Empty seats at the Thanksgiving...

There were empty seats at Thanksgiving.  Some I expected, others a surprise.  Nothing is a surprise to God.

That's been a hard lesson for me this past year.  Nothing is a surprise to God.  I don't know what I'm supposed to be feeling or how I'm supposed to be acting.  If I'm being my authentic self, it's half neurotic and half at peace.  If that sounds confusing, try living it.

I don't know what I expected this Thanksgiving to be, to be honest.  I know that last year I had thoughts of this year being chaos.  5 kids, 2 babies.  A blended family of love, laughter, crazy and fun.  I pictured the boys trying new foods, maybe crawling all over the place and us running after them.  I don't have to tell anyone how different this year was.

Before we moved to KY, like literally, right before, my mom was diagnosed with cancer.  I will never forget getting the call.  My aunt picked me up from my cousins and took me to my grandmothers.  I dont know where my dad was, probably with my mom, maybe making the last minute arrangements it takes to move a family of 4, 12 hours from home.  But I will never forget, I was at Grandma's and I called my Nana's because that's where my mom was.  I knew she had surgery that day, probably why I was at my cousins.  I had this big cordless phone and I was sitting in my Popsey's office on this old couch and I asked Nana how Mom was.  She told me she was going to be ok.  I knew, at 12 years old, that something in her voice didn't sound right.  I asked her what was wrong and I don't remember anything other than, "She has cancer but she's going to be ok."  From my mind, I don't remember much from that point, other than that heavy, cordless phone hitting the ground.  My grandma, told this story til the day she died to anyone who would listen.

I hit my knees in prayer.  I don't know what my conversation with God was but I was on my knees, in earnest prayer for my mom, who I just found out had cancer.  I stayed on my knees, crying and praying, until I stood up and said, "It's going to be ok.  She's healed."

She was healed.  We moved to FL a few days or weeks later.  I can't remember the specifics.  She went to the best dr's down here and they ran the same tests and they said there was no evidence of cancer.  It's possible the dr's in KY were wrong but it's more probable that the simple prayers of a 12 year old girl, crying out for God to heal her mom were heard.

Fast forward 22 years.  The same girl that had cried out for her mom to be healed cried out for God to take care of Tucker.  For him to be with Fletcher.  After my water broke, hope amongst the dr's wasn't there and we were told to prepare for the worst but not to stop praying.  And I didn't.  No one did.  Prayer without ceasing.  We had our miracles, they just needed to stay in their home, my womb, for longer.

Then I had Tucker.  It wasn't the answer to the prayers I'd prayed in the hospital but it was the answer to so many prayers I'd prayed before.  I never wanted much, other than to be a mom.  And here I was, with my beautiful husband, holding our beautiful miracle.  It just didn't end the way I wanted.

Prayers for Fletcher were prayed.  By so many people.  They prayed that infection would not enter my body.  I never had any signs of infection.  The prayers for his water to remain full were answered.  We saw him swimming around, waving to us.  We prayed we would bring home a healthy baby boy.

We didn't.  Where is God in all of that?  That is a question I have wrestled with for the past year.  Does prayer change our circumstances or does prayer change us?  If I prayed my mom to healing, why didn't God give me my boys.  If not Tucker, why did he take Fletcher too?

And the answer is, I don't know.  Through this whole time my question has been, how can this, a mother's journey of grief and broken-ness be a bigger testimony than if I had our miracle babies playing beside me?

That's where faith comes in.  Because I still don't know the answer to that.  I couldn't have prayed more.  I prayed for healing,  I prayed for God's will, I prayed specifically for each of my boys that we would bring them home.  Healthy.  Not these 2 boxes of ashes we have.

I don't know God's plan.  But I feel confident now that I'm in it.  I know, sitting here now, with tears running down my face, that He hasn't left me.  He didn't forsake me.  His ways our not our ways.  I don't like that.  I wanted His ways to be healing for our boys.

My life has changed.  So much I can't even wrap my mind around it.  I have made so many missteps this past year I can't think straight.  There's no book for going through IVF to losing both your boys 11 days apart.  Believe me, I've looked.

I've done the best I can.  Am I grieving?  Yes, absolutely, of course.  I miss them everyday.  They weren't just something I prayed for, I saw our lives with them in it.  I'm missing out on so much.  But i can't change it.  Nothing I can do can bring them back.  Should I stop talking about them?  I don't think so.  They were the answers to so many prayers, even though their lives were short, they've changed me.  They've changed others.  I've gotten countless emails from others that have told me that through following our story, God has been brought back into their homes, their lives. The God they had left behind, they prayed out to again.  One friend shared with me that she lost her mom and couldn't understand that a God could be loving if He took her mom from her.  But in me, because of my faith that God hasn't left me, if I can trust Him through this, she can too.

I didn't want this to be my story.  I'd much rather be writing an article on juggling babies and work and high heels and kids than be writing an article on getting on with life through grief.  But this is what God saw fit for my life.  If I can trust Him with the good things, I have to trust him in the hurt too.

My life is confusing.  It's more confusing now than ever.  I'm trusting in God with everything that I have that He won't leave me.  Today, in the midst of hurt and frustration, I cried out to him, "I don't know what to do..."  I heard, sure as He was sitting beside me, "Be still.  Don't move.  Trust me."

No, boo, I want an answer.  What am I supposed to do?  I'm a list maker, I'm a fixer.  I need some finite answers.  But what I got is that.  To be still.  To not move.  To Trust.

God didn't answer my prayers they way I wanted.  Doesn't mean they weren't answered.  I still struggle with that.  I probably always will.  Just being honest.

Thanksgiving wasn't what I expected.  It's not what I hoped for and it's not what I had planned for my life.  I don't know what God is up to but I know He's up to something.  And even though Satan tries to fill me with guilt, with confusion, with pain, with doubts that I'm grieving too long, too loud, too much...I won't hear it.  Because I'm loudly screaming, "Thank you God for not leaving me.  Thank you God for using me.  Thank you God for working through me."

Would I rather be sitting here playing with my boys, talking to my husband, enjoying my step kids?  Of course.  I don't know why I'm where I am.  But I'm here.  And I know who is holding me steady, who is guiding my steps and who is getting me through.

December will be a month of remembrance, of celebrating and of hope.  I will never again apologize for the way I have handled my grief.  For I know that as much as I love my boys, God loves them more.  And they got to celebrate Thanksgiving with 4 great grands that love them as much as I ever could.

It's not what I wanted, but it's what I've got.  And I'm trusting that God will continue to work in and through me to honor my boys, to further His kingdom and to grow my relationship with Him.  

Thanks but I don't need your permission to grieve

My 2nd article for Still Standing magazine.

"Make sure that the people giving you advice understand where you are coming from.  Everyone is facing something but not all pain is the same.  Don't listen to the noise of those who are telling you you've been sad too long when they have never lost anything, yet still can't seem to find happiness of their own.  Thank you but I don't need your approval or permission to grieve."

http://stillstandingmag.com/2013/11/dont-need-permission-grieve/

Facebook is getting taken to the trash

I've recently taken a look at my friends list on Facebook. Not sure why, boredom maybe. Curiosity. I've been unfriended by some that surprised me, some that didn't. I've deleted the ones who needed to exit stage left and I've blocked the ones I don't care to see.

Social media at its finest.  

Facebook has been a huge part of my journey this past year. Asking for advice on IVF, sharing exciting news, prayers, hard times, grief...we all know the story. 

What surprises me is people that I grew up with who have become so different. I knew some would probably venture their own course, and they did. Others are very bitter towards a God they may have turned from but who I still very much have a relationship with. Friends who lost touch have become very trusted allies and prayers warriors and some people I grew up with are gone. Whether it was my doing or their's, they are off the friend list. 

It's kind of very amazing and by amazing read sad, how people can change. Everyone has secrets, everyone has a time in their life they aren't proud of. No one goes around broadcasting these on fb bc who wants to show the ugly?  In a world full of perfectly angled selfies to make your chin, chest and butt look their smallest, or biggest, whatever,

with the right filter, the status that is bloviating over how great life is when it doesn't take much to read between the lines of being on the edge of a breakdown.  There's people that post too much, not enough, post mean stuff, passive aggressive stuff, enlightened stuff, feel good stuff. There are those who need prayer and trust those they are asking to know their heart and humility in asking that of someone. 

But I also see all these people who know all these people and grew up with these people or just met those people. And the more people I meet the more I see that people aren't comfortable being comfortable with people anymore.  Bc it's hard to hide your bad when all you're showing is your good. Til your friend posts a bad that may be about you or could be about the girl you heard about instead and then paranoia starts in. 

Someone hurt my feelings? I'll show them, delete.  Someone disagreed with my thoughts and my feelings on my page and then deletes me?  Whhhaaaa. Just kidding, see ya. 

Then you see families. You see friends. You know the dramas, you know the lies, you know who talks about who and it's hard to look people in the eye bc of all the crap that people talk and you don't want to be in the middle of any high school drama. 

A handful of people make conscience decisions to put stuff out to hurt other people. I know good parents and I know some bad ones.  I know great kids and I know not so great kids. I know really good people and I know attention seeking life suckers. 

Welcome to Facebook. 

It's a drama easily caught up in.  People complain too much. Oh my gosh, it's November, people are way too flippin thankful.  I can't believe she posted that. Why doesn't he ever post anything? 

It's annoying. But it's also been a lifeline to a lot of very good people who I am thankful to have in my life. I get to see their struggles and pray them thru it, I get to rejoice in their good news, see their babies, their kids sports pictures, new houses, new hobbies. I get to laugh, I cry, sometimes I get angry or sucked into a debate. But it's all because of who I choose and allow into my life. 

Some make me so happy. Others make me want to punch something. The apple doesn't always not only not fall from the same tree, sometimes it's so far off I'd swear there was an orange dropped off instead.  How did that person come from that family?  Bless their hearts that that's who they are stuck with. Good for them for doing better despite the family they had.  Or bless the family for finally getting the rotten fruit smell off their hands of the crazy who has been trying to hold them back for too long. 

Ramblings of a crazy person.  The good and bad of social media. People don't know how to talk like we used to. Conversations get cut short bc you tell a story and they know the ending bc they saw it on fb. Someone else is sitting right beside a friend having a grand ole time having no idea how badly they've been bashed the day before.  

Facebook brings people together. And complicates the crap out it. 

I'm thankful for the friends,

I'm thankful for the family, I'm thankful for the prayers and encouragement. I'm trying to leave the rest behind.  Deleting the obnoxious, the mean, the nosy and the rude. 

It's time to get my life back to a simpler way of living. 

Wish me luck, this Momma's on a mission to take out the trash in an effort to make room for the good stuff that is coming our way!

Kick rocks, Judgement and Joy

You can't please everyone.

But it doesn't stop me from trying.  My parents raised me to be myself and that self is emotional, sensitive and neurotic.  

I'm nothing, if not self aware. 

I started my blog through a friends suggestion, thanks Kristen, as a way to get my crazy thoughts out of my head, into the cyber world where maybe they would float into oblivion.  And for the most part, they did.  Until I met Jason.  And life got more entertaining, more crazy, life started taking twists and turns I didn't expect.  Raising stepkids, remarried, how do we handle the stress of problems and situations we found ourselves in.  I found a new audience.   

Then with infertility and IVF, I turned to it for support.  I never imagined I'd be on that road, so I asked those who had walked it before me for guidance, for advice.  And the support and advice rolled in.  Those who hadn't been down it offered support, encouragement.  So many people offered prayer, hope.  It made that unknown road seem less scary. 

Pregnancy, twins, so many sharing our excitement.  My life has always been an open book, sharing such big news with so many people made the pregnancy even more special.  The people who had prayed us to our miracles stood beside us and continued with their love and support.  

Then December came.  People came out of the woodwork.  During those weeks in the hospital my phone, my email, my Facebook, blew up with prayers and kindness from people I knew and many I didn't.  I will never be able to put into words how much it meant.  The texts and messages, literally at all hours of the night, kept me encouraged. 

Fast forward 10 months.  In February my blog had 13,000 page views.  Now, 8 months later, it has nearly 50,000.  I have made the decision to be very open with my life.  With every part of my struggle, our grief, our loss and our heartache.  I have made some very special friends, reunited with old friends and become stronger because of the words of both.  Someone is reading this open journal of mine.

"You find out who your friends are."

I never put much thought into that saying.  I always kind of assumed it meant in hard times, you find out who your friends are.  I have found the opposite to be true. 

Over the past few weeks our lives have taken a big leap.  I have a job that I am very excited about, that I prayed for and that I will succeed at because it's something I love, I'm passionate about and it's part of who I am.  I got the opportunity to write for a magazine that is a source of hope for a lot of hurting people.  My article, from what I can track, has been read over 7,000 times.  Whether its from 7,000 people or 1 person reading it 7,000 times, my words have been read.  Through the contributors page I was encouraged to create a facebook page.  Since I have created it, I have gotten emails, everyday, from people I have never met, thanking me for being honest.  Before that page was created, I got emails nearly everyday, from people wanting to talk.  Wanting to share.  People I know and people I don't.  They have asked me to keep blogging, to keep posting.  Not just about the hard days, but the good.  Not just about the struggles, but the joy.  Not just about our dreams, but our reality.

Why has this hit such a chord in the hearts of people?  Because there are hurting people everywhere who are facing heartache.  And it can be lonely.  I have turned to the blogs of others for support.  I have turned to people who have overcome obstacles to encourage me.  It's what we as Christians are called to do, help the hurting.  I'm trying to help others the only way I know how.  By being transparent.

That scares a lot of people.  It annoys others.  Why is my story the one being read?  Because I put it out there.

Am I patting myself on the back?  Sometimes it may seem like that.  But oh my gosh, I am so proud of where we have gotten to.  I want to shout thanks for where Jason and I are right now.  Because I know that not too long ago we were in a much different place.  Am I scared I share too much?  Of course.  I will never get tired of talking about our boys, I will never tire of thanking God for our blessings and our friends and family for loving us.  But does it sometimes feel like I'm saying too much?  Sure it does!  Am I worried I'm going to be judged and talked about?  Only by a handful of unhappy people.  But I am so happy with where life is taking us that many times I just want to sit and cry.  The past year has been a lesson of not losing ourself in the grief to finding ourselves in the healing.

To those who have never walked in my shoes but encourage me the best you know how, thank you.  Really, from the bottom of my heart, thank you.  To the ones who have judged me who have never walked in my shoes,  I hope life never shows you how ugly and hard it can be.  And to the ones who have judged me who have walked in my shoes, who have shared with me personal stories of loss and heartache but set out only to cause pain, shame on you.  

There's a difference between walking through grief that was unexpected and trying to dig yourself out of a bad situation you have put yourself in from making bad choices.  I know the difference.

The nice thing about social media is you are able to connect with a lot of people.  The bad thing about social media is you are able to connect with a lot of people.  I have plenty of people who encourage me, share their stories with me, ask me to pray for them, and share their answers to prayer with me so I can rejoice with them.  I have a handful of people who stick around only to judge me or have something to talk about.  

To those in the first group, thank you.

To those in the second, kick rocks.  Or just hang tight, I am sure I'll give you some really good stuff to talk about soon enough!

Mwah! 

Empty cradle, My Jesus and Our Boys

I am part of a very special group of women.  Actually, I'm part of several groups of special women.  My May Mom's group rallies around me and lifts me up and includes me in their lives and that means so much to me.  One of the moms shared this song with me.  All I can say is, I couldn't say it better...

"People say that I'm brave, but I'm not.  In fact I'm barely hanging on.  But there's a greater story, written long before me, because He loves you like this."

The Mom who wrote this said something in her testimony that hit my heart.  When she got the news that her baby wouldnt survive outside of the womb, she was overwhelmed with this thought and said it over and over.  And over.  "My Jesus is the same Jesus now as He was before."

My Jesus that was with me when we held our babies, was the same Jesus that was with me when we found out we were pregnant.  My Jesus that was with me when my water broke, was the same Jesus that was with me when we found out we had boys.  My Jesus that was with me when I have been in the total pits of despair is the exact same Jesus that has gotten me out.  His love is unchanging.

"I will carry you, while your heart beats here.  Long beyond the empty cradle, through the coming years.  I will carry you, all my life, I will praise the one who's chosen me to carry you."

I was chosen to carry Tucker and Fletcher.  Whether they lived an hour or a lifetime, I was chosen to be their Mom.  They didn't live long but the impact their short lives had is huge.  Their hearts beat, together, with mine.  Because I'm their Mommy.  I will always and forever be their Mommy.

Today we walked.  We walked to remember.  We walked to heal.  We walked together.  My handsome, beautiful, special husband.  Our loving, caring, kind parents.  And another group I am proud to be part of.  Strong, encouraging, loving Moms.  Who have all walked in my shoes.  Our stories may vary but our hearts know the same pain.  The same love.  The same pride.

My heart hurts right now.  Only because I would have rather pushed a stroller with 2 blonde haired baby boys along the river today but that wasn't in the plan that my Jesus had for me.  Right now.  Right now I carry Tucker and I carry Fletcher with me, everywhere I go.  I carry them in my heart.

I was chosen to carry them in my womb while their hearts beat here.  And when those hearts stopped beating, I had to decide what to do.  It has taken me some time to get here but I have chosen to honor my boys and keep going.  Keep fighting, keep believing and keep praying to the God who chose me to be their Mommy.

I'm blessed.  I have 2 little boys who I will never lose.  I just carry them in my heart now...

Frozen embryos, sucky people and happy times

I have been trying to live life differently lately.  My life is pretty much groundhog day so with my circumstances being as they are, I decided that if change was gonna happen, it had to be in me.  And some of it's pretty, some, not so much.

Things I appreciate:

1.  Kind people.  It's so nice being around kind, genuine people.  Those who care about you.  And your well being and your heart.  I'm thankful for the caring people in my life.  The caveat to this is I have also been surrounded by more crazy people but I've chosen to look for the kind ones.  I keep the crazies around because it keeps life more interesting but the kind ones are the ones who make your life better.

2.  Seeing the silver lining.  I don't really know what this is in reference to and right now I'm more of a gold than silver kind of girl but I look for the good in people.  In things.  In lessons.  In circumstances.  I have stopped tolerating mean, ugly, negative linings and love accessorizing with the beautiful gold that life throws at you.

3.  Taking a leap of faith.  I've been doing that more and more lately.  I've had a few pipe dreams and I've taken steps to see if I can realize them.  I've put myself out there in life, with people, with dreams and with hopes.  I've hit "send" on countless things that I was too scared to do before.  And even if it caused some panic and tears and "did I really just do that," the answer is a resounding, Yes!  I just did that!

4.  I've started giving myself some credit.  Wow, does that feel good.  I don't suck, I am awesome and I have finally digested the crap sandwich I've been eating for a long time and I'm learning how to process the crap that comes from a year of sad, emotional, tiring times.  Out of crap, beauty can come!

5.  It's none of my business what someone else thinks of me.  I'm good enough, I'm strong enough and dog gone it, people like me.  Some do.  Other's don't.  Some keep me around for entertainment value and because they are too nosy to not but it's ok.  The ones who are genuine are the ones who get the good Melissa.  The ones who are fake are the ones who get the rest.  No one likes the leftovers anyway.

Things I don't like:

1.  People who are fake, who judge, who manipulate, who deceive, who cheat, who lie, who hurt.  I read that you become like those you spend the most time with so I have chosen to spend more time with people who are none of these things and I am no longer worried about being guilty by association.  And that feels good!

2.  Hard lessons, emotional rollercoasters, life lessons, and sadness.  But I have survived, I've got the tshirt and the blog to prove it.  I've gotten here.  9 months after losing our boys.  1 month after losing my Nana.  A year of ups and downs and tears of hope and pain and joy and devastation.  I am surviving.  I have had my heart broken, my life shattered and my dreams crushed by loss but it hasn't defined me in any way other than I am still fighting!

Baby loss sucks.  It's awful.  I really can't imagine anything worse than losing a child.  I have 3 babies in heaven.  Sometimes it seems absolutely unreal that I am a mother but I don't have any of my babies to hold.  I try not to let the why's and what if's take up too much space in my heart but to think you wouldn't have any of those questions isn't realistic.

We have frozen embryos, just waiting on us.  For me to be healthy in mind, body, soul.  That sometimes seems like an impossible goal but I have to just keep going forward.  Step by step.  I want to hold our babies.  I want to sing to them.  I want to parent them.  I'm so thankful for the 3 beautiful step kids I have in my life and I pray, expectantly, for the kids that will add to our family one day.

Good days and bad.  Fall down, get back up.  Scary moments but push through anyways.  Sad times but smiling through the tears.

I'm not where I expected to be a year ago when Jason was reading to the boys in my belly.  I'm not where I hoped to be on this grief journey.  I'm not the Melissa I was before my life changed forever but I can promise this.  I have my heels all lined up, they are ready for me and I'm ready to see what's on the other side of this journey!

Pregnancy, death and Xanax

How much can change in a year?

A lot! 

Like, seriously, a lot! 

Too much...

This time last year I got pregnant.  I don't know how many woman know the exact moment they got pregnant but I do. Sunday August 26 around 1015 am. I will never forget it. I'll never forget watching the Dr, holding Jason's hand, going to Mom and Dad's to lay with my feet elevated while Mom prayed over me. That God would touch my body, grow our babies and protect my pregnancy. 

I knew then I was pregnant with twins. I will never forget that day.  I'll never forget calling Nana and telling her I'd just gotten pregnant.  Dr kept telling us to stay positive and hope for the best. I didn't need hope. I knew I had the answer to so many prayers. 

This time last year I was preparing for pregnancy. Preparing for babies. Never knowing that the next year would bring the highest of highs and the absolute lowest of lows. That I would have my babies, I would become a mother to 2 beautiful boys and that we would leave the hospital without either. 

This time last year I had my Nana. I called her every single day and I had her love. I had her support. I had her prayers, her encouragement, her understanding. She had 5 miscarriages before she had my Mom.  She wasn't just my Nana. She didn't just care, she had been where I was. Becoming a mom after so much heartache. 

Going home knowing she wouldn't be waiting for me was harder than I expected. I knew when I left her weeks ago that she wouldn't be there when I came back.  

We wore red. We had Christmas decorations. There were a lot of people and there was a lot of laughter.  It was very Nana and the only thing missing was being able to look over and see her enjoying the celebration.   

There were obstacles that came up and I tried to handle with as much grace the Xanax would allow for. I know my limits. I know when I'm about to break. 

But I haven't broke.  Not completely. And all the things that keep trying to break me, aren't.  My Nana was a fighter. She stood for what she believed in, she protected her family and she didn't apologize for being a strong person.  

So I won't either. So much has changed in a year that sometimes I don't know whether I'm coming or going but what hasn't changed is who she taught me to be. 

Her stroke set her back in some ways and made her stronger in others. Losing Papaw took something out of her but she never stopped loving. She never let fear or loss rob her of her joy. She never let disappointment, hurt and frustration dim her spark.

I'm not going to let the negative actions and thoughts of others determine how I feel about myself any longer.  I love wholly.  I love unconditionally.  I give people the benefit of the doubt.  Most of the time I end up getting the crap end of the stick when it comes to giving people 2nd chances but I'm a second chance believer.

I didn't deal well in crap and drama before and this past year has narrowed the gap of how much I will allow into my life.   The answer now being, none.  No more crap.  No more crappy people.  No more worry that she doesn't like me.  That he doesn't get me.  That they don't understand why, after 8 months, I'm still grieving the death of my 2 baby boys.  I don't know why my grief makes people uncomfortable but it's really know longer my problem.  Because I don't care.  I have figured out when my grieving will end. It will end when I take my last breath and get to see my babies as they are, in all their perfect glory!  That is when the pain will end. 

The next few months are going to be facing a lot of firsts that scares me. Finding out our babies were boys, celebrating my 34th birthday knowing the next year I'd be playing with my babies, my water breaking, their birthdays.  There are too many things that I will be facing, along with Jason, that will bring up painful memories.  And to do it coming off the death of my Nana adds some emotions I wasn't prepared to take into account.

But I'll figure it out.

Nana always wanted to ride a Harley.  SO Nana's last ride was on a Harley.  Her and Papaw's remains sat on Megan's lap as Donnie drove them to the farm.  And there their ashes were spread.  Which gave me the feeling that I was ready to spread Tucker and Fletcher's ashes.   I'm ready.

I'm done apologizing for who I am.  I stand for what I believe in.  I protect my family to the end.  I make decisions and I will hold myself accountable.  I'm going to fight to get to where I need to be.  I'm not going to drag people along with me who only want to be there to get the gossip or to find a reason to judge me. I'm not going to beg anyone to like me.  To love me.  To understand me.  To give me permission to grieve my baby boys that I can't hold, can't kiss, can't feed or rock to sleep.

I have enough on my plate and I refuse to eat the crap sandwich that others have been trying to force down my throat.   

I'm going to soon turn 35.  I'm going to soon come to the anniversary of finding out we were having boys.  Then the day my water breaks.  Then Tuckers birth.  Then 11 days of more hope and prayer and bartering to just be able to bring home one of our babies.  Then Fletchers birth.  And his death. 

Christmas. Without my boys, or my Nana.

I'll get through it.  The pregnancy memories, the death of our boys and my Nana, all in a year.

Nothing that a loving husband, a case of wine and a few Xananx can't get me through.