J and E

This is something that I would not have said I was grateful for last year. I am grateful for my two wonderful children that I miscarried. It's not that I wasn't grateful for them last year, I just was not grateful for their abrupt departure. It's hard to talk about because I feel their loss so deeply even after so many years.

It doesn't look like it, but there are three people in this picture.
We took it the day before we found out we were pregnant
with baby E, though I was almost certain that I was.

I love them, but it has been painful trying and wanting to continue to face each day without them here with us. I know exactly how old they would be if we had kept them. J would be 3 and E would be 2. They would be in Nursery with us each and every week.

We went to the UVU baseball game to celebrate baby J's birthday this year.

This year we started celebrating their birthdays on their due dates. It made those days much happier than they have been in the past. It still wasn't easy, but it was so much better.

Last year we took a new Patterson family picture.
I made this necklace so J and E could be part of the picture.
I got the idea from Rachelle.

There are still many hard days that I am upset they aren't here with us, but I can hold fast to the covenants I made in the temple with Jonathan that bind our family for all eternity. They keep me anchored in my faith that heaven is real. I love them with my whole heart.

Imagine a Mother

With another Mother's day coming, I have a lot on my mind along with a heavy heart. This is a post that sums up everything I would like to say, but can't find the words on my own. Thankfully, someone else can be so eloquent. 

Imagine a mother caressing her bulging belly, nine months pregnant and glowing from water retention and maternal anticipation as she speaks softly to her unborn child and gently encourages him to join her in the world.

Imagine a mother nervously hugging her daughter goodbye on the first day of kindergarten. Her daughter holds her close out of fear that her mother will let go as the mother holds her daughter close and fears the same.

Imagine a mother teaching her son how to ride a bike for the first time. The training wheels off. The wind in his hair and the smile on both of their faces as they revel in the shared pride they feel for his first sense of true adventure and independence.

Imagine a mother watching with joy as her daughter walks down the aisle, linked in arms with her father, as she approaches the man that will never truly be “good enough” for her sweet girl…as a mother always hopes her daughter would always stay “daddy’s little girl” forever.

Imagine a mother wiping away tears of fear of the unknown and pride in her solider as her grown son embraces her with his strong, courageous, camouflaged arms as he prepares to board a plan to serve overseas.

Now, imagine that same mother awoken from sleep one night to a phone call, the police at the door, or to the eerie sound of screaming silence from the nursery.

Imagine a mother who hears…

“I’m sorry ‘mam, there was an accident, he didn’t make it…”

“I’m sorry ‘mam, there was nothing we could do. She wasn’t breathing when we went to wake her…”

“I’m sorry ‘mam, there were no survivors, his service to our country will be remembered…”

“I’m sorry ‘mam, there is no heartbeat. There will be no baby.”

Imagine a mother whose child’s life stops there and her life is lost amongst the fog left behind by the grim words that the unknowing messengers of death brought to her door.

Imagine a mother left imagining what life would have been like with her child now gone too soon.

Imagine this mother and realize that she is no figment of imagination.

She is your neighbor. She is your mother. She is your therapist, your maid, your gas station clerk, your nurse, your friend, your sister, she is you.

And remember, although she lives in fear of being only a figment of a mother.

She is just as real as moms with living children.

For she is still a mother.

She is the bereaved mother.

Created in an instant but remains for a lifetime.

This is the link to the original article.

Motherhood is different for everyone. Just because a women doesn't have her arms filled with children, doesn't mean her heart is not.

A Special Day

Today is a very special day for our little family. It marked one year since we found out we were pregnant. I still vividly remember that day. It was a quiet, Sunday morning. Jonathan was still half asleep and then I tackled him with the positive pregnancy test in hand. He immediately was wide awake and grinning from ear to ear.

What a difference a year makes.

I am so grateful that Jonathan and I were sealed in the temple. One day, we will be reunited with our angel baby. Until then, we will continue to be grateful for the time we shared.

via

This helped give me some much needed perspective this year.

Happiness

Jonathan and I have been married for over three years now. I had a completely different vision of what our life would look like at this point. It was wonderful. But as usual, our life played out very differently than the plan that I had.

I struggled and fought the differences at first. I would get upset at times because things just were not going according to my schedule. All of these feelings exploded after we lost our baby.

Our only purchase for our baby.

I felt like there was no coming back from all that pain and the losing the future I started envisioning and experiencing with our baby.

via

It's taken a long time, but I finally realized that our kids are going to come when they need to be here. Instead of focusing and fixating on that, I see that I have plenty of goals and dreams that rely on me and I'm so excited to work towards them. I'll be sharing more as the preliminary steps start coming together, but for now I just want to say that life for me and Jonathan is so good. He has been trying to push and pull me to this point and I'm grateful that he never gave up on me and that he understands a little bit better that I just needed time to work through everything.