Often times, I felt that I would never return to this blog again. I thought that maybe, I could be one of those "normal" looking moms walking down the street. But who am I kidding? I never will be.

Not that this is anything to be ashamed of, because I have come to accept me, my life, and everything else that God has offered me.

In the past weeks that I have been MIA from the livelihood of blogging, I have started to see the glass half-full. As cheesy as hell as this may sound, it is true.

I'd like to end this blog with an anecdote that occured last week...

Last Thursday, I was having one of those days. You know, the type of day where you come home feeling so ready to hit the sheets and snore your head off. Anyhoo, I was awakened from a sound that was coming from my daughter's room. It sounded like a quick "clinkity-clank" sound. Since the sound only lasted for about three seconds, tired me didn't think much of it and went back to sleep.

Come morning time, I went to my daughter's room to begin my weekday morning routine (pick out her preschool clothes while I let her sleep in for a few more minutes). But what did I find last Friday morning to throw off my weekday morning routine? Maui's kitchen set on the floor. It seemed that these pots, pans, and tiny plates may have fallen off her play-kitchen. But what made this odd was that they were configured on the floor as if it wasn't accidental.

When she awoke, we engaged in conversation as I was getting her dressed:

Me: Good morning Sleepy Head.
Maui: Morning, Mama.
Me: Hmmm, did anything strange happen last night?
Maui: I think Joshua visited me. *smiling like a proud big sister*
Me: Oh really, how is he?
Maui: He's a big baby now, not like before.
Me: Is Joshua-Boy talking now?
Maui: No, but his smile is funny. He has two teeth now.

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A lot of children have an imagination that compels them to make up random fibs. But, I believe her. How would my little girl know that one-year old Joshie-Boy's teeth would be coming out now?

So mind boggling.

This time last year, Joshua was making his last movements within my womb.
This time last year, I was naiivly filled with excitement.
This time last year, was the last time I felt genuine happiness.

I know I dissapeared. You can say, that I just needed a break. Since my last post, I can honestly say that I haven't even logged in once. At the time, it was too much for me to handle. The reality of several lost babies.. too much.

These past months, however, have been considerably fine. Up until a few days ago... when I had realized that April was just around the corner. In the back of my mind, I knew this month was creeping up closer and closer. And now that it's here, I find the grief entering back into my world. Last night, I cried because I was missing my son. Instead of being frantic for the perfect plans of my baby's very first birthday party, I'm going from store to store picking out cute things to decorate his grave with.

It's almost been a year, and I still feel lost as ever.

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NOT ME!

I didn't need to take a test because this morning when I woke up, the spotting on my liner turned into the bright red blood of a normal period. Thank you to those who posted their answers to my candid question. I greatly appreciate it.

So yeah, I did feel a little dissapointed that there was no miracle surprise baby to start off my year. But at the same time, I didn't allow myself to hope for the best. Really because I did not want to feel so sad of losing something that was never there to begin with. When I'm emotionally prepared to carry another beautiful baby in my womb, I will try. In the mean time, I'll be patient and hopeful for good things to come in 2010.

A more direct question: WHAT DOES SPOTTING LOOK LIKE?

I've never had it before. Last menstrual cycle, I think I may have had it? And this cycle, I'm about a week and half late.

Since Joshua's stillbirth, however, I have been getting irregular periods on occassion. Perhaps, stress?

I've been getting periods of light headedness and fatigue even before Thanksgiving. But I thought it was due to the anxiety that comes along with the holidays.

I don't know how to feel at this point. I really don't know. Happiness, fear, excitment, potential dissapointment. Am I even prepared for this?

God, my fate has always been in your hands. I will accept whatever plan you have for me.


Some of you ladies must have had spotting at least once. Please enlighten me! The research I found on Google simply will not do. I need it described to me from someone who's had it first hand.

I realize that it's been nearly a month since my last post. I have had several attempts to write, but around this time of year I find it challenging to find the right words to express what I'm feeling. You can say that I've been retaining myself from sucking out all of the holiday cheer in everyone.

My daughter is three. Such a fun, and exciting age three is. Last year, she could not grasp the full idea of Santa Clause. This year, she is totally getting into the spirit of Christmas. My husband and I have been explaining that Christmas is one big birthday celebration for Jesus. What a champ she is, she was able to sit and watch the completion of The Nativity Story with us on DVD. She asked us how Santa Clause falls into place with Christmas, and we simply told her that good old Saint Nick is a pal of Jesus, and his job is to remind everyone of this special day. This is the first year she was able to help us decorate the tree and hang up the stockings. The first year of many that will etch everlasting memories.

And while I have been wrapping gifts for our sweet girl (some from us, and one very special one from Santa), I have been thinking about my precious baby boy. Eight months old, and not a single giggly baby coo that serenades my ears. We would have probably bought him toys that light up with bubbly sounds and dressed him in a cuddly little Santa suit. I could only imagine how spectacular this Christmas would and should have been.

I know that the first batch of holidays without a loved one is suppose to be the hardest, but I am trying my best to pull through for our daughter. She is so young and innocent, and she deserves to have good memories. As easy as it would be to not care about this holiday, I will not allow myself to deprive my daughter of joy.

As the new year is embarking upon us, I feel that my grief will uncontrollably carry on with me. I wish it wouldn't, but I'm sure it will.


I'm going to end this blog with a beautiful song that ironically, I sang in a Christmas concert for high school. Looking back, I poured out my soul while performing this song, and naively did not know the true pain of these words. Fast-forward a good ten years.. and here I am, relating this song to my son.

I don't write much about my husband Jason. Looking back at my past blogs, I have mentioned his name quite a few times, but do not really write into depth about him. I thought about it, and decided to dedicate this post exclusively to him.

Jason knows that I have found comfort in this blog, but does not read because I told him that it would make me feel uncomfortable if he does. That's really the type of person he is; a kind-hearted soul that has respected me and my feelings since day one of our relationship. Despite the fact that he is a gentleman respectful of my emotions, he is and always will be one of the most masculine men that I'll ever know. Watching a good football game with a cold beer in his hand is one of his major pick-me-ups. Working out at the gym is an absolute must to get through each week. His single, most important need is to know that he's doing everything that he can to make sure Maui and I are happy.

Being the only male in the family has been something of a blessing/adjustment for him. Instead of rolling around in the dirt teaching tackle football to our child, he's brushing hair and finishing her off with perfectly even pigtails. Instead of destructively crushing matchbox cars with monster trucks, he's a guest at our daughter's tea party. What can I say?... He's a great father. But I know, his heart is hurting every time he sees another man bonding with his son. He displays a certain look on his face that clearly states: That's suppose to be me and my son.

Men and women grieve so differently from each other. Women cry whenever and wherever they feel the need to. Men, on the other hand, try their best to bottle up those tears because they do not want to show signs of weakness. I have only seen my husband cry a total of three times since we have met. The first time, was when he saw me in the hospital bed getting ready to deliver our stillborn son. The second time, was when he was speaking his eulogy at our son's funeral. And the third, was the day after we buried our son. Since then, I feel that Jason most likely has cried on a rare basis... but chooses to do it when no one else is around.

When a baby is lost in a tragic and unexpected way like ours was, people tend to give their utmost, heartfelt sympathy to the mother. She is, after all, the one who nurtures and bonds with a growing baby for several months. Not to mention, goes through the aches of labor, and the aches of a traumatic separation. Where does the father fall into place? Although many do give their deepest condolences, fathers in a way, go through several unknown (unappreciated) challenges.

After my labor to Joshua, I was pretty much dead inside and out for two straight weeks. The epidural administered to me was done poorly, which caused the needle to profuse excessive fluids to my spine. Thus, resulting in "Spinal Headaches" for the next two weeks. To alleviate my discomfort, I was under several forms of pain killers and ordered to have constant bed rest. In exception of my son's funeral and memorial services, and the usage of a bathroom, I laid in bed for about two straight weeks. Crying on my pillow in the darkness of our room for several days, Jason was the one who had to make the funeral arrangements, care for our confused sweet girl, and care for a train-wrecked wife. He cooked, cleaned, and with a warm smile for our daughter.. managed to play despite the hardness of it all. During the nights, he would hold me tight in bed as I cried myself to sleep.

Looking back, I never realized the many things he did for us to get through the painful ordeal of losing our son. At the time, I was simply too broken to take the time from my endless grieving to say, "I love you, Jason. Thank you for everything that you are and everything that you do." A couple months after that depressing period of our lives, I did let him know how much I appreciated the things he had done for us in those weeks. I remember saying, "You took one for the team." He looked me in the eyes and told me the same.

Today, I'm suppose to have two classes and work a full-time shift.

Instead, I am basking in the darkness of my silent, living room with a box of tissues.

I am broken.

Half an hour ago, I dropped off my daughter at preschool where she will be for the next four hours. After I walked her over to the teacher, I returned to my car and started to break down. Needless to say, I have declared this to be a mental health day.

I haven't cried in several weeks. Perhaps, all the emotions have been bottling up to the mess that I have become.

Lists are so much easier for me. So the following (which may or may not make sense) is a list (in no particular order) of everything that is bothering me:

1. My son not being alive.
2. Feeling inadequate to my living child.
3. The mountain of clean laundry that I haven't had the chance to fold.
4. My car that keeps dying on me while I'm on the road.
5. School loans that my husband and I are stuck with.
6. The damn economy.
7. Gas prices.
8. How we will not make it to the family reunion for Thanksgiving this year because it hurts to go w/o Joshua.
9. The news of the 15 year old girl who got gang raped in Richmond for 2 hours.
10. The battling lawsuit with the hospital that took my son.

Oh, there's more, but this would be my definite top 10.

I have about three more hours to myself before Maui needs to get picked up from school. It's time for me to curl up in my sofa and catch up on all my DVRed shows.