First Birthday Letter

My darling girl,

You're laying here in my arms, with your little hand resting on my cheek, and I can hardly fathom that it's almost been a year since the first time you were placed in my arms. What a journey you and I have been through together. I remember the day I first learned you were growing in my belly, and I loved you instantly. I wanted you so much, from the very beginning. You entered my life at a time when I was unsure of the world, and where I belonged in it. Your big brother's life and death changed me, and I was still trying to find my way out of the darkness of my grief at his loss. And then there was you. You saved me, my darling. You brought me back to life. There were times I missed your brother so much, I felt sure I would never know true joy and happiness again. I was lost and you found me. The first time I heard your little heart beating, it felt as though my heart finally started beating again. Do you know just how wonderful you are? You have been the light in the darkness, truly my rainbow after the storm. I will always remember the first time I felt you fluttering around in my tummy. I was so worried about the special surgery I had to have to help my body keep you safe so you could grow. I was praying and talking to you, fighting back the fears and doubts. And then, out of nowhere, there you were, reassuring me with little flutters. What a joy it was to feel you grow and move and roll and kick. I wish you could have seen your father's face the first time he felt you moving. I think you brought back the light to his eyes in that very moment. My pregnancy with you was not easy, but oh my sweetheart, I'd do it all again in a heartbeat. The day you were born was, is, and will be one of the most cherished days of my existence. The moment you were born, it was like the world stopped spinning. There was peace and joy like I'd never known before, and when you were placed on my chest, I knew you'd have my heart for the rest of this life, and the next. You were the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen, and I couldn't get enough of you. You were minutes old, but it felt as if we'd always been together. In those quiet, early morning hours, when you'd wake to nurse then fall asleep on my chest, the feeling of your heart beating next to mine helped heal the broken pieces of my heart. I loved those moments, when it was just me and you. It felt like we were the only two people in the world. Watching you grow this past year has been the greatest privilege. I am so humbled and honored to be your mama. You already have such a sweet and sassy personality, I can't wait to see who you become in life, yet I wish I could keep you this small forever. I hope you always know just how special and important you are. You've been a gift to me, your father, and anyone who has the pleasure of meeting you and those big blue eyes. Your big brother made me a mother, but you, my sweet girl, have made me a mom. Thank you for choosing me.

"I'll love you forever,
I'll like you for always.
As long as I'm living,
My baby you'll be. "

-Mommy

Real Talk: Food Addiction

Every day I see something, somewhere, commenting on some one's body. Typically, it revolves around the person's weight. You see a post about a celebrity on Facebook, a woman who would be categorized as overweight, and scroll through the comments to see a range of negativity and some support. Comments like "She needs to put down the pizza" or "Would it kill you to hit the gym every once in a while" seem to be the general theme of these internet suggestions. Here's the thing that I think we, as a society, have yet to grasp: food is as real an addiction as any drug. *GASP* "What? No way, the person just has no self control. They just need to try harder." In some cases, sure, maybe that's all it is. But as someone who has struggled for probably the majority of my life with using and abusing a substance that is so easily available, it's so much more than that. And I don't think I'm one of just a few people who deal with this. I think it's something that most people who have struggled with their weight can relate to. Some people turn to alcohol, some to sex, some to illegal substances. Then there are those of us who turn to ice cream (or whatever your "drug" of choice may be). I doubt its as easy to purchase any illegal drug as easily as one can walk into a supermarket and purchase whatever it is you need to make yourself feel better. We live in a world that still doesn't recognize mental illness as being as serious as cancer, and we live in a world where if someone is overweight, we automatically assume they're lazy, they have no self control, they don't care, etc; we recognize anorexia and bulimia as real disorders, yet someone who uses food to self-medicate is not taken seriously, or often times, not even regarded as having an eating disorder. Throughout my life I've relied on food to fill emotional voids, used food as a coping mechanism, both through over-eating and even periods of restricting what I ate to an extreme, simply because it was the only thing I had control over. After the death of my firstborn, I had many days where 5 o'clock would roll around, my husband would ask me if I had eaten anything, and I hadn't. Part of that was grief, but part of it was I felt so out of control of my life at that time, the only thing I felt I could control was what I put in my body. I also felt such a deep loathing for this body of mine that had, I felt, let me down to such an extreme. Why would I nourish something that I had no regard for? Flash forward two years later, and I'm realizing I still have some deep seeded feelings regarding this body of mine. What does this body deserve? What do I deserve? I'm still in the process of figuring that out, but I do know what my child deserves, what my husband deserves: they deserve a wife and a mother who cares enough about herself to make the changes necessary to be around for them for as long as possible. My child deserves to have a healthy upbringing. She deserves to have a mother who can teach her how to love and care for the body she has been given. And though I might not fully realize it yet, I deserve to be HAPPY and HEALTHY.

Motherhood

I can hardly believe we just passed the 2 year mark from our Hunter's birth and passing. Two long, yet short, difficult, yet blessed, years. As I was sitting here Pinterest-ing ideas for Lizzie's first birthday, I couldn't believe the wave of emotions that washed over me. I have never been an outwardly emotional human being, until I became a mother. Now, I will shed a tear over a touching commercial, or sob over the little baby bird who died after falling out of his nest at my work, and I wouldn't change that for the world. My experience with motherhood, though limited when counting months and days, makes me feel as though I've lived two lifetimes. Perhaps that is just the "norm". But I also feel that my experience as a mother is so vastly different from the "norm". I was a mother, for a time, with no living children. To be that mother is so lonely. You don't feel like you fit in any category, and we, as humans, love to put ourselves and others in categories. I wasn't like my other mom friends. I had no child to bring to a play date, no stories of sleepless nights, no real understanding of the ins and outs of what motherhood entailed. Yet I didn't fit in with those who had no children, who had never experienced the reality change that comes when you find out you're pregnant, who had never felt those beautiful little flutters that let you know it's all "real". Before you become a parent, you have no idea of the magnitude with which you are capable of loving another human being. You truly think you know, but it's so much more than you could ever imagine. Everything about motherhood is "more". Including the grief you feel when that child you've loved from the very second you learned they were there, is simply not there any longer. This past week has been full of memories and reflection. Celebrating the birth of a child who never got to come home is truly painful and peaceful and agonizing and...I could go on and on. It's filled to the brim with emotions. This year, I had my Lizzie here. The added dynamic of having another child who I can hold, kiss, love, on these heavy days, is so beautifully heartbreaking. I have been blessed to get to be a mother to her. She has helped heal some wounds that were so deep, so raw, I couldn't imagine them ever easing. Each milestone she has reached has been a bittersweet reminder of the child we never got to have these experiences with, and just how blessed I am now. Not a day passes when I don't look at her beautiful face, see those big, blue eyes and thank God for her in my life, while at the same time wondering if her brother would have had eyes those same blue. With each giggle she lets out, my heart swells with happiness and twangs with a bit of sadness at missing out on Hunter's laugh. That is my experience as a mother. It's so different than I had ever imagined it would be, but it's so much more than I ever could have imagined as well. I feel like I've been allowed to participate in a miracle, with both of my children. I have never felt more fulfilled in my life and I know that no one will ever love me the way my children do. I hope they always know that no one will ever love them the way that I do. I rejoice daily in my role as a mother, and every night, after I put Lizzie to sleep, I look over at her laying in her crib (usually with her little baby bum sticking up in the air), and I hope and pray that she felt loved enough that day. Motherhood is no easy task, regardless of how you arrived at the role. I hope and pray that I do the best that I can, each and every day. It's a good thing I have a little angel who is always looking out for me.