Well, it's been a good long time since I've posted any updates to this blog. However, I have just cause. We have been quite busy rearing our newest addition! On November 19, 2013, Kaityln Rose Hamilton completed our family unit! Here is how her story began.
One would think that by my 6th pregnancy and heading towards my 4th delivery I would know the drill. One would be wrong. When it is said that all pregnancies and all deliveries are different, there is accuracy to that statement.
I will be the first to admit that after the complications we had faced in prior pregnancies and in coping with prior losses, I was a little (a LOT) paranoid about all of the what if's of pregnancy. While I absolutly LOVE being pregnant, I am way too obsessive to just go with the flow, I need to be able to control my situation more than pregnancy allows for. However, I believe I made it through 38 weeks without making anyone want to disown me - well, I might have pushed my loved ones a little too far after the gestational diabetes tests, but I blame hormones! Anyway, in previous pregnancies/deliveries, I did not feel contractions until it was just about go time and I was ready to start pushing or pretty close thereto. That was not the case with this child.
I had started feeling braxton hicks contractions pretty early on, but it was fairly obvious they were not the real deal. After the 38th week my midwife, JoAnne, starting demanding that I report to the hospital for every twitch or twinge I felt (OK, perhaps that's an eggageration, but it seemed like it). With my history of complications and speedy deliveries, she wanted to make sure I was in the hospital when I was ready to deliver.
After 3 or 4 "false" labor trips into L&D for observations, I actually did make it to my scheduled induction date. I was scheduled to be induced once I hit 39 weeks because of my history. JoAnne told me to report to L&D at 8:00 a.m. for our induction. After we're there and settled, JoAnne comes in around 9:00 or so to get things started. I had agreed to have my water broken, but did not want pitocin right away because I was trying to have a drug free delivery. She broke my water at about 9:30 - we then started taking bets. The nursing staff thought I was insane when I told them I planned to have her out before lunch. Once everyone's weight/length guesses were recorded on the white board I got up and started the ritualistic pacing of the halls. I was probably only walking for about 15 minutes or so when I started to feel some significant contractions. I asked if I could labor in the hot tub for a while. The nurse told me she would start the water and get the tub ready and I should go back to my room to let JoAnne check me before I get into the tub. In the few minutes it took to wait for JoAnne to get to my room the contractions intensified drastically. She told me that I was about 6 cm and she was no longer comfortable with me laboring in the hot tub because the hospital does not allow water births. The pain went from a zero to oh-my-God-I'm-going-to-die in about 3 minutes. I broke down and asked for the epidural. As the anesthesiologist was administering my epidural I was unable to keep still. He got the needle into my spine and administered a bulbous of the medicine when I demanded that I be checked because it was time. The nurses all rolled their eyes at the overly dramatic, hysterical woman who is claiming it's time to deliver less than an hour after contractions even started, but they called JoAnne back into the room to pacify me. Low and behold, I was at 9 1/2 centimeters. Take that you cynical nurses!!!
After kicking the anesthesiologist out of the room before he could finish my epidural, JoAnne asked me if I wanted to push through the last half of a centimeter. During my next contraction I pushed once and that got me to fully dialated. She then told me that we could start to "really" push with my next contraction. Next one came, I pushed once and out popped Kaitlyn. The nurses were still prepping the delivery tray and getting their smocks tied up when JoAnne proclaimed, "It's a girl"! The nurses were all baffeled that they missed it and that it really did happen that quickly.
My baby girl was born, after only 2 pushes, at 12:39 p.m. on November 19, 2013, weighing 7 pounds, 5ounces and measuring 20 inches long. Turns out my dad won the bet for weight/length and I got to order lunch after all. After 3 years of trying, to finally have my perfect, healthy little girl in my arms.... it was amazing. This little person that I had only just met healed my heart and completed our family. The pain of labor and delivery was well worth it to have my heart feel so full and complete again.
I must admit that, at least a part of me is sad that this delivery is our last planned baby and all the firsts we watch Kaity achieve will be the last time we watch those firsts with a child of our own. But I'm also excited to move onto the next chapter of our family life and watch my little babies grown into medium humans and then full-size adults. I know it's early, but I look forward to the day when I get to help my own children and their spouses go through these reproductive years themselves.
Wednesday, April 15, 2015
Friday, October 25, 2013
Happy 7th Birthday, Nicholas!
Leading up to Nick's 7th birthday, as I was cuddling with my baby before tucking him into bed for the night, I asked him how he would like to celebrate his upcoming birthday. He tells me that he wants to have a party for his entire class at Pump It Up. This is one of those warehouse locations filled with bounce houses and the like. Children of all ages (Shawn!) are able to bounce, slide and navagate the obsticle course to their hearts content - or at least for the 90 minutes you get in the "play" room. These parties, while fun for the children, are quite costly and, this soon after Christmas, money is pretty tight.
I did my best to re-direct him to another more cost-efficient option - what 7 year old wouldn't enjoy taking a best friend to the movies, right? He's not buying it. I then try a more direct approach. I explain to Nick that he does not need to invite his entire class to his birthday party because, this soon after Christmas, he does not need 30 children bringing him presents when he still hasn't even played with all his new stuff from Christmas. Nick gives me a disapointed stare. He then explains to me that his wanting to invite his entire class is not about the presents - he simply wants all of his friends there. How can I argue that?
After a few more minutes of discussion it is decided that Nick can have his super expensive Pump It Up party. Why did I cave? Simple - my son is amazing!
On October 29, 2012, about 3 months before Nicholas' 7th birthday, Superstorm Sandy wrecked havoc on the New Jersey coast. During this superstorm a large portion of the boardwalk in Seaside Heights was destroyed while other sections were simply swallowed by the ocean. Nick, believing this to be "his" boardwalk, was deeply effected by the tragedy. We all were - it was devestating.
Nicholas decides that, in order to be able to celebrate with all his friends, he will forego receiving birthday presents. Instead, he would like to take up a collection of money to donate towards the shore clean up efforts - specifically the re-building of his beloved boardwalk! He reasons that there are many agencies that are helping the individuals who lost their homes and other to help locate missing animals and others yet to assist with the debris removal - he wanted his party to be about helping to re-build the boardwalk itself. How could I say no?
My children make me incredibly proud on a daily basis - they don't even need to do anything extrodinary to accomplish this task - it simply happens just because they're them. However, the day that we were able to mail $250 to the Seaside Heights Administrator (and my uncle) that my little boy collected and generously donated was one that I won't soon forget. Not only did he donate monies given to him for the purpose of donating, but he also generously decided to donate all money given to him by family/friends who did not know about his endevor.
February 2, 2012 may very well have been the day that my little boy turned 7-years-old, but it was also the time when I realized, again, what a gift he is and how lucky I am to have him in my life. I was also assured that, no matter how many mistakes Shawn and I have made as parents, we have done some things right if our little man is generous and loving enough to forgo his own birthday presents to give in a way that, in his mind, would be giving to the masses... everyone who can and will walk those boards for many, many years to come!
Happy Birthday, Nicholas!
I did my best to re-direct him to another more cost-efficient option - what 7 year old wouldn't enjoy taking a best friend to the movies, right? He's not buying it. I then try a more direct approach. I explain to Nick that he does not need to invite his entire class to his birthday party because, this soon after Christmas, he does not need 30 children bringing him presents when he still hasn't even played with all his new stuff from Christmas. Nick gives me a disapointed stare. He then explains to me that his wanting to invite his entire class is not about the presents - he simply wants all of his friends there. How can I argue that?
After a few more minutes of discussion it is decided that Nick can have his super expensive Pump It Up party. Why did I cave? Simple - my son is amazing!
On October 29, 2012, about 3 months before Nicholas' 7th birthday, Superstorm Sandy wrecked havoc on the New Jersey coast. During this superstorm a large portion of the boardwalk in Seaside Heights was destroyed while other sections were simply swallowed by the ocean. Nick, believing this to be "his" boardwalk, was deeply effected by the tragedy. We all were - it was devestating.
Nicholas decides that, in order to be able to celebrate with all his friends, he will forego receiving birthday presents. Instead, he would like to take up a collection of money to donate towards the shore clean up efforts - specifically the re-building of his beloved boardwalk! He reasons that there are many agencies that are helping the individuals who lost their homes and other to help locate missing animals and others yet to assist with the debris removal - he wanted his party to be about helping to re-build the boardwalk itself. How could I say no?
My children make me incredibly proud on a daily basis - they don't even need to do anything extrodinary to accomplish this task - it simply happens just because they're them. However, the day that we were able to mail $250 to the Seaside Heights Administrator (and my uncle) that my little boy collected and generously donated was one that I won't soon forget. Not only did he donate monies given to him for the purpose of donating, but he also generously decided to donate all money given to him by family/friends who did not know about his endevor.
February 2, 2012 may very well have been the day that my little boy turned 7-years-old, but it was also the time when I realized, again, what a gift he is and how lucky I am to have him in my life. I was also assured that, no matter how many mistakes Shawn and I have made as parents, we have done some things right if our little man is generous and loving enough to forgo his own birthday presents to give in a way that, in his mind, would be giving to the masses... everyone who can and will walk those boards for many, many years to come!
Happy Birthday, Nicholas!
Tuesday, May 15, 2012
Happy Mother's Day 2012
I will admit that I was concerned about how I would feel this mother's day given that it fell on the weekend before my expected due date. I feared that I would focus on what I've recently lost instead of focusing on the fact that I'm lucky enough to still have my own mother here and I'm blessed to have two healthy, beautiful children. I decided that I was going to do my best to focus on the later of the two. I believe I was successful in doing so.
My family spent this past weekend up in the Poconos where we recently purchased a parcel of land on which we keep a travel trailer and plan to spend as much time as possible. I was relieved to find out that my parents, who also own land in the same community (I will admit, they were there first, I followed them there) were also planning on being there this weekend so I could spend mother's day with my children and my mom. I really am spoiled!
The game plan was to have brunch together at our place. Mom pre-made a casserole type dish and said she would also bring over fruit and pastries. Sounded like a wonderful way to spend the morning.
I woke up that Sunday morning to the sound of relatively little (LARGE) feet running through the trailer towards our bedroom. Then the weight of Nick pouncing on top of me happily screaming, "Happy Mother's Day, Mommy!" Not more than a minute later Evan joined the still-in-bed party. I was so happy there was no room for remorse.
Mom and Pop came over as planned and we had a fantabulous breakfast. The boys gave me wonderful cards - Evan drew his first ever (to my knowledge) stick figures and they were of me and him. Shawn got me a lovely 'welcome' sign, Evan got me a birdhouse and Nick got me a wind chime - all to decorate the property with. I love them all!
Later in the day Nick and I went for a golf cart ride around the community. It is my habit to always wrap my arm around whichever child is sitting next to me when we're doing this. Nick kept telling me that he didn't need to me hold him. He apparently believes he is now old enough to no longer need his mommy to hold him back from falling. I reluctantly removed my arm. We drove around for a bit and flew down 'Weee Hill' several times. Nick excitedly asked if we could go to the 'fire park' and I agreed to take him. As we pulled up to the park he tells me that we're going to play alien invasion and he's going to be R2D7. Now, I'm all for playing with my kids - I enjoy board games and can go all out for cookie decorating when the mood strikes. However, when it comes to the imagination play, I admit, I am seriously lacking. But, it was mother's day and he was really excited, so I sucked it up and agreed to captain the ship. I'm proud to say that we took proper evasive action to avoid total annihilation. Nick was a brilliant tactical defense expert and I was able to pull him back into the ship when he was sucked out by the lack of gravity in the ship after we took an explosive hit from the aliens.
After we landed the ship we drove the golf cart over to my parents lot to say hi. The road had quite a few pot holes and Nick didn't like how bumpy it was. After we left to head back to our lots, Nick reached up and grabbed my hand, pulled my arm around his shoulders and made me hug him into that niche under my arm where, no matter how big they get, my kids fit perfectly. I asked him why the change of heart about me holding onto him. The conversation goes like this:
Nick - "it makes everything all better."
Me - "I make everything all better? That means I'm doing my job."
Nick - "you and Daddy both, you make things all better."
Me - "Nick, I love your daddy very, very much. He really is a great man. We're lucky to have him."
Nick - "I love you very, very much. And I love Daddy very, very much. And I love Evan very, very much. And I love Mom-Mom very, very much. And I love Pop-Pop very, very much. I love my whole family very, very much."
Me - "yeah, we're pretty lucky. We have a great family."
This is when I looked into that crook in my arm and saw my little baby smiling a giant smile up at me looking perfectly content with his life. Nick is getting way too big way too quickly and I don't get to see that little baby that often anymore. In that moment I knew that I was exactly where I was supposed to be, doing exactly what I was supposed to do.
Happy Mother's Day to everyone who has ever had the pleasure of mothering children.
My family spent this past weekend up in the Poconos where we recently purchased a parcel of land on which we keep a travel trailer and plan to spend as much time as possible. I was relieved to find out that my parents, who also own land in the same community (I will admit, they were there first, I followed them there) were also planning on being there this weekend so I could spend mother's day with my children and my mom. I really am spoiled!
The game plan was to have brunch together at our place. Mom pre-made a casserole type dish and said she would also bring over fruit and pastries. Sounded like a wonderful way to spend the morning.
I woke up that Sunday morning to the sound of relatively little (LARGE) feet running through the trailer towards our bedroom. Then the weight of Nick pouncing on top of me happily screaming, "Happy Mother's Day, Mommy!" Not more than a minute later Evan joined the still-in-bed party. I was so happy there was no room for remorse.
Mom and Pop came over as planned and we had a fantabulous breakfast. The boys gave me wonderful cards - Evan drew his first ever (to my knowledge) stick figures and they were of me and him. Shawn got me a lovely 'welcome' sign, Evan got me a birdhouse and Nick got me a wind chime - all to decorate the property with. I love them all!
Later in the day Nick and I went for a golf cart ride around the community. It is my habit to always wrap my arm around whichever child is sitting next to me when we're doing this. Nick kept telling me that he didn't need to me hold him. He apparently believes he is now old enough to no longer need his mommy to hold him back from falling. I reluctantly removed my arm. We drove around for a bit and flew down 'Weee Hill' several times. Nick excitedly asked if we could go to the 'fire park' and I agreed to take him. As we pulled up to the park he tells me that we're going to play alien invasion and he's going to be R2D7. Now, I'm all for playing with my kids - I enjoy board games and can go all out for cookie decorating when the mood strikes. However, when it comes to the imagination play, I admit, I am seriously lacking. But, it was mother's day and he was really excited, so I sucked it up and agreed to captain the ship. I'm proud to say that we took proper evasive action to avoid total annihilation. Nick was a brilliant tactical defense expert and I was able to pull him back into the ship when he was sucked out by the lack of gravity in the ship after we took an explosive hit from the aliens.
After we landed the ship we drove the golf cart over to my parents lot to say hi. The road had quite a few pot holes and Nick didn't like how bumpy it was. After we left to head back to our lots, Nick reached up and grabbed my hand, pulled my arm around his shoulders and made me hug him into that niche under my arm where, no matter how big they get, my kids fit perfectly. I asked him why the change of heart about me holding onto him. The conversation goes like this:
Nick - "it makes everything all better."
Me - "I make everything all better? That means I'm doing my job."
Nick - "you and Daddy both, you make things all better."
Me - "Nick, I love your daddy very, very much. He really is a great man. We're lucky to have him."
Nick - "I love you very, very much. And I love Daddy very, very much. And I love Evan very, very much. And I love Mom-Mom very, very much. And I love Pop-Pop very, very much. I love my whole family very, very much."
Me - "yeah, we're pretty lucky. We have a great family."
This is when I looked into that crook in my arm and saw my little baby smiling a giant smile up at me looking perfectly content with his life. Nick is getting way too big way too quickly and I don't get to see that little baby that often anymore. In that moment I knew that I was exactly where I was supposed to be, doing exactly what I was supposed to do.
Happy Mother's Day to everyone who has ever had the pleasure of mothering children.
Tribute to Kaylee Noel Hamilton - 1/20/12
Below is a letter that I wrote to my loved ones shortly after Kaylee was born. Though this is generally a light-hearted, happy blog, I do feel as though my little girl should be recognized. As it has been nearly 4 months since she was born, and I'm now 5 days away from my due date, I think I'm doing as well and can be expected. Not a day goes by that I don't think about my baby girl. However, thinking about her now doesn't necessarily make me cry these days. I hope you enjoy the letter and that it relays to you how incredibly blessed I feel I am to have been able to be Kaylee's mom.
************************************************************************************
Dearest Friends and Family,
The story I write may be sad and hard for some to read, but I feel as though it must be told for you to truly understand how very blessed my family has been since Kaylee became a part of it. I'm not quite sure where to begin, and I cannot promise to go in any order, but the words you read here are honest and heartfelt. First, let me say that Shawn and I are OK. We are very sad, but we are OK. The reason for this is that we are able to see all the blessings that Kaylee was able to offer us during her very short life.
The day that I was hospitalized, Tuesday, January 17th, was a day filled with denial and a lack of understanding of exactly what was going on. Ultimately, we were told that my placenta had abrupted and my water bag had ruptured. However, Kaylee's little heart was still beating strong. The doctors told us that the safest course of action would be to terminate the pregnancy. We could not fathom how one could end a life that was still so very strong and wanted. Every test they ran on us came back with devastating news and hopeful news - balanced equally. For every negative there was an equal positive... until Wednesday. At some point my beloved Joanne (my midwife) came into the room and talked with us about DIC, a condition I had heard the doctors mention I was at risk for, but had no knowledge of. She sat with us for some time and explained that all of the negatives they were telling us about put me at relatively high risk for developing this DIC and that she felt I needed to know exactly what it is. As with anyone who's getting floods of information thrown at them, I do not remember all the specifics, but what I did hear was that DIC is a bleeding condition that has to do with clotting factors in the blood. Since I had been bleeding for nearly 6 weeks at that point, they were very concerned. Statistically, if I became affected by DIC, there would be an up to 50% chance I would not survive and, if I did survive, there was a great chance I would have permanent disabilities from the DIC and treatment.
Taking out the emotional factor, the choice would seem simple, but again, how do you end the life of your child to save your own? Any parent would lay down their life in a heartbeat for their children. However, if you're given more than a heartbeat to think about it, you realize that, as a parent, your life is not your own to give. I am not just one person. I am a mother, a wife, a daughter, a sister, etc... Who am I to end the life of the person that so many people love for that of one I love so much? And if I were to continue with the pregnancy, would that be fair to Kaylee? The chances of her staying in my womb long enough to not have major disabilities was so poor, yet not impossible... and the risks to her for being without amniotic fluid were also there. Would Kaylee want to be born into a broken body? Again, how do parents decide? And, if we were to end her life, would we be able to live with ourselves for doing so? The doctors said to us on multiple occasions that they had never, in all their careers, seen two people in a more difficult position. If they were wrong, and a more difficult position ever existed, I cannot imagine.
We prayed with everything we had in us and everyone who would join us to allow us to not have to make this horrible decision. We spent 4 days agonizing over what to do while listening to the steady thump of our daughter's heart. I literally feel as though we were in hell for those 4 days.
On Friday, January 20, 2012, God answered all our prayers and rescued us from the hell we were in. At approximately 2:00 in the afternoon I felt what I thought was a contraction. By 3:30, the contractions where quite regular and my midwife was able to confirm that I had gone into labor naturally. Kaylee Noel was born at 9:18 p.m. on January 20, 2012. While her heart had been beating early that day, by the time she was born, it had stopped. I am grateful that we had the strength, faith and patience to await His decision instead of taking actions we would have never forgiven ourselves for. After Kaylee's birth, we were able to find out exactly what she was up against medically and know in our hearts that, had the pregnancy continued, Kaylee would not have had any real quality of life. There is no question that we did not do every single thing we possibly could have to give our daughter the best chance she had, it simply was not meant to be.
In the days after Kaylee's passing, Shawn and I have become so enlightened. Our daughter may have only lived for 22 weeks and 6 days, but she taught us more in that short life then we could have learned living the rest of our lives without having known her. She was a fighter and held on long enough to allow us the opportunity to get all the medical answers we needed to avoid all of the "what if" questions. We discovered how deep our faith truly runs in God and in each other. We witnessed first-hand how loved and supported we are by those around us. We learned what it is like to become the parents of an Angel and feel blessed to know that she is watching over us. Though we are in pain, we would not give up a moment of the time we spent with Kaylee. We are very proud of our little girl, as she had the strength to give her life to save her mommy's because, in the end, that is what Shawn, Nick, Evan and the rest of our family needed. As I've said before, Kayle's little body was simply too tiny to hold her enormous spirit.
While I appreciate all the prayers and well wishes, I ask that we all go on living our lives in search of happiness - that is what Kaylee would want for us all. Some tragedies pull families apart, Kaylee has made us closer and stronger than ever. How could you not be grateful for such a gift? I will not lie and pretend that all is right in my world. My belly and my arms feel empty, but my heart is so full it helps to overcome the physical emptiness that Kaylee left behind. While I have cried many sad and pain-filled tears over the past 2 weeks, I have also cried tears of love and gratitude. I do not know if it was facing the prospect of my own death, or simply surviving the loss of my daughter, but I really do have a whole new outlook on life. I am blessed in all that I have and pray that I never again take a single moment for granted. People often ask if it is better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all. I can answer, without a single doubt that yes, it is far better to have had the chance to love at all.
I love you all and thank you for all the prayers, good wishes and sympathy. It is healing and very much appreciated. I've been told to let everyone know if I needed anything. I cannot speak to the days and weeks ahead, but for now, I have all that I need. I promise to reach out if there is anything more anyone can do for us. In the meantime, please honor my daughter by living a joyous life filled with love, faith and peace as these are the gifts she was able to give to us during her lifetime with us.
~Jessica
************************************************************************************
Dearest Friends and Family,
The story I write may be sad and hard for some to read, but I feel as though it must be told for you to truly understand how very blessed my family has been since Kaylee became a part of it. I'm not quite sure where to begin, and I cannot promise to go in any order, but the words you read here are honest and heartfelt. First, let me say that Shawn and I are OK. We are very sad, but we are OK. The reason for this is that we are able to see all the blessings that Kaylee was able to offer us during her very short life.
The day that I was hospitalized, Tuesday, January 17th, was a day filled with denial and a lack of understanding of exactly what was going on. Ultimately, we were told that my placenta had abrupted and my water bag had ruptured. However, Kaylee's little heart was still beating strong. The doctors told us that the safest course of action would be to terminate the pregnancy. We could not fathom how one could end a life that was still so very strong and wanted. Every test they ran on us came back with devastating news and hopeful news - balanced equally. For every negative there was an equal positive... until Wednesday. At some point my beloved Joanne (my midwife) came into the room and talked with us about DIC, a condition I had heard the doctors mention I was at risk for, but had no knowledge of. She sat with us for some time and explained that all of the negatives they were telling us about put me at relatively high risk for developing this DIC and that she felt I needed to know exactly what it is. As with anyone who's getting floods of information thrown at them, I do not remember all the specifics, but what I did hear was that DIC is a bleeding condition that has to do with clotting factors in the blood. Since I had been bleeding for nearly 6 weeks at that point, they were very concerned. Statistically, if I became affected by DIC, there would be an up to 50% chance I would not survive and, if I did survive, there was a great chance I would have permanent disabilities from the DIC and treatment.
Taking out the emotional factor, the choice would seem simple, but again, how do you end the life of your child to save your own? Any parent would lay down their life in a heartbeat for their children. However, if you're given more than a heartbeat to think about it, you realize that, as a parent, your life is not your own to give. I am not just one person. I am a mother, a wife, a daughter, a sister, etc... Who am I to end the life of the person that so many people love for that of one I love so much? And if I were to continue with the pregnancy, would that be fair to Kaylee? The chances of her staying in my womb long enough to not have major disabilities was so poor, yet not impossible... and the risks to her for being without amniotic fluid were also there. Would Kaylee want to be born into a broken body? Again, how do parents decide? And, if we were to end her life, would we be able to live with ourselves for doing so? The doctors said to us on multiple occasions that they had never, in all their careers, seen two people in a more difficult position. If they were wrong, and a more difficult position ever existed, I cannot imagine.
We prayed with everything we had in us and everyone who would join us to allow us to not have to make this horrible decision. We spent 4 days agonizing over what to do while listening to the steady thump of our daughter's heart. I literally feel as though we were in hell for those 4 days.
On Friday, January 20, 2012, God answered all our prayers and rescued us from the hell we were in. At approximately 2:00 in the afternoon I felt what I thought was a contraction. By 3:30, the contractions where quite regular and my midwife was able to confirm that I had gone into labor naturally. Kaylee Noel was born at 9:18 p.m. on January 20, 2012. While her heart had been beating early that day, by the time she was born, it had stopped. I am grateful that we had the strength, faith and patience to await His decision instead of taking actions we would have never forgiven ourselves for. After Kaylee's birth, we were able to find out exactly what she was up against medically and know in our hearts that, had the pregnancy continued, Kaylee would not have had any real quality of life. There is no question that we did not do every single thing we possibly could have to give our daughter the best chance she had, it simply was not meant to be.
In the days after Kaylee's passing, Shawn and I have become so enlightened. Our daughter may have only lived for 22 weeks and 6 days, but she taught us more in that short life then we could have learned living the rest of our lives without having known her. She was a fighter and held on long enough to allow us the opportunity to get all the medical answers we needed to avoid all of the "what if" questions. We discovered how deep our faith truly runs in God and in each other. We witnessed first-hand how loved and supported we are by those around us. We learned what it is like to become the parents of an Angel and feel blessed to know that she is watching over us. Though we are in pain, we would not give up a moment of the time we spent with Kaylee. We are very proud of our little girl, as she had the strength to give her life to save her mommy's because, in the end, that is what Shawn, Nick, Evan and the rest of our family needed. As I've said before, Kayle's little body was simply too tiny to hold her enormous spirit.
While I appreciate all the prayers and well wishes, I ask that we all go on living our lives in search of happiness - that is what Kaylee would want for us all. Some tragedies pull families apart, Kaylee has made us closer and stronger than ever. How could you not be grateful for such a gift? I will not lie and pretend that all is right in my world. My belly and my arms feel empty, but my heart is so full it helps to overcome the physical emptiness that Kaylee left behind. While I have cried many sad and pain-filled tears over the past 2 weeks, I have also cried tears of love and gratitude. I do not know if it was facing the prospect of my own death, or simply surviving the loss of my daughter, but I really do have a whole new outlook on life. I am blessed in all that I have and pray that I never again take a single moment for granted. People often ask if it is better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all. I can answer, without a single doubt that yes, it is far better to have had the chance to love at all.
I love you all and thank you for all the prayers, good wishes and sympathy. It is healing and very much appreciated. I've been told to let everyone know if I needed anything. I cannot speak to the days and weeks ahead, but for now, I have all that I need. I promise to reach out if there is anything more anyone can do for us. In the meantime, please honor my daughter by living a joyous life filled with love, faith and peace as these are the gifts she was able to give to us during her lifetime with us.
~Jessica
Tuesday, June 28, 2011
Five Days Out of Seven
Five Days Out of Seven
Five days out of seven, I spend my days at school;
from nine to five I really try to obey all of the rules.
I’ve been coming here since I was young, just a little baby;
but now I’m grown and must move on, taking all you’ve taught me.
From circle time to sharing time and every time in between,
I’ve grown so much, I’ve learned so much, from everything I’ve seen.
From crawling and walking to penmanship and math;
you’ve shown me right from wrong and kept me on my path.
Five days out of seven, I report to class each day;
Hoping after class is over, we’ll have some time to play.
You taught me how to write my name and one plus one is two.
You never made me feel that you had better things to do.
There may have been days that I didn’t listen, when I was out of line;
you took the time to make sure that my punishment fit the crime.
The lessons that I’ve learned here will guide me through my days,
you’ve helped me become a better person in, oh, so many ways.
Five days out of seven, you’ve watched me learn and grow,
you are to thank for teaching me half of what I know.
I know that I will miss Justice Juniors and my friends here.
I will cherish every memory, every moment so dear.
My teachers here are more than that, they’re more like family,
so, thank you for everything, Miss Monica and Miss Niki.
And though my days at school with you are filled with so much fun;
it’s with a heavy heart I say, “kindergarten, here I come!”
***************************************************************************
This is the poem that I wrote to present and read to the teachers at my little boy's preschool graduation on Thursday. I'm sure I'll be a blubbering mess, but I think I can get through it. I cannot believe my baby is going off to kindergarten.
Five days out of seven, I spend my days at school;
from nine to five I really try to obey all of the rules.
I’ve been coming here since I was young, just a little baby;
but now I’m grown and must move on, taking all you’ve taught me.
From circle time to sharing time and every time in between,
I’ve grown so much, I’ve learned so much, from everything I’ve seen.
From crawling and walking to penmanship and math;
you’ve shown me right from wrong and kept me on my path.
Five days out of seven, I report to class each day;
Hoping after class is over, we’ll have some time to play.
You taught me how to write my name and one plus one is two.
You never made me feel that you had better things to do.
There may have been days that I didn’t listen, when I was out of line;
you took the time to make sure that my punishment fit the crime.
The lessons that I’ve learned here will guide me through my days,
you’ve helped me become a better person in, oh, so many ways.
Five days out of seven, you’ve watched me learn and grow,
you are to thank for teaching me half of what I know.
I know that I will miss Justice Juniors and my friends here.
I will cherish every memory, every moment so dear.
My teachers here are more than that, they’re more like family,
so, thank you for everything, Miss Monica and Miss Niki.
And though my days at school with you are filled with so much fun;
it’s with a heavy heart I say, “kindergarten, here I come!”
***************************************************************************
This is the poem that I wrote to present and read to the teachers at my little boy's preschool graduation on Thursday. I'm sure I'll be a blubbering mess, but I think I can get through it. I cannot believe my baby is going off to kindergarten.
Wednesday, June 8, 2011
What do you know? He does pay attention - when it suits him!
Before kids, before marriage, shortly after buying our house together, Shawn and I divvied up the house chores. Due to my compulsive shopping habits and Shawn's lack of enjoyment of yard maintenance, it was decided that I would mow the lawn and Shawn would do the grocery shopping. We are content with this set up.
A few years later, after marriage and children, this is still our arrangement. However, Shawn is now trying to convince Nick that it is not helpful when he puts one of each brand of fruit snacks into the cart and I'm constantly shutting off the mower before Evan sticks his hands under it. Chores are much more difficult and time consuming when you bring children into the mix.
This past Sunday Shawn announced that it was time to go to the store. Nick adamantly states that he does not want to go, he is staying home with mommy. Evan is in the corner trying to put his sandals on the wrong feet. Typically, whichever child accompanies Shawn to the grocery store gets to pick out a car off the Hot Wheels rack. Nick is torn weekly because he wants the car, but he doesn't want to go. This week he begs Shawn to get him a car even though he's not going. Shawn doesn't commit either way.
An hour or so later Shawn and Evan come in the house - Evan showing off his brand new aquamarine Camaro. Nick asks 1,000 times per second, "did you get me a car daddy?" Shawn tells him to calm down, he did get him a car, it's in one of the bags and he'll get it in a minute. Nick tears through every bag until he finds it.
While I'm putting away squashed bread and dented canned goods (thanks Nick) Nick finds his new car. He flips it over and discovers that, much to his chagrin, Daddy has picked out a PURPLE car. Nick throws the car onto the ground and declares, "I don't like this car. This car is purple. I HATE the color purple!" Shawn and I are stunned by this. This is not our child. Our Nicholas is always grateful when someone gives him a gift. Who is this person and what did they do with our boy?
Before Shawn is able to correct him, I jump in and lecture my child, "you do not get to act like an ungrateful little brat! Daddy was nice enough to buy you a car even though you didn't go to the grocery store with him. You thank someone when they give you a gift - even if you don't like it. Now apologize to your father!"
Nick hangs his head in shame and apologizes to Shawn. Shawn explains that, had Nick gone with him to the store, he could have picked out whichever car he wanted. Nick tries to make everything better by picking up the car, handing it over to me and telling me that I can keep it because purple is my favorite color.
I'm back in the kitchen and continue to unload groceries. I pull out the cottage cheese that Shawn bought for my breakfasts this week. Yuck! It's store brand cottage cheese in a ginormous container. This is not the cute little individual serving Breakstone's cottage cheese I was expecting. I say to Shawn, "eew, this is yucky cottage cheese. Why didn't you get the good stuff?" Nick responds smugly, "mommy, don't be ungrateful! Be glad that daddy got you any cottage cheese!"
Now I'm torn. Am I to be grateful that he absorbed the point we were trying to make by correcting him or am I angry that he's mouthing off at his mother? Guess it doesn't matter because, in the end, I know that I'm amused and laughing my ass off.
A few years later, after marriage and children, this is still our arrangement. However, Shawn is now trying to convince Nick that it is not helpful when he puts one of each brand of fruit snacks into the cart and I'm constantly shutting off the mower before Evan sticks his hands under it. Chores are much more difficult and time consuming when you bring children into the mix.
This past Sunday Shawn announced that it was time to go to the store. Nick adamantly states that he does not want to go, he is staying home with mommy. Evan is in the corner trying to put his sandals on the wrong feet. Typically, whichever child accompanies Shawn to the grocery store gets to pick out a car off the Hot Wheels rack. Nick is torn weekly because he wants the car, but he doesn't want to go. This week he begs Shawn to get him a car even though he's not going. Shawn doesn't commit either way.
An hour or so later Shawn and Evan come in the house - Evan showing off his brand new aquamarine Camaro. Nick asks 1,000 times per second, "did you get me a car daddy?" Shawn tells him to calm down, he did get him a car, it's in one of the bags and he'll get it in a minute. Nick tears through every bag until he finds it.
While I'm putting away squashed bread and dented canned goods (thanks Nick) Nick finds his new car. He flips it over and discovers that, much to his chagrin, Daddy has picked out a PURPLE car. Nick throws the car onto the ground and declares, "I don't like this car. This car is purple. I HATE the color purple!" Shawn and I are stunned by this. This is not our child. Our Nicholas is always grateful when someone gives him a gift. Who is this person and what did they do with our boy?
Before Shawn is able to correct him, I jump in and lecture my child, "you do not get to act like an ungrateful little brat! Daddy was nice enough to buy you a car even though you didn't go to the grocery store with him. You thank someone when they give you a gift - even if you don't like it. Now apologize to your father!"
Nick hangs his head in shame and apologizes to Shawn. Shawn explains that, had Nick gone with him to the store, he could have picked out whichever car he wanted. Nick tries to make everything better by picking up the car, handing it over to me and telling me that I can keep it because purple is my favorite color.
I'm back in the kitchen and continue to unload groceries. I pull out the cottage cheese that Shawn bought for my breakfasts this week. Yuck! It's store brand cottage cheese in a ginormous container. This is not the cute little individual serving Breakstone's cottage cheese I was expecting. I say to Shawn, "eew, this is yucky cottage cheese. Why didn't you get the good stuff?" Nick responds smugly, "mommy, don't be ungrateful! Be glad that daddy got you any cottage cheese!"
Now I'm torn. Am I to be grateful that he absorbed the point we were trying to make by correcting him or am I angry that he's mouthing off at his mother? Guess it doesn't matter because, in the end, I know that I'm amused and laughing my ass off.
Tuesday, May 24, 2011
He's a Little Runaway
A few weeks back the boys and I were coming in from work/school like normal. I had way too many things in my hands, they were running around out front in every direction except towards the house and, I swear, I heard the ground doves laughing at my attempts at rounding them up from their positions on the telephone lines above. Like a said, normal.
We burst through the door with the quiet gusto of a swat team during a drug raid. I tell the boys to take their shoes off and walk the 15 steps over to the dining room table where I unload the previously mentioned too many things onto a chair for sorting. This was when I noticed it was unusually quiet in my house. I look back and realize that Evan is not there with Nick. I also realize that the front door is slightly ajar.
I yank the door open and look out front, but do not see Evan anywhere. I run upstairs to search for him in their bedrooms while calling out to him. Evan has recently discovered the entertainment value in a well played game of hide-and-go-seek, so I'm used to him not responding when I call for him. The more panic in my voice, the less likely he is to respond. This is when I call out Shawn for back up.
While I'm looking under mattresses and inside toy boxes Shawn burst out the front door yelling Evan's name. He makes it down our front lawn and hears a voice from around the corner shouting back, "we have him!" Shawn runs down the street towards the mystery voice. This is about the time when I really start to panic (I'm still inside and know nothing of "The Voice" nor do I have any clue where my two-year-old is). I run out front and see Shawn carrying Evan back towards the house from several houses away - ACROSS THE STREET!
Come to find out that Evan not only crossed the street, but he ran down the block and around the corner. This must've been when he thought it was a good idea to go back out into the street to play - right when a car was headed towards him! Lucky for Evan and even luckier for us two angels dressed as grandmothers were walking their grand-daughter around the block and saw him. They got him out of the street and asked him which way his house was. The little bugger knew so they started walking him in the direction he pointed. This is the point in the story where I'm literally squatting on the ground trying not to throw up on my own feet from the panic, anxiety, terror, adrenalin and, finally, relief that I'm feeling.
The grandmother-angels where very understanding of how a two-year-old could escape a house in the bat of an eye and didn't find it necessary to call in Child Protective Services or anything, but they did get a good laugh out of us.
Once I could stand up again without feeling dizzy I marched directly into my mother's house. I did not greet her, I did not acknowledge my father, I simply demanded that she "lift the curse." I am well aware that at many points in my childhood and adolescence my mother mumbled the words, "I hope you have one just like you," to me. I wanted her to take it back because this little stunt proved to me that Evan is much more like me than I care to admit. My mother simply grinned and told me it was too late. I ask her, "don't you care about the personal safety of your grandchild? Take it back!" She explains that she would if she could, but that what's done is done. She also points out that she had no idea she would be living next door to me and my children when she mumbled those words all those years ago. Had she realized she would have to live through it all over again, I'm sure she would have bitten her lip.
It seems all too clear to me that the curse cannot be lifted and I am stuck raising a little monster who acts just like his mother. The good news is that he inherited his father's good looks and eventually I mellowed out, so there's a decent chance he will too.
We burst through the door with the quiet gusto of a swat team during a drug raid. I tell the boys to take their shoes off and walk the 15 steps over to the dining room table where I unload the previously mentioned too many things onto a chair for sorting. This was when I noticed it was unusually quiet in my house. I look back and realize that Evan is not there with Nick. I also realize that the front door is slightly ajar.
I yank the door open and look out front, but do not see Evan anywhere. I run upstairs to search for him in their bedrooms while calling out to him. Evan has recently discovered the entertainment value in a well played game of hide-and-go-seek, so I'm used to him not responding when I call for him. The more panic in my voice, the less likely he is to respond. This is when I call out Shawn for back up.
While I'm looking under mattresses and inside toy boxes Shawn burst out the front door yelling Evan's name. He makes it down our front lawn and hears a voice from around the corner shouting back, "we have him!" Shawn runs down the street towards the mystery voice. This is about the time when I really start to panic (I'm still inside and know nothing of "The Voice" nor do I have any clue where my two-year-old is). I run out front and see Shawn carrying Evan back towards the house from several houses away - ACROSS THE STREET!
Come to find out that Evan not only crossed the street, but he ran down the block and around the corner. This must've been when he thought it was a good idea to go back out into the street to play - right when a car was headed towards him! Lucky for Evan and even luckier for us two angels dressed as grandmothers were walking their grand-daughter around the block and saw him. They got him out of the street and asked him which way his house was. The little bugger knew so they started walking him in the direction he pointed. This is the point in the story where I'm literally squatting on the ground trying not to throw up on my own feet from the panic, anxiety, terror, adrenalin and, finally, relief that I'm feeling.
The grandmother-angels where very understanding of how a two-year-old could escape a house in the bat of an eye and didn't find it necessary to call in Child Protective Services or anything, but they did get a good laugh out of us.
Once I could stand up again without feeling dizzy I marched directly into my mother's house. I did not greet her, I did not acknowledge my father, I simply demanded that she "lift the curse." I am well aware that at many points in my childhood and adolescence my mother mumbled the words, "I hope you have one just like you," to me. I wanted her to take it back because this little stunt proved to me that Evan is much more like me than I care to admit. My mother simply grinned and told me it was too late. I ask her, "don't you care about the personal safety of your grandchild? Take it back!" She explains that she would if she could, but that what's done is done. She also points out that she had no idea she would be living next door to me and my children when she mumbled those words all those years ago. Had she realized she would have to live through it all over again, I'm sure she would have bitten her lip.
It seems all too clear to me that the curse cannot be lifted and I am stuck raising a little monster who acts just like his mother. The good news is that he inherited his father's good looks and eventually I mellowed out, so there's a decent chance he will too.
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