Medical Mystery vs Miracle Worker

My knees haven't graced a pew since September. My feet haven't headed toward the alter and my voice hasn't sang out in jubilee. I call it not being on speaking terms with God. I took a hiatus from prayer and church in an attempt to make sense of things on my own.

People telling me it was a "medical mystery" in response to hearing what happened to me and Hercules really prompted this. I know they meant to give me words of comfort, and that those same words that have been spoken to many grieving people. But they weren't comforting, they were heart breaking. Literally heart wrenching.

Some of my confusion and lack of ability to articulate my feelings on God right now lies in the "medical mystery" vs the "miracle". When it comes to things going wrong, it's a medical mystery. And when things go right, suddenly God is a miracle maker. In my case, it was a medical mystery. I wasn't raised to believe that science is the answer, so saying it is in this case just doesn't sit well with me. How can he be the the cause when things go well but suddenly when things go wrong we blame science?

Growing up  an "occasional" Catholic and hearing those words rocked my world. I'm not saying my family wasn't or isn't good Catholics, and that we didn't follow all of the sacraments. I was baptized, communioned, confessioned and confirmed as a Catholic. My parents are god abiding, Catholic people. My grandma loses a bit of herself every time she misses Sunday mass. I was an occasional Catholic in the way I filled the pew with my parents and brothers and sisters whenever I found the time.

I didn't always feel the need to go to church to know what God wanted me to do. I heard his calling from a very, very young age as I coddled and rendered care for every youngster within reach. I nursed every doll I had out of "infancy" into "toddlerhood." As long as I can remember, I've wanted to be a mom more than anything else. Give me an option between fortune, fame, or motherhood and without hesitation, I would choose motherhood. I knew whether or not I was in church, what it would take to act in a godly way. To show compassion and to give forgiveness without question.

Either way, feeling like even for an instant that me bearing a child wasn't in God's plans (at that time or maybe ever) was enough for me to say enough. With trepidation, I broached the subject of not going to church with my family. I was met with a bit of resistance, but mostly understanding.

Tonight, I made an exception to my church policy. I went to church, with a bit of resistance in my heart and a visible reluctance. Sitting in the pew, I broke down and cried. And by cried, I mean I sobbed. I miss my baby every minute, of every day. And sitting in church, attending "midnight" mass like I have done for 22 years with my family, I realized once again something Hercules wasn't in attendance at. I can't articulate a clear explanation for my feeling tonight.

I guess I just had some things to think about for tonight, poor timing because of tomorrow's date but these kind of feelings don't always take convenience into consideration.

My speech for Veterans Day:

By my own admission, I am not wonder woman. I am an ordinary woman who chose to do something extraordinary. I believe that everyone who chooses to wear our country's uniform is doing something extraordinary. I’d like to take the time to recognize the extraordinary individuals in this room today. I ask you to kindly stand if you have served or are currently serving in the United States Armed forces. Please, let us applaud and acknowledge the sacrifice these individuals and there family have made.

The veteran’s in this room represent the millions of American men and women who have served over the past two hundred years. This country has been blessed with citizens who have taken their call for freedom seriously. As of 2000, our Census bureau count there is over 26, 403,703 veterans. These soldiers were not seeking personal gain or even fame. Their country called and they answered. Their calling was a simple, patriotic response.

Our nation owes a great debt to its veterans, whose service spans every decade, and continues every day of our country's existence. Through untold courage and sacrifice, America's veterans have secured the liberty which the founding fathers sought to establish here in the new world. Whenever and wherever the nation has called -- in times of darkness and danger as well as in times of peace and prosperity -- America's veterans have been there. Veterans have proudly carried the torch of liberty for all to see.

This Veterans Day, as for the past ten years, our nation is at war. We continue to fight to defend our freedoms and combat terrorism. This calls for us to honor and celebrate both those veterans whose service is recorded in the history in past conflicts, and recognize our current warriors who add to our nation's rich history every day. They are stationed around the world standing in harm's way to protect us at this very moment.

We owe our nation's veterans a debt we can never repay. We can and should remember them and what they did and why they had to be brave for us. But we must honor them with deeds, not just words. So how do Americans properly thank their veterans this day? It can be as simple as thanking a veteran for their service, but that's just the beginning. Americans can thank veterans by taking full advantage of all your rights that they defended. Before you know it, you'll be adults. Vote in every election; volunteer your time for a worthy cause; be a volunteer fire fighter; represent your country well while abroad; ensure you are registered for Selective Service, and, yes, consider serving your nation in uniform. If you are fortunate enough to serve alongside and become a part of the extraordinary individuals, consider yourself blessed. You are part of an elite group of people and your service will be recognized every year to come. Live your lives and be good Americans, then all veterans will be proud to know that their sacrifices were not in vain. This is the thanks Americans can give. Live your lives well, as productive citizens should.

Veterans Day is set aside to remember every man and woman who has taken up arms to defend our country. We honor every extraordinary Soldier, Sailor, Airman, Marine and Coastguardsman who gave some of the best years of their lives to the service of the United States and stood ready to give life, itself, on our behalf. President John F. Kennedy once said that "a nation reveals itself not only by the people it produces, but also by the people it honors, the people it remembers". Twenty-six million extraordinary military veterans walk among us, and on this day, our nation salutes them all. Maple River students and faculty, thank you for your time and attention and thanks to all America's veterans.

An old soul

I've always put myself in a position to be older than I need to be. When I was 17, I joined the National Guard. When I was 19, I volunteered to go on a deployment to Iraq. When I was 20, I fell in love and started a family. This year, when I was 21, I bought a house.

My ambitions and goals get ahead of my years, and before I know it, I'm on top of my dreams waiting for people to catch up. It gets kind of lonely living faster and older than my peers. I'm too young to relate to people who are usually in my position and too old to relate to very many people my age. I'm a rare breed of a gal.

I guess I've just spent a lot of time alone lately. A lot of driving and a lot of time to think. When I pictured myself buying a house for the first time, I always pictured myself being able to share that experience with someone else. And while Gus is certainly a pleasure to come home to, it's just not quite the same.

I look forward to the day that I have someone to share my life with.

Dear Hercules,

I missed you yesterday, but then again I miss you every day. You were supposed to be in my arms yesterday and I couldn't help but imagine how beautiful you would have been and how beautiful you are. I couldn't help but picture you with my hair or your daddy's eyes. I bet you would have topped the scales, because you've got your momma's genes and, to be frank,  I was kind of a heifer.

Either way, you would have been perfect. I would have been the happiest girl in the world today, holding you in my arms. It would have been hard to let you go into someone else's arms, but at least I know I would have gotten you back. The first night we spent at home together, I wouldn't have put you in your crib. I would have stayed up all night admiring you in my arms. I wouldn't even need the background noise of a television or radio, just the sound of your coos and sighs. It would have been the most beautiful melody.

Your room would have been the perfect shade of yellow and I probably would have stocked it full of lots of dinosaurs (your brothers would have insisted). I'd have a big comfy chair in there for the both of us and I would have loved reading to you in it. Any time I got to spend with you would have been the favorite part of my day.

You'd have so many ridiculous pictures already, and someday they would have probably embarrassed you terribly. But secretly you'd have loved knowing how much your parents loved you. And it would have captured beautiful memories from a beautiful day. And I'm certain you would have forgiven us for that.

I just felt like I needed to talk to you, right now and today. I've gone awhile writing to you, but not thinking about you. Above anything else, I wanted you to know that I love you. And I'm happy now, but not as happy as I would have been with you. I'd give anything to have you in my arms right now.

My new buddy!

I'm getting a dog. His name is Conrad, sometimes Gump. I might call him Charlie or King Charles if I feel fancy. I haven't met him yet, but I love him. I can already tell he's going to be good for me. The other day I was feeling kind of down and I watched this video of him: http://vimeo.com/30169991 . Just seeing him brightened my day and made me laugh.

I can't wait to come home to this:

And see this cute mug:

How can you have a bad day after seeing this little guy? On Saturday they are going to do a home visit and make sure I don't have a dog fighting ring in my basement. Should go well!

Happy Birthday Dad!

"I am so sorry Jacki," my dad told me once, replacing the light heartedness of our previous conversation with a somber tone. My mind raced into a small panic. Sorry for what? What happened and how is he involved in it? “Sorry for what?” I cautiously asked him. “I’m sorry for giving you and Darcie such a high standard for your future husbands,” he said.

Truer words have never been spoken. I grew up in a home where I knew my dad loved his children and cherished his wife. I knew his family, above anything else in the world, came first. I remember him sending my mom flowers just because, leaving cards for her in unexpected places and doing things that only my father would do. In our garage in the cities, is a wall covered with graffiti. The perpetrator was my father. It says, “Dave and Sue, 1987” with a big sappy heart around it.

I watched my father live an honest, beautiful life. He is the kind of man that makes breakfast for his children after church on Sunday morning. The radio will almost always be on and he will be dancing. If you are within reach, he’ll grab your hand and force you to join in to. You won’t protest, because you love him so much.

He is the kind of man that works late hours to provide for his family. That kind of work ethic doesn’t come without sacrifice. I watched him drive 120 miles to and from work. I watched him sacrifice weekends and some family events because he’s the kind of man that will do what has to be done to take care of his family.

My dad has always been a source of comfort to me. Although, I think my siblings will agree, that when we call we usually ask for Mom. I feel very comfortable talking to either of my parents, but I’ve always had this feeling that Mom will listen and Dad will get things done (although they both cover the spectrum). If I have any kind of problem that needs a solution, my Dad will find it or create it.

We grow up hoping, when we are blessed with a father like mine, that we will find a man like our father. My sister and I will be lucky if we find a man half as good as my father.

http://youtu.be/ltRwmgYEUr8

I wasn't sleeping.

I've spent a lot of time talking about everything that has gone wrong these last couple of months. I didn't have time to talk about anything good. Frankly, I didn't have time to think about the good.  I was so focused on keeping my head above water and making sure everyone knew I was ok, that I didn't take the time to actually be ok. That is, until recently.


These last two weekends have really given me some valuable reflection time. Also known as "me time". I spent time with people who genuinely care about me and my well being. It took just that for me to realize that things do happen for a reason. I'm not happy about how things happened and I will always be at a loss when I think of Hercules.


I give a lot of credit to the idea that everything happens for a reason. I'm starting to understand twhy things happened they way they did with me and Zach. I still stand fast that I'll never understand why Hercules was taken from me. That didn't need to happen to justify the end.


That being said, I spent this last weekend with my family. I spent Friday night and Saturday night with my little brother. This whole thing has brought us together. It is a cheesy line, but it's also a truthful one. I love my little brother. Somehow, we went from fighting each other to being best friends. He is someone I have really leaned on these last couple of months.


On Sunday morning, I went with my parents, niece, Harry and her sister Irene for a walk around Lake Harriet. It 's called the Vision Walk and it is a fundraising event for the Foundation Fighting Blindness. We were on a team for my mom's friend's daughter. Quite the association, but it was a really inspiring day. By the end of the day and the weekend, I was thoroughly exhausted. I knew I wasn't going to make it on the car ride home and so I promptly tried to fall asleep. Before I was fully asleep, I heard my mom say, "My baby is finally coming back." She pulled my head onto her shoulder and I slept so very peacefully.


I really am coming back. Every day, I feel more like myself. I have a couple of hard days ahead the closer I get to the date Hercules was due. But I know I'll be ok. I've survived much worse.

Do it anyway.

My new mantra:

People are often unreasonable, illogical and self centered;

Forgive them anyway.

If you are kind, people may accuse you of selfish, ulterior motives;

Be kind anyway.

If you are successful, you will win some false friends and true enemies;

Succeed anyway.

If you are honest and frank, people may cheat you;

Be honest and frank anyway.

What you spend years building, someone could destroy overnight;

Build anyway.

If you find serenity and happiness, they may be jealous;

Be happy anyway.

The good you do today, people will often forget tomorrow;

Do good anyway.

Give the world the best you have, and it may never be enough;

Give the world the best you've got anyway.

A letter to myself

Dear you,
Things have been tough for you lately. You've been feeling kind of lonely and down, like nobody understands you, appreciates you or cares. You can't help but feel overwhelmed with everything that isn't right in your life. Like your happiness is fleeting and your sadness is overwhelming.

It's okay that you're feeling what you are; go ahead and allow yourself to feel it. It isn't fun, but this is life. Your life will not always be easy. In fact, so far, it's been fairly hard. But it WILL get better. And the fleeting moments of happiness will soon morph into permanent happiness.

Continue to write about it. Some day you will look back and recognize how very strong you were and are. Someday, when the happiness you found seems like it's not enough, look back and see where you came from. You will be able to tell yourself that you have survived worse. Once you've written it out, put it away and move on with your day.

Remember that you are a person with your own special talents and character traits. You have a lot to offer the world. Your worth is not measured by the attitude or opinion of others. Be aware of your worth, your gifts and your strengths. You are stronger than you ever imagined. You are beautiful, loving and intelligent. You will be happy and you will make others happy.

Be well and find happiness in all the good things that surround you,

Signed, me

"The Talk"

Today I finally saw the boys. I've been back from school for almost a month, but I couldn't bear to have a conversation with them just yet. Things between me and Zach were shaky for the first couple of weeks I was back as we tested the waters. Trying to figure out how to be friends while we both work on ourselves. I couldn't talk to the boys without knowing what would happen between me and him. I'm still not sure what will happen, but I knew that I couldn't reenter the boys' lives until I was sure I would be staying awhile. After a lot of talking with Zach and a lot of cancelled meetings to have a conversation with Austin, today Austin, Zach and I finally talked.

That being said, it was the hardest conversation I've had to had. The first thing Austin always does when he hears news that is hard to take is he puts on a tough front. The tough front lasts about as long as it takes for his big blue eyes to fill with tears. It's the most heartbreaking thing to watch.

I have never lied to Austin. Neither white lies nor little lies have crossed my lips to him. Today was the first time I came close. I wanted to tell him that it was all going to be ok and that this was just temporary, but I didn't. I'm not sure that "this" will all be ok, but I know that he will  be and I will too. It might be temporary, or it could very well be permanent.

The most important thing that I wanted him to understand was that I love him and his brothers without reserve. They are very important and special little boys. I will be around in their lives for as long as they want me to be. I think for Austin, it was just a source of comfort knowing that I wasn't going anywhere. And it was a source of comfort for me to know that Austin was adamant about me being a part of his life. A different house? Yes. But still reachable for good dream talks and blanket forts? Always.

After the conversation with Austin, we picked up William and Wyatt. It was so wonderful seeing them. They have such a simple way of dealing with things. They were certainly happy to see me, but they didn't really understand how long I was gone. They were just happy to see me, like they always are.

Zach went to work and I took the boys to Minneopa State Park. It's a big park with a nice sized waterfall. We spent the evening there. I'll post pictures as soon as I can find the cord to get them uploaded. The boys were so happy to be outside and I was happy to watch them be happy.

Today was a good day.

More than three

I used to rush home after work, anxious to pull up to my home and excited for whatever would come next. Usually, I could anticipate 4 sets of hugs (5 if I was unlucky enough to receive one from Anna). I knew that I wasn't going to be lonely... In fact some times I could go days without having "me" time. And most of the time, I was perfectly alright with that. I loved my noisy, crazy home.

Today, I got done with work and stalled. It's what I've been doing the last couple of days. Stalling. Postponing my arrival to a home that isn't mine. I shopped a little bit (a terrible habit I've brought back to fill my time) and then I drove to a park and stayed there. I turned off my engine, and just waited. I sat and tried to force myself to come up with a handful of positive things. And then even that seemed too hard. "Alright, fine," I told myself. "Just a couple of things." I rattled off the same three things that I always do.

1. My family and friends love me.
2. I have a fantastic job that I love.
3. I'm in a position where I can buy a house.

Two of the three things didn't really provide much comfort. But the first one did. The first one most certainly did. I knew as I was sitting in that parking lot, passing time, that I could have called anyone of my family or close friends. And they would have just listened. I can't ask for much more than that in life.

And so. I'm trying, very, very hard to be stronger and better than I was yesterday or even a couple of hours ago. I tell a lot of people that most of my days are good. But the moments or days that are bad hit me hard. Really hard. And in that moment when life gets hard... it seems (simply stated) unbearable. Everything that has happened to be in the last couple of months surfaces. And it's so much. That being said, I'll work on mixing more of the positive in. There are more than three good things in my life.

The unnamable feeling

Today is another one of those days. I have this unnamable feeling. The only way I've been able to explain it is like I'm worrying about something that I can't identify. And because I can't identify, every part of my body is trying to help me. I can always feel the onset of the unnamable.

It starts deep in my stomach, like an incurable belly ache. It's a slow throb, that gets stronger the longer and harder I try to put a name or a face to my feeling. It’s a sinking feeling, almost a foreboding. The pain in my stomach morphs into a head ache. I think my brain is just working overtime. It makes it hard to focus on whatever I'm supposed to be doing. Accomplishing anything is improbable, talking is difficult and moving on with whatever it is that is plaguing me is impossible.

The final symptom that develops is a heart ache. My heart physically aches. It doesn’t beat faster or any stronger, but it does seem to just hurt every time it thumps. All of the symptoms combined lead to me. Right now. At work. Trying so hard to focus.

Today is not my day. I have had many days in the past week that were in fact my day, and I don’t mean to sound pessimistic or worry anyone by only writing about these kinds of days. It’s just that the only thing that seems to alleviate the pressure or that unnamable feeling is doing this. Writing.  

Breathe.

Everything is too much today, right now. I feel like I'm being crushed with the weight of everything. I can't explain it any other way. This weight is making it hard to breathe, even harder to remember breathing. I have to keep reminding myself to breathe, and when I do it takes me by surprise. How long has it been since I've last breathed?

And contradictory to what I said up there, I feel nothing. I feel like I'm going through the motions. I drove, I parked, and I'm sure I unbuckled... but I don't remember. I don't know what I've been doing the last 20 minutes, what I've been thinking of. I just feel blank. Exhausted. Breathe, Jacki. Just breathe. In. And out.

If I start thinking again, I'm afraid of what will come. Unstoppable tears and unbearable pain. I don't want to think anymore. I don't want to remember anymore. I'm so tired of feeling hurt and getting hurt and then setting myself up for it to happen again. And again.

My mom told me to be strong, just make it through another day and than another. And I will. But I am so sick of it. I'm so sick of being strong. I'm tired and I'm exhausted. I'm disheartened and angry. I'll be fine, but not today. Today I am not fine.

In six months, I've lost a child, a family, and pieces of myself. I've questioned my faith and my values. I've suffered lonely nights, pain unbeknown to most, and unimaginable loss. My eyes have seen more tears and my heart has felt more aches than ever before in my life.

Every time I tell myself I'm not strong enough for this, I somehow make it through another day. Another day turns into a week.Time hasn't softened the feeling of loneliness or the pain of what I've lost. I feel it every time I walk into my room and it's empty. I feel it when I see things that remind me of my loss, which is almost everything. I feel it when I wake up alone and fall asleep the same way. I'll feel it more when I leave here and I'll feel it every time I come back from work to a house that isn't quite a home.

I've found out I'm stronger than I ever thought I could be. Stronger than I thought I'd ever need to be.

I'm here, where I wasn't supposed to be.

I'm here at Camp Robinson, Arkansas. I've been here now for exactly a week. Since I've arrived, I've tried to identify a feeling I have. I expected to come down here and be excited and eager to learn all of the aspects of my job. I didn't really anticipated missing home because my stay here was going to be so brief (just five weeks).

Instead, I have this sinking feeling of sadness and loneliness. It took me until yesterday to fully identify exactly what it was. On my way down here, I couldn't help but tell myself this was a journey I wasn't supposed to take. It wasn't that I didn't want to take it... I mean, the monetary and educational value it provides can't be ignored. It just seems I've had a lot of those journeys lately. Journey's that weren't supposed to happen, but they did.

I've put off writing on here because I just couldn't. Writing on here is an outlet I use to get things straight in my head or to convey a message to my audience. I thought I was getting better and stronger and that I didn't need this anymore, but I think this week I took a couple of steps back.

I miss Hercules so much, especially down here. Its just a constant reminder to me that he's not physically here. If I was still pregnant, I wouldn't be at this school right now. I'd have a full blown baby belly and I'd already have moved onto the maternity ACU's. I'd be glowing and happy.

I'm not happy right now. I'm terribly sad.

No boots, no service.

Two nights ago, I made my way up to Fort Snelling to stay at the hotel on base, at the recommendation of the boss man. For some reason, people peg me as the type of person who is habitually late. While this may have been true in my younger years, I have arrived on time and even (gasp) early on multiple occasions. I took this advice and solemnly accepted. I was, after all, being paid to stay the night at a nice hotel (the hotel on base isn't fancy, but it's definitely a couple steps up from a Super 8 or even an AmercInn). And I didn't want to arrive late for in processing (I can't remember if I mentioned this. If I didn't... I was asked to join the AGR program and in processing is basically just an opportunity to fill out A LOT of paperwork). Arriving late for in processing is a good way to not in process and be essentially fired. I had to be at in processing by 8:00, which really means at least 7:45.

So this morning I woke up at 6:00 and put on my uniform. I put my socks on, my shirt followed by my pants. I quickly put my hair into a slick sock bun and put on a dash of make up. I slipped on my ACU jacket.

I searched for my boots. And facepalmed. My worst military fear had come true. I remembered every piece of my uniform, except my boots. I instantly went into panic mode. I called a guy from my office, who called the other guy in my office and as a team, they found someone who would be at the same place that could bring me a pair of boots.

I casually made my way out of the hotel. In my socks. Down three flights of stairs and across the parking lot into my car. I then drove my car around to the front of the building. Walked through the front door, and placed my key in the key box. I looked admittedly suspicious. I then drove to the ROC (recruiting operations command), but not without ordering a caramel frappaccino (no whip, but still the caramel drizzle), in my socks of course, along the way. I felt like a fool the entire time.

When I got to the ROC, I shrunk down in my seat... hoping nobody would see me bootless in my car. An explanation would only ensue in my embarrassment. I sat there for 30 minutes like this before my two size to small boots came. I shoved my fat feet in there and suffered through the day, but not without reward. On June 16, I will officially be a part of the AGR program and will be promoted to SGT shortly after. It's nice to feel like I finally took a couple of steps forward (with the appropriate sized boots).

Dear Hercules,

I missed you today. I miss you everyday. Did you know that in your 19th week, you would have been the size of a mango? It doesn't sound that huge, but knowing how large your dad (10.8 1/2 lbs) and I (10.3 lbs) were, you would have probably been the largest mango ever discovered.

I guess I really wanted to tell you that we found a beautiful house that we are putting an offer on tomorrow. It has a room that would have made (and maybe someday will make) a beautiful baby room, and plenty of space for your brothers (and dad) to play. By dad, I mean a three car garage. That probably means nothing to you, but it's a pretty fantastic find for him. This house also has a lot of secret places for mischevious boys to play. I'm certain we'll play the hardest games of hide and seek... and then I'll finally find one of your brothers... and they'll have fallen asleep.

The outside of the house is full of huge gardens that will keep me busy, and your dad too if I can con him into it. I'll probably add a couple more and take a bit away from some places to make it my own. I've never had to garden before, but it has always seemed appealing. I'm hoping it'll give me another distraction to keep my mind off of everything and a healthy excuse to stay outside. If we get the house, I've already picked out a spot for your willow tree.

I'm hoping that things will work out with this house. I've already invested a lot of dreams into it. It's just a place I can picture myself being happy, and I need a place like that.

I miss you...

Just call me Sarge

Six months ago, if anyone had asked me if I had planned on being a lifer (a national guard member fulfilling a 20 year contract and retiring), I would have said hell no. I would have rudely laughed in the face of whoever asked such an absurd question.

I felt I had been dealt a raw deal. I was experiencing lack of quality training and an overall feeling of unpleasantness. I couldn't help but dread drill weekends and plot (unsuccessful) ways to escape. I watched my dad suffer through his fair share of unpleasantness. It's not a foreign concept in the military to grin and bear it. And some people are more successful at it than others.

I would have adamantly said no, until 4 months ago when I entered the recruiting command. I don't know if anyone knows this, but I thoroughly enjoy speaking to people. This has been a perfect outlet for that. Today, I boarded (kind of like an interview) for a permanent AGR (active guard reserve) position in Mankato. It would be a three year renewable contract.

I can't say I'm not excited. I'll me promptly promoted to SGT and I'll continue to do what I love. I feel like I'm carving my own path in the National Guard and slowly making a name for myself. I love all of the wonderful things I hear about my dad and I love to see how far his branches reach, but at some point I want to be known as SPC or SGT Crotteau. I don't want people to know me as SGM Crotteau's daughter. I want to work my ass off to prove I'm worthy of such an honor.

The hunter

A couple of days ago, Zach warned me that Austin had a question he needed answered. I assumed that it had something to do with "junk", where babies came from or any other difficult question that Zach prefers for me to answer.

I can't figure out why that is, because he always seems to be upset about my honest answers with the boys. I certainly won't tell them that babies come from storks or that the two things hanging from the dog at Nana and Bumpa's house is anything less than that dog's junk. I won't fill them full of white lies. If they ask me a question that obviously has them curious, I'll give them an accurate answer.

I can only assume this stems from my mother, who once watched something about young girls and oral sex on Oprah and promptly gave my sister and I the Spanish inquisition. This is the same mom that cornered my siblings and I into talking openly about sex whenever she caught us alone and unsuspecting.

Anyways, I was less than surprised when Austin asked me, in the earnest way he always does, "Hey Jack... what kind of junk do you ladies have?" I knew it was coming, I have should have prepped better for this question. Otherwise, I give to much information that he didn't really request. The first thing that came out of my mouth was the anatomically correct terms for his junk and a girls junk. I didn't want him to go through life always referring to the male and female anatomy as junk. I think some women would take a bit of offense to that. I also explained to him that a girl has junk, sort of, but her junk doesn't hang out like a boys does.

Thankfully, Austin kind of ignored the anatomically correct terminology and likely won't be reveling his brothers with story. Austin summarized it with his own analogy. He said, "That's so weird! It's like your junk is a hunter! And it's camouflaged and hiding and waiting to kill an animal!" I'm not sure how I feel about his accurate analogy.

Today is a better day than yesterday.

Last week we were preapproved for a home loan through USAA. We were more than excited, to say the least. I quickly got a list of our favorite homes together and sent it off to our realtor.

Today, we got to see six of the houses off of the list. Two of them have made it to the second round. Well, actually the third round. First round was a drive by, looking for a garage and yard. Second round was a look inside and the third round will be looking again and seeing what the gas and electric bills look like and really taking a look at the disclosure agreement.

The two homes that stayed on the list were homes that we walked into and decided that it's a house we can see our boys growing up in. They both have places for huge toy rooms (ones a usable attic space and the other is an area on top of the garage) that could be made into an awesome teenage hang out spots.

All in all, house hunting with Zach has provided a welcome distraction for both of us. It's nice to be moving forward with our lives and not just lingering in the past. Maybe once we are in our home and we have both knocked out our military job training (my recruiter school and his medic school) we'll be ready to have another baby.

Dear Hercules,

I still miss you everyday. I felt my stomach today and forgot for a second that you weren't in there. I was so happy until I realized I was mistaken. It's not always like that, but there are milestones I'm starting to really miss with you.

Like today, I was looking at swimsuits. I remember thinking how exciting it would be to have a cute baby bump and to wear a bikini. I've never felt like strutting my stuff in a bikini, but I would have certainly accepted any opportunity to show off that bump. In fact, it would probably be pretty difficult to get me out of a bikini and into more reasonable clothes.

I do alright for the most part. I'm still really angry and upset sometimes, and I hate to admit even that. It's my least favorite part about me right now. It's a trait I would never want to teach you or your brothers. But I am angry. I'm angry at a lot of things and people. And myself. Mostly myself.

I can't get over how I plotted ways to get out of bed or to stay out. I would take extra trips to the bathroom and do anything to stay out of that damn bed. I know everyone tells me that it wouldn't have made a difference, but what if it did? What if bed rest is all your home would have needed to heal? I'll never know, and it's kind of painful thinking I could have changed the outcome.

So I'm angry at myself. And I think that's well deserved. Regardless, I'm not angry all of the time. For the most part, I'm the same Jacki. I bit more sarcastic and sassy. A bit quicker to anger than I would like. But I'm also a much better mom to your brothers. And a better partner to your dad, I hope. You've given me that, Hercules. A foundation to be a better mother and to have a healthier relationship with your dad. I don't know how that foundation was built so quickly, but it was. And I'm ever so grateful that you are looking out for me.

Someday, I'll pray

When I started bleeding, every doctor I encountered told me this may be God's way of saying this baby just wasn't right. I was instantly angry and furious of the audacity of some people. I understand that talking about God in times of pain is people's “go to” topic. I think for most people, it's supposed to be calming to think or know that God has a plan.

I'm going to say something that a lot of people won't like reading or hearing from me. I know I sound horribly bitter and hell bound (and maybe I am), but I'm angry. I'm hurt. That being said, Me and God aren't on the best of terms. While I appreciate people's well wishes for my family and I (and I really, truly do), I can't help but feel my feathers ruffle when I hear, “Give your pain to God, Jacki.” Or any other slew of phrases I have heard used. And there has been a lot of God talk in the last month.

I can't give this to God. I was told God put me in this position. I'm here to suffer the consequences and pick up the broken pieces that were left behind. The last time I was told God was in charge and he was doing what was best, Hercules was viciously yanked from me. It didn't end that well, so I'm not prepared to make the same mistake again. I prayed harder than I ever have before that Hercules would be safe and the results were far less than favorable. I'm just not ready to believe that if I pray to him I will heal and that the hurting will stop. I'll pray again someday, I'm sure. But today just isn't that day.

I can't even think of saying the words "Happy Mothers Day" to anyone, let alone hearing them. Not my to mom.  Not to Harry. Not to anyone. In my head, I know it's not fair to them. But in my heart, it's not fair to me. I'm still trying to cope with the injustice of losing Hercules. In my head, I haven't quite found a way to make it alright. To forgive myself and the universe for not doing everything possible to make sure Hercules could survive. I should have given a disclaimer that I am in a terrible, terrible place right now. It's almost three in the morning and I can't stop. Thinking. Crying. Worrying.

In 12 hours, I'll see the boys and maybe everything won't feel so raw. Right now, I'm just trying to figure out how to heal a hurting heart, and I just don't think I have the supplies to making that happen.

Slideshow

I have a compilation of images in my head. Rainboots. Mud. Tree house. Base ball. Dinosaurs. First steps. Messy faces. Tonka trucks. Fruit snacks. Animal crackers. Craft projects. Hand prints. Bubble baths. Disney movies. Trains. Bare feet. Stuffed animals. Blankets. Pizza. Snacks. Sneakers.

My personal slide show leaves me breathless sometimes. I can't help but associate all things little boy with Hercules. I can't help but feel a loss when I encounter these things. It doesn't prevent me from wanting to see them or cause me to take an alternate route to avoid seeing a train I know Hercules would have grown to appreciate. But the images do serve as a constant reminder of my family's loss.

I'm learning to cope and not get so upset when I'm reminded of what will never be with Hercules. It's an ongoing task and the success rate varies hour by hour.

I made the list

For as long as I have known Austin, we have had a love like relationship. I love him, and he pretends to only like me (but it's a like comparable to a love). To fully understand this relationship, you have to understand Austin's relationship with love.

Austin had a total of 5 people he loves. His parents, his Nana and his brothers. That was it. Nothing more, nothing less. In Austin's long six and a half years of life, nobody has come close to making the love list. Not his aunts, uncles, other grand parents and even Jesus have never made that list.

Even Jesus. I feel the need to emphasize this. I remember asking him, or maybe it was Zach asking him, "But you love Jesus, right?" He calmly and sweetly replied, "No, I only like Jesus." I foresaw this being an issue in the inevitable future as he was attending regular Sunday school and a Lutheran preschool. I imagined a class of preschoolers singing a song about loving Jesus, only to have Austin earnestly protest, "No. No. No. I only like Jesus." That never happened, but the opportunity for the scenario to play out may still present itself.

A person that has made the "like" list knows that Austin's "like" is the most genuine and honest like you will ever feel. He says it so nicely that you know it is almost a love. It's barely a step down from a love, but a step down none the less.

I had minor issues with this like vs love business. I had accepted, for the most part, being committed to Austin's love list until I had married Zach (that was the time line he eventually gave me after only admitting to liking me for a year or so). I was alright with a like because I knew that Austin genuinely loved me. It wasn't until last Sunday that I had enough.

We were sitting at the dining table. The boys have thing they do whenever we all sit down together. They go through the list of family and make everyone repeat after them like so:

"Say... I love you daddy!" (I love you daddy!)
"Say... I love you Jacki!" (I love you Jacki! or I like you Jacki! (if you are Austin))

Until the whole family has been named. Then Wyatt usually runs through the objects in the room and everyone loses interest but him. This last Sunday, we made it through the whole family and then proceeded onto Anna. I waited for Austin's response, "I love you Anna!"

Hold up. How can I fall behind a dog? How can that big, slobbery mess outdo me? I was instantly hurt and upset. I couldn't help but feel jealous of that fat headed mutt. Austin asked me what was wrong right before I tucked him in for bed that night. I told him that my ego and feelings were kind of wounded. I told him I knew that he loved me. And he said, "Well I do. But I already told you I wasn't going to tell you I loved you until after the wedding."

I wasn't going to try to persuade a six year old to declare his love for me. My feelings had been hurt, but my pride was still intact. Instead, I told him, "Maybe you'll tell me you love me tomorrow." To which he responded, "Maybe..."

I told him goodnight and kissed him on the top of the head. I told him I loved him and started walking towards the door and braced myself to hear him declare his like for me, when he said, "I love you too! I tricked you this whole time, huh?"

Where Hercules went

If you ask the adults in this family where Hercules went, you'll get one of two answers. If you are under the age of 7, you'll learn that Hercules is our special guardian angel. I might even tell them how lucky we are to have someone extra special taking care of us. If you are over the age of 7, I'll describe the loss of my first biological child and talk about how I'm learning to deal with the unfairness of it. That I can't help but feeling angry that someone thought they could take better care of my child than I can. I'm getting over the angry part, and working on coming to peace... but I haven't quite reached that stage yet.

If you ask Austin, Hercules has blue or white hair and he is up in heaven. Hercules may be on a cloud one day or sleeping in the sunshine the next. Austin may bring you a book the doctor's gave us and read it aloud to you (he has it memorized by now). He'll tell you through tear filled eyes that he misses Hercules, but may ask to watch the Backyardigans on Netflix shortly after to feel better. He deals with it like you would expect a 6 year old to.

If you ask William, he'll adamantly tell you Hercules is with God. Fighting Ninjas. Or bowling. I'm not an expert on God by any means, so I'm certainly not in any position to correct a three year old on God's daily activities. He goes to a Lutheran preschool, so it seems like he may be onto something.

If you ask Wyatt, he'll tell you that Hercules is in his belly. I don't think Hercules is literally in his belly and I don't really think he is figuratively either. Wyatt is two so he may very well mean his heart. But he will adamantly deny any such notion and will continue to claim that Hercules is in fact in his belly.

The Treehouse

Last summer we acquired a tree house from my parents. The tree house is nothing more than four walls, a roof and a floor on stilts. It was so nice watching the boys use the tree house last summer as their pirate ship, boys only club, secret spy shack or anything else they dreamed it to be. We let them pick out the paint for their tree house and I was less than surprised when they chose bright green for the outside and a bright orange and blue for the inside. The tree house suddenly became less covert with it's lime green exterior, but they didn't seem to care.

Zach and Austin just left a little bit ago to go reclaim the tree house from our old rental home. My parents are meeting up with them there and they'll swiftly move it from that home to this one. Well, swiftly might be a loose term considering it's fairly massive. I didn't go with.

I thought I didn't want to go with because I'm still not feeling very well and I've been plagued by a cough, but now I know that it's also because seeing that tree house is going to be kind of painful. It's another reminder to me of what Hercules will never be able to do or see. I will never see him playing cops and robbers in that tree house and he will never have the privlidge of climbing up that ladder into a little boys perfect play place.

I can talk anyone's ear off about what happened. I can talk about the immense pain the night before Hercules was born and I can unflinchingly describe the week before it happened in great detail. I cannot, however, bare to discuss with people about what Hercules would have grown up to be and do, given the chance. It's not what happened that plagues me or upsets me, it's thinking and talking about what will never happen.

Dear Hercules,

Your oldest brother came home from school yesterday and cried in my arms. We had a hard time figuring out how to explain to him what had happened. The first thing he wanted to know is if I had picked something up. He was worried that I had done something or someone had done something wrong and that's why you wouldn't ever be coming home to us.

It would almost be easier if there was a simple explanation why I'll never find you playing in our backyard with your brothers. A simple explanation for why I'll never know if you had my eyes or your daddy's. But there just isn't a simple explanation to give, and the simplest answer we could give Austin was the truth, as unbearable as it is. We explained that a million things have to come together to make a perfect baby. If just one of those things is imperfect, then things happen that we can never anticipate. In our case, your home just wasn't good enough for you. We tried to explain that as much as we love you, that God needed you for something extra special (even if our plans seemed pretty special too). We explained that we won't be able to hold or kiss you, but that you hold a really special place in our heart.

Austin was really upset, and we are too, that we don't really know what you looked like. Austin thinks you maybe had blue hair, like the sky. We only got to see black and white photos of you. Maybe it's ok that we don't have a clear picture of what you looked like. It'll be easier to find you when we need you.

We don't have a special place to visit you like most families who lose a family member do. We don't have a grave or a bedroom. Not a place that you loved to visit or a toy you favored over the others. We thought maybe planting a tree up at the cabin would be a nice way to give us a place to reconnect, even though we know we can talk to you anytime. I know I do. We were thinking of a willow tree. I always thought they were so beautiful. And I know you would have loved going up to the cabin. There are a lot of things for little boys to do there. It's a perfect place for rain boots and messes.

We talked about you all last night. We spent some time enjoying the sunshine and even took our dog to the park. Austin thought he saw you on the way there, and I bet he did.  He said you were way up in the clouds. He asks a lot of questions about what happened and I know that it breaks his heart almost as much as it does ours that we'll never be able to hear you laugh or see your first steps. We read the book that the doctor gave us, and it helped a little bit. The last page made all of us cry, and we decided from now on we'll just skip that page. I wish we could change the ending to our story that easily.

We are going to tell William and Wyatt tomorrow about what happened. I don't know if it will make any sense to them. They knew all about you, Hercules. But they are only 2 and 3, they probably won't grasp what it all means and they'll probably still pat my belly expecting you to be in there or yell good morning to you. It's alright, because you'll still be able to hear them.

I just needed to know that I was thinking about you a lot today. I love you.

Hercules,

I wish you didn't die. I really wanted to see the color of your hair. I hope someone is taking good care of you.

Austin

I heard this song today, and it reminded me of you, Hercules. A lot of things reminded me of you today.

Dear Hercules,

You, my sweet little boy, had love beyond belief the moment we knew there was a you. Your brother's were starting to get really excited to talk to you, feel you (although we had yet to feel you kick yet) and most of all love you. That came so naturally to them, to us all. Loving you. I couldn't wait until all of you could play together. I knew they would make the very best big brothers for you. I knew I was going to be a great mommy for you, because your big brothers had already taught me a lot about a mother's love and strength. And I knew how lucky you were going to be to have your Daddy. He did such a wonderful job taking care of your brothers and they are the sweetest little boys.

It was last night, at 10:37 pm that I knew that we had limited time left together with you safe and sound inside of me kicking. Jumping. Waving. Turning. Twisting. We raced to the emergency room. Your daddy drove so fast, he was scared just like I was. When we got there, we got to see you on the ultrasound. Waving and moving all bout. You had a strong heartbeat, just like every time we were blessed to see you. The doctor said he was really sorry, but there wasn't a lot he could do for us. He gave me some medicine. And then he used that scary "m" word again that I can't bear to use. Your Grandma Susan took me home and Daddy stopped by the store to pick up things to try and take my pain away.

For two hours, I felt you fight inside of me. I cried and screamed in pain. I've never known pain like that. Nothing gave me relief. I took three hot baths to try and loosen up my lower abdomen. I tried percoset, a heating pad and multiple positions seeking a way to tolerate the unbearable pain. Anybody could touch my stomach and feel that something wasn't right. I was in so much unbelievable and unexplainable pain. I would go through that pain and then some if it meant you were still safe inside of me. I would give anything to have you still safe inside of me.

We raced to the emergency room at 3:00 am. I closed my eyes, afraid of what they would show me on the ultrasound this time, but once again you looked so healthy. A good heartbeat and you were moving. The doctor's had no choice but to start pumping me with pain medication. I felt instant relief. From the time I saw you to when I made it up to my hospital room, I lost you. In a moment, your home had given up on you. Relinquishing your right to fight. I know you would have won. 

Your oldest brother, Austin, had named you. He picked out Hercules one night when he said goodnight to me and you. And I told him it was the perfect name until we could find out if you would be a boy or girl. You were a fighter, and had lived up to your name so many times already. I have no reason to believe this time would have been any different, had you been given the chance.

I felt your home come crashing out of me. I can't get over the feeling of your home. It's like it's on repeat, happening again and again. I just keep feeling it. I remember how much I cried for them to take it away from me. How angry your dad was when they didn't move fast enough. I don't remember anything past feeling this. I remember your dad holding one hand and your grandma holding my other. And I remember showing up outside the room for surgery. Your daddy was so strong and so brave. He found a way to comfort me, even though he needed it too. 

I woke up, and put my hand on my stomach. It's been my resting place since I knew you were in there. I liked thinking that maybe your hand was outstretched and we were somehow high fiving, or like we were touching through glass. I always rested my hand there, eager to be closer to you. I couldn't feel the little bump that had started to form in the last couple of weeks. I searched for it, but it was gone. I left my hand there, feeling my loss.

Your Daddy met me in my room and told me that we had lost you. He told me you were a boy and my heart broke a little more. It was one of those things I had looked forward to doing. Finding out if you would be a boy or girl. Your dad kept telling me you would be a boy, but we both knew it wouldn't matter as long as you were healthy. We were going to share that moment with your big brother Austin. It was going to be a surprise for him, a special thing because he had already started taking his role as big brother seriously. He would hug me close and whisper to me that he was hugging me and you. And he took really good care of me and you when I started getting sick.

I'm glad I know that you are a boy. I thought I didn't want to know, that it would hurt to much knowing. But your daddy was right. He told me he was thinking about whether or not to tell me, but then decided he wanted you to have an identity. That he didn't want you to be an it. You could have never been an it, regardless. You'll always be Hercules.

The doctor told me that there is nothing we did or could have done. From the moment you were born, your home wasn't ready to take care of you. That giving birth to you was not meant to be. I can't begin to wrap my head around how that is possible, when you were so perfect every time I saw you. It's going to take me a long time to make sense of it all. 

The limited time we shared was one of the happiest and most hopeful times in my life.  I wish that you could have been with us much longer than you were allowed to. I wish that a lot of things had happened differently. Tonight, I'm going to read Austin a special book the hospital gave us. Maybe reading it to him will help us both find some peace. It's called, “We Were Gonna Have a Baby, But We Had an Angel Instead.”

I miss you terribly. I hope you know how much you were loved and wanted by us. I'll keep talking to you when I feel like it's just all to much for me. I don't know if you can hear me or not, but it gives me comfort being able to talk to you like I used to.

I love you.

Cause for panic

This whole week, I've been surviving on the premise that this is all temporary. Except for the first day, when I lost all of that blood. Even then, I had a feeling that it would all work out. Hercules would be protected and this would all be just a nightmare.

I was able to do that because I couldn't feel any pain in my stomach. The bleeding had come and gone without any indication of it happening besides of course the blood. I told Zach, after the bleeding had started up again after our second hospital visit, that I wasn't going to worry or even panic. I would save my concern for when I could feel it coming or happening. When I could feel some kind of pain that would call for panic.

Last night provided a cause to panic. I had a bad feeling when I went to bed. When the bleeding initially started last Sunday, the only indication was a terrible back ache. That was all. Nothing more, nothing less. When I went to bed last night, my back was aching and I was feeling really nauseous.

I couldn't have anticipated that I would wake up at 2:31 am to a large amount of blood. I spent the rest of the night holding my lower stomach in pain. Every time I moved, I felt a stab of pain. I couldn't find a way to manage sleeping even remotely comfortably. I prayed that the bleeding and pain would go away, but it's 8:14 and neither have showed any signs of slowing down.

I was prepared to make my case at the doctor's office today. I had a list of reasons why I would be breaking free from bed rest. I would not tolerate a no. I was excited about being able to return to my job, which I genuinely love. And I would finally be able to stop worrying Austin, who tell me every morning and every night, "Maybe you'll feel better tomorrow, Jack? I hope you do."

I don't have any expectations for today or for what the doctor will say at my appointment. I'm just hoping that I make it through today and then the next and the next until this nightmare is over.

Letters to Hercules

Every once and awhile, the boys like to leave messages for special people on Facebook. I write what they tell me to write and we both get a kick out of it. The following is a message from William to Hercules. Whatever the boys say goes in regards to their messages until they tell me to stop writing. Here is William's letter to Hercules:


Hercules,

I love you Hercules! I love to get Hercules a really baby hug. And a kiss! And the baby eats a baby food. Feel better and I love you and Jacki. You have two eyes, baby. Get baby milk! And umma ummma, that's all! Oh, and Hercules can kill dragons. 1, 2, 3. Three pieces of dragons.

Love, my big brother William

(William has dictated his name and Hercules name be larger than the rest of the text.)

A good day

Last week, I would have gauged a good day by what I had accomplished. If someone asked, "Did you have a good day today?" I would think back and give a calculated response based off the things I had and had not done.

This week, I gauge a good day by whether or not I made it through without crying. I gauge it by whether or not I had woken up to blood or spotted at all that day. If I can keep my food down, it's a plus but not a determining factor in whether or not I had a good day.

Today, was a good day. I feel pretty grateful to be able to say that. A good day. Sounds so nice to me. I was able to get out of bed, long enough to do a little bit of Easter shopping. It was something that had been weighing on me. I couldn't help feeling disappointed that I probably wouldn't be able to help out with the shopping. I was able to put on jeans and even a little makeup. I felt like a queen.

The day was made complete with a nice lunch in bed with Zach. If nothing else, this has brought us a lot closer. I loved just laying in his arms today. It felt like the nicest place to be.

The icing on the cake, maybe the whole cake, was a blood free day. Who knew I could take days without blood for granted?

Every time the bleeding slows or stops, I breathe a sigh of relief. Every time, I feel a blanket of security embrace me as I naively tell myself "It's over. It's all going to be ok." I have set my self up for devastation numerous times now.

I can't help but feel heartbreak every time I feel me and Hercules taking steps backwards. This time, the bleeding started early in the morning. I was sleeping when I could tell that it had started. It's frustrating to know that even resting can trigger the bleed. It makes me feel helpless and a out of sorts. If moving causes it and resting can trigger it as well, at what point will this nightmare be over?

Maybe Hercules isn't a bad name afterall...

Yesterday, Austin came into my and Zach's room to cuddle. We were talking about Hercules when he casually asked, "Hey Jack, how did Hercules get in there?" I know, from previous experience, that utilizing the technique of distraction is not effective when it comes to Austin. He wants and needs answers.

I suggested we find him some big brother books from Amazon, that might just give him the answer to his many, many questions he has about Hercules. We went upstairs and picked out a handful of books that Austin liked. I was just about to purchase them when Zach joined us upstairs. I went to readjust on the couch when I felt as if I had peed in my pants. I discreetly went to the bathroom, hoping I could hide my embarrassing situation. I remember thinking, "and so it begins." I had heard plenty about pregnancy incontinence, but thought I was a little early on in my pregnancy to be having issues already.

Instead, when I went into the bathroom, I discovered that my pants were soaked with blood. I called for Zach and he immediately called his sister in law to watch the boys. In the time that passed until she arrived, I couldn't stop sobbing. The amount of blood indicated to me that the day would end in a loss.

We discovered, as Zach raced us to the nearest hospital, that the Camry can reach 115. To me, it didn't feel like we were moving fast enough. We soon discovered that the nearest hospital lacked the facilities, machines and doctors to care for a bleeding pregnant woman. They transferred us to the Mankato Clinic Urgent Care (trying to save us an ER bill). Once again, we jetted off in the Camry. The bleeding had yet to show any sign of slowing down.

After visiting the Mankato Urgent Care, they booked us an all inclusive stay in the hospital overnight. The rest is kind of monotonous, no eating, no walking and a lot of discomfort. The doctor ordered a comprehensive ultra sound. The bleeding had significantly slowed down and the hospital discharged me the next morning (4/18) with moderate bed rest.

On 4/19, we set off again for the hospital. The bleeding had gone from absolutely nothing to a huge concern in a matter of seconds. We found ourselves housed in a hospital bed overnight once again. Thankfully, this time we were able to meet with a doctor who actually seemed intent on providing us real answers on why this was happening. The placenta had began tearing away from the uterine wall in two places and was causing significant bleeding. Hercules isn't in danger as of right now, but the danger increases if the two places don't have time to heal. It could begin to impact the amount of nutrients Herc gets.

I know now that I was kept overnight the first night because of the amount of blood loss. We are very, very fortunate that the baby is ok. I honestly didn't see a scenario on Sunday that ended with me coming home from the hospital with Hercules safe and sound inside of me.

The only cure is taking it easy. This isn't something I'm generally accustomed to, but knowing the stakes makes it a bit easier. I'm home now, resting in bed. Zach has created a "limited excuse for moving" environment. Most things I need are within reach. My only exceptions for movement, courtesy of doctors orders, are food and bathroom.

Hercules

On Saturday, Zach and I had the chance to sit down with Austin and tell him our wonderful news. I was confident that he would be pretty excited. He was, after all, the one who had suggested we had another child to fill the picnic table. Austin is also the one who picks up baby items when we go shopping to see if I like them, "not for now, but when there is a baby."

Austin takes his role as big brother very seriously. It was really important to us to make sure he heard the good news from out mouths first. I want him, and all the boys, to be involved in whatever they want to be and as much as they can be.

After showing Austin our ultrasound pictures of the baby, I could see his excitement. Numerous questions followed and a huge hug ensued. He couldn't wait to tell everyone. This included his entire kindergarten class on Monday at school and anyone else he happens to come in contact with.

Today we started up our baby talk again. Just before bed, Austin called me into his room. "Jack, can I say goodnight to the baby?" Sure buddy! "Ok. Well, do you think it's a boy or a girl?" I'm not sure bud, does it make a difference? "Well, I had some names in mind. If it's a boy, I'll call it Hercules and if it's a girl I'll call it Brittany." Hmmm. Well, Hercules is an interesting name.

We compromised by calling the baby Hercules until we find out if it is a boy or girl, and then we'll find a less star struck name.

Dreams do come true

In early February, I woke up from a vivid dream of a beautiful baby girl that I had given birth to. I remember reaching over to ask Zach if he liked the names I had picked out, when I realized it wasn't real. I couldn't understand the disheartened feeling I had. I had just started a new job and things were going really well for us and our little family of five. I was content and generally happy with my life. Regardless, I remember feeling sad that morning. The baby girl was so beautiful and in my dreams I had become so attached to her.

Fatigue, mild nausea and a gut feeling led me to take a pregnancy test in early March. I took it before leaving for work one morning. After anxiously awaiting the results for half an hour, the test failed to deliver any. I went to work and thought little of it. When I returned home, I casually checked the garbage. I picked up the test, curious to see if the results had finally developed. Two lines. Pregnant. I took the second test in the box, dubious to trust a test that took so long to provide results. Two lines. Pregnant.

I wasn't sure how to tell Zach. I couldn't gauge what his emotions would be. This isn't something that was planned, but I certainly don't and didn't view it as a mistake. The baby was conceived by two people that love and care for each other. A baby is never a mistake or inconvenience. I hoped that Zach would share in my philosophy.

Zach, as I had hoped, shared my mixed (but overall happy) emotions. We were two people, in love, about to be married that were having a child together. We decided it would be best to tell people until after the first appointment. I didn't want people to be fretting over the pregnancy and I was concerned about what the first appointment would tell us. I couldn't bear to get other people excited and then have bad news from the appointment.

Fast forward to the events of last week, and everything changed. I didn't want to tell people about the baby anymore because I wanted to shelter it. The baby is not and was never a mistake. I didn't need to tell people my exciting news, only to hear them give their condolences or look at me as if a tragedy had just occurred. My baby is not a tragedy.

I did manage to blurt the news to people I wish I could have told in better ways. I was filled with emotions and didn't feel like people would be able to grasp the full scope of what was going through my head without this crucial detail.

On April 4, 2011, Zach and I went to our first appointment together. He held my hand as we listened to our babies heartbeat and watched as the doctor took its measurements. Our baby is 4.73 cm and approximately 11 weeks and 3 days. Our due date is October 19, 2011. We cannot be more excited for this and I hope that you all will share in our joy.


As far as Zach and I go (because I am sure you are curious how the baby is affecting us), we are in a really beautiful place right now. We took a trip to the North Shore, just the two of us. It gave us a wonderful opportunity to really talk about what happened. I don't feel the need to share all of the details, but I do want you to know that shockingly and confusingly enough, I feel like we are in a healthy place. I feel in my heart that things will work out with me and Zach.

Six days ago, my world literally came crashing down around me. I can hardly remember what all was said, because in a matter of moments, I felt like I had shattered. I simply remember Zach's quiet, cautious words as he told me "I'm nervous and scared." From there, everything escalated. Before I knew it, I was on the road to my parents home in tears. I sobbed, uncontrollably as I told myself, this is not what I wanted. This is not what I wanted. It was like I was a broken record. I didn't want to leave my home I had built with Zach or leave the most beautiful boys I had ever known. But I didn't know what to do. All I could think was that I needed to breathe. Wake up. Do something, anything, that would change what was happening to me. To us.

These last few days have been a blur of impulsive decisions and heartbreak. Moments of strength and uncontrollable tears have plagued me. Fear and loneliness, among other things, kept me awake far past my usual bedtime. I have uncontrollable anger at inappropriate and unfortunate timing.

And the last six days, I have had constant reminders that today I will not be getting married. Today, my dad will not be walking me down the aisle. Today, I will not be surrounded by loved ones. Tomorrow, I will not wake up next to my husband. I will not be Mrs. Lien.

I don't have answers for myself, let alone for family and friends. "How are you doing?" I don't know. "What is going on with you and Zach" I don't know. "What happened?" I don't know. "What are you two?" I don't know.

Maybe it's not the tears that plague me but not having answers. I wish I did, but there are a lot of things out of my control right now. This can just be added to the list.

For now, those that are wondering, Zach and I are working on us. On being a couple. On dating. We never took the time for that, to date that is. We jumped right from Iraq to being a parent to three beautiful boys. We forgot that a relationship needs maintenance, especially one as young as ours. I can't promise him, myself or anyone else for that matter that everything will be perfect or near perfect anytime soon. I just know what I need to do to start the process.

This is not what I wanted. This is not what I wanted. But with work, maybe Zach and I can get there. I will try to keep you updated as I figure out what life has planned for me.

Anna Strikes Again

Anna has tried, and succeeded too often (if only momentarily), to escape from the grasp of the Lien family. At first, her attempts were sly, sneaking through a barely open door to visit her weekday boyfriend, Rufus. More recently, her attempts have escalated. She has taken advantage of Austin's weakness, which is trust, on more than one occasion. Just the other day, Austin let her walk to the mailbox. He left her there, came back inside to let us know she was out. When he went to retrieve her, Anna bolted.

Anna is by far the friendliest dog I have ever owned. It is her curiosity that ultimately gets the best of her. Her eagerness to meet other dogs (and I suspect her eagerness to encourage other dogs to revolt against their owners or "stick it to the man") causes her to go to great lengths to escape.

Today, was no exception. After getting home from work, I decided it was the perfect time for Anna and I to go for a nice lengthy walk. After starting out on our walk, I realized many other dog owners had the same idea. Anna, of course, exhibited typical Anna behavior. She gained my trust by being a delightful walking companion. However, shortly after gaining that trust, one her furry cohorts would show up, and Anna would pull me over to meet them. She didn't care if there was traffic, puddles, or other obstructions.

Her last attempt to introduce me to a friend ended in her momentary escape. The clip on her leash broke and she realized she had limitless freedom. The glimmer in her eye said it all. Thankfully, her only plan at the moment was to go to her little friend. I can only assume she was hoping that she could assist the mutt in it's pursuit of freedom as well.

As I dragged Anna the six blocks back to our house (because it was a retractable leash that had broken), I feel like Anna got one last kick in while I was down. She tugged me in towards the road, just as a car drove through a massive mud puddle. Lucky Anna, I shielded her from the mess. Unlucky for me, we still had three more blocks and I was covered in winter sludge.

This is my life with Anna. Just when I think we make some leeway as friends, she does something like this. I love her, but I don't have to always like her.

13 Days

A total of 13 days exist before I become Mrs. Lien. Considering the time frame available, I feel much less panicky than I would have anticipated. I'll make this blog quite short, I really just wanted to touch base with everyone. I'm excited to see you all!

Happy Birthday, Momma!

As I come upon these life altering events, I can't think of parents that could have been more supportive or loving. Considering the circumstances I have thrown you into the last three years, I think you have handled everything gracefully and patiently, like you always have. I've rarely had a time I couldn't call you when I was feeling like the world was against me or when I just needed to hear the reassurance in your voice.

You, more than almost anyone else in my life, have been there. You've watched me struggle, succeed and start the process all over again offering exactly what I needed when I needed it. You've cried with me, laughed with me and sometimes at me. That being said, I found this awhile ago and shared it with Dad. I wanted to wait to share it with you, until it felt like the right time. Now, more than ever, seems like the perfect time to tell you these things, as I continue to grow and learn what it means to raise a family and children of my own. I needed you to know these things. Luckily for me, Elizabeth Knapp said them much more eloquently than I could have ever mustered.

Did I tell you?
A message to a daughter as she is almost grown
by Elizabeth Knapp

Now that you are almost grown I look
back and ask myself. Did I tell you?

Did I tell you all that I meant to tell
you, all that I felt was important.

Did I tell you or was it lost in the shuffle
of our everyday lives. The busy
full days, when we taught and didn't
know it. What did we teach? Was it
strong? Was it good? Will it root you
in something real that will allow you
to grow with a firm and sound foundation?
Did I tell you...

Did I tell you to love, not with a fair
weather love, but with a love that
accepts and cherishes unconditionally.
Love not with a quick and passing
love, but with a love that is a quiet peace
within your heart.

Did I tell you to be thoughtful. Not to be
a martyr or doormat to be trod
upon, but to be aware of other people
and their needs. To meet others with
awareness and within your own frame
work be able to meet them halfway
and on occasion go the other half joyfully.

Did I tell you to be courteous. Not to
display empty manners with no meaning
but to live the courtesy born of caring.
And to express this caring through the
small formalities and customs born of the years.

Did I tell you to be bold. To be not afraid
of the unknown, but to live life to
the fullest and meet each new experience
with joy and anticipation.

And did I tell you to be cautious. To temper
your daring and sense of
adventure with good judgment and consideration.

Did I tell you to serve other people, if
only in a small way. There is growth
and satisfaction in being part of something
larger than yourself and your life
will be richer for knowing this.

Did I tell you to maintain a sense of the past.
To recall and uphold all that is
best and meaningful in our country and
in our society. But never be afraid to
speak out where you don't believe or where
there is room for improvement.
Work for what you believe, but work in a
positive way within a structure of
order and reason.

Did I tell you to find a part of nature
that speaks to you then know it intimately
and well. For some it is a mountain peak,
for some a windswept beach. Find
your own and in it find your restoration.
Did I tell you to laugh, to dance, to sing.
There is a lot in life that is hard, but
take it as it comes and find the good and
make time to dance.

Did I tell you to be creative to explore the
seed within you. Find your creative
spirit and let it grow.

And did I tell you the joy and challenge of
being a woman. The joy of having
a child. knowing and sharing a new life.
The joy of making a home... the
center but not the limit for the lives of those
you love. The joy of exploring a
third dimension..a world of your own...
discovering an fulfilling your own
capabilities.

Did I tell you these things as we went along
the way? If I did I am humbly grateful.
If I did not then, you must choose
for yourself. If it has meaning,
accept it and make it your own. If it does not,
discard it. Your life is yours to
build as you choose.

Breakfast in bed

Today, I can eat my breakfast in bed. I don't generally eat breakfast at all, I'm not a fan of milk so that conflicts with a bowl of cereal. I usually don't even have time between feeding, dressing and then shuttling the boys to their intended destinations and my race to get ready to even consider breakfast.

Bu this morning, I was able to wake up slowly. No feet in my stomach or draped arms suffocating my face. Even Anna let me sleep in today, barely making a peep until I was done with my morning shower.

Zach worked a 16 hour shift last night, so it was strange to fall asleep without him here and wake up again only to find that I was the only one here.

I think that it has been a long time since I have had a morning like this, without stress and without a thing to do until class at 11. I'm starting to find out that I need some me time, even for just an hour a week. It's been kind of hard to come by since I started working.

Do you remember?

Hey Darcie,

I remember, as a little girl, taking long trips to here and there. Matt and Josh would be wedged into the back seat and we would be in the middle seat. We had a sleeping system that they envied. Because we got along so well, we could sleep on top of each other with ease and comfort. While they strained their necks trying to get comfortable, I was nestled into the nook you had created with your legs. We would sleep without interuption, which doesn't take much when Sibell blood is in your veins. I remember thinking how awesome it was to sleep like that. That we could get along and be so comfortable with each other. I was sure Matt and Josh envied our relationship, because I couldn't think of anyone who wouldn't.

I remember sneaking into your room, far past my bedtime. I didn't care if Mom and Dad caught me, because you would lure me in with the promise of your junk if I helped you clean. I fell for it every time, often walking out with clothing that was at least 4 sizes to big and odds and ends that I didn't have a place for. I wanted to keep them, because they were yours. And I would have done just about anything to be like you. I know now how I ridiculous I looked in one particular shirt you had given me. It was tie dyed with a frog in the middle. I thought it was awesome, and the level of awesomeness was perpetuated because it had once been yours. I wore that shirt as often as I could.

I remember taking your things. Always the little clepto, I collected things of yours you might now have been ready to let go of. Once again, I was trying to be you. I didn't mean any harm, I really didn't. And I certainly didn't mean to frustrate you. I was just so fascinated by your teenage self and everything associated with it. (to be fair, I had nothing to do with that piece of jewelry that went through the wash).

I have a lot of beautiful memories of us. I can't really recall fighting with you a whole lot, although I'm sure we shared a few arguments. I just remember being so proud of having a big sister. I never lacked having a role mode growing up. I always had your or mom to look to and know what was right and good. I didn't have to feel insecure in my own skin, because you made sure I knew what it felt like to be someone important.

I think I value you as my sister a lot more now than I ever could have then. I think its because over the years you have stepped back as my older sister and became my best friend. I can't imagine anyone else standing along side me as my maid of honor.

I love you.

Love, Jack