So long, farewell

The Sound of Music lyrics popped into my head tonight as I reflected on the idea of my dad retiring tomorrow. I’m writing this because I want to remember exactly how I am feeling as a proud daughter tonight and also to share with my kids one day the legacy their Papa leaves behind. And also because my dad is humble and would never make a big deal out of this major accomplishment in his life.

My dad is the first man I ever knew and really knew well. He talked to me as an adult when I began to experience teenage things that made me feel like the world was coming to an end. He was always real and raw. Sometimes taking my breath away with the truth and life lessons that just simply hit home.

Fast forward six years to my college graduation and the dilemma of finding a job. I was a communication and journalism major and was convinced that I was going to be the next reporter that somehow found a way to become relevant in a dying industry. Omg was I foolish.

But when I was having my daily chat with my dad on the way home from one of my three jobs in college, my dad suggested I apply to State Farm. His company. Our family’s company. The only place I ever knew as an option for employment because that was my life from existence. Absolutely not I said to my dad. No way was I going to get a job doing what my dad does, just because I couldn’t make it as a journalist at the prime peek of the recession. Little did I know, it didn’t have jack crap to do with the job- it actually had everything to do with excellent advice.

I ended up beginning my post graduate career at the company I use to visit as a child. The company where I met adjusters who had just worked Catastrophe losses that wiped out homes in the coastal regions of North Carolina. The company I met House Representatives who knew that State Farm was a strong political platform for influence. The company I was able to draw on a chalkboard during a retirement celebration with every single color a little girl could ever dream of having at her fingertips. The company I saw my mom repeatedly dress up as the Good Neighbear to pass out “click it or ticket” stickers because she cared and believed in my dads purpose working as a Claims Manager at State Farm. The company I saw my dad lead in an environment where he made a difference. The company that I saw my dad repeatedly go on storm duty for months at a time because he believed in helping people. The company I was excited to visit and now, the place I call my home.

It took me years to even mention that my dad worked for the company I am now a proud employee of- in a new city with my own goals and purpose. Obviously I didn’t want the perception to be that I was handed anything and did what was easy. But recently, as I experienced my 10th year with this amazing company and where my brother is now an integral part of as well- I started to share stories of my childhood around regional State Farm offices and share, proudly might I add- that my dad was my role model for my career. He paved the way for me. For my generation and for all those people out there that feel that deep purpose in their job. He is a little rough around the edges and I love that I inherited that – sometimes, I loathe it but it does make me down to earth as some may say. Ha! He is the typical baby boomer that is ready to have his toes in the sand, play golf, and leave the vision execution up to the next class act of State Farm. He inspires me. He inspires my brother and he inspires those that want to hear his words.

So with your retirement tomorrow Dad- please understand that I am beyond proud of you. But a little sad that my role model, my mentor, my friend – is no longer green on Skype. I love you and thank you for everything you have taught me. Most importantly, I’m grateful that you worked hard, lived hard, and loved hard. Eastern North Carolina Fire Claims will never be the same without you. But because of you, we are all just a little bit better.

Cheers!

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Me and you day

My daughter and I read every night. Sometimes for over a hour when her daddy is yelling at her to go to sleep, I am in her bed with the flashlight from my phone, excited to turn the page. I love children’s books, always have. The best gift you can give your children is the time spent reading to them. I firmly believe this. Looking at the words, having them point to the letters they have recently learned- sometimes “big” letters and sometimes the “small” letters. Turning the page and hearing your child read their first word by sounding out the letters and actually saying “fall.” Nothing and I mean nothing in my world, is better than that.

So I asked Anna tonight if mommy were to write a children’s book one day what should the title be, and her response was nothing short of perfect. Me and you day. So with my brilliant daughter as my muse, here is what we have …

“Today its me and you

The bookstore, grocery store, as long as I’m with you.

Mommy and me day! The best day and perfect day. We can read books and color until the day fades away.
Pick out puzzles to sort and games to play, whatever we want because it’s me and you day!
A day filled with adventure and giggles, treats and tickling wriggles 
A day I know is special and rare, my mommy picks a few days a year to show me just how much she cares
My mommy whistles loud on the way home, she knows it’s the end of a great day so far
my heart jumps for mommy and I try to keep up, but my eyes are getting sleepy and I spy the North Star
Let’s make a wish on the North Star mommy says!
I close my eyes and think of my wish, knowing I already have my favorite gift
Me and you day is the best day to me and I am grateful it’s something my mommy can see. 
I know my mommy is forever in my heart and forever she’ll be, because no matter where the wind blows, I know she is the center of our family.”

Keeping this here so one day she can read my blogs and know she is so important to me and her daddy, she lights up our world as she learns and grows every single day! Thanks baby for making mommy smile, next up we can read together to your brother! We can watch together as he moves through the stories and finds what he likes, a new adventure awaits as a book is opened to read! 

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You’re like him who is like him, and you’re like her who is like her 


October 27th is one of those days that no matter what is going on in your life you remember what day it is. Usually I drop my kids off at school and turn my wrist to see the date that is showing on my purple Fitbit that I am oh so proud to show off, to see the date to enter into the login sheet. October 27th is one of the few days of the year where I don’t have to search for the date. I know what day it is by the way I feel when I get up in the morning. I can not think about it and not realize it’s that day, but somehow the night before I am anxious and have familiar dreams. I wake up and feel the same feeling I felt that day five years ago.

Let me begin by saying I am grateful for the family that I was given upon entering this world. Two completely different families that had somehow created the most compatible children to have ever fell in love. A son and a daughter who could not have been any more opposite. As my brother says, yin and yang. But these two families did something right. I’m talking about my mom and dad. My mom was born into a large Irish Catholic family with core values consisting of church, food, softball, and love. My father was born into an immigrant southern family consisting of hard work, discipline, nature, and love. Yes I used immigrant and southern in the same sentence. My grandfather immigrated from Germany and married my grandmother from Georgia. 

My parents met when they were 16 and have never been apart since. I wondered my entire life how exactly that happens. How do you find your soul mate at such a young age and I am just now able to see it clearly. It’s because of her and because of him. My grandmother Margaret Ann and grandfather Walter Hans. My mothers mother and my fathers father. They shared the common belief that hard work, while openly loving and nurturing those around you, is the secret to life. Their values, their attitude towards the word, is what created my life. My parents. My beliefs. My family.

My parents created opportunities for memories with my grandparents and I am forever grateful for that. I spent holidays, birthdays, milestones, and hardships around my family. Teaching me the lessons in life that you can only learn from endearing and witnessing. Watching family members go through the seasons of life, some peacefully and others not so much. But at the center of it all was my fascination with two people. My grandmother and my grandfather. On opposite sides of the universe. 

On September 4th, five years ago, I spent the entire night with my Papa reading a book of poems to him on his death bed. Not because I felt obligated to, but because I needed to. I needed him to feel the love that I had for him in his last moments and tell him all of the things he taught me. How to drink peach schnapps at 5pm, how to widdle a piece of wood, how to ride a bike, how to climb a tree, how to take deep breaths of fresh air while outside amongst flowers and trees. How to find a job that I loved and do it with purpose. How to travel to Maui just to watch a sunset. How to love. He needed to know he was my hero. He passed the next day and did so with a life behind him he led with purpose.

On October 26th, five years ago, I spent the night with my Maw Maw. Not because I felt obligated to, but because I needed to. I needed her to feel the love that I had for her in her last moments and tell her all of the things she taught me. How to wear red lipstick just to brighten your smile, how to look both ways before crossing the street, how to make mashed potatoes just right, how to decorate a Christmas tree with just the right amount of flare, how to pray the rosary. How to give to others with an unconditional love. She needed to know she was my hero. She passed the next day. 52 days after my Papa. On his birthday with integrity and fight. 

I woke early that day, surrounded by my aunts and saw the sunrise. I knew it was a collision of two worlds. Two families. Two perfect lives. Eternally connected in the best way possible. A day like October 27th doesn’t happen to too many people. My daughter was baptized on this day and I continue to feel a sense of beautiful heartache each year when the air turns crisp and the sun rises early. But I find comfort in knowing, truly knowing, that these two heroes of mine created two beautiful people who created me. Giving me my children whom both share their name. Anna Catherine and Matthew Walter are just like my mom and dad, who are just like them. 

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Papa

This man was and is one of the most influential men I’ve ever had grace my life. It’s interesting when someone who worked so hard all of his life, coming to the US with nothing, from Graupa, Germany- serving in the Army during WWII, successfully raising two great men, ultimately walk through the Gates of Heaven on Labor Day. How ironic. 

He was the hardest working human being I’ve ever known, living a life as a loyal American, with a thick German accent, who counted starting with his thumb. He was a man who liked deli meats rolled up presented on a platter, pumpernickel bread, potato salad, his yard and all of its magical plants and trees, traveling all over the US and Europe, his family in Germany, the movie Christmas Vacation and Westerns, painting (especially scenes from his travels with Bebe- before he passed, he gave me a painting of his favorite scene out West, the bleak desert in Arizona), whittling, making “pallets” out of couch cushins on the floor so all of the grandkids could sleep in the same room on Christmas Eve, constructing the most intricate ships in his workshop, coffee, pickles, laughing, his sons and the women that make them better, his wife, his grandchildren, and compositions by Richard Wagner. He loved picking out Christmas trees in Asheville, Grandfather Mountain, and nature. He especially loved the Blue Ridge Mountains and that is ultimately where he rested for eternal peace. Surrounded by beautiful fall foliage that returns every year. I can remember him telling me how he would sit at the top of a meadow and watch the deer early in the morning when he was a boy in Germany. Seems like a dream. 

Wolfgang Hans Körnert, aka Walter Hans Koernert (changed when arrived in US)- born October 27, 1927 and passed away on Monday, September 5, 2011. You are forever missed and gave us all so much irreplaceable advice about love and life. I continue to pay attention to the research and revelations in the Parkinson’s community on your behalf, truly a devastating disease that took your body, but never could touch your kind soul. Proud to be your oldest grandchild. Love you and blessed to have been able to name my son after you (he even has your hazel eyes). And your smile. Definitely your smile. I know you are resting in peace. Maybe not resting since you never sat still, but I know you’re at peace. ❤️

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Breathe in, breathe out 

What’s ironic about sharing my thoughts tonight is that WordPress asked me to share my thoughts by popping up on my notifications. Like everything else in our world these days, a reminder to take time and think. To write. Perfect timing. My thoughts, right this second, are so joyful and full of unimaginable love. My two kids, Anna 3 and Matthew 5 months, are both breathing at the exact same rhythm, in my old room that I grew up in, Winterville, North Carolina. I can hear their breaths. I’m not sure how to put into words the sense of pride I feel, loving these children. God, thank you for my children. Thank you for continuously watching over them, protecting us. Thank you for the beautiful people you have allowed into my life. 

Which is the reason for the visit. My best friend is getting married on Saturday! My children are staring at the random fluorescent stars I have stuck to the popcorn ceiling, suffocating the bronze ceiling fan, in the room that I knew- and, she is getting married! They have no idea what life is like, what roadblocks they will face, what friendship is truly like. Which ones will stand the test of time and which ones will only be around for a season or two. Which ones they will wait for at the alter, supporting them entering into a commitment they call marriage. They have no idea the impact beautiful friends can have on your perception of the world. They don’t know yet the treasure of having lifelong soul mates that accept you for everything you are. And are not. I can’t wait to see them flourish in their life, put their own stars on their ceilings, find people throughout their lives that they need in their life, and can’t live without them. What a beautiful thought. 

God, I thank you for these beautiful babies and their breaths of fresh air. For the sanctity of marriage. For lifelong friends. In your name we praise, Amen. 

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Sunset Surprise

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After taking almost a year off from writing, I finally have a story to share. This evening, my now almost 2 year old daughter and I left her school, and there he was. First sighting this year. Today was a tough day, a very busy Monday, but my spirit lifted when I saw him and I immediately went to introduce myself. Approaching him, I slowed my car down, rolled the window down, and said “hey!” I went on to tell him that I have been so interested in him for the past year and a half and I just had to meet him. He inspired me and I didn’t even know him. He was back, taking pictures of the natural light of the sunset, protruding behind the local church, escaping through the clouds.

Mr. B I will call him, was dressed as if he was walking into Church for Easter Sunday. As I reached out my hand to shake his tiresome hand, he told me that it was a divine meeting we were encountering. A divine meeting. Made me smile. He went on to tell me that he had been a Baptist Preacher in South Carolina for 65 years and has been a volunteer Chaplin at Emory hospital for years. I had to ask him at that moment, why did he walk from his retirement community every evening, down the street with his walker, to capture the breathtaking images of the Georgia sky. He told me that it was his time to reflect and remember those he had lost. He proceeded to pull out a photograph from the inside of his coat pocket. At that moment, he gracefully placed a copy of one of the pictures he took in 2012 in my hands. An image of the now notorious spot, we both shared a love for- a spot that led to our unique meeting. I had taken hundreds of sunset pictures of this spot and had them developed, and apparently so had he. And kept a copy in his pocket to give to strangers at a moments notice, when he felt like it was worthwhile to share his story. He told me he had given that photo out to more than 3,000 people. And I believed him.

His eyes filled with watery tears, behind his small reading glasses, and as he wiped a tear from his cheek, he began telling me about his wife who he had lost to Alzheimer’s and his daughter he lost to a 7 year battle with Cancer, at the devastating age of 40. He saw my little one and lit up like a Christmas tree, telling me he was to visit his twin grandchildren in March for their birthdays. He was proud. He was sad. And he wanted to share memories of his loved ones with me. I felt, at that moment in time, that this was in fact a divine meeting.

At this point, my daughter had threw her half eaten Apple underneath the seat and it was clearly time to go according to a 2 year old. We shook hands and I gave him a slight squeeze when I said it was a pleasure meeting him. And I meant it. I promised I would stop by again and he could share more stories over the golden hue of a southern sunset. I can only hope that in 65 years I will still have that fire burning inside of me, laced with gratitude and passion that lights up my world. Mr. B has figured it out. Stop and smell the roses.

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It’s everyday to me

Routine maybe, lifestyle – yes. In the life of a working mother {and this is any woman with children whether you go to an office or stay home}, most can agree, that your day can often times be unexpectedly full of chaos – even when you have spent the entire night before making sure everything is as it should be for the next day. Lunch made for your child, if you are feeling nice – lunch made for your husband, food in the dog bowl, water in the dog bowl, clothes picked out for everyone the next day. I lied – who am I kidding. I am that mother who typically rolls out of bed and restarts the dryer to have semi-unwrinkled outfits for the day. Around 7:30am I start my day as mom. Well, according to my iPhone 6:09am when the obnoxious alarm of church bells starts periodically going off in my ear. I thought it would be easier to get up and more soothing being church bells. Wrong. Then, after debating for a split second whether or not to hop in the shower and rush to get ready before my daughter gets up, or to awake her peacefully and start the morning with her breakfast and a little Mickey Mouse while I get ready. It is funny that I actually believe every morning that I can control how it is going to play out. Ha! My daughter controls the day in our household. She lets me know if it is time to tame the beast and get her dressed, fed, happy, and then maybe she lets me enjoy a 10 minute shower as opposed to 5. Even then, I am washing my hair to the beat of her playing the drums on the shower door. Although we have entered the tantrum stage (seriously thought that happened at 2, not 1), I love my little girl’s personality and how much energy she brings to my life. She still needs me. In a time where she only wants her daddy, mommy is the uncool one apparently, I still long for my mornings with my baby to feel that sense of security. Her smile can literally make me feel like I have lifted off of the ground and can become supermom for the day. The phrase, I do it all for them. Couldn’t agree more.

School drop off has evolved into quite the spectacle after she started walking. Now, my independent little girl, insists on walking into school herself and only sometimes does she look up at me with her baby blues and holds out her miniature hand for me to hold on to, pure joy for this mama when that happens. We go into her class, unload her belongings, and she immediately heads to the toys. Her mind is developing rapidly and she is figuring out how the puzzle pieces fit together. I have to remind myself that I have other duties for the day because I could honestly watch her play and explore the world around her – all day long. I wave goodbye, kiss her little hand purposely leaving my lipstick mark so she knows I am with her(great tip from a magazine), and ease out of the door – leaving my heart with my little girl who is enthusiastically waving bye bye.

Scurrying to the car, I hop in, automatically turn off the nursery rhymes because I seriously cannot handle that on the way in to work, and usually try and shut my garage door pulling out of her school, then realize wow – not pulling out of the garage Katie. Get to work a solid 2 minutes late, every single day. No matter how much earlier I attempt to the leave the next day, it is always the same. Work is my chance to have a day full of adult conversations and to be productive in an environment outside of laundry – to feel important in a different setting.

After my work day, I race over to pick up my beautiful daughter, eager with excitement to see her smiling face. Somehow, in that short drive to her school, the rest of the hectic day melts away. I observe her through the classroom door, trying to catch her eye for a glimpse at her reaction – seeing mommy for the first time in 7 hours. As soon as I open the door, she stops what she is doing and trots over to me with open arms and snuggles my cheek for a solid 5 seconds. The best 5 seconds of my entire day. From that moment on, it is continues chaos – dinner, tantrum, outside, tantrum, bath, tantrum, tantrum, bottle, giggles- then, my husband joins in on the fun as super dad around 7pm and gets a small taste of our daughter’s explosive personality and puts her to sleep, while quietly asking her about her day. When we finally have an opportunity to discuss the day with one another, we enjoy sharing stories about work – but, most of all, we enjoy sharing memories of our baby girl that we were blessed to have witnessed throughout the day.

I call myself a working mother, but really, if you are a mother, you are automatically a “working mother,” in my opinion. Some make the difficult decision to have a career in business and allow strangers to take care of their child for a portion of the day and some make the difficult decision to step out of the workforce and raise their children at home. It is a decision that as a family you make together, support, and make work. Some days are especially hard. Sick days are the worst; however, there is never a time that I forget what my number one job is in my life. A mother. I will be there for her when she doesn’t feel good and pick her up from school when she has a fever, make her mashed potatoes when she has a sore throat, take her to her milestone Dr. appointments. There is no doubt in my mind, I will forever and always put my family first as my dream job – the rest is just extra.

So I began reflecting on Mother’s Day and considering what the day actually means to me. The truth is, it didn’t take long for me to come to the conclusion that every day I am able to wake up and be a mother, is Mother’s Day.

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Life in between

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This blog was written for my dad, someone who always stops to see the beauty in the sky.

Everyday at 5:45pm, I pick Anna up from school. I glance to my right and see an elderly man walking down the sidewalk, with assistance from his walker, stopping periodically to snap pictures of the Georgia sunset. Like clockwork, he’s there. He makes his evening trip from the adult active living community nearby, simply to capture the southern sun setting behind a beautiful church.

People think I’m crazy, I know. Why am I so interested in this man and his hobby. Why am I circling around for the perfect spot to park and introduce myself and Anna. What is the big deal. To me, it’s simple. For one, I also can’t wait for 5:45pm to roll around so I can sneak in nightly pictures of the church illuminating from the bright pinks and purples from the sky. I am also completely fascinated with this older gentleman’s passion for photography. What’s his story, I wonder. Former National Geographic photographer? Did he make a vow to a soul mate to never stop pursing beauty in nature? Is he desperate for routine and just bored? My dad still calls me every time there is a gorgeous North Carolina sunset, because that was always our thing. We had the most amazing view off our front porch to witness a stunning sunset in the home I grew up in, tucked into the country setting of Eastern North Carolina. Is that what this man is doing? Remembering a tradition with his daughter?

I wonder about his life in between. From my age to his age now. How did he get here. What has he seen? What else has he photographed? His passion is clearly present. I watch him stop at several different spots along his path, to get the essence of different angles. What does he do with the pictures he takes every night on his digital camera? Does he print them and show to his wife? Does he download to a laptop and email to publications? I am compelled to meet him. To get lost in his stories and find out what inspires him.

Life is too short not to notice the people who still have passion. Isn’t that what makes us who we are or in this case, who we become? Without passion, what drives us to build a life? I want Anna to grow up appreciating the small things, caring for strangers, dreaming about goals and ambitions, creating and maintaing life long friendships, pursing hobbies and interests, and most of all – carrying on the passion I share with my dad, always stopping to notice a sunset.

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Easy like a Sunday evening

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There is something about Sundays. The threat of winter weather and crisp air surrounds your home, a golden hue from the fireplace fills the room, the smell of bacon provokes your taste buds, a football jersey reflects in the window off of the TV, and a little baby girl flashes her two bottom teeth through a perfect grin from across the room. Meant just for you to see. Does it get any better than Sunday night.

It’s comforting being in your home on a Sunday evening. Soaking up the last few hours with your family before the ever so challenging work week begins. Every glance at the clock shouts at you to slow down. Slow your thoughts, chores, and slow your life down. We are in such a hurry for Friday, only to wish Sunday would take its time in passing. My husband looked sad tonight and I asked why. He said my vacation is over, work tomorrow. I thought about it, pointed out our comfy atmosphere we were enjoying with our daughter, and reminded him that we still have the ability to create Sunday nights in our home – every night.

The bliss we feel snuggled on the couch, wrapped in fleece, drifting off to sleep on commercials during the playoff games – we can have this everyday. That’s because, in my mind, happiness is something you create. So cliche I know, but seriously, why not create a Sunday evening during the week. Wouldn’t we slow down the urge to wish away the week to Friday? Taking the time out of a hectic work week to stop the dishes, put down the laundry, settle for leftovers, and enjoy the majestic feeling that comes from a living room.

Writing this, I almost believed myself when thinking you can stop and smell the warm apple pie Yankee candle whenever you want. I am an optimist at heart and want the warm and fuzzies every night, but practically I understand that this doesn’t happen because life doesn’t allow it. Bummer, I know. There are late meetings, no more clean sheets, and a baby that doesn’t want to leave the outlets alone. Life prevents us from slowing down more often than not, so when the opportunity arises – splurge and have a Sunday evening.

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Miscarried grief

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Last week started out ordinary. A little football, a little pizza, a little heartburn. What happened after will remain in my heart forever.

December 9, I woke up with severe stomach pain. Not your usual gas pain, but something else. I immediately knew something wasn’t right. I got the baby ready for school, making spontaneous trips to the bathroom, very sick to my stomach. Pizza, I thought. Why, why did I eat that stuffed crust pepperoni pizza at 10pm?? I made it through school drop off, stumbling over my shoes thinking what is wrong with me! Went to the grocery store to pick up antacids. Gagged at the smell of the deli, that can’t be right, I thought. Drove to work, only to make it to a parking space, far in the back corner, in the pouring rain, opened my door to start my Monday. And was instantly hit with sickness. I’ll leave it at that.

Got home, thought to myself , hmm maybe I should take a pregnancy test. Positive. Pregnant. Life changed, forever. Called my husband, anxious to spread my joy. Shared our happy thoughts, logical next steps, but remained on my hardwood floors in my bathroom, sick. Beyond sick. Ok, I thought. This one is different. Our new little booger was giving me a run for my money.

Wednesday came, I was beginning to picture our new nursery. I wrote a journal entry to our daughter, explaining how she is going to be a big sister! How it is up to her to show the little guy the ropes. Show him what it means to love one another, laugh, and smile. I was convinced I had a little boy growing inside me. Eager to see the world.

Thursday came. My husband made me dinner and it was divine. I ate dinner, cuddled with my love bug, and put her to bed. My life changed at that moment. I found myself losing my breath. Hovering over our porcelain throne , praying I could fall asleep. Every body part ached. Hurt. I started to have chills, a fever. My husband knew something was wrong and said its time to go.

I didn’t want to wake our daughter. It was 11:00pm and we had no family here to watch her. I tried everything possible to make myself feel better. Nothing worked. We bundled baby girl up and made the 3 minute drive to our local ER. The hospital where she was born. I felt oddly at peace.

Long story short, I needed to have immediate surgery to remove my infected gallbladder. My daughter was an angel. She was beyond amazing throughout the wee hours in the cramped ER room. My husband, my soul mate. My partner. He made me comfortable. Ok, we thought. Here we go, we got this. Gallbladder removed, done. No problem.

It was now Friday. My husband, bless his soul, took our daughter to school, came back to me and we held each other for a short time in the early afternoon. Trying to get some rest before my surgery. 45 minutes. The best 45 minutes I’ve had in a really long time. That’s what we had. We cuddled in the hospital bed together, while trying not to set off the IV alarm I had managed to set off every 5 minutes.

45 minutes of pure bliss. Then, the Dr. came into the room, told us we had 30 minutes before surgery. Ok, we thought. We got this. Baby in school, power nap, we are going to fix this problem, no worries. The Dr. explained the procedure. Asked why I had waited so long to fix it, then said I understand you are pregnant.

Yes, I am, I replied. He said ok, well, it’s early and we will do the best we can. At this point I was in so much pain it was hard for me to comprehend the next steps. My husband asked, what can I do Doc? Pray, he said. The baby is so early, just pray.

Pre-op is hazy. My husband and I prayed. A lot. The nurses knew of our situation, they knew we had a new life we were concerned about and knew we were worried. I was crying, like any mother or woman would do. I said goodbye to my husband and entered the operating room.

I remember laying on the table. Making jokes with the doctors about pretending I was in Greys Anatomy. Then, it was quiet. I held my stomach and asked my little baby to pull through this. If you can make it through this sweet boy, you can make it through anything! You will be our miracle baby! I prayed for the doctors, my husband, and my daughter. Then, I woke up.

Recovery went well, made it home, Saturday was nice. My mom came into town to help out and life seemed pretty darn good. Sunday morning, I woke up, looked over at my husband and asked him to look at me and smile. At that moment, to the second, I felt it.

Sunday morning, December 15, I miscarried my new little baby. I lost my second child. My daughters brother, or sister. It was devastating.

I am an overall optimistic person. I know that everything happens for
a reason. I know that there is nothing we could have done differently to prevent what happened. I’m sad, angry, confused, and I feel guilty. But deep down I know, we did everything right. I had started a journal to my new baby a few days ago. I told him (or her) how important they were to our family. That will never change.

To me, life begins at a positive pregnany test. We lost a member of our family and I’m sharing this because I need to. I have to. I want to write into words how I feel so I can move on, to a new chapter. Our lost baby will always hold a place in our family’s heart. Who knows what tomorrow will bring, but I do know that for that week, I loved our baby more than the world and will carry that love in my heart, forever.

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