A twist

Rachel, like many little kids, mispronounces words. She often drops Rs and Ls and replaces them with Ws. And some of them are just deliberate changes, like refusing Ms and Ns for words with long U sounds.  Noodles are Yoodles. Music is Yoosic.

Add this to a family that loves nicknames and you get silliness. Funny ones, rude ones. Ones that we grow into over time. Wachel WooCHEEah. Loo. Looch. Sounds like a character from Dr Seuss! 

Sarah, on the other hand, never really had any nicknames...until yesterday. While working with Rach on various tongue twisters, Sarah Tzipporah came out as Carrot Tzipporah. 

She giggled. I giggled. 

And it was good.

Next season

I just watched the season premiere of Scandal. Olivia is no longer going by "Olivia." She is now "Julia." And Mellie is mourning the death of her son. Her entire demeanor has changed, from prim and proper to flamboyant and flippant. 

In a poignant scene, she and her husband visit their son's grave. She is at the foot of his stone, laying down in the grass and staring upwards.

It takes me a moment to process it. I think about how sad it must be to lose a child. And then I remember a split second later that I know how it feels.

I wear so many hats during the day. Mom, sister, wife and daughter.  There are times where I forget who I am. Who I have been. And I don't get nearly enough time to think about who I want to be. There are diapers to change, tears to wipe and Legos to step over.  

Isaac

Just over three weeks ago we welcomed a healthy baby boy into our family. He is warm, fuzzy and smells like butterscotch.  

I was relieved that labor went so well. Several days of maybe, followed by a morning of "go wake up the midwife NOW!"  It was a planned home birth and he arrived in the water, just like his biggest sister.

As a family, it's been a welcoming period of adjustment. I feel like I've been holding my breath for months. And now that he is here, it feels surreal. 

There's an incredible mount of healing that comes from nuzzling his sweet head. I can't help but think about how all our lives would be different had Sarah lived. And now our path changes again with this little dude, our Isaac.

More

Home stretch of this pregnancy. I'm not quite as much a wreck as you might expect, but like every pregnant woman, I reserve the right to freak out and change my mind at any moment. 

I can't say enough things about surrounding yourself with a village of good, supportive people.  My midwife, who has caught all my babies, is still at my side. I've been seeing a counselor who reassures me that my emotions are normal, valid and expected.  I've got friends who msg me on FB and check up on me at 3am. And the one who says "Can I take your kids away all day so you can rest?"

My husband is my number one rock star these days. I'm not always sleeping well or very long. He's sending me back to bed, pushing me to nap whenever there's a pause. Good rest has been key to managing my stress and anxiety. 

Little boy Otter has been doing a fantastic job of kicking me frequently and passed his biophysical profile with flying colors.  

I'm still having a hard time picturing what life is going to look like after this little dude arrives. With Sarah, I was worried about parenting three children - a 5 year old, a 2 year old and a newborn. But our family looks so different today, with a 7 year old feeling confident about entering second grade and a 4 year old about to begin preschool. 

I can only hope that the next few months are filled with more love and laughter than tears. 

Seconds

We did our "official" Father's Day celebration yesterday. It was difficult, but not nearly as raw as the first one, post-Sarah. Lunch and a street festival, kids climbing all over the place. 

Our family has grown in so many ways over the past year, and that's not including the baby on the way.  Jonah sat down in the restaurant and started reading items off the menu. Only 10 days or so left of first grade! Rachel and I visited the preschool where she will attend in the fall. Rather than try to talk me out of it, like her big brother, she immediately started gathering her belongings. "Let's go, Mama! I don't want to be late!"

Perspective and time have helped me realize that so many things in life are temporary and often too brief. When things are good, you need to slow down and make them last. And when they are bad? Realize that it only makes the good things that much better.

There's an episode of The Hive (a British animated series about silly bees) where everything is blamed on "the baby."  It's become the running punch line to all of our days. Legos disappeared? "The baby did it!" Can't find your shoes? "The baby did it!" Jonah even ran up to me, and planted a big kiss on my cheek. "The baby did it!"

I'm looking forward to when the new baby really does cause so many antics. 

What we can't see, but will always feel

It's the second Mother's Day since Sarah died. And the first one with a new little baby, still inside me, waiting to meet us. The combo is a stunning mix of emotions. All of which I'm trying to embrace, rather than push to the side.

Husband and kids made it a very special day. Original art, an illustrated bound book by my first grader who is proudly boasting about his ability to read chapter books. 

And a beautiful necklace. A mama, holding hands with not just two kids, but four: a Jonah, a Rachel, a Sarah, and a wee-one who has yet to reveal his name. A blessed reminder that I'm not just a mama of the two who bounded through the park with me today, but an extra one in my heart and another one who is close to earthside, kicking me in the belly. 

What it looks like

A boy. A son. A new picture in my mind, of what our family will look like in August. 

With Sarah, it was easy to imagine her sharing a room with her sister, Rachel. Just two years apart, my girls.

This boy will be four years younger than Rachel. And seven years younger than his big brother. Perhaps it's a good thing I've never gotten around to painting any of the bedrooms. At some point, there will be a shuffle. But I'm not sure what that will look like, yet.

The ultrasound was as good as it gets. A kind tech, a sassy doctor. I was annoyed to be kept waiting for our appointment, but that was my nerves more than anything else. The heartbeat was immediately found, a round head and little dawdling to discover a penis. Apparently my jokes of Baby On Board (Bob) and cravings for Frank's Red Hot Sauce (hello Bobby Frank!) were right on target. And the doctor found nothing remarkable. Boring and normal, other than an awesome thumbs-up that our son flashed on screen. 

Jonah does this eyebrow raising, nose wiggling face of joy when he is excited. And when we handed him an envelope later that afternoon, revealing the sex of the new baby, it was epic. Both he and Rachel were so sure that they were having another sister. But there was no disappointment on their faces. Only joy and hope. It's a scene I'm going to playing over and over in my head, for months to come,

Brave, not Frozen

We're heading off to our level 2 ultrasound in an hour. The AFP test came back as remarkably boring and didn't point to any increased risk for open spina bifida, Down Syndrome or Trisomy 21. But it rarely catches closed spina bifida, which is what happened with Sarah. A level 2 ultrasound may give us a better look - or maybe not. 

I'm trying to remember to breathe. And be present. And to focus on the part where I know there should be an answer: is she a girl or is he a boy? I'm trying to imagine Jonah's face as I tell him, later today. Will Rachel freak out if she has another brother? Will she dress him in tiaras and insist in painting his toes? 

Bravery, for me isn't pretending everything is okay. It's putting one foot in front of the other and continuing to move forward, remembering that no one knows what is ahead of them. 

Are we there yet?

Almost halfway there. Except I'm not really sure where "there" is and if I'll ever get there.

I took my other pregnancies for granted. That if I made it through the first 12 weeks, that I'd have a sweet babe in my arms in another 30-32 weeks. I never worried about much related to the actual pregnancy. I was tired, cranky and achy. But that's normal. 

This time I worry if there will be a baby at the end. One who looks me, one who will eventually recognize me. One who will cry and learn to smile.

One who will live and grow up.

This pregnancy reminds me that all of these moments should never be taken for granted. It's both a blessing and a curse. To appreciate what I have, without the promise or guarantee of ever getting "there."

Reckless crazy and wild love

Sarah would have been 15 months old today. She would have been walking, likely running. And I'd be exhausted. But in an awesome way.

Instead, I'm exhausted in celebrating Jonah's half birthday, chasing Rachel through the grocery store and being pregnant way. About 200 more days of being pregnant. 

I'm happy that I'm pregnant. I'm happy that my body works that the stars aligned. But I've spent most of the first trimester being angry, upset and anxious. I really thought I was ready. Those hormones on top of everything that happened with Sarah just brought me back to a bad place.

Turns out you can't outrun it. Trauma forever changes you, for better or worse.

I wanted to wait to tell the kids for as long as possible. Like maybe until I was waddling. I wanted to wait because I didn't want to hurt them. I never wanted them to live in a world where babies die. Where their sister dies. And how horrible would it be for that to happen more than once? 

Except that's me. Those are my feelings. Not theirs.

So we told them, earlier this week. Jonah had this beautiful smile and Rach totally ignored us. It only took him a moment to process and ask if this baby would die too. Of course, we gave him the honest answer - that we hoped not and that most babies do live.

The next morning he lashed out, using hurtful words to express his fear. I should have expected it. But I didn't - at least not quite so soon.

How do you allow yourself to get attached, knowing your last baby died? How do you teach your kids to do what you fear most? 

So this is what I'm working on. 

I spoke with my dear friend Rebecca, who faced a similar dilemma, after being told her baby would likely not survive outside the womb. How do you go on, knowing that you may be disappointed and crushed the biggest way possible? 

And she's so right. SO right. I don't regret loving Sarah. I don't regret the nights she kept me awake, kicking my bladder and making me eat midnight snacks. I don't regret the joy she brought to our family, or the big grin she put on my face while I was picking out matching sister dresses for her and Rachel. I don't regret it one bit.

I'm scared and exhausted, still. But I'm going to do it with love.