Gregory – A Year Now Has Passed

A year ago today I found out Gregory had died and went into the hospital that evening. I delivered Gregory into the arms of Jesus on March 1, 2013. Of course, his soul was already there from about 10 days before that, but the physical delivery is what happened a year ago.

A day never passes that I don’t think about him and miss him. At least once an hour, I would imagine, I think of him. Losing him has shown me just how much I think about all of my children…it’s a constant…and he’s no different.

In the days following Gregory’s funeral, Rebecca, my dear friend over at The Road Home and Gregory’s godmother , sent me the following video from Mercy Me. I actually waited almost a week to watch it, but I was glad I did. It did make me cry then and it does now, too, but in a good way.

I stumbled upon this song by Daughtry a little later. It was so perfect and even now, feels that way still. I always imagine a little mini-Craig running around — because most of my kids look like their dad as babies. But the words of this song are so true, “Not a day goes by, that I don’t think of you, (Gregory).”

And this song, is for my “Precious Child.”

It is now 5:00 and last year I was finalizing arrangements for the kids and making our way to the hospital. I had spent 5 hours coming to grips with the fact that I had carried my son 10 days further than his life had extended. And the sadness; it was overwhelming. And that heavy heart hung around for another 5-6 months.

But then, I finally felt able to breathe again. I remember it distinctly…about a week into August, I could finally breathe a full, deep breath and not feel like it might be my last. My youngest sister announced her pregnancy with her first child in October and I was shocked to realize it was the first time I was truly happy at the news of someone else having a baby. I was so grateful that God filled my heart again for someone else.

This afternoon, a package came in the mail. Of course, Rebecca and her husband were so very thoughtful and sent us a beautiful creation that could be hung from the chandelier in our dining room. Here are two pictures:

Aquamarine is the March birth stone
I’m glad there is a chandelier in this house 🙂

Craig and I spent some time at the cemetery today. You know, it would have been easy to pass on the Memorial marker. It was an added cost, and how often will we have time to go up there? But…I’m really glad we got it and that it was placed before the anniversary of his birth/death. We need it there. We need to have that place to go. It was good to visit there today and I know it won’t be the last time we go there.

The Memorial Marker where Gregory was laid

I have received such an out-pouring of love and support from blog-readers, friends and family over the past year. I appreciate more than anyone can know that I was allowed to grieve openly. It’s such a hard thing, I think, to grieve a child who never was able to be born, but it’s important to acknowledge that person and everything he was and is to the parents and family. At this time, I am filled with gratitude at the empathy and understanding I have experienced from so many in the last 12 months: our priest, our parish and school community, our family and friends. Even our children here on Earth with us — who had to watch their mother cry for much of the last year, were such a great support for me. And the counseling I received through my therapist was helpful and how could I forget my awesome doctor and his staff? They hadn’t seen me since March 8 when I walked in there in November and they were so tender and caring with me and asked how I was doing.

2013 was a rough year and I experienced loss on a whole new level. But I was able to process it and get through it all (with amazing support) in a healthy way. I feel ready to tackle the future and know that I will never forget my baby.


Miscarriage and Infant Loss Awareness Day

Today is Miscarriage and Infant Loss Remembrance Day.

In years past, this day would come and go and I would see the posts on facebook or I would read blogs and try to understand. But, today, I understand far more than I ever wanted. I’ve caught myself a few times over the past few days remembering moments here and there that cause me a moment of grief. 

I recently held a baby that couldn’t have been more than 4 or 5 weeks old. She was so precious, and the tears came, though not heavily. I see pictures of my nephew who is now 6 months old and I wistfully think of my baby boy in Heaven and say a little prayer.
The loss of a child through miscarriage and/or stillbirth is often a silent and invisible grief. It had only been 3 months and I already had extended family asking my husband if I was getting counseling and if I was okay because I still cried at Mass. In our day and age of “get over it” many times, those who have not been through such a thing don’t understand the pain involved and wonder just why a mother cries in grief months after the loss. In this society where babies are seen as something to be desired only when everything is perfect, many don’t understand why a woman grieves the loss of a child from miscarriage when clearly, “that’s nature’s Mercy for an imperfect child.”

What I have lived for the last 7 months, I would never wish on anyone. I’m grateful for my faith that helps me understand that Gregory is with God and I pray I will see him when, God-willing, I begin new life in Heaven after my earthly death. But that doesn’t take away the sadness and the longing I have for the baby that didn’t join us here on Earth.

If you think about it today, say a prayer for a bereaved mother.


It took me by surprise the other day, the flashback to Thursday, February 28, 2013. 

We had just arrived at Mass Saturday afternoon, the Rosary was in full swing, the kids all filed into the pew behind me and Craig and Vincent sat on the end. Dominic and Helen vied for their spots right next to me. All of a sudden, my mind was in the ultrasound room at the hospital where I found out that Gregory had passed away. I was seeing the screen, feeling awkward at the tech’s silence, trying to make small talk — “Oh, is that the leg?” and “That looks like a normal size head alright” — as my voice shook and my stomach sank the longer she was silent. My memory lingered on the moment she said she had to call my doctor and then I recalled the phone conversation with him. I felt so helpless. And I don’t know why I felt the need to try and console him or anyone else trying to console me! But I did…I kept apologizing when there was nothing to apologize for. But I didn’t know what the hell else I was supposed to say? I had to call Craig, but what the hell was I supposed to say to him? I had plans that night that I needed to cancel, but what the hell was I supposed to say to Maggie when I called her? And for some reason, I called my dad — I just felt the need to burden him with my sorrow. I didn’t know if he’d understand, but I needed to talk to my dad in that moment…to tell him. All of this whipped through my brain as I was sitting there Saturday, trying to get ready for Mass.

Then, my throat caught as I looked around the church and remembered how I had come there that afternoon. Our parish has Adoration on Thursdays, so our Lord was exposed on the altar. I had walked all the way to the 2nd pew from the front, gone in and knelt down. I had laid my head on my forearms — and the sobs had come violently. I didn’t know any other reason to be there at that time other than I wanted so badly to feel the presence of God in this horrible time. And I was worried about being loud and disturbing others. As I thought about this Saturday, I realized how absurd that was. But I remember thinking to myself, “Hold it together, don’t cry too loudly.”

I shook my head trying to expel the images that kept coming to my brain. But I couldn’t stop them from popping into my consciousness. My mind floated to the remainder of that afternoon while we waited for the children to return from school. I felt so lost. I wanted a priest, but I didn’t know what for. But, Father had come and just sat with me for a bit at my home. He didn’t know what to say. And I didn’t either. And I don’t know that I needed anyone to SAY anything to me right then. I needed to make phone calls to find places for the children to stay and I hated every single time that I had to explain what had happened. 

Then for some reason, the moment we told the children about their baby sibling — that we didn’t yet know was a boy — and my chest throbbed as I remembered their tears. 

Almost as suddenly as the memories intruded on my consciousness, I was able to pull my mind into the present. I think the pain was too much. I’d avoided tears for most of the past 5-6 weeks at Mass. When the due date passed at the end of July, I truly felt as though I exhaled for the first time in a long time. I can’t explain the feeling, but I knew it was good. I know I will always love Gregory and have a different relationship with him than I have with anyone else. 

I’ll always remember him. 

And even though the memories that take the forefront in the scrapbook of my mind are sad, I’m still happy that we accepted the gift of Gregory from God like we accepted the gifts of all of his siblings. I am a different person because Gregory is a part of my life and experience. I’ve aged and matured in ways I could never have anticipated. I see life completely differently than I did before. 

This is the first time my mind transported me so wholly to that point in my life. And even as I have written it here, I’m feeling the tightening in my chest, the lump in my throat and the tears have fallen freely down my cheeks and pooled in my lap. But I don’t wish for it to go away. I welcome the refresher of pain and sorrow. It helps me remember my baby…my baby I didn’t get to snuggle close and hold tight. 

But he was real.

And he was mine.

And I love him.

Ultrasound Picture
These items (bear, block, rattle) were placed in pictures they took of Gregory at the hospital. The hat on the bear’s head was on Gregory’s head for a photo or two. The items are tiny and made to scale with how tiny he was.

3 Months

It dawned on me two days ago that while I was running a 10K today, it would be 3 months since the day we delivered Gregory.

Once that registered, there was a slight damper on the remainder of the day that continued through this morning. It also prompted me to go back and read some posts from before his death as well as some of the stuff I wrote as we were dealing with it all.

It’s weird. 13 weeks. Three months. A quarter of a year. 

A lifetime.

Yes, time has sped back up and our lives are back at the clip they were before we lost Gregory. But sometimes I feel like I’ve aged 10 years through the ordeal. I am still sad. I still haven’t made it through Mass without breaking down into tears and/or sobs.

Is it because, had he lived, I would still be pregnant? I find myself fearing the end of July because I don’t know what another two months will bring and how I will feel on that due date. When I found out Gregory was on the way, I did something I have done with every pregnancy. I went through my work planner and marked the weeks. So, every week right now, I see how far along I would be. Right now, I’d be 32 weeks along, likely big as a house (as my younger brother has been known to say), waddling, fatigued and maybe a little stressed knowing our family dynamics would change soon.

But, I am no longer pregnant. We said goodbye to Gregory 13 weeks ago. I’ve dropped the weight gained through the pregnancy and my body has finally begun to act like a non-pregnant one what with my waist shrinking and my cycles regulating. I’ve become active again, running, doing crossfit, and making healthy changes in general.

When I started running again, I began having some individual prayer time with Gregory. Sometimes I tell him how much I love him and miss him. Sometimes I tell him that I’m running because I want to be healthy for his siblings. Sometimes I just ask him to pray for me, to help me keep going.

The truth is, it’s easier to keep going these days. The tears are mostly relegated to weekly Mass, though sometimes my thoughts wander and the tears come at other times. I laugh a bit more…find things funny again. Even though the sadness is still present, sometimes just under the surface, I am able to put on my strong face and save the tears for my counseling sessions or as I’m getting ready for bed.

I wish I could say the fact that it’s easier these days made me happy. But, there’s a lingering worry that if it’s easier then maybe I don’t love Gregory as much as I thought I did. I feel caught in this strange place where I’m moving past some of the grief, but I’m not. Or I am afraid to move past it. 

It’s kind of like how it is with the other five and my occasional, irrational worries that I might show favor to one kid over another. I know it makes no sense, but there’s this nagging worry that I’m giving Gregory the shaft…not giving him enough love or enough of me. The same way I might worry that I don’t spend enough time reading books with Helen or Dominic, I worry that I don’t think about Gregory often enough anymore (which is silly because I clearly still think about him every day). The fact that the grief is no longer ever-present makes me pause and worry that I’m not making him as important as he deserves to be.

It’s this whole big weird mixed bag of feelings that I just don’t know what to do with. Our lives here on earth go on. They must. At times, I find that I feel guilty that I now am facing this state in our family life where we won’t have a baby in the house. And I let myself look forward to it and feel how that can be a positive development. Of course, I’m not happy that Gregory is not here with us, but the circumstances being what they are, it’s kind of like, “Let’s make the best of it” right?

I guess it’s the lack of completeness I feel about the whole thing. Anyone who knows me knows I am a finisher. I like to see things through to the end. And I don’t feel like I got the chance to do that in this case. I don’t know what kind of personality Gregory was going to have. I don’t know if he would have looked like me or Craig. I don’t know if he would have been ornery like Vincent or well-behaved like Dominic. Would he have given Helen a run for her money vying for my attention and affection? Perhaps he and Dani would have formed a brother/sister musical duo or would he have an easy-going, fun-loving soul like his oldest sister, Sarah? 

I only know that he was too loved by God to endure this world, to contaminate his soul with the perversions of materiality, like the Book of Wisdom states.

I guess knowing that God spared him from this world to be with Him for eternity at such a young age makes me happy in one sense — that such a soul could be my child.

But knowing that makes me sad, too, because wouldn’t he have made our lives so much richer with his presence here in our family on earth?



7 Quick Takes – 44 (First-Times-Edition)

— 1 —
It’s the first time we’ve had a Pope named Francis.  I am really excited about our new Pope.  I would be excited about any Pope, I know, but I think it’s so very awesome that he took the name of Francis.  I am floored that we haven’t had a Francis before.  It seems like a perfect name for a Pope.  But maybe we haven’t had one before because it’s the perfect name for THIS Pope.  It was emotional to learn of his election and then wait to meet him on T.V. Wednesday.  Oh, who am I kidding…everything is emotional for me these days.  It brought me a feeling of peace to learn the name he chose.

— 2 —
Wednesday was my first day back to work.  I walked in.  My chest got heavy, I needed deep breaths and I wanted to walk right back out.  I didn’t know how to prepare myself to go to work, and so…it hurt my heart to be there, not pregnant, seeing everyone and everything I had seen for the last time not knowing that Gregory had died.  I entered my office and put my things down and just walked out around the perimeter of my floor, breathing deeply, tearing up a little, telling myself, “I have to go back to work sometime.  It’s never going to be easy.  Just get through today.”  I fought back the tears at that point.  I grabbed my rosary and wrapped it around my wrist and held onto the Crucifix for dear life.

About an hour later, I was reading e-mails, catching up, and I came to two that had February 28th and 12:17 and 12:35 on them.  My ultrasound started on February 28th, scheduled for 12:15 and it was over by 12:35 and my heart was broken.  So, I got up and started walking.  I wasn’t sure where I was going, but I needed to find some place where I could cry.  I walked up the two flights of stairs to a spot where there are chairs where people sometimes go to take personal phone calls.  I sat there for awhile, letting some tears out, but mostly trying to contain them.  After that I asked if it was all right if I left early and my boss was so understanding and said “Absolutely”, so, I made it through the rest of the day (stopping to go and watch our Holy Father’s first blessing).

— 3 —

I went to Confession for the first time since Gregory died on Wednesday.  It was weird and I hope to write more clearly about it.  But, I hadn’t been since December 4 and it is Lent so I knew I needed to go.  While I hadn’t spent much time in the past two weeks sinning, I had stuff I just knew I needed to confess from before that time.  But, when life changes so dramatically, so quickly and so traumatically, it’s hard to remember.  I think that is why I had always gone to confession right before going in for inductions with my other children.  It just seemed right to labor and deliver with a clear conscience and a pure soul.  Confessing wasn’t really on my mind before we went into the hospital to deliver Gregory, though. 

— 4 —
I actually made it through a Rosary for the first time since Gregory died on Wednesday.  When I packed before we went to the hospital to deliver him, I packed my Bible, my Shorter Christian Prayer book and my Rosary.  I tried a few times to pray, and even though I know all the words to all the prayers of the Rosary, they just wouldn’t come.  On Wednesday, when I left work, I went straight to Church and pulled out my Rosary.  I cried heavily, but made it through the Glorious mysteries.  I even made it through a prayer to St. Michael the Archangel, too.  In hindsight, I think I really really needed that prayer and the fact that I prayed it is probably what helped me get to confession a little bit later. 

— 5 —
Tuesday was the first time I ever read Wisdom, Chapter 4.  On recommendation of my doctor (yes, I know that’s so cool 🙂 ) I picked up my Bible and turned to the Book of Wisdom and found Chapter 4.  The first part was a bit difficult to read, but then, the heading of “On Early Death” appeared right before verse 7.  Here are verses 7-15:

“But the just man, though he die early, shall be at rest. For the age that is honorable comes not with the passing of time, nor can it be measured in terms of years. Rather, understanding is the hoary crown for men, and an unsullied life, the attainment of old age. He who pleased God was loved; he who lived among sinners was transported— Snatched away, lest wickedness pervert his mind or deceit beguile his soul; For the witchery of paltry things obscures what is right and the whirl of desire transforms the innocent mind.  Having become perfect in a short while, he reached the fullness of a long career; for his soul was pleasing to the LORD, therefore he sped him out of the midst of wickedness. But the people saw and did not understand, nor did they take this into account.”

The parts that look like this are the parts that continue to repeat in my brain.

— 6 —

I wrote my first thank you note. Well, it is really a letter.  It turned into four pages. It’s to my doctor. You know, I always think I should write and thank him for everything after I’ve had a baby, but that’s about all I’ve ever done…think about it.  Yesterday, I sat down with my pen and my paper and I wrote him every bit of thanks that I thought I owed him. I felt the need to thank him for sharing in our sorrow as well as our joy in our lives. I can’t imagine going through pregnancy, birth and…now (sadly), a loss of a child without him.

— 7—
This is my first time writing Quick Takes since we lost Gregory.  I’m trying to get back into some semblance of a routine.  About the only thing that is routine so far is that every time I do something for the first time since we lost Gregory — doesn’t matter how mundane or how big time it is — it is hard. So. Incredibly. Hard.  As much as my life changed the minute my children have been born, my life changed that much, and then some, the day we lost Gregory.

I am linking up with Jennifer Fulwiler at Conversion Diary today.


And Then It Was Nothing

The ultrasound was uneventful, in more ways than one.

First of all, as I drove there, I remembered how difficult it was to go see my Doctor last Friday and how I suddenly was overcome and began crying while I was checking in and then cried more as I was walked back to a room to wait.  So, I gave myself a pep talk, of sorts.  I was going back to the same place where I had been when I found out Gregory had passed away.  I told myself, “It’s okay.  It’s just an ultrasound and it’s just a building.  Try to keep it together.”  Rebecca texted me just before I was going in that she was praying for me, and I’m so glad she was.

I went through registration and then, the technician came out to get me…and…it was the same guy who had verified for the girl doing my ultrasound that she was not seeing heart movement.  I just took a deep breath when I saw him and reminded myself that this procedure will be quick, no need to worry about it too much, no tears…

So, it was uneventful initially in the fact that I was able to get out of there with no tears.  I decided I won on that front.

When my doctor called with the results, it was pretty much inconclusive.  There was something they saw that couldn’t be ruled out as a piece of placenta.  But they noted that, “It could be a fibroid.”  Well.  Okay then.  So, based on his confidence that I had indeed passed the placenta very quickly after delivering Gregory, he thought everything was probably fine and the bleeding I experienced was probably within the “normal” range.  He consulted with another doctor and advised that I should take an antibiotic as a precautionary measure and told me that I should expect spontaneous bleeding episodes like the one I had Sunday over the next 10-14 days.  

And I got a return to work date of tomorrow.

Finally, before getting off the phone, he offered me some spiritual healing by recommending that I read Chapter 4 of the Book of Wisdom.  I haven’t done that yet.  But I will.  I had school board meeting last night and then was getting kids in bed, etc.  But I will grab my Bible sometime today and read that.

It’s interesting.  When I packed for the hospital, I took along my Bible and my “Shorter Christian Prayer” book.  Here’s the thing about not being an avid Bible reader, or someone who knows passages by heart, etc:  I may have had my Bible, but I would never have known where to look in the Bible for anything that could help me.  

In that vein, how grateful I am to my doctor!  I haven’t even read it yet, but I know it will help me.  Just the fact that he shares my Catholic faith and seems to have a strong faith life himself has made me feel better.  Truly…another blessing for which I am so very grateful.

I plan to run a few errands today and get myself in the right frame of mind to return to work tomorrow.  I plan to pick up some stationery and a few particular Thank-You cards.  I have many people to thank for their love, kindness, generosity, support and compassion over the past two weeks.

I had a pretty good day emotionally  yesterday even with everything going on.  My children continue to be a source of immense joy for me that help me process and understand Gregory’s role in our family.  My husband continues to be a huge source of strength for me as I wade through this grief.  There are more days coming that will be hard, I know.  One will happen in the next week, when the cemetery sends us information on ordering a marker for Gregory’s grave.  There will be another week anniversary to ponder in just a couple of days.  At some point, I know I will mark the time in months, and then finally in years.  It’s strange, I’ve noticed that sometimes women focus on the due date of their baby as a sort of milestone or marker.  Perhaps I will, too.  I’m not sure.  Right now, March 1st is the day I will always remember my precious Gregory, I think.  But, who knows?  The due date hasn’t approached yet, so I don’t know how I’ll feel then.

Vincent started wanting me again.  A few months back he kind of got a “Daddy Crush” and would only want Craig to hold him or to play with him or comfort him.  In the last week, he has reverted to wanting me more, and that has been very helpful.  Although, as we walked into the daycare today, he insisted I put him down and he walk himself up to the door.  He’s been taking his pants off and putting his socks on.  And, he’s been showing signs of potty-training readiness.  And, it hits me — that he is growing and maturing and will no longer be a “baby” with diapers and such in a fairly short time.  I’m not sure how that is going to hit me.  It’s been so long since we have lived without a baby in the house or on the way.  

Thank you all for the kind words you have sent me through comments, or facebook messages, or texts, or e-mail.  I do want you to know how helpful it has been.  Our family has been lifted up in prayer to heights I have never been aware of before, and I know that is why we are where we are emotionally and physically.  So, thank you for all of your caring and your compassion.  It has helped to bring grace and peace to our lives at a time when those two things have been so necessary.


Rambl-ey Update Post

I was planning to go back to work today. I guess that wasn’t acceptable to Someone because some physical things happened in the last 24 hours to prevent that.

And so, here I am, still at home, trying to rest a bit, maybe get the kitchen cleaned up.  When I had planned to be back at work today.  I have an ultrasound scheduled for 1:30 p.m.  The ultrasound was ordered to ensure I did not retain placenta.  My doctor was fairly certain all was good in this arena.  But some continued large clots are causing some worry in that department.  So, the ultrasound will help us figure out where the clots are coming from.

I remembered this morning as I drove Vincent to the babysitter that I have had Fibroid tumors in the past that have caused excessive bleeding.  So, this could be part of that.  Fibroids grow quickly with increased hormone levels…so the one I already knew about could be bigger now, or there just could be more of them in my uterus.  Obviously, the ultrasound will help us figure that out.

I’ve filed a short term disability claim through the insurance company so that I don’t deplete all my paid time off with all this stuff.  And that makes me feel a little less anxious as well.  I know that my doctor will approve and give me an appropriate “return to work” date once we get everything figured out. 

It is weird.  I don’t cry all the time now.  And for that I am grateful.  I have even been able to smile and laugh with my family.  My children are so good at helping with that.  But, there is still sadness that I can feel almost constantly.  The level is usually determined by how much I allow myself to think about it in a given moment.  And while it’s not all the time, when the urge hits, it is often without warning.  I find myself lost as I begin processing emotions and realize that I’m in the company of my children or somewhere else I’d rather not be while I’m crying and grieving.

Attending Mass yesterday was still painful.  The Psalm got to me this time.  “Taste and see the goodness of the Lord” was difficult.  I mean, I know the Lord is good, but right now it’s painful.  “I will bless the LORD at all time; his praise shall be ever in my mouth” was the part that did it.  And I do bless the Lord, still, but I just wish it weren’t so darn painful.  I am not angry at God.  I understand that Gregory had his place and it just happens to be with God for a much longer time that he was with me.  But even though I’m not really angry, I am still sad and I miss my baby.  And I think that is why I cry.  

Receiving Communion is still painful.  The separation rears its head nice and ugly right as I pray, “Lord, I am not worthy that You should enter under my roof…”  Because, I am sad that I am not worthy to be with our Lord and with Gregory right now.  I’m so pleased that Gregory is worthy to be in the presence of our Lord.  But I’m so sad that I can’t be with Gregory.  I’m still here on Earth, working out salvation in fear and trembling, and it’s painful.  I do hope that someday soon, I can receive our Lord in the Holy Eucharist without tears of sadness and separation running down my face.  But for now, it’s just a very apparent separation.  And what is even odder, is that while I am sad at the separation, I am also comforted in knowing Gregory is where I hope to be at the end of my earthly life.

Something I stumbled upon while looking for some online support…


Our lives continue…
Sarah got back into her volleyball practice routine with a practice Thursday and then yesterday.  Dani was back at her guitar lessons and Helen back at ballet.  Dominic has 2 birthday parties to attend in the next few days and Helen has one this weekend, too.  Vincent has maintained a schedule so much better than I thought he would, and he’s talking more and more and his little personality is really working itself into the fabric of our family right now (I just love 1-year-olds anyway, for that reason).  

Yesterday, I went shopping to purchase some clothes that would fit me these next few weeks while I go to work.  With previous pregnancies, I had 6-8 or 10-12 weeks to work off some of the pregnancy weight I’d gained.  Having only a week — and a week in which I wasn’t really focusing on making healthy eating choices at that — was not helpful for getting back into some work clothes.  I did go back to Weight Watchers on Saturday to get a starting point and begin the process — before anyone chides me a bit about it, I just knew if I didn’t go back to a meeting, I would eat myself into another 10 pounds to lose and I just can’t let myself do that.

Craig’s has been back to work since Wednesday.  I think I will encourage him to get a run in or a workout of some sort soon.  I think he would enjoy it, and I would like to see him do that.  It just feels like I’m going through the motions of getting everyone back to where we were before February 28 at about 12:15.  And I know it’s only been 12 days, so I’m not expecting it to all be okay right now.  But I just kind of do the routines so that we have something to do.  Some kind of normal is better than no kind of normal, from what I have been able to discern.

So, there’s a rambl-ey update post for you.  We’re putting one foot in front of the other — like we always have.  I have a post brewing to discuss just how awesome the support has been for us — from our parish, our families, our friends, the online/blogosphere and the twitter — it will be an overwhelming post I think, so I’m thinking it through.  I can’t imagine going through something like that with anything less than what we’ve had.  But I know it must happen all the time, and that makes me so very sad.

Okay, it’s Monday.  I need to get myself cleaned up to go to this ultrasound appointment.  I am praying it’s “just” (haha) the Fibroids and nothing worse than that.