August already?

Looking at the calendar, I can't believe it is August.  As always, the summer seems to have flown by.  It was a summer I was nervous to begin, mainly because I look the same way I did last summer.  Round.  Visibly, obviously, pregnant.  We spend a great deal of time during the summer at the Hill Farm Swim Club.  Its a neighborhood pool, so most of the people I see there know our story.  However, I knew I would see a handful of families that would recognize me and not know about Molly.  I was anticipating awkward conversations about being pregnant again.  I was apprehensive to have the initial Molly conversation over and over and over.  I never mind talking about her, but the initial conversation can be challenging for both me and the person I'm talking to.  People are sometimes a bit flustered, or embarrassed, and always very apologetic.  I always thank people for their concern and try my hardest to smooth over any awkwardness by telling them that I like talking about Molly, and our family is doing as well as we can be.  I have actually been very lucky with acquaintances at the pool, as well as with strangers I've encountered who happen to ask about our family.  I have never encountered anything except respect, kindness, and sincerity.  On occasion, I am given a story of loss and hope in return.  When this happens, I always feel like these conversations were meant to happen, like Molly brought these strangers onto my path for a reason.

We've seen a lot of butterflies, and even a Hummingbird, visit Molly's garden.

 
I have had some really lovely conversations with neighborhood friends at the pool.  Two particular moments stand out in my mind from this summer.  Earlier in the summer, I was in the baby pool watching Cole play with Tommy and Tess.  A woman came up to me and asked me if my name was Debra.  When I responded with a "yes," she told me that she follows this blog and wanted to introduce herself.  She was told our story by her neighbor, who is someone I know.  When I see how many people read a post, I'm always surprised and wonder who the heck reads this because I definitely don't know 500 people.  So I was touched when this stranger approached me and thanked me for sharing our story, because in fact, that is part of the reason I write.  To break the silence around stillbirth and baby loss.  To start conversations.  To honor my daughter.

I also had a moment earlier in the summer with my new friend Laura.  Laura and I met last summer.  We talked a few times, but didn't really know each other.  When she saw me in June, she asked me if I was pregnant last summer.  I gave her the very short version of what happened, and she clearly immediately felt quite horrible.  I was with my parents, so we didn't talk much longer.  The next day, Laura found me to apologize again.  We began a conversation that was one of my favorites of the summer.  Since then, we have talked when we can, and she has become someone I very much value speaking with.  She has had her own struggles, and she understands me in a wonderful way.  Again, I can feel Molly lingering in this relationship, bringing Laura and I together to cry and laugh and feel less alone.

Cole started swimming lessons in mid-June.  I wasn't sure how he would handle it.  It was going to be the first class or activity Cole had done without me or Brendon.  My expectations were extremely low.  I didn't care if Cole learned to swim, I just wanted him to gain some independence.  His cousin Tommy was in his class, and both my sister and I were hopeful that it would help the boys to have each other.  The first day was sad and dramatic, but by day 4, both boys were happy and laughing all through the lesson.  One of my proudest moments from the summer was about 2 weeks into lessons.  Cole and Tommy were holding hands walking to the pool.  Tommy turned around to my sister and said, "Mom, will you come, too?"  I then heard Cole say to Tommy, "I don't need my Mom to come."  Hooray!  Since then, it has been smooth sailing.  Cole has had two amazing teachers all summer who not only have taught him a ton about water safety and the basics of swimming, but they've helped him learn to trust new grown-ups.  Both of his teachers have told me how much fun he is to have in class, and nothing makes me happier than hearing that other people love my kid.

I can't count the number of times every week that people ask me how I'm doing.  My standard reply is, "Physically, I'm fine, but my head is a mess."  I'm realizing, however, that I'm going to have to change my answer.  This pregnancy has been emotionally challenging, but I'm much less anxious right now than I was two months ago.  It probably helps that I love summer, but I've also just relaxed a bit and actually started believing that we will be bringing a baby home in mid-October.  This little girl moves A LOT, and she seems to know when I'm feeling nervous.  Somehow she always perks up and gives me a nudge in those moments when I start to think, "hmmm...she hasn't moved in a while..."  I chalk it up to Molly poking her sister and telling her to ease my mind.  I see my doctor quite frequently, including many, many ultrasounds to measure growth.  My 29-week appointment was this past Monday.  I measured right on target, and baby's heart rate was perfect.  Starting on August 19th, I will have weekly ultrasounds until I deliver.  So far, things have been uneventful.  I'm hoping, hoping, hoping they stay that way.  10 more weeks.

I've already said this, but I can't believe its August.  I remember so clearly how the days seemed to drag on right after Molly died.  I wanted to fast forward past the initial shock, the raw pain, the waiting for a new pregnancy.  And now here we are.  Almost 11 months later.  Somehow, time kept going and started moving faster.  11 months.  I really can't bear to think about how big Molly would be.  We've started talking about how we want to mark her first birthday in September.  We have some ideas, but I'm struggling with what will feel right.  We know we want a family photo by her garden.  We know we want to be together.  And we know we don't want to have any expectations of ourselves on September 9th.  Other than that, we're still figuring it out.  Part of me wants to have a large gesture, like a balloon release and cupcakes with neighbors and friends.  The other part of me just wants to be with Brendon and Cole and do something quiet and peaceful.  I'm not sure what will feel right.  Probably nothing will feel exactly right, considering what I should be doing on my daughter's first birthday.  It will be a hard day, but I know we will get through it as a family.

This summer has been filled with so much laughter, visits with extended family, time with friends, play dates for Cole, and little adventures.

Hill Farm Neighborhood July 4th Parade

On Uncle Steve's boat at Great Grandpa Leroy's 90th Birthday Party

 

 

Dane County Fair with Uncle Clark

Swim lessons with Kaitlin

Taking a bath with Healey

A play date with Tommy

Lucky to have a big cousin like James

Post-swim lesson cousin love

Chasing butterflies with Tommy at the field by the pool

I hope we can make the most of the rest of August, but I secretly want the next 10 weeks to zoom by.  I can't wait to hold this little girl in my arms.  And I have to say, once again, Hope is winning in my mind.  I'm feeling less and less terrified and more and more positive that our dream of raising a daughter will come true.  Despite swearing I wouldn't put baby clothes in the nursery until this baby was safely at home, I broke down a few days ago and filled the closet with embarrassingly gender specific clothes.  I am picturing myself holding her for the first time, seeing Brendon with one of his daughters, watching Cole gently hold one of his sisters.  I am feeling more hopeful than I have in the past year.  And that is what I am going to try to hold onto until I can hold Cole and Molly's baby sister in my arms.

If you let hope inside, it takes over.  It feeds on your insides and uses your bones to climb and grow.  Eventually it becomes the thing that is your bones, that holds you together.  Holds you up until you don't know how to live without it anymore.  
To pull it out would kill you entirely.
~Ally Condie