The lost one...

Well, its been a while since I last wrote and there's a reason for that. I have had so much on my mind lately its not even funny. I have had the gambit of emotions from joy and hope to loss and devastation. It's been one of the longest months on record for me.

In October I found out I was pregnant. I was so excited because I lost a baby in September. The miscarriage in September was sad for us. It happened so soon after I got pregnant that I hardly had time to get excited, think of names or plan for when the baby would come. I cried and reflected a few weeks and then let it go. I was looking forward to things that would come. So in October when I discovered I was pregnant again I felt so happy. Reserved, but happy. Jon and I go through a lot when we find out were pregnant. There are so many friends and family that love the idea and support us, but then there are those that don't much like the idea and are very concerned. Logically speaking it's not the sanest decision, but absolutely the most Christ-like decision. At least in my opinion. Adding another spirit to your home, can only bring joy, love, hope and happiness. I don't care how many are already there. Trust in the Lord...that's always been my motto and I try to stand by it.

Once November came we looked forward to the first ultrasound. I went in full of hope and excitement. As the technician rolled over my tummy with the wand I could see the concern in her face. She thought she saw two sacs, but not much in either one. One of the sacs looked like it might have hope for a healthy baby, and it was after all only 6 weeks into the pregnancy...so it most likely was just too soon to tell. I went home from that appointment very nervous, but still full of hope. We had to wait an agonizing 2 weeks for another ultrasound. So we waited.

By the time the next ultrasound came around we were getting pretty excited. We had taken the words of the tech from the last ultrasound and had all kinds of hope. Really...after 9 healthy pregnancies and 9 healthy babies, was there any reason to think we would miscarry twice in a row? Jon and I both went in this time and we had hope...again. As the technician scrolled over my tummy again my concern jumped to new heights right away. What looked like two babies the first time was obviously a baby and a bleed this time. The bleed was nearly surrounding the tiny baby and the baby really didn't look any different than it did the first time 2 weeks ago. There should have so much more growth in that time. My heart sank immediately. The tech was thorough, and although she could see a small fluttering of a heart, she could not pick it up. I was 8 weeks, the baby should have been much bigger and stronger.

We sat in the docs office with the results and the nurse quietly explained that things did not look good. We already knew that. However she said...we did see a heartbeat, so don't give up hope. 2 more weeks of waiting for an ultrasound was in store for us.

After only 6 days however the sadness truly began. I started to bleed. I knew we were losing another baby and my heart sank again. Could it go lower? I was about to find out. The next morning we were back in Dr Barneys office for another ultrasound. The blood seemed to have all clotted, but the baby had still not grown. This time however you could actually pick up the heartbeat on doppler...which was wonderful, but it was slow. Another sit down with Dr Barney came after the ultrasound and he brought us more bad news. The bleeding, slow heartbeat and minimal growth were all bad signs. It looked like I was going to lose the baby.

I cried all the way home, I cried the remainder of the day. I cried all night as the bleeding got worse and worse. By the next day I was hurting and bleeding hard and by that night I was in the er having another ultrasound. Jon was home trying to restore water to our home and Polly was with me. The technician was very quiet this time...no hope, no baby. The baby was gone, the heartbeat was gone, my hope was gone. I was hurting and tired that night and I don't think it really sunk in. I was given some morphine and some fluids and sent home. Then the truly hard part began. I took the ultrasound pictures of my baby before it died and put them in my bathroom cabinet. That and the positive pregnancy test are all I have of the tiny little person. I don't ever want to forget, forget how much I loved this little person months before they were even due to be placed into my arms for the first time.

The Lord gave women the most amazing ability to love their children. Not that dad's don't love just as much, they do. My sweet hubby cried with me after the 3rd appointment when we found out for sure we were going to lose him or her. I love my children. I have been able to love them from the moment that little plus sign showed up on the little stick. They are mine, they are a part of me.

That tiny part of me died this last week. Forgive me if I cry a little every now and then. Time will heal...time will heal...

The chaos it all is...

You know, with my life being what it is I sometimes forget that most people do not live with the kind of chaos that I live with. I am so used to it that it escapes me.

Just yesterday I had my 9 kids, plus 2 neighbor kids playing at our home. Some were outside building a fort in the snow, some were inside watching tv. McKenna was on the computer facebooking with her friends and Megan and her friend Alex were making cookies. Aside from a few bedrooms, there were people in every room of the house. I was talking on the phone with Polly and I tried to find a quiet place to talk. I started in the kitchen...well, there were like 5 other people in there so I wandered to the living room. 3 more people there playing Wii. My bedroom....Skyler trying to nap. Well, that leaves one of the kids bedrooms or the basement. I went downstairs trying to count heads while on my way down to see if mentally every one was accounted for so that the basement would be free. Alas...there was one person watching tv down there. Ok then...that leaves the laundry room...where I promptly went and plopped myself down on a pile of dirty laundry(there was no place else to sit!) and proceeded to talk. What's truly funny about this situation is that this is a common occurrence in our household. Sometimes I talk in the bathroom because it's the only free room.

Most people that are close to me know that the chaos comes with the territory. Lots of people, lots of noise, lots of things to do and people to do them with. Most of my friends and neighbors call knowing that they might have to scream for me to hear them and they will be interrupted several times by kids fighting, wanting ice cream and the door bell. Some are not so used to it though. Our poor hometeachers look completely rundown every time they leave our home. Some kids refuse to play here due to the noise level and some friends will only call or come by when everyone is at school so as to avoid the madness. Me? I am just plain used to it. It wouldn't be my home if I didn't have to trip on 3 people while trying to make sandwiches in the kitchen. It wouldn't be my home if you didn't have to search for an open toilet and hope there aren't toys in it when you need to go. It wouldn't be my home if you came by and got to sit quietly on the couch and chat without leaving with sticky pants and fewer objects in your purse than what you came with.

It is chaos, it is noise, it is ridiculous but it is all mine. I love it and when all is said and done, I wouldn't change it for the world......

most days.