10.3.2012

I remember where and what I ate before going in.

I remember what I was wearing...the shirt, the skirt, the shoes, and the earrings.

I remember being so elated at the thought of hearing the heartbeat for the first time. 

Everything was so normal that morning but so quickly it all changed.

I was 12 weeks pregnant and I went in for a routine appointment. 

I had my phone out ready to record the heartbeat when my OB struggled to find it.

Knowing I was anxious that she was unable to hear the heart tones, we walked across the hall to the ultrasound room. Tears began to roll down my cheek as I quickly heard the lub-dub. The ultrasound tech continued to click and zoom on the monitor and then said she wanted to grab our OB. I tried not to panic but the look on her face caught me off guard. When I close my eyes, I can see them both standing before the ultrasound monitor and nodding. Something looked "concerning" but they would not elaborate. They moved us to a different room while they made several calls. 

I bawled.

We drove around the corner to the perinatologist office and checked in. 

I was so frustrated that they were asking routine admission questions...what is your primary language, highest level of education, emergency contact...grr! I just wanted to know what was wrong not answer a million and one questions about myself.

Finally, we were taken to the ultrasound room. I crawled on the table and exposed my belly. There was a large wall mounted TV across from us and I watched as the ultrasound tech did the scan. The baby was so small that it was difficult to tell what she was looking at.  She didn't say anything. 

Fairly quickly, the perinatologist came in the room and without hesitating she said the baby had a cystic hygroma. 

I had no idea what that was or what that meant. I think I stopped listening because I was so overwhelmed. We were moved to a conference room where we met with a genetics counselor. She talked about our family history, chromosome abnormalities, genetic syndromes, percentages, probability, termination, and on and on and on. I don't operate well under possibilities, I needed clear answers so I opted for an immediate CVS. After the procedure was complete, we walked out of the hospital with the wind out of our sails. 

I called my mom as we drove away and through my sobbing I told her "something is wrong with the baby." She kept asking "what" but I could not answer because I had no idea. 

We went in for a regular appointment expecting to hear the heartbeat for the first time but left four hours later depleted and terrified of the unknown. 

It was as if I had been mixed up with someone else. 

It was surreal.


-------------

  

Also, 

I am not in a good place in my life. 

I am not ready to elaborate but the same verse keeps coming to me....

“For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.”   - Jeremiah 29:11

 I am not good at asking for help

 but, if you would, would you keep me in your prayers. 

 

 

Part of me was not sure I was ready, but a bigger part of me longed to go.

To see the people who helped to guide my pregnancy.

To say thank you to those who supported and encouraged me during the ups and downs.

To be in the presence of those who helped to bring Addalyn into this world.

To see those who tenderly cared for me during my moments of greatest need. 

To go back to the only physical place where my daughter ever was.

I needed this.

To celebrate what would have been Addy's first half birthday, I went back to again say thank you to the physicians, nurses, counselors, coordinators, and technicians who took my heartbreaking situation and helped me make it through.  

I will be forever grateful.

A 6 Month Reflection on Me...

I have been told three different times this week by three different people that carrying out my pregnancy was heroic, admirable, and commendable.

I am none of these things.
I am a momma who's life took a journey in a direction that I could have never anticipated. A direction that I could have never prepared for or believed that I would have made it through. 

I am not a hero, I simply refused to give up hope on what I longed so desperately for.

I have been changed and have found that I am stronger than I ever believed.
And, reflecting back on my journey, I am truly proud of myself.
Does it sound conceded to say that I am proud of myself?
I hope not. 

I don't mean to be conceded but life handed me the unimaginable in the past year and I am truly proud of me.

There was a large needled stuck into my abdomen while I was awake to obtain a segment of my placenta.

My arms, legs, and head were strapped to a table and slid into a closed MRI for close to an hour so a better image could be obtained of her kidneys.

I watched an ultrasound screen close to 15 times trying to make sense of changes from week to week riding the ups and downs as things got better then bad and then worse.

I sat around a conference table and listened as her anomalies were presented and potential interventions/surgeries/transplants were explained believing in my heart that quality of life should outweigh quantity of life even if my heart was not ready.

After indepth conversations to discuss the pros and cons, we made a decision to not wear the heart rate monitor during my labor knowing that there was a potential my daughter would not be born alive.

I carried my child within me for 35 weeks and 5 days despite the fact that being visibly pregnant resulted in very difficult and emotional conversations with people who had no idea of my story.

I had painful conversations about comfort care, death, funeral homes, and cremation/burial.

I endured labor knowing that my joy in the end would be robbed.
 
 I swaddled my daughter one last time, ensured her hat was perfectly situated on her head, gave her one final kiss, and placed her body into basket and sobbed as she was carried away knowing that I would never see her again in this life.

I packed my bag and walked out of the hospital empty handed leaving behind the only place my daughter ever was.
 
I bound myself with ice packs for close to two weeks when my milk came in to help reduce the pain.

In a fog, I finalized plans for my daughter's memorial service and I sat at the front of a church to celebrate the life of a child I would never know beyond her first and only day of life. 

8 weeks after her passing, I returned to work and walk the halls of the hospital where I pass the cardiologist that did the ECHO and the doctors from the fetal health appointment. My heart stings a little with each siting.

In working to get myself healthy, I continue to see a counselor, find solace in my support group, have managed to drop the baby weight, and am finding ways to ensure that my daughter's life has purpose.

I am a better person today because of her. 

I did what was best for Addy regardless of my what it would mean for my body, regardless of how sad it made me, and regardless that it was not easy. I believe so much that I am forever changed that if I could roll back time, I would endure it all again. I would because I saw Addy open her eyes, I had the opportunity to kiss her precious lips, I felt her warmth against my chest, and because I am at peace with our journey.

I have never uttered the words, "I wish we would have" or "if I could do it all over again, I would change." I prayed for time with my daughter and that she would not struggle. I didn't want her to gasp for air, to struggle to breathe, or to be in pain.  To be honest, I am not certain when Addy passed away. The time of her birth and the time of her death are listed as 41 minutes apart but there was not a clear moment of her passing. She did not live long but she never hurt, she never struggled, and she never gasped.  She passed peacefully and prayers were answered.

I am proud that I am still standing after the journey my life has taken.
And more so, I am proud to be Addalyn's momma.  


To the moon and back.

Decorating for Fall

It felt a little strange to decorate for fall this year 

and not just because it is still 95 degrees.

 Fall has always been my favorite season 

but decorating my home this year was different.

 Life was so different this time last year. 

Getting out all the fall things just reenforced to me that life is moving on. 

Sometimes I find myself in situations where I have to make a very conscience effort to remind myself that the people I have encountered are not aware of my journey and that they are simple doing their jobs. 

Yesterday was one of those days.

My "worst case scenario" self had my realistic self totally paranoid about some leg pain I have been experiencing lately so my PCP ordered an ultrasound to put my mind at ease. All was well but I added a tally mark to the ultrasound list...I am almost certain that I have had more ultrasounds this year than most have in their entire life. 

As I laid on the exam table the sonographer was explaining the machine to me and telling me how good the imaging has become. She does not know me nor did she know that I am an ultrasound pro so I just listened to her. In her explanation of the imaging she asked if I had ever had an ultrasound. I hesitantly answered yes and she asked if it was "for the exciting gender reveal during a pregnancy." My instinct was to say, "nope, I found out I has having a girl after they stuck a massive needle into my abdomen while I was awake and nicely ripped out a piece of my placenta." I resisted the urge but politely responded that I had to have several ultrasounds due to a complicated pregnancy. My hope that this would satisfy as the answer was quickly crushed as she asked a few more questions.  I know I am beginning to heal because I can talk about my journey without totally losing it but I don't always like to share with strangers. It is sensitive and personal so I don't usually provide all the details but the sonographer seemed to really want to know our story so I give her my very quick and very rehearsed run down...Addy had a cystic hygroma and after an MRI, we knew she also had a right sided diaphragmatic hernia, dysplastic kidneys, and underdeveloped lungs.

After sharing, she asked if I drank enough water throughout my pregnancy. 

I found it to be an odd question after I just explained how Addy had passed away but she proceeded to tell me her story. She shared that her son had to go to the NICU after his birth because "he also had issues with his lungs." She explained that her doctor told her his issues were a result of "lack of amniotic fluid most likely caused by not drinking enough water throughout the pregnancy." She continued that he is "perfectly fine now" but he has "really bad asthma" which she feels really guilty about because she "caused it by not drinking enough water." 

I left the conversation at that. 

There was nothing else to say. 

For me, it isn't helpful to hear that God needed an angel in Heaven.
It isn't helpful to hear that my Addy is in a better place.
It isn't helpful to hear that I am young and can have more children.
And it isn't helpful to be made to feel like I did something wrong. 

I would have ingested the Mississippi River if it would have changed Addy's prognosis. 

I am convinced that there will never be a Tuesday 

that the first thought I have as I rise is, “today my Addy would be ….”

Surely I will be 90 and thinking, “my Addalyn would be 3,225 weeks old.”

Today, she would be 23 weeks old.

My heart still aches. It hurts, it burns, and it longs for my beloved daughter.

Tonight, I watched the recording of Addy’s memorial service.

Is that strange? Perhaps

Is it healthy? I have no idea.

Is it some part of the blessed grief cycle?  Probably

Is it needed for this grieving momma? I believe so.

To hear Jim beautifully reflect on Addalyn's precious life, or to hear Michael sing “All Of Me,” or to hear letters written to Addy after we had the opportunity to meet her, or to see her life displayed in pictures…it is all needed by this momma...even though it hurts. Her life may have been limited but it will be my life's work to ensure that she is never forgotten. 

I wept as I remembered back to that day…the day she was born and the day she passed and the days to follow after I parted with what made my heart whole.

It was and will forever be one of the very best and the very worst days of my life.

I have been forever changed.

To the moon and back my beloved daughter. 

And so it begins...

August 2, 2012

 I had my very first positive pregnancy test one year ago today.

I had been feeling tired at work so my dear friend Casie convinced me to take a test. 
I took it more as a way to prove her intuition that I was pregnant wrong.

This was the series of text messages that followed... 

Me:

Negative

(I included a picture of the test for Casie's viewing pleasure)

Casie:

I see a slight pink line! Are you sure?

Me: 

The second line is so faint that I think it is negative.

Casie:

Ok, I just showed Jason the test and before I said anything I asked what he thought.

He goes, "oh yeah there are two lines!" 
YOU ARE PREGNANT!!!!!!!!!

And just like that, I was a momma.

I will never forget the overwhelming amount of joy that I felt in that moment. 
Joy and disbelief...I took a test on the 3rd, 4th, and the 14th just to be 100% certain!

There are life alternating dates that will be ingrained into my memory forever and I know it will be difficult as those dates resurface this year. What I have certainly learned through the grief process is that life does not stop, it will not even slow down, it just keeps on going whether you are ready or not. 

...........................

To the moon and back my precious Addalyn.

Momma loves you and misses you beyond words.

18 Weeks

I hit my highest weight when I was working nights in the Pediatric ICU. 

It was a stressful job where I faced life and death on a nightly basis (perhaps forshadowing for what was to come in my life?).  It takes a special nurse to work in the PICU and after a year, I realized I was not one of them.

When I would have a stressful night, I would go to the cafeteria during my lunch (mind you it was 2am) and get a plate of fries and a grilled cheese sandwich...you know one of those really good grilled cheese...texas toast rolled over the cascading butter and then fried in even more butter. It was so good that I used to eat them with a fork because I didn't like the butter saturating my fingers. 

After a shift change and a job change, I took up boxing and dropped my PICU weight. At the beginning of my pregnancy, I continued with the workouts. I tracked my heart rate at my OB's request and scaled the workouts back to stay in a safe zone. Once things got complicated around 12 weeks, I struggled to keep up with the workouts. I was physically, mentally, and emotionally exhausted so I gave myself permission to stop boxing.

I only gained 35 pounds throughout my pregnancy which I felt pretty good about since carrots don't constitute "comfort food" in my book. When we had a bad appointment, we would cope with good food...Mexican, Flea Market Burgers, Mac&Cheese from McCoy's, Stroud's, etc. Why is it that food has a way of making us feel better?

After Addy was born, I started walking and by 6 weeks post baby, I had dropped 15 pounds. With the blessing of my OB, I started boxing again after 7 weeks and slowly my clothes are beginning to fit again.

Most days, I find that I am exhausted from trying to feel normal in a very unnormal world. My emotions fluctuate, I feel drained, and a good nights sleep is few and far between. So, I am getting serious about getting healthy...physically, mentally, and emotionally. I started seeing a counselor weekly to help me work through the grief, am making an effort to attend the monthly support groups at Alexandra's House, made a 'bucket list' of things I want to accomplish in the coming year (perhaps I will share as I begin to cross things off the list), continue to go to my boxing classes, and am trying to avoid processed foods to refuel my weary body with natural, clean foods. 
  

 
Sad, Depleted, Heart Broken, Weary, Bitter, Devastated, Angry, Jealous
Grief is a process and I have felt the gamut of emotions...sometimes all in just one day. There are days where the tears will not cease, some days my chest burns without avail, and some days I find myself being so angry and frustrated that everything just makes me mad. 
 
This year, I have to focus on me and restoring my brokenness. 
When I turn 29 next July, I want to be able to look back and know that despite how difficult the year was, I can hold my head high and know that I made it though.

Easier said than done? Sure. But I have to start somewhere.
Here is to turning 28.





 

I have been beyond touched by the personal gifts that we have 
received in remembrance of my Addalyn. 

A wall plaque with Addy's birth statistics, an engraved necklace, a charm bracelet, a picture frame holding her hand and foot prints, a monogrammed keepsake box, a 'sleeping baby in angel wings' garden statue, a monogrammed blanket, and the list could go on.

I am beyond grateful for the outpour of love. 
Thank you to you all. 

This past week, a beautiful drawing of Addy and her luvie showed up in our mailbox.

I have no idea who it is from, it was sent to Alexandra's House and then on to me. 

She is remembered. 

If your hands crafted this work of art, thank you. 

Thank you for caring enough about my journey to bless me with a 

beautiful drawing of my precious daughter. 

Support

I have been so blessed by Alexandra's House. 

Monthly, they host support groups for brokenhearted parents regardless of where they are in their journey. There are expecting parents, parents who have recently lost babies, and parents who lost babies years ago.

We attended in April and for various reasons, I have not been able to go back until today. 

To sit in a room of people who have or will experience the loss that you have experienced cannot be explained. No two stories are the same but the feelings of pain, sorrow, sadness, and heartache are felt by all.  There is an indescribable sense of understanding as you share your story and listen as others do the same.

Both times I have gone, 

I have walked away feeling comforted by the fact that I am not alone. 

At 4:45, we gathered for family pictures on Emily's wedding day. 

As the photographer assembled my entire family, he casually said, "is this everyone?"

My heart sank. He simply wanted to insure that everyone that needed to be in the picture was present but Addalyn will forever be missing.

Missing, but never forgotten. 

Much to my surprise, Emily insured that Addalyn was with us.

Woven into Emily's bouquet was a charm with Addy's picture. 

I can't even begin to tell you how touched I was. 

As a grieving momma, it delights my heart so to see Addalyn being remembered. 

She was mentioned, she was talked about, and she was remember. 
 Her spirit was present and felt in the warmth of the sunshine on such a perfect day.

I am blessed with an amazing family and am so touched by their love for my daughter. 

Mr. and Mrs. Brinkmeyer

Emily and Chad wed at Eventful at Locust Grove in Weston, MO 

in a beautiful outdoor ceremony.

 

  

 

 

And the pictures would not be complete without the beautiful bride and groom!

Welcome to the family Chadwick. 

Father's Day

Nate had never really held a baby.

Babies made him nervous so he always preferred to let me hold while he watched.

For not really being a 'baby person,' Nate is an amazing daddy to our Addy.

He was a natural with Addy and it was pretty incredible to watch his love.

 

He wrapped her up in his arms. 

He read to her like it is something he has done many times before. 

And, he loves her with a love that I don't think he knew he was capable of. 

 

Happy first Father's Day Nate.
I know the emptiness and longing you are feeling today.

But through the pain, I hope you know that your role as a daddy 
will never be forgotten. 

 

There is no doubt that she knows your love.

12 Weeks

It is Tuesday.

I dislike Tuesdays.

 I might even go so far as to say that I hate Tuesdays.

Every Tuesday, I wake up to the realization that one more week has lapsed.

I find myself getting lost in the thoughts of what should be as a way to mask life as I currently know it.

Today, my precious Addalyn would be 12 weeks old.

This should have been her first week at daycare and my first week back at work. 
I should be shedding tears on my commute as I leave my precious little one with someone else for the very first time. Instead, I shed tears over what will never be.

What would her laugh sound like? 
Would she look more like Nate or more like me?
Would she be sleeping through the night or still waking every few hours?
 Would she...would she...would she...I will never know.

To the moon and back...forever.

Miracles

It is a miracle that babies are born healthy everyday.

Those were the words of our OB when we went in for our very first OB appointment at 8 weeks. Long before our world was rocked at our 12 week appointment, my OB left us with those words after seeing little Addy's heart beating for the very first time. While only the size of a bean, she was perfect...she was a miracle.

I love my hubby, we have good jobs, and a home.
I was healthy and was diligent about taking my prenatal vitamin every morning.

I avoided lunch meat, hotdogs, and my beloved diet coke.

I turned down the water temperature when I showered and avoided taking baths.

I did everything every book ever said to do when pregnant.

She was planned for, she was prepared for, and she was wanted.

Why would I expect anything but to have a healthy baby?

It truly is a miracle that babies are born healthy everyday.

We have not one but two sets of very dear friends who have recently experienced miscarriages. While our stories are different, my heart aches for them and the pain that life has handed them. Why is it that you can do everything right yet everything can go so wrong?

Momma's Day

My first Momma's Day came and went. 

To explain how my heart felt would be impossible.

But, I was not forgotten. 

I was touched by the number of messages that I received.

And, I was blessed to spend the day with my momma.

Her love never fades. She is a pretty special lady and I am so thankful for her.

Happy Mother's Day to my momma...I love her dearly.

Back to Work...

I work with very compassionate people but going back weighed heavy on my heart. 
Being home for the past 7 weeks, I have been able to hide. I can look at Addy's pictures when I need to,  I can cuddle with her luvie when I need to,  I can cry when I need to, I can scream when I need to...I can simply grieve on my own terms. 

Going back to work means that life keeps going. 
Reintegrating is inevitable, but it was a difficult reality for me to face. 
Life just goes on, whether I am ready or not. 

I allowed myself the month of April to simply exist, but the time has come to reintegrate and face life again. My heart still aches and my spirit still hurts, but it will forever more because my Addy will always be missing. 

Tuesday was my first day back at work and the hardest part was walking through the door. During my pregnancy, my drive to and from work was my time with Addy. We were alone and I would tell her whatever was on my heart. Yesterday, I was all alone on my drive and as I walked into the hospital, I could feel the lump in my throat and the pounding of my anxious heart. I opened the door to our office and saw my co-workers. I cried, life just simply goes on. They hugged me, held me, and welcomed me. It is such a blessing to work with people who truly care.

And, as if being surrounded by really great co-workers was not enough to lift my spirit, these pretty little Toms and a couple other gifts and cards were waiting for me. How could you not smile at such a bright and cheery sight?

I made it through the door and with the support of my co-workers, 

I made it through my first day back. 

I feel accomplished, go me! 

 

Keeping It Real...

Sometimes you just have to keep it real...

I try to stay positive and reflect on the blessings of our journey...my hubs, the love and support from our family and friends, our wonderful OB and the delivery nurses, Alexandra's House, our time with Addy, that Emily was able to delay her start date at her new job to be home with me during the month of April, and the list could go on. I remind myself, like the grief books say, that I am going to be ok. I truly am grateful but sometimes life is just difficult and the pain in my weary heart burns just a little bit more.

My tears and I made it through my postpartum appointment on Wednesday but it has hard. The office is full of pamplets and posters with "Tips For Making Breastfeeding Easier" and "Ways to Bond With Your Baby." There are pregnant momma's glowing as they wait for their appointments and new momma's lugging in car seats filled with a bundle of joy adorning the waiting room. And then there is me. Why me? Why couldn't Addy's prognosis be different.

Feeling accomplished that I survived the appointment, my spirit was dampened after going to the mailbox when I returned home. I was greeted by a bill from the hospital for several thousand dollars with a note attached stating that my insurance denied our claims and we would need to pay out of pocket. In all our planning, I was very meticulous about verifying our coverage every step of the way so I called the insurance company for clarification. After explaining the bill, I realized that the hospital billed the insurance company on behalf of "Addalyn Lane Voigt." It never dawned on me to add Addy to our insurance policy but Addy had a few x-rays and a skeletal survey after she was born so the hospital submitted the claim to the insurance company. This momma just wants to know why our precious Addy had such a sad prognosis, not because it would make the hurt less but because without knowing why, we don't know that we would ever get pregnant again. Walking Addy's journey was hard but we went at it blind, not truly ever knowing what was ahead for the love of our daughter. Walking the road a second time knowing what was ahead seems impossible. Thus, at the recommendation of the genetics team, we did a couple of noninvasive tests after her birth in hopes to get answers (that is a post for another time). The insurance company said it would be fairly easy to add Addy to our coverage and cover the claims until they realized that she was born over 30 days ago. I had no idea I needed to add her to our plan and certainly didn't know that it had to be within 30 days of her birth. The rep from the insurance company was very nice and tried to console my tears. A few more phone calls requiring me to explain Addy's journey to a few more people and I was assured that the insurance company would follow up with the hospital to reexamine the claims.

As if that conversation was not enough, Thursday brought more. My manager has been so wonderful over the course of the past 9 months, allowing me to take the time I needed away from work. She is being very flexible with my return to work as a pediatric nurse which has been such a blessing. I guess that technically my return to work date per my short term disability company was Monday. They approved me for taking 6 weeks so that I could physically heal from the delivery. I assumed that I could take 6 additional weeks of leave (although I was not planning to stay home for another 6 weeks) under FMLA. After a call to the company, I learned that my time off coverage ended on Monday. When I inquired why my coworkers were covered to stay home for 12 weeks after having their babies, I learned that like me they were given 6 weeks to physically recover and the second 6 weeks were given to them to "have time to bond with their babies." Since I "don't have a medical need to stay home or a baby at home to bond with, I should have returned to work after 6 weeks." The hole in my heart got a little deeper as he continued to explain the policy. The rep gave me a few other options and again with a few more phone calls each requiring me to tell Addy's journey, in the end it will be fine. Nonetheless, I certainly think that a broken heart from the passing of my beloved daughter should constitute a medical need to extend my leave. Thankfully my manager understands that 6 weeks was just not enough time for me and has allowed me to do what is best for me in terms of my return to work date.

Having a very heavy heart from the unexpected things I have had to deal with this week, I went to the mailbox today and found this...

My dear friend Casie, who has been my "phone a friend" lifeline over the past 6 weeks had told me it would come in the mail one day. Casie welcomed her precious son a few weeks before Addy so she has been my postpartum guide. I am so grateful for such a supportive friend, she read my very first pregnancy test for me and since she has faithfully followed our journey. Despite Casie telling me that Addy's social security card would come in the mail, getting this little piece of paper stung. The line on the top states, "Do not sign until 18 or your first job, whichever comes first." That line brought me to tears. 

My Addy's card will never get signed. 

It has been a hard week with unexpected things that have had to be dealt with. 

In due time, I know these bumps in the road will pass but right now, life seems like a mountain and I have very little strength to climb.

Postpartum Appointment

Today was my 6 week postpartum appointment. 

I will give you one guess of what happened while I was there...

Waiting in the waiting room...I cried

The nurse gave me a hug and told me how sad she was for me...I cried

My OB walked into the room...I cried

I cried through the whole appointment. 

I cried through the whole appointment, but I made it, tears and all.

I cannot say enough good things about my OB, it was comforting to see her again. 

In the weeks prior to Addy's birth, Nate and I had very hard conversations with her. She walked us through so many situations to help us make the most educated decisions given our situation. She helped us carefully make a birth plan and although she wasn't there for the delivery, we knew our desires. There were no impulsive decisions. We knew the plan and the delivering OB knew our plan because we had spent weeks talking through everything with our OB. 

 

While we wish the prognosis would have been different for our Addy,

 we are so grateful that we are without regrets regarding all the decisions we had to make. 

Today is Tuesday.

Another week has passed. 

My Addy would be 6 weeks old today. 

 To the moon and back my precious Addalyn. 

Nights are so hard...

My Addy would be 5 weeks old today.

 

Will there come a time when a Tuesday passes without me waking up thinking about how many weeks have lapsed since I saw Addy's face, since I kissed her precious little lips, or since I held her tight and told her that I love her? 

Will my heart heal without ever being whole again?

I lay in bed at night and feel a burn in my chest.

My Addy was a night owl and when I was pregnant, Nate would wrap his arms around me and hold tight to my tummy. When he would feel her wiggle, he would ask if I could feel her too. I felt her every move. 

Now I lay in bed at night...after having tried to wear myself out throughout the day...and instead of feeling Addy, I feel a burn in my chest. 

It's the ache of my broken heart.

Due Date:

...April 18, 2013...

Today is Addalyn Lane's official due date.

I didn't anticipate that Addy would be born today. 

Even without her prognosis, the likelihood that she would be born on her exact due date is pretty rare. Nonetheless, it is a date that is engrained within me. I have had today circled on my calendar since August with "40 Weeks!" written in.

Anticipating that today would be a difficult day, we opted to celebrate.

To the moon and back my precious Addy.