I Counted. 3 Months and 10 Days.

Yep. I counted. Ruth is 3 months and 10 days today. Exactly.

That number sticks out to me because that's how old Sarah was when she died, 7 years ago.

The milestones never stop when you're grieving. I thought for a moment that this would be the last time that I get to hold one of my babies, at this age, soaking in the feeling of holding that little body all over again. But then I retracted that thought and can safely assume I will probably do this to my grandchildren someday too.

3 months and 10 days. Forever etched into my memory.

Days like these are very bittersweet. I hold Ruth today and my heart breaks. I miss Sarah so much. I miss my baby. I go back to that awful day and remember holding her as I nursed her for the last time, and kissed her cheeks before leaving her to her nap. This day is a painful reminder of what I miss every day. But then I force myself forward and open my eyes to Ruth. This beautiful little girl that God has blessed me with. She's smiling so big and laughing. She talks to me with her little babbles. She reminds me so much of Sarah. I love her so much. This part of the process of grieving helps me to soak in these little things, not taking her for granted.

My eyes are wide open because of my suffering. This must be part of God's mercy because I value my awareness, but I wouldn't have it, if I didn't lose Sarah. That's a painful truth that I've had to give myself grace with. It's easy to blame myself, on a spiritual level, and say "God made this to happen because I needed to learn this. So this must be my fault." I did that with Dad (he died when I was 16) and then with Sarah. (aaaaaaand with any other crap that comes down our path)

It doesn't help. It's not true.

Because it's not

about

me.

So, on that note, I hold my baby tight being able to thank God for this day with her.

My Ruth. 

My Sarah. Read her story here. 

Postpartum with Ruth

very sleepy... zzzz

Ruth, 3 days old

I'm pretty sure I have one of the best husband's EVER! He's been so incredibly supportive and helping so much with nighttime chaos of a newborn. I swear every newborn's fussy time is between midnight and 4am! ugh!! But, with some tag-teaming, we are getting the job done so far and every night is one little tiny step closer to getting a more content infant and getting a little bit more sleep.

I've already hit some "woes" to my nursing her. Everything was going great and I got through the engorgement phase and just like last time, my milk took a plummet in supply once the engorgement phase was done. So quickly, I was on "cloud 9" with her nursing so well and me having milk, and then all of the sudden... almost nothing. Hungry baby. Fussy baby. Dehydrated baby... and then... the supplements start. So I've been nursing AND giving a bottle with each feeding, so I make sure she's getting all that she needs.

There's my nice version of that scenario.... er... the less raw version...

Raw version? oh, alright.. well I spent Sunday and Monday is tears all day long, pitying myself, once again that my body hates me and is stupid. I began the grieving process of trying to accept that I may not be able to keep nursing this one too. You wouldn't think that I nursed all 3 of my first babies... 4th was out of my control, but 5th AND 6th??? All of the sudden... Kailan can't nurse? Seriously? I don't want to die, but I want to kill my body... that's how mad I am at my body... or should I say that's how mad I am at my boobs! Frustration is not even a strong enough word.

Anyway... with the help of family and friends reminding me what truly matters, I was able to get a grip on myself a little. I need to remember that even if I can't nurse, I am thankful there's other ways to get her nutrition. That even if I can't nurse, it doesn't mean I'm a bad mom or that this is reflection on my mothering. I tried and am trying! But I can't die on this hill, when the more important part about being a mom is making sure that my babies get fed; physically, emotionally, and spiritually.

So... needless to say.. I've come a long way in 3 days. I got depressed, but I'm trying to rise above it and know that everything is going to be alright.

So Ruth is about a week and a half old. And I need to remember my own advice to moms and say, "The first month sucks!" So... I'm going to keep up the good fight, but remember that the goal is to get this baby fat!

Ruth, 6 days old

Ruth, 12 days old. Eve, 6 years old. :)