And more biking.  Mason got a new geared bike for his 7th birthday this summer, he enjoyed getting a taste of mountain biking with Matt.
 And of course, no year would be complete without the usual chaos of these three...
 I don't even know what was going on here...
  Celebrating our independence - I really do love these goofballs!

Yes, the rumors are true.  Despite being quite sure we were done with babies, we are expecting baby #5 on May 2, 2014. We were quite shocked to discover that we were expecting again.  We still aren't quite sure how that happened (yes, I do understand the birds and the bees, but really).  After everything we went through with Miles, and then my subsequent miscarriage, we felt that we just couldn't do the stress, anxiety, and emotional roller coaster of another pregnancy.  We learned yet again that Heavenly Father has a plan different from what I planned when I found out that I was pregnant the first of September.  Every day was emotionally and physically draining as I waited for my first doctor's appointment at 8 weeks.  When that day came, the doctor did an ultrasound, and there was a little baby with a strong heartbeat, measuring right on schedule.  That used to make me feel better, but this time it was nothing I hadn't seen before.  He continued to see me every 2 weeks and do an ultrasound each time, just to check measurements and reassure me, but it never seemed to help.  Our life is busy, and weeks passed quickly, but not without to constant stress and worry that something was going to go wrong.  We finally shared our news with our kids, and with friends and family, on Thanksgiving at 16 weeks pregnant.  From there we anxiously waited for our 20 week ultrasound.  We did get a sneak peek at the gender a couple of weeks early, and found we are expecting a little boy.  The kids are very excited, and they ask questions on occasion, but for the most part we all hold our breath.  We had our 20 week ultrasound with perinatology on December 20th.  That was one of the scariest things I have had to sit through.  After looking over every detail of this little guy (who again wasn't shy about showing us that indeed he is a boy), they couldn't find one thing to be concerned about.  While we still have a ways to go, and I can't shake the constant fear that something will go wrong, having that ultrasound out of the way with good results is a relief.  We pray daily that this baby will continue to grow and develop as he should, and that the coming months will pass quickly.  We haven't decided on any names yet, still one baby step at a time, but we are excited and full of hope to welcome another little Brown into the world this spring. 

It had been one of those weeks. Well, really a few of 'those' weeks.  I felt like it was all I could do to force myself to function, to do the daily mundane tasks and get through from day to day.  My due date for my miscarriage was coming up, and once again I had to watch everyone who was pregnant at the same time as me bring home their babies while my arms yet remained empty.  I have a couple of friends dealing with really hard things, and I just couldn't disconnect from it all.  Why does life have to be so hard?  I recently started road biking, and have found it to be a good outlet for me.  There is a particularly long, steep, torturous hill near my house that I biked up a couple of weeks ago for the first time.  As I rode, it just seemed to stretch on forever, and at every bend I hoped for a slight downhill, or flat, or anything to give me just a little break from climbing, just for a minute so I could keep going.  I would round each bend to only find the next stretch of hill, steeper and longer than that the one before.  I had no landmarks to keep me going, nothing to tell me if I was even close to the top.  I kept climbing, not sure I would even be able to propel myself to the top, if there even WAS a top, or if I even cared enough to make it there.  That's how I have felt about life lately.  Looking back over the last 5 years, we have gone through some really, really hard things.  After each major trial I thought to myself that we would get a break, a little breather so we could keep going, but that wasn't the case.  We rounded the next bend and there was another trial, bigger and harder than the one before.  And they just kept coming.  I began to really doubt that the Lord really knew me, or loved me at all.  Could He possibly be aware of my trials?  If He was, where was He now?  These thoughts and feelings came with such force and frequency, I found it nearly impossible to brush them aside.  I had finally reached a point where I couldn't deal anymore.  I tried talking to Matt about it, but although he tried, he couldn't really understand how I felt, and I think the things I said really scared him.  Then there came a morning where it was just me and another friend riding alone.  She is a truly amazing person, and has some major trials in her life that she faces every day.  But somehow she always seems okay.  I haven't ever really talked to her on a personal level, more just small talk and 'hey let's go ride.' During our ride that morning, I unloaded my story, and my recent feelings.  Then I asked her how she does it.  And why.  She shared some experiences with me, but the part that stood out to me the most was when she quoted part of 3 Nephi 24:10, ...'prove me now herewith.'  She related it to doing everything that she could to draw nearer to the Lord, do all that he asked of her.  And then there is the promise in the rest of the scripture:  "...and prove me now herewith, saith the Lord of Hosts, if I will not open you the windows of heaven, and pour you out a blessing that there shall not be room enough to receive it."  The rest of the week that phrase echoed through my head.  Prove me know herewith.  I cannot control what happens in my life.  I cannot see the future trials that I have coming my way, and I have no promise that I will not endure worse things that I have in my life so far.  So why keep climbing?  Because I have a promise.  The Lord has promised that if I do everything I can to prove my faith, to keep trying, that I will be blessed.  And I will make it through each and every trial at every bend.  That ride that day was an answer to my silent prayers in two ways.  First, it was what I needed to hear at that moment that day, when I could not go on any longer.  It was what I needed to pull me out of my downward spiral and reset my mindset, and resolve again to keep fighting.  The other part, and possibly the most significant, was to know that He loves me.  He is aware of me.  He knew what I needed that day, and who I needed that day, and He put her in my path that day because He knew she was who I needed.  Even I couldn't dismiss that as an insignificant coincidence.  I walked in the door after that ride just amazed, and so incredibly grateful for that experience.  With that phrase in my mind, I came across this talk, if you have the time I would encourage you to read it.  I know that the Lord answers prayers, even the desperate pleas of those whose faith has been tested almost to it's end.  And I know that He keeps His promises.  "Prove me now herewith... if I will not open you the windows of heaven, and pour you out a blessing, that there shall not be room enough to receive it." 

I wrote this post a few years ago.  In it I stated, "my kids have been fortunate enough to have had little experience with death thus far in their lives..." If only I had known then what would come only months later.  I try my best to talk to them about their grandparents, and their baby brother, and even my miscarriage.  But I really don't know how much they get.  I don't think I realized how much their reality had been altered until the other day.  A friend (and fellow angel mom) had her little baby girl a few weeks ago.  I made a baby gift, brought meals, watched her little boy while she was in the hospital, etc., but didn't talk to my kids much about it.  They silently observed, but didn't ask any questions.  Then the other day, McKinley was very quiet, then she asked, "Mom, did Danielle's baby survive this time?"  To anyone else that would seem an odd thing for an 8-year-old to say, but I realized as she said it that this is their reality.  They are so young, but at such a young age they know the harsh realities of how fragile life is.  She had observed me doing many of the same things that had been done for us when Miles was born, and since she had never seen the baby, she truly didn't know if the baby alive.  I quickly assured her that yes, Danielle's baby was just fine, and next time I went to see Danielle I would take her with me so she could see the baby.  She really liked that idea.  I sometimes get lost in how hard all of this is for me.  It's hard for them too.  Their friends get to bring home babies and show off their new little siblings.  All they have are pictures and fading memories.  As harsh as it is, that is their reality.  I am grateful for quiet tender moments to remind me that they are hurting and dealing too.

I had to write this down before I forget.

The other night as I was putting Maylee to bed, I said my usual "good night May, I love you." She looked up and said, "I know.  And Mason love me, and daddy love me, and kinley love me, and baby Miles love me."  She paused for a minute, then went on "and I love baby Miles.  I hold him so so carefully.  And dad help me, dad hold him with one hand and I hold him with my two hands.  And I be so so careful with him, him so so little and have so so little hands."   
I said, "you're right," and we talked about it for a minute, then I said "good night" again, turned off the lights, and left.  It seems insignificant, but she is three.  In her three-year-old words she described exactly the day she held Miles for the first and only time.  We haven't ever really talked about it, and how Matt held him with one hand to help while she held him, or how when she held him she had to be so so gentle.  We talk about him, but not really specifics like that.  She's three, and she remembered those details on her own a whole year later.  She's so little, I often wonder if she really remembers him, more than just his picture and his name.  I guess I need to give her more credit, she remembers more that I could have guessed.  I hope she always remembers her little brother, and those few moments that she was able to be his big sister and hold him on earth.

It's crazy, in all of my anxiety and anticipation of Miles' upcoming first birthday, I kind-of forgot that life would go on after that day.  It felt like my world would end on that day, and all of my energy for the last several weeks was focused on surviving, on getting through reliving that April Fool's Day (how's that for cruel irony) when I first held my son and had so much hope for him. And now here I am, one day later.  I survived.  The world didn't end.  In a weird way it feels like the day after Armageddon, like I survived something that I wasn't supposed to make it through.  Crazy, I know, but a surreal feeling.  I woke up this morning devoid of purpose, not sure what my plan was for the week, for the day, even for the first hour of the day.  I literally hadn't planned anything past April 1st.  Nothing.  I tried to, but I couldn't commit to anything, couldn't see past that day, I honestly wasn't sure I would be able to function.  But I am, and it wasn't as bad as I had thought it would be.  And now I have to figure out where to go from here.  I have 364 days to prepare for the next one, I guess.  But somehow the next time around doesn't seem as unbearable.  His birthday will always be hard, but I survived the first one, and I have one year minus one day for time to work it's magic and heal my heart a little more before his next birthday.  Each year, each birthday, brings me closer to the day when I will see him again.  And each one will have a day after, a new day to refocus and better myself and my life so that he will be proud to call me his mother someday.  So here I am, one year plus one day after my world fell apart, and still I am holding it together.  I may not have a plan for the day yet, but holding it together counts for something, right? 

Lately I find that I don't want to talk to anyone, be around anyone, or deal with anything.  I just want to be left alone to let time pass and hope that this will all go away.  I know, women have miscarriages all of the time.  A miscarriage isn't that big of a deal.  It's not.  This was not just a miscarriage.  I am angry about it, frustrated that it happened, hurt that we have to deal with yet another disappointment, but it doesn't even begin to compare with what we have already been through.  I don't feel the same loss, the same longing to hold my baby, the same anything that I felt after Miles.  It's not just the miscarriage that is making life so hard to deal with right now.  It's how it happened.  When it happened.  And all of the emotions that it brings back that I had tried to bury.  In my head 10-12 weeks was a milestone, after seeing a heartbeat and getting past that point, I felt like I was okay to breathe and relax until the 20 week ultrasound.  There were no signs, not a single thing felt out of place.  Going to that appointment was a slap in the face.  I had no reason to expect anything but a quick check and a healthy pregnancy.  Why couldn't it have been at 6 or 7 weeks like most miscarriages, or no heartbeat at the first visit, or some sort of signs before I walked into that office for my second visit, happy and excited to get a peek at my baby?  Why did I have to have hope first?  Why then?  I hadn't wanted to do it again.  I didn't want to go through another pregnancy, I wasn't sure I could.  But Miles' upcoming first birthday loomed ahead of me, and I couldn't face it.  I asked other angel moms how they dealt with that first major milestone.  All of them were pregnant by then, and although that day was of course hard, there is no replacing a child whom you have lost, there was still something to look forward to, something to get them through that hard day.  It made sense, and it seemed like my only hope.  We prayed, felt good about it, and decided to try.  I was convinced that I could do it just one more time.  When I found out I was pregnant, I quickly calculated how far along I would be by Miles' birthday.  20 1/2 weeks.  I would have the 20-week ultrasound out of the way, and be past a huge milestone.  As long as everything went well, that would help give me hope and ease the pain of reliving that day.  And so I focused on that to get me through.  I was sure that this was our rainbow, our joy after weathering the storm, there was no way that anything could go wrong.  It just couldn't. And now here we are.  Two pregnancies in the last year and no baby in our future.  My son's first birthday only a month away, and no hope of a new baby's arrival to get me through it.  I have seen it coming, dreaded it coming, and tried to find an escape for months.  That was my last hope, now I just have to be strong and face it, and I don't know how.  That is why, although I appreciate the women who have had miscarriages who have reached out and tried to relate, I know they can't.  I don't mean to offend anyone, I do recognize that their trials were hard for them, and I appreciate the efforts, but I don't want to talk about it, or hear your story, or dwell on it.  I write about it on my blog because I can write it out one time, be understood, and not have to keep talking about it.  It is what it is, and the reality is that I have to move on and deal with bigger things that I have tried to avoid.  It was not just a miscarriage.  It's just one more thing weighing on my heart and mind when I have had all that I can handle.  It's the dissolution of my last hope for joy during a trying time.  It's yet another reminder of all that we have lost, and how fragile life is.  It will all work out, and we will be okay.  I do have hope, I don't mean for this post to sound hopeless.  I have been honest about how I feel right now, but I won't be angry forever.  I know that.  I will heal and life will move on.  Time passing, prayer, and getting through the next month spending time alone with my little family will help.  Then just more time, but I am hopeful that this will pass, I have hope that the Lord will ease my pain and help me to be content with what I have and understand his plan for me.  I have three healthy children, and I don't for one minute take that for granted.  I am so grateful to be their mother, and for every minute that I spend with them.  I love them and am grateful for them, and I know this will all pass.  But for now, I just keep telling myself it will take time.

Yesterday was yet another one of those days that life can't prepare you for.  After much deliberation and prayer, we decided several months ago that we would try to have another baby.  We put our trust in the Lord, held our breath, and decided to go on faith.  We got pregnant after a few months of trying, and were both nervous and excited for this opportunity for our family to grown and heal together.  We didn't tell anyone, not even our kids.  We wanted to wait until we were sure everything was okay before we put them through that again.  And so the first few weeks of first trimester misery went on as I waited for my first doctor's appointment.  I was so nervous and anxious, but that was all put at ease when I saw a little baby on that screen with a little flickering heartbeat in perfect rhythm.  I knew we were far from out of the woods, but I was relieved.  We decided to wait a little longer before sharing our exciting news.  Yesterday, at 12 1/2 weeks, I had my second doctor's appointment.  Nothing seemed out of place, and I was only slightly anxious to see the baby again, I was sure everything was fine.  I was tired and miserable, so everything seemed as it should be.  The moment I saw the baby on the screen I knew something was wrong.  There was the baby, but everything was too still, no wiggling, no flickering heartbeat.  I said nothing and stared at the screen as the doctor moved the ultrasound wand around quietly. In my head I was screaming 'WHY can't I see a heartbeat!?!  WHY aren't you saying anything?!?!  Something is wrong.  Something is wrong.'  I couldn't make the words come out, it was too impossible, not after everything we had already been through.  Not after the last several weeks of misery, I was almost done.  I was sure I was overreacting, I was missing something.  Then my doctor finally looked and me and said, "well, you are measuring a week and a half behind, the baby isn't moving, and there is no heartbeat.  I'm so sorry."  My mind was numb as we scheduled a D&C since my body didn't seem to recognize that it was no longer pregnant.  I know this is nothing compared to losing Miles, but it's yet another loss, another leap of faith, and another trial.  I go in this afternoon for the D&C.  I had Matt tell our kids last night so they wouldn't wonder what was going on.  Before he could finish his sentence, McKinley started excitedly chattering about finally having another baby, she was so excited, she said she needed to go write this in her journal.  Then Matt finished and explained what had happened.  They were okay about it, and asked good questions.  He explained that it's not like last time, and that we wouldn't have to do a funeral again (they were concerned about that).  They took it all fine, but it just breaks my heart to put them through yet another disappointment.  While I am angry that we have to go through yet another heartbreak, and I am searching for answers for all of this, I know that the Lord has a plan for our little family.  I am so grateful for our little family, and for the three little miracles that I get to spend each day with.  And I am grateful for the reminder, yet again, to hug them a little tighter.

no, this is not the textbook version.  There is no textbook for this.  I took a pregnancy test this morning.  I didn't expect anything, I just did it out of habit.  I usually take one right around 'that time' every month just because, well, because I don't like surprises.  But this test was different.  It was a different brand.  I took it, like usual, then started my morning routine.  I glanced at it a few minutes later, as usual, before I would usually put it in the garbage.  When I looked at it, I didn't understand it.  Seriously.  I was used to looking for one or two pink lines.  This one had a blue plus, and then another line.  What does that even mean?  A little curious, but still not thinking anything, I googled it.  On my phone.  From the bathroom.  I have had 4 babies, but you would think this was my first time taking one of these.  My brain couldn't process it.  I found the brand, then the 'how to read your test' link.  I froze.  Wait, what?  I'm PREGNANT?  I do a little mental math.  5 1/2 weeks.  I think.  It's what I wanted, right?  I think so.  Then a million questions and doubts flooded my mind.  How could I do this all again? What if something happens again?  9 months is a really long time.  Too long.  My brain went numb the rest of the day.  No more thinking.  Denial.  Pretend it's not happening.  I told only one person, a friend and fellow angel mom.  And I cried.  Partially happy tears, but mostly scared out of my mind.  More scared than I have ever been at the top of a really long roller coaster.  There is no What to Expect for moms like me.  There is no normal once you have dealt with the reality of losing a baby.  I am excited to hold another baby, I am excited for my kids to have another sibling.  I am excited for my 5th baby.  But this is not like any of my other 4 pregnancies, this is different.  No nesting, no anxious anticipation and calculating due dates and planning boy or girl coming home outifts.  Bringing a new baby home, what was that even like?  I can't remember.  That seems like a dream, like an impossible reality.  I have done that before, 3 times, but that all seems so long ago, and clouded by the memories of leaving a hospital emptyhanded.  Even now, as I get ready for bed, I begin to doubt.  It was probably wrong.  I will take another one in a few days.  This is going to be a long 9 months.  Deep breath, listen to my friend.  It will be okay.  Just take it one milestone at a time.  12 weeks.  20 weeks. 38 weeks (they will do my c-section 2 weeks early because of the type of c-section I had with Miles, there is not a doctor in the country who will do a VBAC on a classical c-section - and yes I googled that just to be sure.  The risk of complications from going into labor are high, so 38 weeks it is).  That's too far for now, one milestone at a time.  12 weeks.  I can stay sane that long.

*(edit 2/28/13) I wrote this the day I found out I was pregnant, but I never published it.  For anyone who cares to read, this is what every day of the next two months felt like.  Only to have it end in disappointment. 

Dear Family & Friends,

       As I prepared to send out Christmas cards this year, I thought long and hard about the letter I would send with them.  What would I write, how would I say it?  I tried several times, but nothing sounded right.  I finally decided not to do it.  I can't write the usual family update this year.  Instead, I put our blog link on our card, so that those who want to can read all about our family this year.  I don't mean that to sound ungrateful, we have been watched over and have been truly blessed this year, far too much to express in one single letter.  Here is a short review, with links to blog posts about some of them.  McKinley turned 8, and chose to be baptized a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints just a couple of weeks ago {link here}. We are so proud of her. She also began playing soccer this year, as well as piano, and drama classes. She is in 2nd grade, and her teacher just raves about her, she excels in every area in school, especially reading (a girl after my own heart :).  Mason turned 6, started playing tee-ball and soccer, as well as taking karate, and began Kindergarten this fall.  He is loving school, loves playing with his friends, and is growing too fast.  Maylee turned 2, and is a little fireball (she has a bit of her dad in her :). I don't know what I would do without her cute little voice making sassy remarks about EVERY thing I do.  On April 1st we welcomed our 4th little one into the world.  We named him Miles Frank Brown.  We were blessed to be his earthly parents for only a few hours before he returned to the loving arms of his heavenly father {link to Miles' Story here}.  We are so grateful for the short time that we had with him, and we look forward to the day that we can hold him in our arms forever.  We are so grateful at this time of year for our children, every one of them, on earth and in heaven.  We are grateful for our families, those who we spend the holidays with, those who live far away and celebrate with us in spirit, and those who watch over us from heaven.  We are grateful for our friends and neighbors who have loved, supported, served, and blessed our family.  We are especially grateful for our Savior, for his sacrifice, and for the promise of a forever family {to read about our family pictures this year click HERE}.  We hope that you have a wonderful holiday season, we love you all!

Love, the Brown Family

 I have had many different feelings about the first Christmas over the years.  As a child it was a fun story.  As I got older I understood it a little more.  The Christmas of 2004 was just a few weeks after the birth of our first child, and I felt then that I understood just how Mary must have felt as she held her tiny newborn baby in her arms.  How full her joy must have been, I thought.  I was pregnant with each of my other 3 babies during 3 different Christmases, and I felt that I could empathize with mary as she traveled a great distance on a donkey while large with child.  Her circumstances were less than ideal, and I felt for her physical pain.  I also knew that she endured that pain in anxious anticipation of the joy of his upcoming birth.  Soon, very soon, she would hold her baby in her arms and he would be hers.  I thought I understood it then.  This year, however, I think I understand a little bit more.  Mary knew that she was giving birth to a child who would not be hers to raise.  She knew he had a plan, and a purpose.  She knew he would die to save the world.  She carried that burden with her as she faithfully carried him in her womb.  She was no different than you or I.  She was a mother, she had a mother's heart, and she no doubt had hopes and dreams for the child that she carried.  She no doubt held him in her arms as a newborn and wanted to take away the pain that she knew he would experience.  She knew that he would be taken from her too soon, as this was his plan.  Yet she continued in faith.  Every year I learn a little bit more, understand a little bit more of Mary's role in the life of our Savior.  Every year my gratitude increases for her sacrifice.  For His ultimate sacrifice.  I am so grateful for the birth of our Savior, and for the greatest gift of all gifts that have been given to mankind, the gift of the Atonement.  I know that our family will be together again one day, and that we are sealed by bonds that death cannot break.  I know that I am not perfect, nor could I hope to be in this life, but by and through my Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ, I can be made perfect, and can one day enter into the kingdom of heaven and rejoin my lost loved ones.  And hold my son again.  Because of Him my heart is full this holiday season, and I am grateful.

 McKinley is so funny, she had my artistic, creative side.  She insisted that we needed brightly colored fresh flowers for the table.  We ran across these the night before, perfect!  She was so happy!
 McKinley's Grandma Brown used to make a porcelain doll with a beautiful white dress to look like each of the granddaughter's for them for their baptism.  She passed away before Kinley was old enough to get one, and I don't do dolls :), so this was my way of carrying on that tradition.  I made her baptism dress, so for her birthday I made a smaller version of it to fit an American Girl Doll.  I had American Girl dolls, and she has wanted one for some time now.  I told her when she turned 8 she would could have one of her own, so for her birthday this year she got one that looked like her (red hair, blue eyes, it's hard to see in the fuzzy camera phone photo :).  She loves that she has a doll that looks like her, I love that we could carry on something that Grandma Brown started, it was a way to include her in McKinley's day since she couldn't be there in person.