstairs and take a nice long break, but when I would finally resurface and try to join my family, I would break down so quickly and have to quickly retreat back upstairs. It was not a good scene.

The good news is I think I figured out what happened! Sort of. As much as is possible, anyway.

Since we lost our Jamin, people have been reminding me to grieve in any way that I need, however that looks. Not to stifle my feelings, not to push too hard, etc. To feel mad, sad, ripped off, exhausted, confused, numb, you name it. I have been given all the space to basically lose it without judgement. That has felt wonderful, and that freedom has aided in my continued healing. That all being said, for the past three weeks, I’ve been able to take lots of time to sort out my feelings, and feel them all good and proper, if that makes sense. When I’m really really sorrowful, I’ve been able to melt into my tear puddle and take all the time I need there. When I’m completely exhausted from the day, I can go to bed early. When I need to just spout and vent, I’ve had that freedom and plenty of willing listeners. When I’ve found joy or hope, I’ve been able to express it to close friends and family freely. I’ve not felt judged or minimized once, which is really saying something for the beautiful people I have in my life.

While everyone gave me aaaaall the leeway to lose my cool and just straight up panic, I haven’t. I haven’t really tried not to lose it, but I haven’t been at that point of total confusion and derailment.

Until yesterday.

I think that is why I was SO off base yesterday. I wasn’t angry at anything, really. No one was particularly bothering or upsetting me. I wasn’t too tired from a bad night. I wasn’t sorrowing harder than I had been the days leading up to yesterday. The kids weren’t harder to handle that day. But for one reason or another, my nerves were SHOT and I couldn’t be with anyone. I was completely overwhelmed and overstimulated and unable to process myself and my thoughts and my heart.

This may not sound like a grand discovery to you, but to me, it was a relief. I think this is what people have been saying is normal. This is the behaviour that all of the loving people in my life have given me room to exhibit, without judgement. For whatever reason, I haven’t found myself in complete panic mode just yet, and thats great! But yesterday, I was completely out of sorts, with no good excuse other than the fact that we lost our son three weeks ago.

Three weeks sounds both so recent and so long ago. Its kind of right in that middle ground where I don’t know how to feel. Where I need to keep on living, but I almost feel guilty when I feel happy or hopeful for a moment. Don’t worry, I KNOW that feeling isn’t of God, and I’m working on it. But still. Its a weird time. A strange interim between the greatest sorrow I’ve ever known, and the rest of our life that I pray only gets better and better. And for whatever reason (I doubt I’ll ever know why) yesterday it just all came at me at once, and I could not for the life of me sort through my aching emotions.

Today has felt better, though I can tell I’m still a bit on edge. I keep telling people my tolerance is really low, and I’m not sure how else to describe that, but its still very true. I don’t want to feel like this forever, though. Always striving to be the best we can be, right? Yet its already been three weeks.

And at the same time, its only been three weeks…..

Jerilee came over last night to watch some Bachelor in Paradise. We are SO far behind! We love our weekly dates to watch our trashy tv and catch up in person on life and such. Its not as thought she and I don’t text ridiculous amounts through the week, but in person is just so much better. Thankfully, Pizza Hut has a great sale on right now, so we treated ourselves to a Pizza Hut supper. It had been a while since we last justified something like that. Brady called and placed the order, but they called him back shortly thereafter and said they were out of the pan crusts, and asked if we wanted homestyle instead. Brady told them that would be fine, as long as they were the same price. Good thing he threw that in there, because they were not going to cost the same at all. After a short debate, they agreed to give us our pizzas for the asme price with a stuffed crust!! We never get stuffed crust, so this was an extra treat for us. Win!!!

Brady drove for the pizza, and our wonderful neighbour from across the street walked over with a chocolate zucchini cake for our dessert! Score! We were officially set for a really delicious Bachelor night!

We got a bit of a later start to it, but it was a great evening of tv, food, and wonderful company. So many things have changed in the last ten years, but in another way, so little has changed 🙂 I love it.

We only watched one episode, because Jerilee had an early morning and some things to do still that night, so she went home and we went to bed a tad early.

This morning has been BUSY. We’ve just been home, but it was a morning of work. Solly has sized up significantly recently, meaning all of his shirts are short and his pants are really low. We dragged out some bins and grabbed a ton of stuff for Solly while packing up most of his current wardrobe. I’m actually kind of stoked because he’s just come upon a HUGE stack of fleecy sleepers, and its pretty much the right time/season for it! So everything for him is in the wash. Brady also lugged out tub after tub of outerwear and established what we have/still need for the kids for winter. Everyone is well set up except Rowan, but thanks to the season of stores giving out free money, we are well set up to order him new stuff in the next few days. Laela may grow out of her ski pants before the end of winter, but she’s fine for now. They all have well-fitting stuff for fall as well.

While its great to know that everyone is taken care of jacket/shoe wise, I found the morning to be particularly exhausting. The constant reminders for the kids to speak nicely to each other. The constant background noise of talking/singing toys. Solly wailing at the top of his lungs every time he’d see his daddy but was not being held by said daddy. Rowan screaming when his duplo didn’t click together on the first try. It was just a loud morning, and I’m embarrassed to say that I crumbled in the middle of it.

I love and appreciate those of you who think the best of me. I regularly get comments, messages, and texts telling me how strong I am. But guys, I feel so so weak. Like today. Really, no one was misbehaving, or being louder or scrappier than usual. Our life is just loud, and thats ok! We’re very used to it, and we love our active noise-making children! But today, I just couldn’t handle it. I was SO weak today. I was NOT strong. And thats hard to say, because I so badly want to be.

Its not been an easy day, and while I would love to write something fluffy and just blow past my difficult morning, these are the “joys” with posting every day. Every single day, regardless of what my life looks like. Don’t say I didn’t warn you! These are long, difficult days. Even the good ones are a struggle to get through. Because I post publicly, by choosing to read, you are being dragged through the mud with me and my family. I haven’t always been able to post something positive or exciting each day, and especially now, its so much harder to find those positives that you really have to look for, even on a good day.

Please continue to bear with me. I am a mess of sorrow, grief, and guilt all confused together with hope, passion, and love. And joy, I think. That used to be more prevalent, and its sort of petered out recently. I believe its still in there, but I maybe need to nurture that part a little bit more diligently. I can’t afford to lose such an important piece of myself.

Though I feel like I’ve lost a couple of things already this year that are far more important to me.

As many of you guys know, I’ve been really nervous going into this school year. Not because of anything school-related, but with feeling foggy and easily overwhelmed and somewhat unstable. I keep saying that I know I’m going to forget something important, and while it hasn’t happened yet, there is still time. Its been a full first week of school, and next week is even fuller! I’m still nervous. But I’m working on it.

I’ve been surprised to see that the routine is helping me get through my days. Maybe you guys knew it would be good, but I didn’t. I thought school starting at such a fragile time would hit my mental health down hard, but its been good for me, I think!

Call them small things, but with taking Dekker to school every day, I have to get out of bed. I have to put on real clothes, deodorant, and brush my teeth and hair. I have to venture outside and interact with people. And then, when I return home, I’m already somewhat “together” and ready to take on the day. I’ve incorporated making my bed and opening ALL of the blinds in the morning, too, to force some sunshine into this sometimes dismal house. I’ve got everyone taking vitamins, myself included. I’m trying to keep our house and family functioning to the best of my ability, but none of it is over the top, or extra, at all. Its all just basic life stuff, but frankly, even basic life stuff feels big these days, so I’m calling all of these things successes.

I hope that one day these basic things can become habits and don’t take the same amount of effort that they take now. There are other things that need to be incorporated into our daily life, like kegels for me and physio exercises for Brady. I need to eat a bit more consistently. I need to implement bigger changes as well, like meal planning, more careful budgeting, etc. but those will have to wait for another time.I need to read my bible and take intentional time to pray.

Right now, I want to slowly move my way out of survival mode and into successful daily living. I’m not rushing, but I don’t want to become stagnant either. I want to find our new normal, whatever its going to look like. But really, I’m not looking too terribly hard for that normal. As with so many things, as soon as I figure out what I think our normal looks like, it will inevitably change soon after. So for now, I’m sticking with the “day by day” thing. Its not easy for me, as a person who likes to plan.

Please don’t forget us. We still need prayer. Each day is still so different, and hard to navigate. It isn’t over. It won’t ever be.

I stepped outside my front door a couple of days ago to take a picture for a photo group I’m part of. I was standing on my step, trying to get a good angle when I got so startled, I just about lost my balance. One of those huge flying grasshoppers was coming at me. It literally went around me, bounced off the side of the house, and flew away.

It gave me the willies. Like the full on shivers.

Once it was gone, I tried again to take the picture I came for. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw that sucker flying around again. Rather than jumping out of my skin and racing back into my house, I took a step back and just leaned against the house to watch it go. I didn’t know grasshoppers could stay in the air for so long!

It wasn’t a grasshopper.

It was a hummingbird.

A tiny little grey bird flying madly around my entrance.

And for whatever reason, I just started to cry. I was struck SO HARD with emotion seeing that little hummingbird, who seemed to just drop in for a little visit. I have never seen a hummingbird at our house before. Never ever. But that wasn’t enough of a reason to cry.

I don’t want to make something up that isn’t there, and I don’t want to suggest that this was necessarily a “sign” if it wasn’t. But who am I to limit God? For whatever reason, this teeny little hummingbird brought me to tears of all kinds. In that moment, I felt sorrow, and excitement, and comfort, and release. I can’t tell you why.

All this being said, you’d better believe we’re going to be getting a hummingbird feeder next season! Any information or tips would be appreciated, because we are NOT bird people. But it turns out at least I am a hummingbird person, for some unknown reason. I’m going to embrace that, and at the very least, I’m going to try to bring some beautiful little birds to our house, just because.

It finally happened. Last night, Brady and I went to retrieve our sons cremains from a funeral home in Saskatoon.

Can we quickly just discuss the term “cremains?” I feel like thats a word I’d make up as a joke. A play on words, basically. I’m awful for making those kinds of jokes, combining two words and thinking I”m hilarious. I have a pretty dry sense of humor, if you hadn’t yet learned this about me. So anyway, cremains. Not as funny as my usual plays on words.

Brady and I drove to the funeral home fairly silently. We shared a brief conversation about how we imagined things might go down, but really, neither of us had any idea what to expect. We were as “prepared” as we could possibly be, which was not at all. I had done my hair and put on makeup, but in no way was I “ready.” But I remembered that we were literally going to a funeral home. They didn’t expect us to be fabulous and upbeat and experienced. No one wants to be experienced with this. So we found the place, circled the block, and finally parked.

It was so quiet when we walked in. We rang a little bell on the wall and waited for someone to come talk to us. Its a really lovely set up there, actually. They have someone in house literally 24/7. This ensures that people can feel like their loved ones are never left alone or vulnerable, and also that people can come and grieve however they need to at any hour of the day or night. Its quite a wonderful gift to have someone there outside of regular business hours.

A man came and greeted us after a minute or two, and Brady offered up the reason for our visit. The man didn’t offer much up but he said he would be back shortly. Just that short conversation was on the exhausting side, but I was SO thankful that Brady did the talking so I didn’t have to. We sat and waited for our son to arrive. In the meantime, we watched some fish swim around on the small tv screen on the wall and debated the likelihood of it being a live feed or just a prerecorded video. (It was a video.) I really liked the fish that looked like Toothless from “How to Train your Dragon.”

Yes, I admit, I looked for humour as we sat and waited for our son. It was either that or cry. I chose dragon spotting.

It took longer than I expected for the man to return, and I was starting to wonder if Jamin had been misplaced, or there was an issue. But I didn’t say anything out loud, in case Brady wasn’t going there, I didn’t want to bring him into my crazy. Thank goodness, we did eventually hear footsteps, and the man helping us had reappeared carrying something very important to us in his hands. He passed Brady a box wrapped in a dark velvet bag, who then passed it right to me. It was so light. We also received a letter confirming Jamin’s cremation and that the box holds his ashes. The official record of him and how his body was handled after he died. We showed some ID to prove that we are, in fact, his parents, signed a couple of forms, and we were on our way.

I admit, I was so nervous he’d try to sell us on things at that point. Internment, burial, urns, etc. But he didn’t, which I am so thankful for.

I don’t think Brady and I have ever held hands so tightly. It was like, when you’re holding hands for a short time, and you squeeze hands for a minute, just to acknowledge something secretly. We were just holding on for dear life.

We took a longer walk to our van rather than just ducking across the empty street. We tried to jut breathe. It felt like an effort. When we finally made it back to our van, we had our big cry together. I’ve always been comfortable being emotional around Brady, but I wish it wasn’t so dang familiar these days. We have done more than our share of crying together. I hope we can do more laughing together soon.

Before we drove off, we braved up and opened the letter up. It was a quick, official read, nothing too fancy in there. Jamin’s name is spelled wrong everywhere, which makes me sad. We could’ve corrected it in the hospital, but I couldn’t imagine nitpicking over something so small at that time. Its ok. We know how his name is spelled. The letter itself was unremarkable, anyway. We pulled the box out of the velvet bag, and saw it was just your basic white thin cardboard box. It was taped up tight. Which makes sense, I suppose. What was I expecting? To open it and find a ziploc bag of ashes? I don’t even know what to make of that. I don’t want to find out. So Brady and I decided we had done enough brave things for one day, put our precious little box back into the soft bag, and headed home.

This post has already turned out so much longer than I anticipated it would, so I think I’m going to call it. The point of the story is Jamin is home. He’s not home how I ever pictured bringing a baby home, but as I keep learning, my plans don’t really mean too much. None of our plans do. Anything can change at any moment, and we can’t hold on to things of the world. We can try, but flesh fails and disappoints. We can only count on God.

Welcome home, Jamin. You are dearly loved here.

If you need a refresher on how Dekker did on his first day of kindergarten, feel free to read back on that. For a quick overview, I’ll tell you that he was so panicky and nervous, and refused to sit in his chair or talk to anyone, and I had to leave him there, crying and upset. It was a bit reminiscent of him being taken from us into surgery, and that experience had traumatized him so badly, I feared for him that first day.

In the last couple of weeks, Dekker has been constantly buzzing. He had started talking about school and eating lunch with his friends and recess and everything else. He was so much more prepared. To be fair, he had been excited about kindergarten, too, but clearly had nothing to compare it to, and therefore was totally caught off guard when the time came. This time around, he had a good idea of what was coming, and he was genuinely looking forward to it!

Brady and I got him up this morning for breakfast, and he was in such a good mood. Unfortunately, thanks to our hermit-hood, we didn’t have any special cereal to offer him, and hadn’t gotten up early enough to really make anything special. But he doesn’t get too hung up on stuff like that, and happily ate his Cheerios and yogurt like every other day. Then he got dressed, and ended up having extra time to waste before we were going to go. As you may have noticed, getting a nice, semi-posed picture of him is tricky these days. He’s got this fake, under bite smile he puts on as soon as its suggested that he smile for a picture. Or he tries to look extra cute, and squints his eyes like crazy and scrunches his head into his shoulders, kind of shrugging, but he moves the entire time. Its hard! Haha! So we have no perfect, posed, traditional “first day of school” picture of him 🙂 But we got a couple that’ll work just fine 🙂

I drove him to school today, which I did all last year, kind of out of necessity. I’m not sure how that will all play out this year, now that he’s in school full time and not technically required to have a parent pick him up from his class at the end of the day. This is one of those things that I’m not breaking my brain over right now. If I drive him longer than necessary because I haven’t worked out a plan, so be it. That isn’t a huge priority right now. The kid will get to and from school regardless.

I tried for one more picture before we actually headed to school.

Isn’t he handsome? <3

When we entered the boot room, we found his spot on the shelf for his shoes and walked down the hall together to find his classroom. When we did, it was bustling with kids and parents and big backpacks and siblings and all the school stuff you can think of. And my Dekker just calmly walked into it. We located his little cubby at the back of the room and hung up his backpack. He’s sharing his cubby with his favorite friend from last year, and that kid is even in his little desk clump. Its a pretty great layout for him. Once he was all settled, we realized he didn’t have his indoor shoes on, but he asked if I could go get them for him. He was happy at his spot. So of course, I got him his shoes. When it seemed like he was good and settled, I didn’t want to linger, so I asked him for a hug. He gave me my hug and a big kiss too. I hope he never stops giving me kisses! When I stood up a bit, he hugged my legs a little. He reached up and rubbed my belly, a lovely practice he picked up in my pregnancy that I haven’t stopped him from doing. Full disclosure, I both love and hate it. But still, he kind of seemed like he didn’t want me to leave. I knelt back down and whispered “Are you a little bit nervous?” He took a little pause, and let go of me. “No,” he said. “I’m actually ok.” I asked if I should go, and he said that yes, I could.

So I did! And that was it! No issue, no crisis, nothing. What a 180 from last years first day! What a huge relief.

We spent the afternoon getting a handful of things done, though as usual, not the things that we firmly decided needed to get done today. Those always wait longer, haha! When the little boys went to bed, Brady took Laela outside to bike, and I did a bit of blog prepping and some resting. My mom called and offered to shop a bit for us, so I gave her a short Costco list. She brought it by during naptime, complete with a beautiful new fuzzy grey snuggle blanket for me. What is it about a new cozy blanket that just makes you feel safe and comforted? She knows things.

I ducked over to moms a little bit before picking Dekker up from school. She was away for most of last week, and while our 45-ish minutes together didn’t at all cover it, a visit felt goooood. We covered a number of things, from online curtain shopping to new clothes for fall to Jamin and back again. It was a loaded 45 minutes, haha! But very good minutes.

When I went to finally go pick Dekker up from school, I was relieved to see a good handful of parents waiting outside the classroom door. It wasn’t just me! Haha! The bell rang a couple of minutes earlier than it was scheduled to (maybe the school’s clocks are different??) so it wasn’t long at all before kids were streaming into the hallways. Dekker’s teacher emerged first, and each kid that was about to leave she quickly confirmed their plan, who they were meeting, that they knew where to go, etc. Dekker was among the front of the group, and I just have to say, he looked great. He had taken off his hoodie (which he pretty much never does unless someone points out that he’s sweating like a maniac and asks him to take it off) and he was in his bright orange shirt, bright eyed, dirty faced, and smiling.

He looked over my way and spotted me, but before he actually headed my way, he reached over and grabbed his teacher around the waist and gave her a big hug. She squeezed him right back, and then he came running. But I LOVED that!!! I LOVE that he liked his teacher so much that he wanted to hug her before leaving school. He gave me a great big hug and came in for a kiss, but never stopped talking, haha! He was SO hyper.

“Ya, I’m pretty hyper, and noses, and hyper again!”

I tried to squeeze out of him his favorite part of the day and he just stared wide-eyed around him and admitted he couldn’t really think of it. I pressed once, but he insisted he just couldn’t. I imagine he had a LOT swirling around in that noggin of his! So we started to leave, but not before Dekker ducked back and gave his teacher a high five.

We got his shoes on and walked to the van. On the walk, he piped up that he remembered his favorite part of the day. The library 🙂 Exactly what he said every single day last year.

Now that he’s home, he’s super overtired and overstimulated, and all of the things that come with the first day of school. He’s exactly as he should be. Its cute.

(He said to me while I was taking this picture “Yup, take LOTS of pictures of me today!”)

I’ll admit we turned a show on for him to wind down in front of. As much as they scrap twenty-three hours a day, it would appear that someone secretly missed her brother.

Today was an incredibly successful day for Dekker! I see so many good things ahead for him, and sooo many things for me to remember! Gah!! Its possible he’s going to adjust better to this new school year than I am! Wish me luck!

Last night, we went to my parents place to join in in the celebration of my nephew Charlie’s fifth birthday. The kids played outside for a while upon our arrival, and then we had a supper of grilled cheese and soup – birthday boys choice! Food happened early because ice cream sundaes were to follow and all of us parents wanted to give our kids a chance to run off as much of that sugar as possible before going to bed.

That turned out to be a good move, because there was a large buffet of candies to add to our ice cream sundaes, and in most cases, the kids ended up with more candy than ice cream! But they LOVED it! We had to laugh when, at pretty much the exact same time, the kids all started bouncing off the walls. You just knew when the sugar high had hit. With that, the last activity of the party commenced.

Simon and Grace had bought their boys some cute pinwheels a week or two back, and they had really enjoyed going for a walk in the wind and watching them spin like crazy. We didn’t know, but as a party favour, they had purchased some for our kids as well, and we all went for an evening walk together. Our boys all got multicoloured “windmills” and Laela’s was more purple, which is always the way to go for her. Some of my kids were better at being photographed than others…

Isaac couldn’t miss out on the photo op 🙂 Our kids have all been actively photographed since birth, haha! Its pretty familiar at this point.

At least you can see that Dekker is excited, right? Haha!

Solly was pretty determined to massacre his pinwheel, so we changed our method with him.

He wasn’t too upset about it.

They just ran and spun their pinwheels like crazy. It was a lovely bright colourful walk. Felt good to laugh at the kids as they ran around. Laughing feels so strange for me these days. Not in a bad way, but it feels strangely unfamiliar. I guess we haven’t laughed quite as often in the last couple of weeks. It feels refreshing.

Simon ran down the road with Ro and Charlie, which I can’t imagine was especially easy or relaxing, but it was cute to watch, and the little boys LOVED it!

It was a really fun late afternoon and evening. The kids were happy and entertained, and we were all in good company. We even got to enjoy Grace’s moms company, which doesn’t happen all too often. We love you, Deb! 🙂 We are so fortunate to have family nearby to celebrate with and support while they’ve also loved and supported us.

Even with all that ice cream and all that candy, our kids slept like logs. Success!

Part of feeling “ready” for the upcoming school year was fitting in a few appointments. Dekker has been insisting on his long hair, but the other day, I mentioned a haircut and as you heard, he jumped at it.

By now, Dekker is an old pro, and had no issue getting into the chair and wearing the cape, which used to be the biggest issue. Don’t ask me why, but he hated that cape. Laela was far less fearful of her haircut, but they have such different personalities, and she’s also quite a bit older than Dekker was for his first. Laela will be four at the end of the month! So it was time. She hung out in an extra chair and watched everything go down for Dekker, while playing in the mirror and making faces. She was only mildly skeptical.

When it was her turn, she willingly got into the chair and wore the cape. Carlinna asked what I was hoping for, and Laela piped up with “To my chin!” I quietly asked Carlinna if there was any hope of a ponytail with hair that length, and she said there wasn’t, no. So we decided to leave it a little longer, but basically as short as she could have it while still having a ponytail.

She sat really well and cooperated beautifully as the cut went on. Once the bulk of it was done, I was commenting on how pretty her new haircut was, and Laela shook her head. She was not happy. She insisted “To my CHIN!” She poked her chin and stared at me. I told her she couldn’t have a ponytail with hair to her chin, and without missing a beat, she reminded me that she doesn’t like ponytails. And really, she was right. She hates having her hair up, and the only reason I push it is because her hair gets SO tangled. With it being so short, it wouldn’t tangle even close to the same amount, and she really wouldn’t need to have her hair put back. So I agreed, and Carlinna dove back in to give her the short cut Laela desired.

See that look of “winning” on her face? Yup. She did win.

Except she still wasn’t happy!! She insisted over and over “TO MY CHIN!” Carlinna and I squatted down with her and tried to problem solve. Laela kept touching her chin, and finally switched her request to “ON my chin.”

“On your chin? Like a beard?” I asked.

“Ya!” she exclaimed!

Carlinna and I both laughed, and said that wasn’t so much part of the haircut. She wouldn’t be able to walk out of the salon with a beard. She just looked straight ahead and reiterated, “to my chin.”

Out of nowhere, Carlinna said “I’ve got it. How about I curl your hair under so it touches your chin?”

Well that was the ticket, let me tell you! It was clearly what Laela had wanted the entire time but didn’t know how to ask for. Since her mommy never does her own hair, she hasn’t learned the terms or the styles at all. (Makeup is another thing, haha!) But as Carlinna curled Laela’s hair, she finally smiled into the mirror. She was SO happy.

All three big kids got lollipops and happily said their thank yous and goodbyes. Behold, Laela 2.0!

Is the candy background not perfect for her making this face? Hahaha!

Laela’s first haircut was a HUGE win! In the day or two since her cut, she is just constantly bouncing. You can tell she feels lighter and happier and refreshed. I’m so glad we finally went through with the cut, even though the simplest outings feel so big. This one was definitely worth it!

Though now I’ll forever have to intentionally style her hair…

While I don’t actually anticipate we’ll find any semblance of normal anytime soon, the search has begun. Sort of. More realistically, we need to find it.

I’m trying really hard to do the best I can do for my body and soul. I’m resting often, crying lots, talking about my struggle (you may have noticed that one) and letting myself grieve to the fullest. I’m surfacing when I have to, trying to be more present, and trying to reach out to others, even just in teeny tiny ways. I’m trying, though, guys. I want to do give myself the best chance of recovery, whatever that looks like, without sinking too deep.

What I’m calling “normal” right now is just the ability to deal with reality, and right now, that is SCHOOL! Dekker starts school full time next week. Its SO SOON! I’m honestly really excited for it. Not because Dekker will be gone, but because he is so excited! For the first half of summer, he really didn’t even look back at school. He didn’t miss anyone or anything, and he was just thrilled to be home. But he’s recently gotten a bit twitchy, much more energetic, and he’s been talking about his friends. He is so ready to go back!

His first week at school will just be a bit of an adjustment process for everyone, but won’t be too terribly busy beyond school itself. The next week is SLAMMED full, with Laela starting preschool!! She is SO excited to go, and I don’t anticipate many nerves or tears when I drop her off. She is so happy to go, and I know she’ll have a total blast 🙂 Both she and Dekker got a solid refresh yesterday afternoon.

Laela’s FIRST haircut!! (Thats a whole other story! 😂)

All of this being said, with all the positivity of whats to come, I can barely sort out which way is up without even adding school. My brain is still so foggy, and I want so badly to be dependable and reliable, but I’m positive I’m going to miss something.

With having just lost our beautiful Jamin, I feel so in over my head as it is, and now I have to reintegrate into the routine of school, and even that has changed! Dekker will be in full time this year, and Laela will be in preschool two days a week for just a short chunk of time. Co-op preschool comes with additional commitments, which I know about and accept, but it all feels huge currently. With this, I have some extra doctors appointments coming up soon, for obvious reasons, and beyond that, we also have important things in our life like friendships and our family who we want to put effort and love into as well. I’m not certain how I’m going to keep track of everything.

I feel like navigating JUST our loss is a big job on its own. And I feel like JUST navigating the re-entry into the school year is a big job, too. And I currently feel somewhat unprepared for even a single big job, being at possibly my weakest point. Possibly my breaking point. I’m not sure I’m strong enough for this next part, but I have to learn. I have to be able to put one foot in front of the other.

It is SO convenient that Brady has had a quieter season of work in the recent past. While its never fun to go through a slump, they always seem to come at exactly the right time. God clearly knows.

Today’s post will once again be detailed and perhaps would fall into the “TMI” category, so feel free to read, but please oh please don’t get after me if you find it all too graphic or upsetting. Its important for me to write this kind of thing out. I’m resisting adding pictures of him in here, to be respectful of the audience, but I’m not leaving out the information. So read on with caution, or just don’t read on. I’ll reiterate that I am NOT offended if you don’t want to read these posts. They are upsetting and sad, trust me, I know.

*****

I left off yesterday right when I got my first dose of medication. It was actually placed right near my cervix, which was a bit silly, actually. The medicine can be placed internally, or swallowed, or left to dissolve in the inside of my cheek. Its my understanding that its just the dosage that changes, but the effect is the same. When I took the medication at home, I just swallowed it like a normal tablet. Somehow, though, lines got crossed and whoever ordered the medication was under the impression that I was already bleeding and that my miscarriage had “started” (Oh it had “started” all right, being that the baby had already passed away and all…) It didn’t really matter to me, though, how I got the medication. It was already ordered, and it wasn’t worth the fight to make it more comfortable for the ten seconds it took to take it. I just wanted it done. So, we did it up, and somehow, both my mom and I managed to squeeze in a few more hours of sleep.

The OB that was on through the night was not my OB, but another wonderful woman who was so warm and caring. If it hasn’t been made clear, there was not ONE person who made me feel like I was just some routine, standard miscarriage patient number whatever. Everyone who we encountered apologized and spoke for a minute or two about how unjust it was to lose a baby, and how they really acknowledged our grief. No one cut me off when I’ve cry or blubber or rant. I was given all the room I needed to talk through things and ask for anything I wanted. They even hung a sign on my door that made me feel so safe and cared for. The care I received was unreal. I remember even one time, hearing the woman in the next room starting to really feel her labour, and she was crying and moaning, and just a minute or two after that started, my nurse came in and basically apologized that we had to hear these things, and see if there was anything she could do in that moment. Like, I’m not kidding, they kept CLOSE tabs on me. It was pretty amazing.

During the night, I rang the nurses station once, and my nurse came very quickly. I told her right away that I wasn’t in pain or cramping or really anything remarkable, but that I had a wicked headache. Technically, I believe a headache is something they consider to be a red flag in my case, or maybe in the general case of labour, but my nurse was wonderful, and totally understood that my day had been huge and a headache was pretty much inevitable. She brought me some pain meds, a couple of warm blankets, and a heated IV bag. Did you guys know about those things? They’re strong like a hot water bottle! She encouraged me to tuck it under my neck or head or wherever was comfortable, and my headache was gone in decently good time. I snuggled it beside me afterwards, and it helped me fall asleep.

When the morning came, so did the night OB. She asked all the questions you’d expect. No, I wasn’t bleeding. No, I wasn’t cramping. Yes, I had peed, and there was nothing exciting in it. For all intents and purposes, I had nothing exciting to offer. She checked my cervix and the thing was still rock hard, closed, no change whatsoever. So once again, I consented to a dose of medicine. No big deal anymore, at that point. I was feeling quite numb.

***** Its going to get graphic right away here. You’ve been warned <3

Roughly ten minutes later, at 6:38 am, with zero warning, my water broke. I still cry when I think of it, because I totally panicked, and I wish I hadn’t. I had no idea my water was about to break, and the moment it happened, I thought “blood” and I panicked. I jumped out of bed and raced to the bathroom, asking my mom to ring the nurses. I thought for sure I was about to bleed out. You’d think I’d know the feeling of water breaking by now, but I didn’t. I panicked. I’m still so embarrassed by that. But regardless of regret or not, thats what happened. I ran to the bathroom, pulled down my humungous hilarious hospital underwear, and out he came. He fell into the little catch-all “hat” that was waiting in the toilet for me. I sat unmoving and waited anxiously. My nurse came rushing in and I remember saying “I think it happened. I think I had the baby.” She came into the bathroom and very calmly advised me to stand up if I could. I did, and she led me from the bathroom. There was really no time lost there, yet somehow, my bed was completely refreshed, and towels were laid over the mess I made on the floor from running to the bathroom, etc. She helped me get back to bed and and set me up, once again, with warm blankets. There was a lot going on in those moments, but I remember on one hand, my nurse and a couple of other people noting that I wasn’t bleeding at all yet. On the other hand, I remember seeing someone walk out with the the toilet hat containing my baby’s body. Really, that person walked out with my number one priority. Just moments later, my OB came in (I guess she had traded the night OB at that point) and informed me gently that the baby’s placenta hadn’t come out with his body. She said they were going to give my body time to deliver it on its own, being that I was barely bleeding at all, but that if it took much more than an hour, we’d have to go in for a follow up D&C. I knew this was a possibility, so I said that was fine. There was an enormous IV already in my arm, just waiting to be needed, whether for meds, blood, saline, etc. Before my OB left, I asked her when I could see my baby, and she said she’d find out for me right away. It was just a few minutes later than they brought him in for me, all wrapped up in a soft cloth. My mom and I shared a big cry as we held him and examined his little face. We prayed together, and kept crying. Once he was finally in my hands to stay, I called Brady and told him that his baby was born. We made it a quick conversation so he could get out to see us. Thankfully, Jerilee had left her phone on for us all night, and was easy to get a hold of so early. She headed to our house right away, and Brady basically tapped her in and drove to us as fast as he could.

I’ll be straight up here and say the next hour was unbelievably painful. I had no physical pain whatsoever when left alone, but to aid my body in delivering the placenta, I was given a uterine massage every 10-15 minutes. If you’ve gone through this, you know exactly what I’m talking about. You don’t forget those things. If you haven’t experienced one, simply put, a nurse would come in and massage my lower abdomen hard, digging in as deeply as possible, in an effort to push my placenta and whatever else out of my body. It is not only gross, but amazingly painful. Everything is already so tender and irritated, having just delivered a baby, but then to have SO MUCH shoved out of it constantly was almost too much. Don’t get me wrong, I totally understand the procedure, and I see the value in it. I would never say no to having it done, because I believe that it is necessary. But it was so so painful for me 🙁 It was made slightly better by the fact that I was able to hold my baby boy the whole time. In between my uterine massages, we were left alone, for the most part. At one point, a couple of nurses came in and said they had tried to bring our baby in so quickly that they hadn’t had a chance to check for the gender. We all gathered around, and sure enough, we had a baby BOY!! It was so exciting to finally know! I had been waiting. Not too long after we found that out, Brady arrived <3 My mom stuck around for a while, but we couldn’t convince her to stay very long. She wanted to give us room to just be the three of us, so we finally released her into the wild, lol, and let her go home. What an amazing gift it was to have her stay with me in the hospital. Mom, I could NOT have done any of it without you!! <3

After an hour of uterine massage, and what felt like POUNDS of blood but no placenta, I figured the inevitable was a D&C. I was prepared for it. I was so finished with the pain of the massages, and so ready to be done and home. My OB came in and informed me that, since I still wasn’t bleeding “too much” and things appeared to be under control, she wanted to wait just a liiiiittle bit longer to give the placenta a chance to come out on its own. And once again, with that, I was frustrated with the plans changing, and having to accept and come to terms with one plan and then going a new route. But clearly NONE of our plans were playing out as we had thought, so I tried hard to just roll with it. My nurse finished her shift and we met the nurse that would see us through the rest of the day and eventually discharge us.

Maybe two or three uterine massages later, it finally happened. She pulled the puppy pee pad out from under me and exclaimed “I think this is it!” She called the resident and a couple of other people in and they all huddled around my weird blood pile in the bathroom. I heard whooping, and had to laugh. The resident on that morning was so great, and seemed to have the perfect radar for just how positive she could be without being insensitive. She came out of my bathroom and celebrated with me. “You did it! Thats exactly what we needed! Great job!” Let’s be real, that was nothing I had done, but it was nice to see some small success. Small victories, right?

When my OB resurfaced, she checked over all the goodies that has been shoved out of my body, and said the placenta appeared to be in one piece, which is very encouraging. The fact that it came out the way it did, with no pulling, was very hopeful that nothing would be left on the inside that didn’t belong. I was informed that, of course there is always the possibility of a surprise, but at that point, everyone was feeling more confident, and they told me I could eat breakfast.

So I did. My sister had sent me a Starbucks gift card overnight (Yay for a hospital that has a Starbucks, and a sister who understands her sisters needs <3 ) so Brady went down and got me a latte and himself a coffee. We traded off, and Brady held our beautiful baby while I ate something and tried to regroup a little.

I have to say of our nurse that morning, she was so good to us. My favourite thing was how normal she made us feel. She’d come in to check my vitals so often, and each time, she’d take a peek at the baby, say how sweet he was, ask if we had named him, etc. It didn’t feel taboo. It was less about the fact that our baby had died and more about the fact that we had just had a baby. I don’t know if that makes sense, but it felt great to be able to talk about him just normally, like the part of our family that he is. I loved that. But besides that, she was making a clear point to be sensitive, and only one time she told us that we should let her know anytime we were ready to talk about our options of the aftercare of our baby, but that there was NO pressure and NO rush. And we felt it. No pressure, and no rush. Only time and sensitivity. Everyone there knew this was our one chance to hold our baby. They got it.

After several hours of holding our baby, we could tell it was almost time for him to go. His little body just wasn’t ready for earth, and while it was such a precious time for us to spend with him, we also know, as Christians, that our baby was already in heaven. His body was SO special, but it was simply flesh. We took a good handful of pictures, knowing full well that we’d regret it if we didn’t. I don’t expect I’ll ever forget his face, but just in case, I didn’t want to risk it. He is a family member, and incredibly valuable. We sat together, the three of us, and prayed. We told God we didn’t even know how to pray or what to pray for, but we thanked Him for holding our baby, and for loving him so well. We prayed for strength, and peace, and a lot of things that we’re still actively praying for today. We cried hard, but found the tiniest shred of peace, which is probably the most we could ask for at that time. When we felt ready, we buzzed for our nurse, and told her we were ready to learn our options. Lucky for her, we had already sort of decided the route we wanted to take, so when we brought the pamphlets and such, we did a quick scan of them and knew right away which one we would choose. She gave us another chunk of time to say our last goodbyes, and we finally decided it was time for him to go.

I handed him to her, and she took him so gently and carefully from my hands, making sure to readjust his little blanket around him. Never a single ounce of disrespect. She asked if there was anything last minute that we needed, and we said no. Out she walked with our baby, leaving Brady and I to weep together until we physically couldn’t anymore. It was SO awful, but we knew it was time, and felt peace in that decision.

For those who want to know, Brady and I chose the option of hospital organized cremation, which means we gave our Jamin to the hospital to send to a nearby crematorium. Rather than having a full internment and having his ashes dispersed in their little garden that is just specially for children, we opted to have his ashes held for us to come retrieve. Brady and I both felt that, if his ashes were to be anywhere, they should be with us. So, once again, please respect our decision, even if you think you would have chosen differently.

In the time between giving her our baby and getting to leave, we saw our nurse a number of times. She was so professional, but surprised me at one point by offering up a personal story. On her way out of our room, she turned around at the last minute and told me she had a miscarriage once. She was quick to say that she knew our situations were different, but I told her losing a baby is hard no matter when it happened, and I urged her to continue. She cried a little as she reminisced about how difficult it was, even though it was early. She talked about how, the moment you find out your pregnant, you plan your life with that baby. You see everything with a little baby added to the mix. Your whole life changes in that beautiful blink of an eye. And then losing that baby. Its so helpless and life altering, regardless of when it happens. We agreed, and had a little cry together, and then she left my room. That short conversation was over in an instance but it made everything just that much more personal. If you know me, I respect professionalism, but I LOVE when the professionals loosen up a little and get just a little more personal. Its SO special to me, so obviously, this encounter was also very special to me.

It took longer to be released than we expected, which isn’t really uncommon. I didn’t put it all in here, because I don’t remember when it all happened, but I had SO much blood taken from me, and between giving our baby away to our nurse and going home, I was supposed to have yet another blood test before I could go home. So. Much. Blood. After a couple of hours of waiting, someone finally came to take my blood. We then waited at least another hour for the results that would hopefully allow us to go home. When our nurse came in to give us results, she looked so upset. She told us that the man who had taken my blood had under-filled the tube, and I would have to wait AGAIN. I didn’t complain or throw a fit over it, but I was obviously annoyed. I was SO ready to go home. Everything was done, I was alive and bleeding the “right” amount, we had had our time with our baby, then given him up, and now we just wanted to leave already!  I didn’t say any of these things, of course, but our nurse seemed more annoyed than I was, even. She offered up that she was just going to call my OB, and when she did return, she basically admitted that she went to bat for us and our OB agreed to release us without this last blood test. I was SO appreciative of that. She knew how exhausted and finished we were, and waiting around for another couple of hours just for another blood test when every single one up to that point had been fine was just a waste of time. So we thanked her profusely, she took my vitals one last time, and then told us I could get dressed and pack up our stuff.

We checked in at the nurses station once all was gathered and we were ready to leave, just to let her know we were officially leaving. She wished us the best, and we said the same. Being the awkward person I am, I started to say something along the lines of “See you again soon” but it felt pretty dumb to even think that way, so I cut it off and instead said “See you maybe someday down the road.” She followed my awkwardness up by telling me she really hoped so, and that she thought we would be back there all in good time. It was a good encouraging hopeful comment that stayed with me. Maybe it was just lip service, maybe not. She seemed pretty genuine to me, and I appreciated that.

*****

We haven’t seen another medical professional since that day, but there are a lot more appointments coming up in the near future. September is going to be a fairly crazy month, but its all very important. I’m assuming, if you read this far, you’re not too put off by this kind of talk, so hopefully the blogs about my upcoming appointments won’t be too off-putting for too many people. I’ll keep rocking the disclaimers.

I appreciate the love and concern you’ve all put into me by reading and keeping up with our family. As I’ve said, I’m an open book. I’m willing to talk about pretty much everything, so if you have a question that feels taboo, please feel free to ask. If I left out the information on here, I probably just forgot. You guys know I’m not a private person at all. Don’t be afraid to ask. We want to talk about our baby, and that includes the difficult stuff, because while this story is gut wrenchingly sad (for us, anyway) it is the birth story of our Jamin.