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On our bedroom dresser, we have an entire area dedicated just to Maddie.  It has her picture and urn, all of the flower petals we were given for her, a statue, and several other things.  It's a wonderfully special area, and it is a blessing for me to look at it each night as I'm going to sleep.

Alice and I often play upstairs on the bed when she wakes up.  Ever since she was a newborn, I will always find her staring at Maddie's urn, gazing intently at it.  My girls are fraternal twins, conceived from the same in-vitro cycle but transferred during two different frozen embryo transfers.  This is a tiny thing, but it lets me know that my girls have a close bond that transcends even an earthly divide.

She technically turns 7 months this coming Sunday, so I probably should have posted these a while ago.  Regardless, my friend Chris took Alice's 6-month photos (he also did her amazing 3-month photos!).

Here are some of the raw files - I just love them!











You may notice a few things:

1.  Alice only smiled in the last photo.  This is because I took her to get her photos taken while she was tired.  Lesson learned.

2.  Like in her Christmas card photos (LINK), you may notice my daughter's nipples.  Apparently I am comfortable posting them on the internet.  This may get weird around the time she's 8 or so.

Judgment.  We're all guilty of it about some things, but don't really think about it until we're the victims of it.

You see it even in the infertility and loss communities, in the mama communities.  Those of us who have babies after our struggles with horrible infertility receive comments about how grateful we should be from those who haven't been blessed yet - thus diminishing our own struggles, trying to make us feel like we're no longer "in the pack."  Same thing with those who have lost their babies and haven't yet had another - most baby-loss mamas are not judgmental, but there are times when the despair and jealousy can creep up inside of you, and you lash out. 

"Regular" mamas receive this, too.  Take the breastfeeding wars, for example.  I was personally able to battle through incredible hardships with BFing, and am still going strong with no end in sight.  Not everyone is that lucky - there are people who don't make milk, who don't have the resources to make it work.  Of course it makes me a tiny bit sad when someone doesn't try, but that's not my place to judge - they have their own reasons, none of which I'm privy to.  On the flip side, a woman receives judgment if she goes "too long" (as if there is such a thing).  I plan on BFing as Alice's main source of nutrition until a year, and then beyond that as she wants (although I will likely have to either stop or pump-and-dump when we do the next FET, as Lup.ron isn't compatible with BFing).

Why do I bring this up?  I was made to feel pretty awful this last weekend.  A group of women who do "gentle parenting" made a large number of catty comments about anyone who has had anything other than a home/natural childbirth.  This obviously is a very personal subject to me.  First of all, I was never a great candidate for home birth - as we found during both of my cancer surgeries, and then again when I had Maddie, my blood pressure dips incredibly low when I lose much blood.  It's not safe for me to be at home when this happens.  Then, when we got pregnant with Alice, I chose the Shirodkar cerclage because it had better statistical results - since there is a permanent metal ribbon in my cervix, that is not a valid exit strategy for the baby, thereby necessitating a C-section.  Their comments made me feel bad both about losing my baby, and for doing what I needed to do to make sure that Alice was safe - kind of hypocritical for a group that is about "respect," but I digress.

When it comes down to it, I shouldn't have even had to explain to anyone that my C-section was medically necessary.  I have friends who opted to be induced (or even had elective C-sections) for personal or medical reasons.  That does not make them less of a respectful mother - in fact, it brings the baby into the world at a time when the mother is the most prepared to welcome them in a peaceful and happy manner.  That fosters a close relationship with the baby.  I totally agree that natural is an ideal environment for those who are lucky enough to have that option, but there is NO authority on attachment parenting that requires it.

Enough about my personal diatribe - my point, now that I've eventually gotten there, is that it's just unfair and not right to try and judge someone without knowing their situation.  And, as it's impossible to ever know all of another's situation... again, it's not right to judge them.  Opinions are wonderful things, and we've all got them - but as I age, I realize that all of those concrete ideals I had when I was younger are tempered, that life is rarely black and white.  Life happens, and we just have to adapt with the hands we're dealt.

There are so many lullabies out there, and it's almost like they're all taunting those whose babies passed away by telling your baby to not say a word, to not cry.

Regardless of that, though, I've always related the song "Hush, Little Baby" to Maddie - for a bunch of different, personal reasons.  As many know, the song has a bunch of lyrics like this:

"Hush, little baby, don't say a word.
Mama's gonna buy you a mockingbird.
And if that mockingbird don't sing,
Mama's gonna buy you a diamond ring.
And if that diamond ring turns brass,
Mama's gonna buy you a looking glass." 

All of the lyrics have the mother trying to make a bad situation better for her child.  (Granted, she's only doing it by buying stuff, which is illogical, but that's not germane to my point.)  It sometimes hits home how much I ache to do things to make this situation better for Madeleine, something that I never can do.  I would do anything, give anything to make this okay, to bring her back.