It's been on my mind for a while now... consolidating my blogs and keeping every aspect of my life in one place. With Jude on one blog and Avery on another, I have left so many things out, feeling that my posts needed to be about just one child or the other and that my writing was limited by categorizing my blogs so specifically. I have decided to change Jude's blog, For this child I prayed, into our family blog, renaming it Beautiful things. I'm thinking about getting a domain name... I guess we'll see...

The Avery Diaries has been an outlet for me these past two years and it's offered a much needed opportunity to meet so many amazing women out there who share the same pain. I have loved this blog so much. It will stay up, as a reminder of the path I have traveled and how far I have come. I hope it serves as a piece of Avery's legacy, a testament that she was here. I hope it will remain a tool for newly bereaved mothers, grasping for something to relate to. I also hope that the readers I have had here will follow me over to the new blog. I plan to share so much more of our lives. I'm excited that I will have the chance to do that.

Avery's 2nd birthday is Heaven was on March 13th. It was much different this year. In good ways and in bad ones. It was good because Jude is here. We only had the desperate hope of him last year. But it was bad because so many more dreams have been lost in the past year. We didn't know last year that Avery would be the only daughter we would ever have. It changes things. It makes the loss even harder.

This year, we also made Avery's day special for our family. Daniel was off work, thank God, so we took Jude down to the Gulf of Mexico for lunch. It was a beautiful day and Jude attracted so much attention. That always makes us smile. It was fun because it was Jude's first time to the Gulf. He won't remember it, but we have the photos to prove it.

Today was the two year anniversary of the most devastating day of our lives. The day Avery's heartbeat could not be found. The day we found out she slipped away in my womb. The day we were told I'd have to deliver her. Two years. How has it been so long and still feel so recent that I can remember each and every detail? It has changed our lives. It's changed who we are inside and out. It's changed the way things affects us. It's changed the way we fit in with the world. It's changed everything.

It feels worse this year knowing that the only daughter I'll ever get to have, I lost. On Avery's birthday last year, I was 11 weeks pregnant with Jude, praying and believing that losing Avery would be the biggest pain we'd ever know and that everything would be okay from then on. That was before I knew that Jude would have to be our last. Before I knew Avery would be our only daughter. Ever. So even though another year is between those raw early days and now, there is a new element to grieve everyday. My only daughter is dead. And I've lost a lifetime of joy with her.

I often wonder what people think. Do they roll their eyes or do they try to empathize? Do they think it shouldn't matter or do they understand? I really wouldn't want to know. It would kill me if the people I care about could ever shrug off something so sacred to me. Avery is my daughter. It doesn't matter if she was here for one day, one year, one month, or one lifetime. She was here.

Tomorrow is the anniversary of when I went into the hospital for induction to have Avery. And finally, Tuesday, the 13th is Avery's 2nd birthday. I can't believe she's been gone for two years. I can't believe this has been our life for two years.  I don't know how that much time has passed. How did we make it this far?

I miss her. I miss her so much.

A week ago, on January 28th, I received a very special surprise in my mailbox. My Avery Bear arrived.

My special bear was made by a lovely organization called Molly Bears. They make beautiful weighted teddy bears for bereaved parents.  I was only on the waiting list for a short time, so I was pleasantly shocked to receive mine so soon.

I was even less prepared for how emotional it would be for me when I picked up the soft fluffy clump out of the box. The small pink bear weighs 8.2oz, just as much as my Avery weighed. Feeling my baby girl's weight in my hands once again released a sudden flood of emotions. I don't know if I can explain it, but the second I held it, I felt like it had only been yesterday that I'd felt Avery in my hands. The weight of the bear felt so familiar. I bawled for my daughter like I haven't in quite a while. I felt closer to her. She felt less distant. Less in the past. I couldn't believe that a small weighted teddy bear could do that for me. To snuggle that stuffed animal was so comforting. I am so grateful to have it. It will forever be a huge part of our family. A special symbol of our precious little girl.

When I was thrown into this journey, almost two years ago (wow, how has it been that long already?!) I never dreamed I would form such special relationships with other bereaved mothers online. Ones I had never met but bonded with on such an intimate level. I read their blogs and feel like I wrote them myself. In so many ways, we are all the same. And we take comfort in this. It makes us feel less alone in this world where horrible things happen and they have no prejudice.

For some reason, until recently, it never occurred to me that I could actually meet in real life any of these amazing and strong women whom I feel like I already know. But today, it actually happened. I met Julie. :) Julie lost her sweet Kenny last May when she was 25 weeks along, just like me. She and her husband came down to visit some family who happens to live just twenty minutes away from me. We arranged to meet and had lunch today at Chili's, Julie, Daniel, Jude, and me.

It was so great to sit and talk of our babies together and we both felt the same way about so many things. It's so easy to feel like a freak of nature when your body fails you and the only people you can relate to are not a part of your everyday immediate life. But to be face to face with someone who shares your same pain... There's some comfort in that.

It's amazing how universal so many of the emotions of baby loss are. It is such a personal devastation, but it can so easily be shared with strangers. Strangers that become friends.

I am so grateful that I got to meet Julie today. It was like catching up with an old friend. I hope it's not the last time we cross paths or the last time I get to meet a fellow baby loss mom!

There's a big piece of my heart that has been mended since Jude was born. A Rainbow Baby does bring so much healing. My arms are no longer empty. My house doesn't lack the sounds of a little one. There are finally pacifiers, burp cloths, and little socks scattered in random places... These things and so many more that I have been dreaming of are finally a reality for us. But do not be mistaken. I still miss her.

I miss Avery everyday. I look at Jude's little face and I wonder if he looks like she would have. I hear his cry and his little sounds and wonder what hers would have sounded like. I see Jude's beautiful blue eyes and wonder what it would have been like to see Avery looking back at me. I cuddle Jude, all warm and alive, and I wonder what it would have been like to cuddle Avery with the absence of coldness and death. I wonder what it would be like to see Avery play with Jude, like a sister and brother play. Would she be helpful or jealous? Would she be gentle or rough with him? I know they would have grown up to be best friends, just like I am with my brothers.

I'll always be left to wonder, because Avery still isn't here. And it's still hard without her. Jude doesn't erase or replace her. He doesn't fill her void. He just distracts us from it. I praise God for the gift of Jude. He's amazing and beautiful. Such a precious little brother.

Sadly enough, something I was looking forward to was bringing Jude to the cemetery to visit his big sister. It was the only way we could have our babies be together. So on October 5th, it happened. We got to take Jude to Avery's spot. It was a very special, bittersweet moment.

Our Rainbow baby will be 9 weeks old tomorrow, October 2nd. That day is also his due date. Jude Wesley was born on July 31st at just 31 weeks gestation. The same thing that took Avery was beginning to happen to our little boy. He had to be born via emergency c-section and spent four weeks and four days in the NICU. He's been home for just three days shy of how long he was in the hospital. Funny how it goes so much slower in the NICU. He's already getting so big. I wish time could slow down...

So, how is life after the Rainbow? Has our grief over the loss of Avery changed since Jude has been born? I can imagine some people may expect us not to miss Avery anymore, or maybe that everything is fixed now that we have "a real baby." In a lot of ways, Jude makes us miss her even more, experiencing all of the things we mourned losing with her. Finally being able to lose sleep at night to nurture a precious baby, instead of losing sleep because you can't stop crying over your empty aching arms. Oh, and I was right... having to get up all night long to feed and change a crying baby is nothing compared to what I got to do after I had Avery. Being Jude's mom is so much easier than being Avery's mom. It's nice to know I wasn't mistaken. I knew exactly what I was missing with Avery. The challenge of parenting is worth every second and I take on all of it gladly. I cherish it. This is exactly what I wanted, everything I dreamed of. Life is perfect. Well, almost.

You would have to read my latest post in Jude's blog to see why things aren't all they could be. And then you'll know how I feel about the fact that I cannot have anymore children. Avery and Jude are all I get. Yes, I am physically able to conceive, but the risk is too great. I cannot handle another loss and it would be selfish to put my life on the line. But it's not easy to accept. I am not ungrateful for the gift of Jude, but I just didn't expect this to be our life. I just don't think it's fair.

Today, Daniel and I were talking about how we will never experience a daughter. We lost the only one we could ever have. I'll never braid my little girl's hair or dress her up in pretty outfits. I'll never have dolls or Barbies lying around my house. No pink... No little toenails to paint. I won't be able to teach my daughter how to use make-up or listen to her talk about her crushes. I'll never have that amazing mother-daughter relationship that I share with my own mother. After losing Avery, I didn't know I would never get the chance to experience all the girl things with another daughter in the future. I had no idea Avery would never have a sister. Now I feel like that's another form of loss to deal with. As much as I love having a son, there will still be something we missed out on. Something we were supposed to have.

Having another baby after a loss doesn't erase anything. It doesn't replace the baby that died. I really hope people don't believe that. I miss thinking that Avery's death was the only burden I'd have to carry. The Rainbow is supposed to be the end of the storm and I wish that were still so. I am cherishing every second with Jude... every accidental smile, every little preemie grunt, every silly expression, every yawn, every cute sneeze, every breath, every thing... But after he's outgrown each stage, I can never have that back. I can never experience it the next time around with another baby. This is it. I wish losing Avery was enough devastation for one life.

In a way I feel like Avery sort of died in vain, for lack of a better word. I really believed that she died to save the rest of her siblings. That her death taught us what was wrong with my body so we could make my next pregnancies safe and we would find victory over my mutations. Turns out, all the extra difficult intervention only bought us six weeks and we nearly lost Jude the same way we lost Avery. And there won't be anymore siblings to live for her. I always pictured several little ones in our home, alive because of Avery. Enjoying life because of Avery. I know Jude is alive because of Avery... but it almost wasn't a happy ending for him. My body failed to carry a pregnancy to term once again. The one thing I swear I was made for, my body cannot handle. This is a low blow to me, a slap in the face.

I know my heart will begin to heal over this new reality, the loss of my dream of having a big family. I know the time will pass and it will become the new normal, just like life without Avery has become. And one day, we will be able to tell Jude about his big sister and how amazing she is. He will grow up loving her and he'll know that she is in Heaven waiting, saving a special place just for us.