Mamahood Styled



8/02/2017

// regarding miracles, faith, and life //

i realized i haven't blogged in such a long time period. i suppose my instagram has become like my (sometimes) daily blog. i used to blog so often! i started off with a recipe blog years ago. i would even have my girlfriends featured with their great recipes. then it became all about DIY crafts and style/fashion! eventually, that became my weekly updates with oliver's pregnancy. then monthly, to his updates...and eventually, i think i chronicled his first couple of birthday parties, and then just didn't really have it in me anymore. looking back, it was while we started IVF that blogging took a backseat. IVF truly changed me. it shook me to the core and still weighs heavily on me. it's weird because it almost culminated the two times cancer consumed our lives. it was a heavy reminder of how much cancer affected and effected our daily, everyday lives.

and here we are, entering another chapter of our lives. a much different chapter. i am sitting up in bed, feeling contractions and little kicks i wasn't sure i would ever feel again. it took us two years, six round of IVF, four angel babies, and so much faith to get here...
bruises on bruises from injections

i did blog during my IVF- and most of it is heartache and grief over our miscarriages. i just re-read the very last one i have in my drafts- back in december 2016, when i found out the gender of our lost angel baby- a girl...

documenting grief is hard, but it helped me remember how badly i wanted it all to work out
Embryo # 5; our angel baby girl
i remember how the grief consumed me. swallowed me whole. i remember oliver being my saving grace. i had decided i was absolutely done with IVF, with the pain, the shots, the thousands upon thousands of dollars in debt. over the heartache. and one night, my then three year old son walked in slowly into the kitchen at dinner time. his usual happy face was gloomy and sad- a rare appearance on his precious face. the moment i asked him what was wrong, his little face crumbled into sadness and his bottom lip stuck out and trembled and he threw himself into my arms. he wailed with such sadness, as i sank into that kitchen floor and held my baby rocking him, asking him to tell me what was wrong. he started crying out "pwease don't give up mami....i want my baby....please twy again...." i will never, ever, ever forget that feeling; it didn't enlighten me, it didn't make me proud. it made me hurt like i had failed him. did i expose him to too much? was i too honest with him? should i have been hiding all of this from him? i rocked him back and forth, hearing my own cries escape my heart-wrenched chest, and couldn't even bring the words out. i wanted to explain that i couldn't; that i wasn't strong enough, that i just couldn't. but i had never heard him cry in emotional pain and i wanted to console him. so there, i promised him i would try just one more time. but i told him i couldn't promise him that it would work. by this time, geoff heard us and ran downstairs and picked him up from my arms. and i tried to pick myself up to comfort him, but i ended up on my hands and knees, screaming and crying in absolute silence as hot tears ran down my face.

weeks later, i sat with oliver playing outside of our house. he wanted an after-school snack and we sat together as he took small bites. he casually started talking about how the baby that had been in my tummy was a girl but God needed her...He did this sometimes, he nonchalantly explained; sometimes God needs the babies to go back to Heaven but then sends them back- and God was going to send his baby back to us...just like He sent oliver to us...and then he casually went back to eating his snack and playing. and i was left dumbfounded and speechless, unable to process what i had just heard...
so i didn't throw in the towel. our doctor asked us to not give up. his embryologist called me and told me the same. and so we decided one more time. one LAST time.
                                                          


and here i am....sitting at 39 weeks, 3 days pregnant, with a baby girl inside of me, gracing me with the opportunity to become a mami again. to give my beloved son a forever friend, confidant, partner in crime...the only other soul who would know what it is like to have us as parents...

looking back, i wish i would have done weekly updates of baby bump and pregnancy like i did with oliver- because more than likely this is our last pregnancy ever. i have loved going back to comparing oliver's pregnancy with this one...but i suppose all the ptsd from IVF left me a little guarded, a little scarred, a lot scared...

i still am. i sit here watching and feeling her move inside of me, and i am terrified of what's to come. i am praying for her safe and healthy arrival. i am scared of going through the newborn stage, the breastfeeding, all of it. but i focused on keeping my faith; in God and in myself; in my tribe who lifts and supports us...in this precious, miracle baby that i cannot wait to hold in my arms, yet want to protect in my belly.

baby girl,

we have wished upon many, many moons for you to join us earthside. i have imagined what it will feel like to hold you in my arms, to play with your little hands and feet, and caress your little face. of your brother, who wished you here, meeting you and holding you. of you melting your daddy into making our family complete.
Our little embryo that could
i love you so much,

mami <3






















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