On Friday, November 11th, we took Jude to JCPenney to get his pictures taken. Since we have a very nice Nikon and I'd like to think both Daniel and I are skilled at photography, I originally planned to take all of his photos ourselves. But after visiting the portrait studio "just for fun" and talking to the really awesome photographer and manager there, we were sold. It was too good a deal to pass up. I figured we could just try it and if we weren't impressed, we'd know never to go back. I don't want to regret anything with Jude. I don't want to pass things by and then later wish I'd done it. I only get to do this once so there is no doing things differently with our next baby.

Our experience was great. I was impressed that the photographers got down on the floor with the camera and it wasn't just set up on a tripod, all cookie-cutter and generic. The main photographer also has his own photography business outside of work and he plays in a worship band at his church. It was just perfect. Such an enjoyable experience. He really cared about getting the right shots and adding special touches to make them even more precious.

I absolutely loved being able to do this. Having Jude's pictures taken was one of the little silly things I always wished I could do with Avery. Bringing in my adorably clad baby for people to coo at. Helping to pose him and looking at his irresistable shots at the end, trying to pick favorites to be printed. It made me so happy. And it was worth spending all my birthday money on!

I really can't believe Jude has been here for 15 weeks. He has grown so much, I cannot believe it. To me, he's huge even though he's still pretty small. He's still the size of a newborn, probably around ten pounds right now (he hasn't been weighed since October 21st. Then he was 9lbs). Jude's adjusted age (preemie lingo there) is just six weeks. And I guess he looks it and acts it. Except he seems wiser and more alert. He has had quite a bit of life experience, after all. ;) I wish I was better at taking the time to blog and document things, but it's better late than never, right?

Since my last post, in dwelling on the fact that I can't have anymore children, I have gotten a bit better. Sure, I have my moments where I feel angry about it, or something reminds me of it and I feel bummed for a while, but it's no longer my every waking thought. I'm not allowing it any longer to affect my day to day life with Jude. I would rather ignore it and pretend it's not true until the time where I would have wanted to start trying again for another, when Jude is a few years old. I'll save it for then. And by then, maybe I will have learned to accept it. Or maybe somehow, adoption (or dare I say surrogacy??) will be possible for us. I pray for that. But either way, Jude will be enough if he's my only living child. He's brought more joy in these last 15 weeks than I could have ever imagined. I am so in love with him.

I have many many photos to share of my sweet boy. I haven't shared any since he left the NICU! So here are just "a few":
































That's all for now. Hopefully I won't wait so long to update next time! ;)

Jude is now 12 weeks and 2 days old. Time is going by much too quickly and he's getting too big too fast. I knew this would happen, of course, and I'm so grateful and thrilled that he's growing, but I do miss my tiny preemie. As of October 21st, Jude weighs 9 pounds and he's 21 inches long. He's now the size of a newborn! He looks so huge to me, since he used to be so tiny, but really he's still pretty small. For now!

These past several weeks have been a whirlwind to say the least. Life with Jude is amazing and beautiful, everything I knew it would be. I have also been spending this time healing physically from the blood clots that formed in my lungs about a month ago.

In a nutshell, I was hospitalized for about five days, at the end of Jude's NICU stay. We were both discharged the same day. It was a very horrible ordeal. At the risk of sounding dramatic, it left me somewhat traumatized. I don't want to go into my hospital experience. I honestly hate talking or even thinking about it, but even after my discharge, I lived in literal paranoia that I was going to end up back in the hospital. Every little pain, even a normal headache, would throw me into a fit of fear. I would even sit there, looking down at my tiny son, worrying that I wouldn't be able to watch him grow up. It was not a way to live! And I felt so angry because I just wanted to enjoy my new baby, my miracle. The one thing I have been dying for (literally) my entire life.

But since having a follow up appointment with my hematologist, I can breathe again. He assured me that I will be okay. As long as I am on my blood thinners, I am protected from future clots. And the pain I am still feeling in my chest is the clots going away, and the damage in my lungs healing. I really could have died. It was a very serious thing. I sit here and shake my head, thinking about how I nearly bled to death having Jude and then four weeks later, almost to the day, I nearly die of pulmonary embolisms. No matter what, I can never just have a normal childbearing experience. The premature birth and long NICU stay weren't enough. I will never understand why all these crazy things happen to me.

All of this brings me to the subject that is really plaguing me. The one thing that has been wrestling my joy away from me. At a time where I long to be happy and blissful, this new reality is blowing the dark clouds in. In the weeks since Jude has been born, I have been medically advised not to have any more children. There it is. I cannot have anymore babies. I type that and I still can't believe that's my life now. No, I have not lost my fertility. I can get pregnant (not with ease). If I really wanted to have more children, I could. But to do so would be horribly risking my life and the life of my baby.

In a month's time after having Jude, I almost died twice. Even with all of the medical intervention, the injections, the extra ultrasounds, the specialists, I only carried Jude six more weeks than I carried Avery. That doesn't sound very successful to me. My doctor even said, if Jude had not been born when he was, he would not have made it through the week. The same thing that had happened to Avery was beginning to happen to him. For whatever reason, my body cannot produce strong placentas. They begin to die and clot. I was told Jude's placenta looked worse than Avery's... and I saw hers and it was horrible. :(

There have been some people who have suggested that this couldn't be true. That with other help or down the road when medicine has progressed even further, that I can have more children. I appreciate their optimism but the facts are all here. To go against what I see right in front of me would be selfish. I could have another baby to bury. Or I could devastate my family... Leave Daniel without his wife, Jude without his mother, my parents without their daughter, my brothers without their sister... I don't know about you, but that sounds a bit risky to me. And even as someone who desperately wanted several children, I'm convinced that this is the right decision. As reluctant and heartbroken as I am.

The realization that Jude is the only living child I will ever have has really left me in a strange place. I feel ungrateful for being upset that I can't have more. I am thrilled to no end over Jude, but at the same time, I am sad. I can't help it. I gained him, an amazing miraculous gift, but I have also lost all the hopes and the dreams of the future children I also longed for. Jude will grow up alone and I never wanted that. I loved growing up with my brothers. To this day, they are my best friends, truthfully. He won't have that. His sister is dead. I wish this had been my choice. It's not fair to have the decision made for me.

I was the little girl who loved her baby dolls. Who played house incessantly. Who always named all of her dolls. Who kept lists of her favorite names and always knew at any given time what all of her future children's names would be. Sure, the list changed every so often as I got older, but I always had one. Scribbled down in the backs of my journals. First and middle, sometimes paired up with the last name of the guy I liked at the time. All silly, but that was always me. Daniel and I had our children's names picked out before we were even married. Jude has been named since 2007 (He was Jude Lucas then). Avery was named around that time too. I just always knew what I wanted. I have planned it and dreamed it forever. So why am I the one that loses it all?

In my actual physical circle, out of the people I actually know in real life, I have never run into anyone who has had it this way. I hate to complain, but mostly everyone gets to choose how many children they have and most get to do it with thoughtless ease. (Most, not all.) And even those who have run into difficulty haven't been forced to bear the excessive devastation I have. Again, hate to do the "woe is me" dance... I don't like to be that person. But I can't help but notice and wish I had answers. WHY ME?

I really thought my cross to bear was going to be the death of my daughter. I thought an entire life without her was enough of a burden to live with. I can't believe I have to endure this as well. I feel like I've lost my future children as well. I mourn Avery and I mourn the children I will never get to have. They had names. Uriah... Jonah... Cadence... I always pictured them being here. They never will be.

I despise that this is my new reality. Every time I have a baby I get a new reality. I hate that I am experiencing some of the same feelings with Jude that I also felt with Avery. Avery died. Jude didn't. I hate that circumstances have left me feeling slapped across the face anyway. I just want to be happy and have my babies. Why does that have to be the one thing I am denied? Disgusting, unworthy people across the globe can pop 'em out like it's nobody's business. There are women who kill their own children. Yet they are the ones who find it effortless. So many beautiful and deserving women struggle to even get pregnant let alone make it successfully through a pregnancy. I will never understand this and it will always anger me.

Before Jude was born, I struggled with bitterness against women who complained about being pregnant or who complained about the inconveniences of their children. It bothered me because I wanted so badly to have my daughter in my arms instead of in the ground and it was so painful to feel like other "normal" people were taking it for granted. Now I feel like I'm left with another reason to fight bitterness. Not only is my daughter dead, but now I am not able to have anymore babies, thus making pregnancy and childbirth even more sacred to me because I am now denied it. It's really hard to feel that way. Like even today at the store, there was a stupid onesie that said, "My mommy is exhausted." It made me angry. I gladly get up all night for Jude. Because I know I am so blessed to be able to. I lost all of that with Avery. I was up all night crying for her instead and that is not better. I love waking up to his sweetness all night, whether he's crying or not, because I know this is all I get. He's going to grow up and I will never experience the joy of my baby again. So, needless to say, my perspective is severely warped when it comes to this. It may be unfair and it may make me a jerk, but I'd like to think I deserve a little grace after all the hell I have been through that's made me this way.

This is all very raw and new right now. I am still angry. I'm feeling mad at God. I just feel like it's all so unfair. Oh I know, "life isn't fair." Regardless... Jude is here safe and healthy like I prayed so desperately for but I'm so mad that instead of being able to bask in the glow of his presence, I am mourning the loss of my will. My dreams. My own choices. I have my days where I feel like I'm accepting it. Where I know Jude is enough (because he is) and I'll be okay without what I wanted for my life. Then other days I just cannot believe that this is my life. That I am on coumadin (blood thinner) possibly for life (which will cause severe birth defects or kill my baby if I were to get pregnant on it). That I don't get to have my babies... I know I'm getting redundant now. But this has been festering in my mind for weeks and I haven't had the chance to spill it out until now.

I'm sure some people will like to think that I'm ungrateful for finding something wrong during a time where something beautiful has also happened to me. I am completely and deeply grateful for Jude. I am SO beyond happy that he is here. I am fiercely in love with him and am cherishing every single second with him. But because I love him so much and wanted him so badly and because I wanted several children so badly, this affects my happiness. It's not fair that he's all I get after everything that's happened. I never get to have my cake and eat it too, I guess.

Time will pass, and I will get used to this. I'll never like it. But I'm sure I'll learn to accept it. Until then, I have a lot of anger to work through. I want to live a happy life with my little family. And for the most part, I do. But I am still carrying so much pain. I just want all the disappointment and loss to be over. I just want to have all those everyday "normal people" problems. Not these ridiculous earth shattering ones. I know life happens and no one is exempt. But I could really use a break for the next few decades. Either way, for now, I am spending each day with my beautiful tiny boy... and letting him heal my broken heart.

Thursday, September 1st was a beautiful day. It was the day that Jude finally got discharged from the NICU. This post is dedicated to the monumental day that Jude came home to us.

I couldn't believe we were heading into the NICU for the last time. We'd come and gone so many times for the last four weeks, it seemed strange to think life wouldn't always be that way. It was so sudden that Jude was ready to come home, kind of like a surprise that snuck up on us.

It was around 2:00 pm that day, coming in and seeing Jude all dressed up in his special 'going home' outfit. I never thought I'd ever be able to purchase the oh-so-tiny preemie outfits I always used to see at the store. We would laugh because they were so tiny and so cute, and we couldn't imagine a baby so small. But now we have one. And his little brown and gray striped cardigan and brown pants with a monkey face on the butt looked just as precious on him as I'd imagined. It was all the more amazing to be handed my son because, for the first time, he had no wires or tubes attached to him. He was just a normal baby, finally.

Jude was in the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit (NICU) for a total of four weeks and four days. The first month of his life was spent in a hospital, instead of his home. Several of his firsts were shared by nurses instead of us. It was a long and difficult journey, but one that we'll never forget. It had it's hard moments and it's sweet moments. We made so many precious memories with our preemie son there... ones we wouldn't trade for anything. So here it is, Jude's first month of life, in photos: