I just received the results of my blood work.  It tested my ACLA level, which is the autoimmune disease that is associated with blood clotting and can often result in miscarriage/stillbirth.  Six weeks ago my level was a 13.  Anything 10 or below is considered in the normal range.  13 is a low number, but still a cause for concern and a need for a retest.  My level this week is 11.5, just barely out of the normal range and lower than six weeks ago.  They told me today that "your levels remain low and there is no cause for concern."  I first felt overwhelming joy and now the tears of relief are setting in.  One of the risks for my sweet little Tobin has been removed.  There are still mountains in front of us, but God is faithful and in control.  I thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for your faithfulness in praying for us.  My wiggly little Tobin thanks you too!

On Monday of this week, Kevin and I were talking about me being 22 weeks on Tuesday (yesterday).  Kevin let out a big sigh and said, "I feel like you have been pregnant for so much longer".  I agreed and replied, "like 47 weeks".  47 is one of my favorite over exaggerated numbers, if not 47 always some number with a 7 at the end.  These 22 weeks have been a fight and a struggle.  It is hard to hold your breath for that long and know that there is still so much longer to go.  It's like we have only made it halfway across the pool.  It does feel like much longer.

After we hung up the phone, I started to think.  Oh my goodness, I have been pregnant for 47 weeks.  I gave birth to Koen at 26 weeks 6 days, and on Monday I was 21 weeks 6 days pregnant with Tobin.  So not exactly 47 weeks, but close and even 12 days beyond.  Such a long time to hope, pray, and dream of a baby.  

We continue to hope, pray, and dream of Tobin.  It seems that all three of us have allowed ourselves to "go there".  It is as if, as a family, we have given Tobin and our trust over to God.  Believing that Tobin will be in our home in July.  We talk, plan, and love on little Tobin.  Hackett is so attached to his little brother.  He talks, sings, and snuggles my belly on a regular basis.  He gives me a hug and then Tobin one.  He often feels Tobin "kicking" even when I don't ... he wants to be part of this process so bad.  Kevin talks to his Toby V and dreams out loud about the things we will do with him and how our family with change when he arrives.  I am taking fabrics that were purchased for Koen, and new ones especially for Tobin, and have begun sewing blankies and things for his room.  I purchased this sweet little outfit to bring him home from the hospital in (and his matching blankie I sewed is underneath).  We not only want Tobin, we need him in our family.  

I went in for blood work on Monday.  This will either confirm or deny my auto immune disease.  If it is confirmed then it will add more risk.  The risk is cells attacking themselves and blood clots.  I could be put on a blood thinner, but doing that also causes other risks.  I am just having faith that no matter the diagnosis and treatment, God will continue to have His protective hand on Tobin and my body.  I go to see the specialist on April 9th.  They will do a ultrasound on that day as well.  This will give me an updated measurement of my cervix.  If it continues to stay close to normal, I will be okay.  If it measures shorter, than it is possible that some course of action will need to take place.  Again, we must continue to trust.  I cry as I type this, but my the grace of God, these realities and fears do not rule my thoughts.  I have peace and am doing good.  I am thankful that in the last few weeks I have not had any bleeding, scares, or bad news.  I am just focusing on my love for the sweet life growing and moving inside of me.  

I am not sure what we were thinking.  We weren't able to think, that was most likely the problem.  We thought that Kevin would go to work on Thursday.  Yes, I had been through the delivery of a baby on Monday, but I was given very few restrictions.  Or maybe I was and don't recall or wasn't listening.  I felt sore, but not bad.  What a difference between a vaginal birth and a Cesarean.  Physically nothing was slowing me down.  I gave birth, but had nothing.  There was no baby to care for.  Nothing forcing me to sit in a rocking chair.  Time may have felt like it was standing still for me, but life was continuing on all around me and I could not stop that.

So on Wednesday afternoon I decided to go with Kevin to pick up Hackett from school.  I didn't want to face everyone by myself on Thursday for the first time.  My main goal was to hold myself together, in an attempt to maintain some sort of normalcy for Hackett.  We walked into the school hand in hand.  As I began to see the people who knew what had occurred they silently gave us enormous looks of empathy, but graciously kept their distance.  I am still so thankful for that.  I still remember the faces and eyes welled up with tears.  One of those sweet faces, saw us, quickly turned and wiped her tears away, and turned around with a smile.  

Kevin and I had not been alone with Hackett since we were admitted to the hospital.  We wanted to feel normal, for Hackett to know that his world was not going to come to a crashing halt.  He had been waiting for a book to be released and Kevin had a strong desire to purchase a punching bag.  We decided to go, the three of us, to run some errands.  While we were driving Hackett had so much he needed to get off his chest.  He needed us.  He talked the whole way.  One thing that was shocking to him is that my parents, who had divorced years prior, had talked and hugged when they made the exchange of his care on Monday.  He just kept saying, "isn't that weird?", knowing that it was out of the norm ... and it was.  Sometimes with tragedy, healing can occur.  He witnessed that healing first hand and wanted to make sure that we were aware that something of that magnitude had occurred.  He saw the Lord at work.

We went to the mall, the bookstore and sports store.  Both Hackett and Kevin were happy making their purchases.  It was a glimpse for me that we could continue to move forward as a family.  I was tired, but comforted to just watch them both.  Kevin then needed to go a buy a chain to hang the punching bag in the shed, so we ventured to Home Depot.  More walking and standing.  I felt dizzy and cramping started.  It was time to go.  I had over done it, but the normalcy and escape felt so good.

I have struggled writing the events of what occurred the week of Koen's birth.  I have been writing it in order, but I started it the end of June 2013 and have only made it through the first few days of that week.  I woke at five again this morning, thinking and praying, and felt the need to continue on.  I have discovered a new feature on my website - Categories.  You can now click "Koen's Story" under the Categories heading on the right of the page and read his story from beginning ... and at some point until the end.  This entire blog is Koen's story and will continue on, but my plan for "Koen's Story" is to tell the details of that week and end at his funeral.

Koen was born on Memorial Day, Monday.  On Tuesday, I was discharged from the hospital, went to the funeral home, and met with our pastor.  On Tuesday evening I sat in the rocking chair in Koen's room all alone.  I fiercely hugged a stuffed animal that was in his crib and wailed.  The shock was beginning to wear off and the reality that my baby was dead was setting in.

On Wednesday morning, I stayed in bed as my mom and Kevin got Hackett ready for school.  His first day back since Koen's birth.  He later told me that while at school one of his friends had said to him, "I heard your baby died, that's sad."  Out of the mouths of sweet Kindergartners.  It was hard to eat, it was hard to move, and physically even hard to speak.  On this day I realized how much I had rallied to put on a brave face for Hackett, but now with him gone I was able to sink into a pit of sadness.  There was a weight so heavy on my chest that morning that I could only mutter a word or two at a time.  I have never felt agonizing sadness like that before.  My emotional pain was so severe that it felt physical.

Kevin and I had business to attend to this day.  We were scheduled to go to the cemetery to meet a man from the township to choose our cemetery plots.  The funeral was scheduled for Friday and we had decided to have our family over to our house after for lunch.  We needed to go and order food. 

We went to Jimmy John's to order a sub platter.  We walked in hand in hand.  The woman who helped us had no idea the occasion for our order.  Here we were choosing cold cut combos and condiments.  So bizarre, but necessary.  I felt as if I was outside my body watching the events unfold, watching myself in Jimmy John's ordering subs, but not really present.

We then drove to the cemetery, where we wandered aimlessly, while waiting for the township representative to arrive.  There was a couple who had lost two babies in the 1950s, in just two years, buried next to them.  They only had a single date on their tombstone, just like Koen.  My heart hurt for that mama.  I have no idea what their circumstance was, but for Koen the only physical proof of his existence on earth is his tombstone.  He has no birth certificate, no death certificate.  It shocked me at first, because as his mom, I wanted that paper.  Stepping back from the situation, it makes sense.  His life only existed inside of me, not on his own outside the womb.  But it hurts to not have the documentation of my son.  Kevin worked on the genealogy of his family this summer, one thing he did to keep his mind busy.  He added Koen to our family tree, but generations down the road, will not know of his existence.  They may wander through the cemetery, though, and see his tombstone.  

We picked out the plots where Kevin and I will be buried.  I wanted to be under a tree.  Something peaceful about that for me.  We learned that Koen's casket would be so small that he did not require a plot of his own.  His little body is buried right between where his mom and dad will one day be laid to rest. 

We are thankful we had the means to bury Koen, purchase his tombstone, buy cemetery plots, and have a funeral service.  Not only did we incur the expense of a delivery of a baby, but also all that goes into the cost of a funeral.  No life insurance exists for a baby that had no life outside their mama.  My hope is that one day we will be able to raise money to help families who need assistance with these expenses.  To provide them a place to visit, grieve, and remember that their babies will always be a part of their families, whether it is on paper or not.

One of my friends on Facebook posted an article written by Kristin Howerton, titled "Can We Bring the Holidays Down a Notch?".  It was written last year, and I am sure it circulated then, and in the last 24 hours I have seen it pop up on many of my other friends pages.  Here is the link to the article:
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/kristen-howerton/can-we-bring-the-holidays_b_2903040.html

After reading this, I loved what Kristin had to say, and shared it on my page.  I have continued to reflect on what she had written and on my own life and journey as a mom.  I had lots of time to think this morning after waking at five in the morning from a crazy pregnancy dream.  In the past I have put pressure on myself to be a perfect mom.  

In May of this year, I was knocked off that perfect mom pedestal.  Life was no longer about being perfect, it was more about getting through the day.  Survival.  We buried our son, Koen, and just a week later Hackett was home for the summer on break.  My mom had left, Kevin returned to work, and life was back to "normal".  I had to function, as a mom, for three months while grieving an incredible loss.  Summer fun activities were at a minimum, I didn't feel like "playing", and often struggled to fully engage.  Hackett has no siblings to play with, the neighbor kids weren't available until the evenings, so it was just the two of us.  The first few weeks were tough, tears for both of us, but we fell into such an amazing rhythm together.  Most days we went outside.  I simply sat near where Hackett was playing and just stared.  Smiling at him and encouraging when appropriate.  I didn't come up with amazing craft projects, day trips, or excursions.  He just played, created, and lost himself in nature.  All with mom close by.  I considered it an overwhelming success that I was not curled up in my bed, I was sad on the inside, but I was there.  It was a hard summer, but such a peaceful one in so many ways.  Life was simple.  In many ways I hope this summer is same (minus the overwhelming sadness).  Sure some activities and planned fun, but more time for calm and creativity.  The rest of Hackett's life will be scheduled and busy, what a gift to be unscheduled.  

Koen has taught me how to be a better mom.  I have realized I don't need to make Hackett think I am perfect.  To him I already am.  God gave me my boys as gifts.  My boys were given a gift too, me.  I am their gift.  They don't need over the top holiday celebrations, they need me.  If they have me and my attention, then their little lives are complete.  That is so easy, and it is perfect.  I am calmer, more relaxed, less stressed.  What a gift Koen has given me.  I just wish he were here to reap the benefits of his lessons. 

I fear that all this pressure to be perfect mom's and to make our kids happy, might lead to the opposite.  Social media is partly to blame.  I'll often ask Kevin, my voice of reason, "is this something I should be doing?", after seeing something on Facebook.  His answer is almost always "no"!  I remember being excited to pick out something green out of my closet when I was little.  Something that simple was fun.  Christmas morning made me excited for months with anticipation, even without an elf present for weeks beforehand.  Sometimes going over the top is so fun and special, but I think the key is "sometimes"!  If it occurs all the time it loses its appeal.  I feel like bringing things down a notch will ultimately make my kids happier in the long run.  They won't have such high expectations of their employers and spouses.  If those high expectations exist, it will lead to disappointment, which will lead to unhappiness.  The reality is that life is not a celebration all of the time, it is not perfect, and it is not a Pinterest board.  I would much rather have them grow up knowing that a simple life filled with love is perfect, and that they don't have to be.    

Sipping sweet tea and watching this was perfect!

Clearly God's desire for Kevin and I is to raise boys.  Something I willingly accept and embrace.  We learned yesterday that our Little Pumpkin is a boy.  We pray that Tobin Victor will grace the earth and our home with his presence.  We love him so much already.  I have been feeling him move so much, more than I recalled with Hackett and Koen.  I wasn't sure if it was because I am so acutely in tune with every feeling in my body this time, but the ultrasound confirmed that Tobin is a wild man.  He was wiggling all over and so sweetly sucking his thumb. 

The night before the ultrasound as we were lying in bed, I was in tears.  It seems it has been a flood of bad news and possible issues, and I was so nervous that the ultrasound may uncover even more.  I was also concerned about my emotional state when we learned the gender.  If we were to be blessed with a girl, it would come with some guilt.  We would have never had that experience if we hadn't lost our boy.  I felt that if the news was a boy, it would be difficult, because it would feel like a Koen replacement.  I am not even sure how to put this into words so that you can understand my heart.  My desire is for this baby to stand alone, have its own identity, be loved for who it is, and not what was lost.  This is my desire my feelings are still so interwoven.  With time I believe the knots will work themselves out, but for now this is how it is. 

When we arrived for the ultrasound, the technician referenced that in just 6 weeks time so much had occurred with us.  We have gotten to know her well, seeing her often in the 15 months.  She knew we were anxious, and was able to set our minds at ease again and again, as each measurement was "perfect" and "beautiful".  Upon further review of our ultrasound from the ER it is believed the bleeding was caused by a clot, and not the pulling away of the placenta from the uterus.  While clotting is not good, it is better news.  Even better is that the area where the clot was near my placenta looked perfect and no evidence of any new clots was present.  Kevin and I were beaming, even before learning the gender.  She made her way down to that area and said "you are having a boy".  Kevin said he saw it right before she said it and knew.  I was so focused on our full of life baby I was not focused on the small details.  I am so thankful that when we heard it was a boy the only emotional response I had was one of pure joy.  I didn't even cry, something I have done often in that room.  I was just so happy.  Our baby was healthy, things looked good, and I was going to be blessed with another mama loving boy.

We picked up Hackett after school with blue balloons and a blue teddy bear in our car.  He was so sure it was going to be a girl, but was hoping for a boy.  When he saw the blue he shared our same beaming joy.    He wanted to share the news with his classmates today and created his own shirt before bed to make his announcement.  He slept with the blue teddy bear last night, which he name bluey bear, and took that to school today as well.  On the way to school this morning Hackett asked, "Mom, if we lose Tobin, maybe this could be our Tobin Bear?"  My heart sank, we have a Koen Bear, that Hackett loves.  With his t-shirt on, his excitement, and big smile, he was preparing himself for the potential loss - just like Kevin and me.  You can't help, but try to protect your heart.  He didn't linger in that place though, and continued on with his excitement.  His teacher sent me this adorable picture of his joy filled faced today.  Hackett has the strongest desire to be a big brother and I pray we will see that day in just a few months.

There has only been a handful of days in the last 17 years where Kevin and I have not shared a laugh.  Our home is filled with so much love and laughter, even on the hardest of days.  I thank God every day for the gifts He has given me.  My boys, all three of them.  When times are tough, I am even more grateful.  

Kevin.  Anyone who knows him, loves him.  What a gift that I get to be married to someone like that.  His number one priority in life is his little family.  He works hard and excels at his job to provide for us.  Even with the pressures from work, he makes every effort to be home for dinner.  He is Hackett's best friend and playmate.  He is always ready to wrestle, sword fight, or play a game ... even when he is exhausted.  He is my best friend.  My longest standing best friend.  He has a servants heart and will do anything for me without complaint.  In the last month he has started a new stressful role at work.  He also carries the stress of our Little Pumpkin quietly on his shoulders.  Carrying the weight of not only my fears, but also his own.  His shoulders are huge and he helps to lighten my load.  At home he is demanding that I do nothing.  He is fulfilling both the roles of mom and dad right now with ease.  He is doing it all with love and laughter.  Our house, even in the valley, is still the calm oasis that we both love to bask in.  One of the many reasons I was heartbroken to have Koen slip away from us, was because he lost the opportunity to be raised by the best man I have ever known.  The example he sets as a father and husband is beyond compare.  What a blessed woman Hackett's future wife will be.  What a blessed wife I am.

Hackett.  My Hackett.  Anyone who knows him loves him.  What a gift that I get to be a mother to someone like that.  He is just like his daddy in so many ways.  He loves me with his whole heart.  He loves to fill our house with laughter too, and is so good at it!  When he catches me crying his face fills with compassion and he rubs my back.  He knows that my job right now is to rest and try to keep Little Pumpkin as safe as possible.  He has not complained once, quite the opposite.  He has been going out of his way to help me with small jobs.  He makes me homemade coloring pages to do while he is at school, in hopes of keeping me busy while he is away.  He cuddles my belly and sings "You Are My Sunshine" and whispers sweet brother love and the baby dances.  I pray that his sunshine is not taken away, as he has a fierce desire to be a big brother.  He is so full of love.  What a blessed mother I am.

Koen.  My Koen.  Anyone who knows his story loves our angel.  What a gift to be the mother to someone whose story touches lives.  What a gift that I get to be a mother to someone who is held in the arms of Jesus.  He has not been given the opportunity to grace our home with laughter, but he has filled our hearts with so much love.  What a blessed mother I am. 

What a blessed woman I am to be surrounded by so much love and laughter.

The last few weeks I have time to think, process, and pray about many things.  This past week a sweet friend who I met while living in California is undergoing a very scary event.  Her precious little 6-year-old is in the ICU fighting off complications from a common cold.  She has turned a corner and is improving, but the family faced some very scary moments.  I spent much of my quiet sitting time this week in prayer for them.  Pleading with God to not take away their baby.  My mama heart was bleeding for her.  My friend posted this morning how the events have shifted her perspective and that their family was changed forever.  Great tragedy will bring you to your knees and have that impact on you.  Since May, I have changed.  Koen's impact on my life has been huge.  Sadness, of course, but he has brought me clarity and strength as well.

I love the Olympics.  Given my inability to do much of anything I was able to watch them in their entirety.  I love the idea of the Olympics, the competition, the pride in my country, but most of all I love the stories.  Two stories touched my heart in a huge way this year.

Sarah Burke, a Superpipe Skier (a pioneer of the sport), died while training in 2012.  NBC did an interview with her parents and this is what her mom said:  "Before this happened I would have said the worst thing that could have happened to me, ever, was to lose Sarah.  Then I realized there was one thing worse than that.  It would have been to never had had her at all in my life."  The loss of a child is unthinkable.  The mere thought of something happening to Hackett is more than I can bear.  But the heartache of knowing that I will never know Koen in this earthly life hurts so much in a completely different way.  I was never able to have had him in my life.
(You can watch their interview:  http://www.nbcolympics.com/news/halfpipe-podium-points-sky-tribute-sarah-burke )

Noelle Pikus-Pace, the silver medalist in Skeleton in Sochi, bravely shared her story of loss.  She is the mother of three, but lost her third (a little girl) when she was 18 weeks pregnant.  She had left the sport, but after her loss her heart was so broken she needed something to help her focus and heal.  Her husband encouraged her to return to the sport.  How brave to bare her heart and show her tears of pain, even after her silver medal win.  I started to blog to get the feelings out of my head.  I still wanted to remember the pain, hurt, and triumphs, but needed to let them go.  This was my outlet.  It was also a way to communicate events without having to tell my painful story over and over.  But I think there is a blessing attached to this now.  So many have shared their stories of loss with me, many of those losses occurred in the first trimester.  Some have kept those losses quiet.  Often it is advised to keep your pregnancy news quiet until you hit the safety of the second trimester.  No matter when the loss occurs, it is still a loss.  It hurts my heart to know so many have felt the same heartache that I have in silence.  I hope sharing my story helps others know that they are not alone and they don't have to keep their pain quiet.  Noelle has done that too and I am so grateful.  
(You can watch her interview:
http://www.nbcolympics.com/video/noelle-pikus-pace-we-did-it )