I Woke Up Today...

Yesterday was unbearable.

It was awful.

It was probably up there with the worst days since Leila passed away.

I went to bed last night crying and wishing all the pain would just go away and I could go back to being pregnant and excited.

My shower was supposed to be this Saturday. I am supposed to be excited and preparing for my precious baby girl...

I am not supposed to be mourning her.

Yesterday we had to relive the pain of losing her all over again. We had to retrace all the mistakes made that led to her early arrival. It was excruciatingly unbearable.

I don't wish this on my worst enemy. I am not a person that wishes pain on people... But apparently people wish pain on me. When I got home some horrible woman had emailed me making up rumors about my husband. It was disgusting. Who does that? Who kicks someone when they are down? Thank God that I actually trust my husband, or it may have actually done damage.

Needless to say, yesterday was rough.

I went to bed last night miserable and at a very low point...

But eventually the tears stopped coming and I fell asleep. And then, something incredible happened:

I woke up today.

And the sun was shining. And my son was smiling. And I had made it through another awful day.

You know what, so far, today has been better.

I Don't Wanna...

I think I have been avoiding thinking into the future. I simply try and make it through each day as best I can.

But for the first time, today I thought about the future. About all of the plans we had altered to accommodate our new life with our sweet Leila in the picture... I was reading the heartbreaking blog of a fellow mommy to an angel, and she talked about seeing Easter things in a store and realizing that her daughter was missing her first Easter...

And the tears started coming...

All I could think about was Christmas. How am I going to get through Christmas with my husband deployed and my daughter... dead... It will just be me and Landon. I am sure we will go back home for Christmas, so we won't really be alone, but Christmas 2010 was such a joyous time: Leila had her own huge stack of presents and she wasn't even born yet! We had no idea she would be born just three weeks later, when she wasn't due to be born until May 18, 2011...

Life is so cruel.

I feel like a little kid throwing a temper tantrum, I just want to scream "IT'S NOT FAIR!"

Because it's not. I would gladly trade places with my Leila. I wish she could be alive and on her way to recovery. Every holiday is just going to ache with the emptiness she left in my life.

I hate feeling empty.

Fighting the Feeling...

Of jealousy.

I said it.

I am now feeling jealousy. Horrible, awful, deep down inside my gut, green-eyed-monster jealousy.

I hate it.

I am not by nature a jealous person. Not at all. I have always been very content with my life, even with its ups and downs... I have endured every test and climbed every mountain without much complaint. I have watched those around me succeed with little effort, or fail miserably and still come out better than me on the other side, and still marched on. Because I am forever an optimist, forever believing that what I have, my life, is a wonderful gift and that I am so lucky for everything in it.

I don't think I can do that anymore.

All I can think about is what ISN'T in my life. How empty my heart feels. How empty I, quite literally feel. I unintentionally torture myself with updates of "how far along" I am in my pregnancy, only to be reminded that I am no longer pregnant... and that my daughter is no longer alive. I am supposed to be carrying this precious life. I am supposed to be excited and happy and ready to welcome her with open arms. To cradle her and snuggle her and smell her hair and her sweet baby breath and nurse her and dress her up and show her off.

But I am empty.

I have no baby to offer for any of those roles.

No Leila to welcome, no Leila to cradle...

Just emptiness.

Usually, when I am going through a rough spot in my life, I can still find this never ending supply of positivity and joy for other's good fortunes. I never let my circumstances stop me from being happy for others. I am trying so hard to continue that part of me, but I can't help but ache with jealousy from every pore when I see a new mom with her baby. When I hear about someone finding out they are pregnant, or what they are having, or talking about their baby.

I love babies.

I love ALL babies.

I do not discriminate against baby love of any kind.

Babies are incredible, amazing, innocent, loving, beautiful little people, and I can't help but smile when I am around them. They mend my heart, while breaking it all over again at the same time.

It's a bizarre experience.

But about the jealousy: I don't know why I am all of a sudden plagued with this emotion. It's a new one to me, even since Leila's passing, I have just begun to feel it over the past couple of days. I don't like having an ugly emotion in me. I wish I could control it, but I am just so jealous of those who have their children. Who don't have to walk through life as the "mother of an angel".

I truly believe that I am one, though. The mother of an angel, that is. It may sound corny, but even when she was alive, she was truly an angel, and in her death she has changed the lives of so many people, brought so many people closer to God, and affected the world in such a profound way... I can honestly say I think she is the closest anyone could ever come to meeting an angel in this life.

But I would give anything to have her here. To not have to wait. I think one of the things that makes it all worse for me is seeing women, especially those portrayed on certain TV reality shows, that are able to get pregnant and have perfectly healthy babies, who don't really seem to want them. If I could rescue every baby that is born into a world without truly loving and devoted parents, I would in a heartbeat...

But I digress...

I guess there isn't much more for me to say about this new emotion... I have been fighting the crap out of it. I don't know if it's a part of the "Grieving Process" or if it's a "normal" feeling, but it makes me feel inhuman. I don't want to be bitter. I don't want to be "the mother of the baby that died"... But you can't fight reality...

If I could, well...

I would fight like hell.

One Month Ago Today...

January 28, 2011...

One month ago today, my world stopped. The sun stopped shining, the earth stopped turning, and though in all actuality, it beats as well as ever, I am pretty sure my heart stopped, too.

I talk about Leila a lot, because I don't know what else to do. If talking about her makes others uncomfortable, then I am sorry. But she was my daughter, she was everything I could have ever wanted, and my time with her was so brief. I want to be able to remember every tiny little thing about her: from her teeny tiny little finger nails on her loooong skinny fingers, to her cute little nose, to her dark peach fuzz hair, to her skinny little legs and her adorable little feet.

I don't want to forget a thing.

It feels like just yesterday the doctors were starting to be more positive about Leila's fight. I remember joking with her doctor about how stubborn she would be as a teenager. I remember laughing and smiling and dreaming about her future. Can it really be true?

Has it really been one month since we said goodbye?

I am reliving those moments again and again right now. I remember walking down the hallway to her room. I remember the look on our favorite nurse, Donna's face. I remember looking at Leila's body. Knowing that something was wrong. Knowing what I didn't want to know.

That she was hurting.



Before Leila passed away I had received a link to a story about a premie baby girl. The story talked about the daughter's struggle and the parents' pain, then about how she grew into a happy and precocious little girl. One day when at a baseball game, the daughter asked her mom, "do you smell that?" The mom looked around and said "Yes, it smells like rain." The little girl said "No, mom! Do you smell that smell?" Again the mom said "Yes honey, I think we are going to get rained on soon." Finally the little girl says, "No Mommy. It smells like God, when you rest your head on His chest."

As soon as I read that story, when my Leila was still alive, I imagined that God was in her isolette with her. Holding her, breathing His healing breath on her. Comforting her. Any time her fight got rough, I told myself that God was holding her and taking away her pain. I told myself that she talked to God and He talked to her.

After she died, I found myself wondering if God was there with her. I wondered if maybe she told God she was ready to go.

If she chose.

I think I would feel better if I knew that she had told God she was ready, and that she didn't want to fight anymore.

I hate the idea that she just died. No sense to it, just death. It feels so final.

I want to believe that while she was resting her head on God's chest, she told Him she didn't want to fight anymore. That she wanted to go to Heaven and play with angels. That she loved her parents and her brother, but that even she understood that we didn't want her to suffer.

I think she gave us those last few minutes with her, to love on her and hold her for the first and last time, knowing that she was going to go home to God.

I pray with every fiber of my being that she is happy. That she will get some semblance of the childhood that was taken from her. That she will get to do all the things she never got to do down here: like run and play and laugh and cry and eat. And see.

I really hope she can see.

More than anything I wanted to see her eyes. I knew that they were still fused shut because she was so early. Because they weren't ready. I had prepared myself to raise a blind daughter. I didn't care: I would learn to read braille if I had to. I just wanted her to be healthy.

But now, now that she is in Heaven, I REALLY, really hope that she can see. I hope that she sees us and knows that we were her parents. I pray that she can see how much we loved her. And I hope that she can "see" the balloons we send up to her. I pray that she can feel the love her brother has for her. I wonder if he can see her and talk to her. Because sometimes, I swear he is talking to someone... He adores her so much.

I have so many thoughts bouncing around in my head.

So many things I can't put in to words...

So many things I have to do but don't know how to start.

For now I am going to snuggle on the couch with my sweet baby boy, and reflect on my baby girl's life.


<3 My sweet Leila. I love you so. I carry you with me in my heart everywhere I go. I pray for your peaceful rest. I love you, my sweet angel. <3

Catching Up...

For the past month I have felt like life has been soaring ahead of me and I have been stuck in place, trying desperately to keep pace with the world bustling around me. I haven't been able to move past the basic emotions of anger and sadness. I am pretty much stuck on those two most of the time.

I still smile, laugh, talk, and function seemingly normally on the outside, but to be honest: I am completely broken inside. I feel awkward, I feel too big for my body, I feel numb. I feel like I am functioning on auto pilot and the rest of me is just along for the ride.

It has been hard being trapped in this house. Every where I look I either see something of Leila's, or I see "where Leila should be"... but isn't. The funny thing is, Leila never entered this house alive, so you would think that I wouldn't have all these reminders. But that isn't true. For the five months I was pregnant all I could think about was where her pack and play would be, where her swing would go, where I would put her baby gym, how her room would be decorated. I rearranged and redecorated our house physically, and in my mind so many times that all I can see is her. She is everywhere, and yet she was never truly in this home at all.

It kills me that her whole life was spent behind a plastic wall. My heart breaks for all the other NICU mommies that I met and encountered while she was at the hospital. I saw so much sadness and so much joy pour out of those rooms. There were a few moms that I encountered that shared similar stories to ours: they offered me so much hope and strength. They seemed to have a never ending supply of positivity. I tried to be like them, even in the darkest hours.

But now, being trapped at home with the reality that my daughter is gone forever, I am finding it difficult to be positive.

And I know Landon can feel that.

And that tears me up inside.

So when my husband came home from his boat det (Navy speak for a short "deployment" to get him ready to really deploy), we packed up Landon and headed to Disneyland.

I will be honest, we had a pretty good time. There were plenty of things that reminded me of Leila or made my heart stop for a minute, but all in all, it was a pretty good time. We were able to "escape" our emotions for a few minutes. We became fixated with Landon's happiness and making everything perfect for him.

I will write more about our visit when I have time. For now I am just trying to catch up with the real world. Coming home last night was like running in to a brick wall.. We had been avoiding it for the past half week, but coming home we could no longer escape reality.

For now I will sit with my son and eat our French toast, and try to hold on to the magic of Disneyland...

Don't worry, I will post the French toast recipe later!

Coping?

Coping: the process of managing stressful circumstances.

Managing stressful circumstances. Exerting control over. Handling.

Managing.

I never thought so much about those words.

What they really mean.

What they don't mean.

They don't mean "I'm okay".

I am just "managing" the awful circumstances I am subjected to.

Not quite exerting control over, maybe handling, but definitely not ignoring.

I am not sure what I thought would happen in the weeks after Leila's death. I think, to be quite honest, I couldn't think much of anything. At least, not about the finality of her death. I truly believe there was a part of me that thought it wasn't over. Like I am still waiting for the doctors from the hospital to call with the nightly update and tell me that her blood pressure has stabilized, that her heart rate is strengthening, that she is thriving.

And then I look up from my bed, and I see this little wooden box, and my whole world caves in again.

It is a very simple little box. Nothing too intimidating. Nothing fancy or flashy.

She might have been our little diva, but none of the carved stone or flashy marble urns seemed right for her. Instead we chose this simple, shiny, light oak box. No engraving, no markers. Just... Leila.

Maybe secretly inside I chose it this way to try and hide myself from the fact that she is gone. Maybe it was just the time crunch that made me avoid any added time or expenses on the urn order. I honestly can't say. All I know is that this little box holds my heart, a piece of my soul.

A tiny, precious, 1 pound 4 ounce piece of my soul.

At least, that is what she weighed the day we welcomed her in to the world.

At 4:23pm my little girl would have been 5 weeks old. I don't even know what to say next. I don't know if her eyes would have opened by now. I don't know if she would have finally filled out and gotten her "cheeks"... face and butt cheeks, as my husband joked.

I don't know anything.

There are moments when I start to move forward: I am laughing, talking easily, smiling, enjoying myself...

Then all of a sudden this feeling comes over me like I am driving alone on a winding road in the middle of the night, and suddenly I come up on a bridge only to find that it has come completely crashing down, and I slam on the breaks and go skidding over the edge.

I can almost feel myself hit the icy water and gasp for air, but the frigid air only makes it harder to breathe, and I feel my lungs become like anchors, dragging me under. I feel like I am drowning in my sorrow.

Then as I look up, I see my son. And I fight like hell to make it back to the surface. I force myself to push through the pain and...

manage my difficult circumstance.

That's what I do.

I handle it. I manage to get through it. To the next minute, the next hour, the next day.

I am not sure if I am "coping" with my pain, my grief, my "difficult circumstance", but somehow, I am finding a way to manage it. And I am pretty sure my beautiful son is 100% to credit for that.

Greek goddess Pasta

At first I had titled the post very simply "Greek Pasta"... then I decided, being the domestic goddess that I am, to very appropriately rename this delicious Greek inspired pasta dish...

So Greek goddess Pasta it is!

And it really, truly is goddess worthy...

One of my favorite foods in the entire world is Greek salad. In fact, once when I was 12 I asked for Greek salad as my birthday meal... Pretty exotic taste for a preteen, huh?

Lately I have been having these insatiable cravings for Greek salad... constantly... I have been eating them so much that I haven't really eaten much else. And though salad is extremely healthy, yes, I have dropped about 30 pounds since I had our daughter (not baby weight, as I had already lost weight during the pregnancy and hadn't yet gained), it was time to "bulk up" my nice little Greek salad into something more of an actual meal. I added some chicken, added some pasta, added a creamy Greek inspired pasta sauce...

It was sheer perfection.

Here is how I did it. But wait, first I need a quick disclosure: I did not write down this recipe while I created it... but I think I remembered everything pretty well. This is not my best mapped out recipe ever, but I only have time to post while my toddler is napping, so this is going to have to cut it for now!!!! GOOD LUCK! ;) (oh come on, I promise you can figure it out!!!)

You will need

2 chicken breasts,cubed into 1 inch pieces
1 bottle of Greek dressing (or make your own if you wish. I used the Kraft stuff... it's yummy!)

Sun dried tomatoes (reconstituted if you use dried like me)
1 can artichoke hearts
Kalamata olives
Capers
Red onion
Garlic
Feta cheese

1 block cream cheese
1 cup grated parmesan cheese (the kind in a can)
3/4 c milk
1/2 c butter

First, a couple hours before you are going to begin cooking (or even the night before), transfer the chicken cubes to a plastic baggie and cover with some of the Greek dressing. Maybe 1 cup, but you probably won't use more than that. Seal tightly and let marinate in the fridge until you are ready to begin.

Meanwhile, reconstitute your sun dried tomatoes. You can do this one of two ways. 1) Heat a pot of water to boiling. Place tomatoes in a heat proof bowl, cover with boiling water, place a plate or lid on top to keep in heat and let soak for about 30 minutes. 2) Or if you are like me and forgot to reconstitute them until right before you need them, pop them in a saucepan, cover with water, and boil until tender. It works.

Next, line a cooking sheet with foil and spray with cooking spray. Arrange artichoke hearts on the pan, drizzle them with olive oil, and bake them at 375 for about 20-30 minutes, checking every few minutes so they don't burn. You will want to shake the pan to move them around so they get roasted all over.

Why roast, you ask?

The answer is simple: you have NEVER fully experienced an artichoke until you have tasted it roasted. Just trust me. Sometimes I just mix together red peppers and artichoke hearts and garlic and drizzle it all in olive oil and roast it... it is amazing.

Ok so back to the artichokes: you want them to be a goldeny color, but not super burnt, so keep an eye on them. Oh and let me warn (if there a nice kind of warn?) you now: they smell INCREDIBLE! You may have to contain yourself to keep from plucking them right off the baking sheet after they are done...

Okay so now that your prep work is done, heat a skillet with a bit of olive oil and add your garlic and cook until fragrant. Add the chicken and cook until done on all sides. Next add your artichokes, capers, tomatoes, olives, and about 1/4 cup of the Greek dressing. If it looks a bit dry, add more.

While you are cooking your chicken, you will also be making your sauce. It is basically a creamy alfredo sauce that you will mix in to the chicken, and it will mix with the Greek dressing, and magic will happen.

In a medium sauce pot, add the cream cheese, Parmesan, butter, and milk. Heat on medium heat until everything is melted and well blended. Stir often.

Add about half of it to the chicken mixture and stir well, continuing to cook until the chicken is done. You can add more to your taste after you add the pasta, but I ended up with about half or a little less left over, and tossed with with plain hot cooked pasta and gave it to my son as a fancy "macaroni and cheese". He devoured it.

Stir in about half a box worth of hot, cooked penne pasta, and serve, topped with feta cheese, of course.



Now I would have pictures of this deliciousness, but my husband had the camera, so I do not have pictures...

But I can tell you a secret: if you don't have time to do all the prep work, you can make this a much quicker meal if you just use some cherry tomatoes and pop them under the broiler until the burst open. You can also just pop the artichoke hearts under the broiler for a few minutes if you are in a hurry, but keep an eye on them. And last, if you forget to marinate the chicken, it isn't the end of the world. Just add a little more Greek dressing to the cooking pot.

Good luck! I hope you enjoy it!