I never imagined this day would be spent going to the cemetery

Aside from the day I found out my daughter had slipped away silently in the night, and into God's arms, today is probably the hardest. Today is her due date. The day I was expected to give birth to her. The day I was going to become a mother for the second time.

Before we lost Eliza, I had an envision for this day. It was going to be similar to the same way we had Nolan; only this time faster, because she was my second.

After I gave birth to her, then we would allow Nolan to come in an meet his baby sister for the first time. Watch as he cooed over her, and processed the fact that she was no longer inside of me. Then two days later, I would be sent home, with Eliza in my arms. From there, Austin and I would begin our sleepless nights. Instead, my life has become the exact opposite.

Instead of having sleepless nights, all I want to do is sleep. I just want to find the darkest corner of my house, and curl in the fetal position...and sleep, and cry, and sleep some more. I have no energy. Instead of that being caused by 3 hour feedings, it is caused by my deep depression from longing for Eliza.

Instead of Nolan meeting his sister for the first time today, he met her 9 weeks ago, today. Instead of that being at the hospital, it was at Ratterman's Funeral Home. Instead of him wondering how she got out of my belly, he wonders why she isn't here anymore. He probably also wonders why we visit his sister at a place with headstones, lots of grass, and geese.

Instead of giving birth to her today, I did that on April 17th, 2013.

When I found out my due date, I never imagined this day would be spent going to the cemetery.

Days like these make me never want to have anymore children again. I can't imagine bearing this pain anymore. I can't imagine experiencing the amount of anger I have, anymore.

Days like this are especially hard, because not only do they strain life, but relationships.

On the day that I found out we lost Eliza, the first thing I said to my husband when I hugged him was: "Don't let this change us." And as much as we promised each other that, something like this does change you. It does change your relationships.

Before, when Austin and I experienced trying times, one was always there to hold up the other. However, in this situation, we are both too weak to hold up ourselves; let alone the other.

It is hard to not lash out and get angry. You have so much despair and pain; and it becomes so easy to release that despair and pain on your significant other.

I remember telling him that we wouldn't let this tear us down. We would let this bring us together. However, it is so hard to do when your glue is missing--your daughter. Be that as it may, I do love my husband more than anything. I just hope that some how, some way, some day, we can not allow the thought of our daughter to bring tears to our eyes and our life; yet bring smiles.

Days like these

Days like these are hard. Today is Father's Day, and my heart hurts for my husband. That is because I remember how Mother's Day felt. All you friends and family tell you, "Happy Mother's/Father's Day". However, it isn't happy.

Don't get me wrong. We both feel blessed to be the parents of what we like to believe is the most amazing little boy out there. However, our opportunity to be Eliza's parents was ripped away.

Our chance was ripped away when I was told it was safe for me to leave the hospital. It was ripped away when I went home, and she passed while I was sleeping. It was ripped away when I never heard her little heart beating anymore...and on days like these, it hurts.

There are so many questions, when you are surviving a stillbirth. What if they did give me that C-Section? What if she was born at 31 weeks? Does she know how much we wanted her? Does she know how much we cared and already loved her? Can she see how much my heart aches for her?

It's hard knowing your baby should be alive. It's hard understanding the logic behind the medical decision to leave her in, when clearly she wasn't safe. It's hard to go through Mother's/Father's Day, longing for the child you never got to parent.

So many times I look at Nolan, and remember how much Eliza resembled him when she was born. She was beautiful.

So many times I listen to the things Nolan says, and wonder if Eliza would have said the same funny things.

So many times I watch Nolan play, and like to envision her doing the same in heaven.

So many times I wipe away Nolan's tears, and wish she was here, so no one had to wipe away mine.

Days like these are hard. After family time, we will all get into the car and drive to the cemetery. We will walk to her grave site and begin to cry. We will wonder why it had to be our baby girl who was ripped away from us. Why it has to be our Mother's/Father's day that is so melancholy.

Days like these make me wish I never got pregnant. Days like these make me wish I hadn't already had my baby shower. Days like these make me wish my house was not full of her things. Days like these make me wish that I didn't have to look at her bassinet she would never sleep in, her swing she would never be swung in, her high chair she would never eat it, he stroller we would never take a stroll in, and her clothes she will never fill.

However, days like these also make me happy to be her mother, and my husband to be her father. Although her time was short, we were truly blessed with her presence. She was an amazing girl, with so much personality. She was my Eliza.

The Funeral

Before I had left the hospital, I had already started making arrangements. It was in the middle of the night. Austin had fallen asleep, and all I was left with was Eliza and my thoughts. I couldn't bare the thought of dragging out her funeral.

So at 4 A.M., I started making calls. Believe it or not, funeral homes answer these questions in the middle of the night. Each one I would call, I would be directed to an answering service. After I told them my situation, each answering service transferred me to the director. I think they may have transferred me to their home phone or cell phone. However, I didn't care if it was 4 A.M. I didn't care if I woke them out of a sleep. My family was in shambles and so was my brain. I needed answers. I needed to start planning the most beautiful arrangements for my beautiful daughter; and their sleeping schedule was not going to interfere with that.

So the day I left the hospital, I already had a meeting with Ratterman's Funeral Home. My husband and mother-in-law went with me to help with the arrangements.

From here, things get a bit fuzzy. I don't really remember much. All I remember is that we had picked out the flowers and they made he obituary.

I think things were so fuzzy because of my shock. I remember there were times I was in a trance. I couldn't look away and I couldn't think about anything else but her. In my trances, I would relive the past 24 hours. I would see her face. I would remember how cold she was. I would relive pushing her out, and not hearing her cry.

These memories would hit me like crashing waves. One moment I would be fine. The next moment I would see her face, and start bawling. It would literally happen at any time, in any surrounding. There were times I would cry while grocery shopping, pumping gas, and most certainly as I laid my head down at night.

The next few days dragged on. I remember that. We lost her on a Thursday and met with the directors of the funeral home on a Friday. Considering they wouldn't be able to get here to the funeral home until Saturday, and it is some weird unspoken rule that funeral homes do not do burials on a Sunday, we had to wait until the following Monday to bury our princess.

So Friday, I called my doctor and requested medication that would help with my anxiety. I explained that I wasn't able to eat nor sleep. I hadn't slept since the night before we knew we lost Eliza, and I hadn't eaten since the morning of my non-stress test. (It actually took over 72 hours before I ever took my first bite of food.) So my doctor prescribed Xanax to help my overwhelming anxiety.

Saturday I spent the entire day in a medical induced trance. I was still unable to eat and I still feared going to sleep. I didn't want to re-energize my body and mind. By this point, I was so tired that I couldn't even think to cause myself to cry anymore. I knew that as soon as I got new energy, I would have the ability to see her face again. To relive everything once more. To cry.

I was right. I finally slept Saturday. Sunday, when I woke, the first thing I did was cry. I didn't even get out of bed before I started crying. I cried and cried some more.

This was going to be the second worst day of my life. It was her viewing.

When we got to the funeral home, we were met with the director. He informed us that they were able to leave her casket uncovered for now.

I remember walking so slowly up to my baby girl. I was so scared to see her again. But God, was she beautiful.

She looked almost like a porcelain doll. She was so still...so at peace. She looked like she was sleeping. Like if I spoke too loud, she would wake up. I took a baby blanket, and tucked her in. I had a matching blanket at home; so that way we would both have one.

I remember grabbing Austin's hand and holding on. I looked at him and all I could whisper was "She looks so beautiful."

I sat with her for hours and stared. I rubbed her hair, and kissed her cheeks over and over.

So many people were crying. I don't know if it was the Xanax or if I was cried out. Maybe it was that it still felt so surreal, but I couldn't cry anymore. All I could do was look at her, smile, and keep saying how beautiful she was. In this odd place in time, I was a proud parent of a beautiful baby girl.

It wasn't until around 1:30 that I lost that ability to smile. The funeral director came back and informed me that they had to close her casket. With infants, they are unable to embalm them. Therefore, it is just applied makeup. With room temperatures, things can begin to look very bad, very quickly.

It was one of the hardest things watching them cover her with the casket lid. It made it so finalized. It made it real again.

It was hard watching them do that to her. I couldn't take it. I was no longer able to envision her as my sleeping princess. Instead, I knew the reality. She was my daughter, and she wasn't sleeping. She was my daughter, and she was gone...

I remember all I could think is I need more medicine. I need this to go away. I guess I thought this little pill was going to fix my life.

I couldn't and didn't go back up to her tiny casket, until everyone had left.

Once everyone was gone, Austin and I just sat there. Staring at the white casket and staring at each other. How had this become our life? How did we become bereaved parents?

The next day was just as hard as the day before. I fell asleep Sunday night crying, and woke up Saturday morning picking up where I had left off the night before...crying.

It was her funeral.

When we got to the funeral home, they were playing lullabies. Songs I would never get to whisper to her as I rocked her to sleep.

I don't remember much of what was said at her ceremony. Between the tears and my disbelief, it was hard to listen. I also think with the amount of shock, my mind has tried to erase a lot of these memories. I believe it is trying to protect me, my heart, and my mind.

I do remember, however, getting to see her one last time before they sealed her casket. I was so scared that I wouldn't get that chance, but thankfully we did. I bent over, and placed my lips on her forehead, and kissed her. I kissed her for a long time. I didn't want to pull away, because I knew this kiss was the last kiss she'd receive from her mommy.

From there we rode to the cemetery. I couldn't tell you what way we traveled or if a conversation took place in the car. My mind has also eliminated this memory. However, I do remember pulling up to the cemetery.

The grandfather's carried her casket and set it down in front of where we sat. The preacher said a prayer and spoke beautifully about my daughter. From there, roses from her spray were passed out.

From there, we walked about 100 feet to where she was to be buried. They slowly placed her in; so gently. However, that was the last thing I could watch. I had to turn away when they started placing the dirt. I couldn't bare to witness it.

Things were blurry. I know I walked past several people, but I don't remember faces. All I wanted to do was get in the car and leave.

Since her funeral, I started sleeping with the matching blanket. I keep latched onto it for comfort at night.

We have yet to clean her things out of the house. I guess I can't bare to let go. I guess I feel like when her things are gone, she truly will be too.

Some days I hate looking at it, other days I don't want it to go anywhere. I've been asked several times if I needed help clearing her things. I just can't bare to let go. Not of her things...and not of her. 

Delivering Eliza

Once I was able to concentrate on what the nurse practitioner told me, I had nothing but questions. My first: "Was I actually going to have to deliver her?". I knew the answer to this question already, but I guess I was hoping that they could just knock me out and take her. I couldn't stomach the thought of pushing her out as I did Nolan. I couldn't bear to think about the silence that would be echoing in the room, instead of her first cries.

She nodded.

My second question:"Can I keep her in my room with me?". I suppose this thought broke her down, because she nodded, turned away, and starting wiping her own tears. This doctors office knew my past. They knew I had had two miscarriages and finally was able to deliver my son. Now, they had to watch as I left to deliver my baby girl...who wouldn't be coming home with me.

They asked if they wanted someone to drive me over. It was only a couple blocks down the road, so I told them no. In all honesty, I wanted my privacy, so I could make my next move. I went into my car, rolled up the windows, and screamed as loud as I could. I screamed over and over. I cussed and I hit the steering wheel. I begged and I pleaded with God, "Please, wake me up. This can't be happening." I screamed the entire way. Not anything understandable...it just seemed like the only way to express myself.

I slowly headed to the L&D floor, where I was met with a doctor from my office. She escorted me into the Fetal Medicine Specialist's ultrasound room. I suppose they wanted to torture me more, because they did another ultrasound to absolutely confirm she was deceased. I remember holding on to a glimmer of hope that the flicker may appear. That her heart may have restarted...but it hadn't. It was still just a black and white screen, with just my Eliza...and no heartbeat.

They gave me my options. I could be induced or I could wait until labor started naturally. Considering I was already cramping, I assumed labor would start soon, so I opted to just be induced. Now looking back, I wish I hadn't. Part of me wishes I would have waited. Maybe she would have stayed in a day longer, and I would have had just a little more time with her.

However, I was escorted to a room. Ironically, it was the same L&D room I had been in when they rushed me down to L&D several times over the past several days. I remember a nurse saying they were going to hook me up to a monitor to monitor my contractions. She made sure to note that they weren't going to use the doppler. It felt like a smack in my face. Like she was reassuring me they didn't need that, because my daughter was dead.

I asked for pain medication right away. I didn't want to feel the pain of giving birth, if I wasn't being rewarded in the end.

The next several hours were a blur. Close family and friends came to offer their support. My mother even left to go get her an outfit to wear.

About 6 hours after being admitted into the hospital I was ready to push. I remember the thoughts going through my head. They would tell me to push, I would get in the pushing position, and do little effort. I didn't want to push her out. I wasn't ready to let go of her. I wasn't ready to end this pregnancy. To finalize my daughter's life as I knew it.

After about thirty minutes of little pushing, I did push her out. It was silent...The kind of silence that pierces your eardrums. No one said a word. All you could hear was my husband's sobs.

I remember I kept looking at her, begging in my head, please cry! She never did. She was born sleeping at 7:26 P.M. She weight 3 pounds 3.3 ounces, 16 inches long, and oh so beautiful.

I remember holding her and wiping her face. I wanted to get all of the stuff off of her, so I could marvel in her beauty.

Eliza stayed in our room all night. I didn't sleep at all. I knew I only had a short time with her, and I wasn't going to waste it sleeping.

I remember at times I would hold her so close to my body. My body heat would warm her face, and when I would kiss her, it made it seem as if she was only sleeping. As if she were still alive. I wish that those hours wouldn't have passed so fast. Every hour that passed, I knew I was closer to giving my daughter up forever.

I was discharged the next day. They said in these circumstances, they just ensure that bleeding is okay, and send the patient home. I waited until we walked out to say goodbye to her. I whispered in her ear how much we all loved her and that she will never be forgotten. I kissed her repeadetly and handed her to the nurse. It was the hardest thing watching them drape the cover over her, and wheeling her out. In my mind, she deserved to be wrapped like a baby, and carried. I wanted the best for her in life...and in death.

My husband and I held each other for a period of time, crying, before we left. I remember walking down the hall and them saying they needed to wheel me downstairs. I refused. I had no reason to stay. I had been discharged, and my daughter was gone.

Our Hospital Stay

Shortly after my husband returned home, I noticed I was having an increase in contractions. I wasn't sure if they were Braxton Hicks, because they were not painful; however, my contractions with my son did not become noticeable until about 6 cm. Therefore, I decided to be safer and than sorry, and let my doctor know. At my next appointment I told her I was having an increase in contractions and also asked her to do a vaginal exam. I reminded her about how I was 3 1/2 centimeters at 33 weeks with Nolan, and felt as if I should be checked. She obliged and did a vaginal ultrasound to check my cervical length. Upon doing the check, she noted that I was already 50% effaced. Thus, I was instructed to remain on bed rest until my next appointment and evaluation.

I went home and promptly began bed rest, the best I could. Sometimes it was a bit difficult with a two year old, but I did try to remain at least in a sitting position. However, a couple days after that doctors appointment I noticed several contractions. The doctor informed me if I had four or more in an hour, that I should call the office. So after I noticed four in an hour, I did just that. I was instructed to go to the hospital for evaluation.

On the way to the hospital, I noticed the contractions had stopped. However, I decided it would be best to be evaluated anyways. Once I got there, I was instructed to do a clean catch urine specimen. They assumed that it could have been brought on by a UTI. I assured them I did not have a UTI, but allowed them to continue with their examination. Upon doing a vaginal exam, they noted that I was 2 centimeters dilated. This began to make me worried, knowing I was now 2 cm dilated and 50% effaced. It seems as if Eliza was planning on making her arrival soon. I suppose it aroused fear in the doctors as well, because they decided to admit me. Their plan was to administer steroid shots within 12 hours, to develop her lungs. My first shot was received at 9 p.m. and I was transferred from Labor and Delivery to the Post Delivery Unit. Austin stayed with me for a couple of hours, but had to return home to take care of our son. So I spent the night at the hospital.

The next morning I woke up fairly early. I guess it is easier to say, I never slept. However, I woke up at 6 a.m. and waited for my next shot. I couldn't wait to get back home to my husband and son. Nine A.M. came and so did the horrid shot. However, I was happy to know that my daughter was being protected in case something were to happen.

Around 11 A.M. a nurse came in to inform me they were going to place me on the monitor for an hour before I went home. The nurse struggled getting Eliza on the monitor and made several calls down to the Labor and Delivery Unit to see if they could see her on the monitor. After several minutes of plugging and unplugging things, they finally had success. My nurse left and I gladly sat listening to the sound of my daughters heartbeat.

However, that joy quickly turned to fear. I noticed as my daughters heartbeat started to slow down. She usually stayed in the 150's but when I looked at the monitor she was in the 60's. I knew that wasn't good. Then my room phone rang. It was a L&D nurse. She asked me if my nurse was still in the room. I responded with a "no". Her next question was "what side are you laying on?". I told her my right and she told me to flip over "now". I did so quickly, but there was no change. Eliza's heartrate was still in the 60's.

Within 30 seconds 3 nurses came running in, out of breath. They ran all the way from L&D to assess Eliza. They took turns flipping me back and forth, without a budge in Eliza's heart rate. They placed an oxygen tank on my face and without hesitation, they unhooked me from the machine and started pushing me as fast as they could down the hall.

All of the world's worst thoughts entered my mind. "Am I losing my baby?", "Are they going to have to do a C-Section?", "Can I call my husband?", "Is she going to have developmental issues from being born this early?". It was certainly a horrid experience. They rushed me into a room and hooked me back up to a monitor. To their, and certainly my, relief, Eliza was back in the 120's. That was certainly better than in the 60's and certainly reassuring.

They decided to leave me on the L&D floor to assess her a little while longer. I called my husband and told him he needed to get to the hospital ASAP. They weren't sure what direction to take and they had me located next to the OR just in case they needed to rush me for an Emergency C-Section. That to me was worrisome, enough.

However, shortly after I spoke to Austin, she deceled again. This time, not as long. They were able to get her heart rate back up, much faster than before.

After Austin got to the hospital, we spoke with the on call doctor. He informed us that they were going to contact a Fetal Medicine Specialist. This specialist would know if it was important to take Eliza now. We went to the ultrasound room and watched Eliza on this giant screen. I remember watching her sticking her tongue out and then sucking her thumb. It was so adorable. My baby was doing all the things I couldn't wait to watch her do when she arrived.

After the ultrasound, our doctor came back in. He informed us that the Fetal Medicine Specialist noticed a wad of cord next to Eliza. He believed that she was just rolling over on it, and that she was just fine. They decided that I no longer needed around the clock monitoring and that I could return to Post Delivery floor. Instead they decided that they would monitor me for one hour, every six hours.

As I went back up stairs, I remember being scared. I enjoyed the comfort of hearing Eliza's heartbeat for those several hours. I kept wondering, "what if she decels in between monitoring?" No one would know. However, I put my trust in the professionals. After all, they went to school to do this for a living.

My first monitoring went well. No decels. Just a happy, healthy baby. However, my next hour of monitoring wouldn't go so well. At 3:00 in the morning, they came in to listen to Eliza again. After about 10 minutes, they noticed there was not a variation in her heart rate. They wanted, within five minutes,  to be a difference of 10 points. So if her heart was 156 it should go up to 166 or down to 146. But, that wasn't happening. They decided to send me back down to L&D to be monitored closely.

After being transferred back to L&D, she had another episode of heart decels within five minutes of arriving on the floor. Once again, nurses ran in and started flipping me back and forth. I also had nurses stripping me out of my clothes and back into a gown; while another nurse put oxygen back on my face. I remember one nurse saying: "This is going to be her birthday. She is going to be born today." That echoed in my ear, and all I could do was cry. "She's too early..." I remember whispering behind the oxygen mask.

But she wasn't born. They didn't take me to the OR and they didn't deliver her. Rather, they sent me for another ultrasound. This time, I was by myself, since my husband had went back home the night before. It was similar to the ultrasound I had had before, only this time they checked the Biophysical Profile. This was to measure the health of Eliza and make sure that she was not in any sort of distress. She scored an 8 out of 10 which was okay. The Fetal Medicine Specialist told me, "I do not see taking a 31 week old baby. She is safer inside."

So once again I was sent back upstairs. I was told I would have the one hour monitoring every six hours and then after 24 hours, I would be released. Twenty-four hours later, I was sent home. I was glad to be back with my family, and I certainly missed my son a lot. However, I was a bit worried. Those monitors gave me security. However, they weren't worried so I decided I didn't need to be either.

That night I laid down around midnight, and fell asleep the same way I always did--with my hand on my belly. I had a non-stress test set for the next morning at 11:00 A.M., so I set my alarm to be up at 8:00 A.M. My husband stayed awake a bit longer and came to bed around 2:00 A.M.

The next morning at 8:00 A.M. I woke up and took a shower. After my shower, I ate some breakfast and sat down. I noticed Eliza hadn't moved yet, but I assumed she was still asleep. Around 10:00 Austin woke up and sat on the couch with me. I noted to him that I hadn't felt Eliza, but he reassured me she was still asleep.

So I left the house around 10:30, and headed to the doctors office. After being called back, I did the routine blood pressure and the routine urine. Then I was escorted back to where they do the non-stress test. The nurse moved the dopppler around my stomach, but was having a difficult time finding her heartbeat. I assumed it was because my placenta was anterior, which made it somewhat difficult to find.

She called in the nurse practitioner, who I had met with several times before. We made small talk, as she used the doppler to find my daughter's heartbeat. However, she couldn't. She asked me if I had felt her move, and I responded with "not yet". Then I started to get worried. I knew that wasn't a good question to ask, combined with the difficulty of locating her heartbeat. They took me to an ultrasound room, where they were going to do a scan.

I laid down and looked at the screen. There was her head...and her body...but that faint flicker that used to be her heart was no longer flickering.

You know the war movies where they simulate a bomb, and everything goes silent? That is exactly what happened. The death of my daughter was a bomb going off, and everything stopped. I couldn't hear, I couldn't think. I was numb. All I could do was let out a blood-curdling scream. My worst nightmare had come true...my daughter was dead. I wouldn't be taking a baby home.

Daddy's leaving

Shortly after finding out our baby was a sweet baby girl, it was time for my husband to leave for basic. From there, things changed dramatically. I was now responsible for taking care of a two year old, on my own, while he was away. This was certainly a shock for me and my son. 

I must say first, and foremost, that I respect the silent ranks in any military branch. Picking up the pieces, in which a husband has to leave behind, can be very draining emotionally and physically. Adding hormones to that mix was a recipe for disaster.

However, this gave time for my son and I to bond. Considering it was him and I everyday, all day, we certainly leaned on each other for support. Although he is only two, he certainly helped me get through the long days. He brought a smile to my face, when the thought of missing his daddy entered my mind. He brought laughter to my day, when at night I felt like crying. He is such an amazing boy.

It also gave me time to bond with Eliza. I was able to sit at home and create a mother-daughter relationship fairly early. It seemed as if my hand was permanently fixed to my stomach. 

I felt like she already had so much personality for being so small. For example, she hated the sound of my stomach. If it had been a while since I had ate, and my stomach would growl, she would certainly make her dislike known. She would squirm around until it stopped. She also didn't like when I ate or drank really cold things. I suppose it made her cold, and she wasn't too fond of that either.  Regardless, there were many times when she made me laugh. 

One of my funniest memories was when Nolan was laying his head on my stomach. He was fixated on the TV, when all of a sudden, Eliza kicked him in the face. I chuckle as I write this, because to this day, is one of the funniest memories I have. After she kicked him, Nolan jerked his face of my belly quickly...and the stared...and stared some more. After sitting puzzled for several seconds he looked at me with big eyes and asked "what was that?!". I suppose they already had a sibling rivalry.

However, I believe my favorite thing to witness, was the loving bond Eliza and Nolan had already made. Nolan became obsessed with my belly. He was constantly rubbing it and talking to her. Many times, he would go get cars or other toys, and talk to her about his toy. He'd show her it, although she couldn't see it, and tell her all about it. It brought tears to my eyes to watch my son being so gentle with his new baby sister. I knew he was going to be such a great big brother. And somehow I knew, they both already loved each other. 

There were many times when Eliza was still. Then when her brother would talk to her, she would just move and kick up and storm. It was if she was saying "I love you too!" It was amazing seeing their bond. However, I suppose she was too excited to get out.

Shortly after Austin left, I did start experiencing contractions. I decided to go to the hospital and have them evaluated. Once again, they gave me the horrible Terbutaline shot they gave me when I had preterm labor with Nolan. However, this preterm labor was coming much sooner that it did with Nolan. With Nolan I had preterm labor at 33 weeks. I was only 22 weeks with Eliza. There would be no way she would survive if she was born.

I remember having that exact conversation with my husband while he was away. I told him, if she was born now, she wouldn't survive. I told him, I don't think I could give birth to a baby, to just not bring it home. I couldn't understand how anyone could do that. How they would move on with their lives. How they would continue living. The thought was like a nightmare...little did I know, that terrible nightmare became a reality for me. 

Shortly after my husband got to basic, he was considered a layover. In other words, he had to stay in reception for another week. He was having troubles coping with the change and being so far away from Nolan, Eliza, and myself. To add to the stress, he knew I was having issues with preterm contractions. Everyday I was feeling contractions. As they would eventually subside, I never returned to the hospital. However, my husband felt as if this was a warning for an impending preterm birth. Considering my son was early, he felt he needed to be home. He felt as if she came too early, she might have problems.Thus, he refused to ship to basic. He spent a few more weeks in basic, and then eventually returned back home to us. 

Having him home was so wonderful. I missed him so much, and certainly gained a new found respect for all he does for us.  When he got home, we spent every second together. I couldn't let him out of our sight. It also made me excited that he would be there for the rest of my pregnancy. With his arrival, I knew that he wouldn't miss hers. I knew he would get to hear her first cries and witness her first breath, as I was so scared he might have missed.

Little did I know...neither one of us would get that wonderful opportunity.

A New Flaherty

After my son was born, the following two years flew by. It was amazing to watch as my son grew into a little person. These two years were filled with learning how to understand his needs (only if they came with manuals), teaching him to walk, teaching him to talk, and so much more. There were so many great things about being a mother. And while there were many sleepless nights, I wouldn't take an extra hours of sleep over spending time with my son, any day! 

Many times it made me long for the two I had lost. I always thought, if I could still be promised Nolan, I would love to have the other two that had slipped away silently. And while I can't take back time, I always looked toward my future. 

That future was developing so well. I had just recently married my boyfriend of 7 years and had a beautiful son with him. He was joining the Armed Forces, and we were going to be established in our future. I had the perfect little family, and it was about to be just all the more perfect.

Being a busy mom, I sometimes forgot to track my menstrual cycle. However, one day it dawned on me that I might be a little late. So I went to my calendar, and started counting from the last period I remembered having. I counted over and over and over again...but the same result. I was over a week late. Considering "Aunt Flow" never missed her arrival time, I knew I needed a test. 

Once again I resulted to my old faithful--the digital test. I wasn't too nervous when taking the test, because I assumed that I miscalculated my period. That had to be it! There was no way I could be pregnant. However, to my surprise, once again there was a missing "not" in front of "pregnant". 

I remember feeling my heart stop. All I could think is, so many things are about to change. My whole life is about to change. My little baby, playing outside with his father, was no longer going to be my baby. He was going to be the big brother...the dreaded big brother. In being a big sister, I know all too well how much being the oldest is not always the best. It always seemed like I was overlooked, and while it was not on purpose, it certainly wasn't the best feeling in the world. I was already hating that possibility for Nolan. 

Not only was I worried about how Nolan would take this, but how our family unit would deal with a pregnancy, my husband leaving for the Army, and our impending move to wherever the Army may send us. It became more stressful, when upon checking my due date, I realized I would be due only two weeks after my husband was to return from basic. With Nolan's early arrival, it scared me that he may miss the birth of his second born child. I was scared he wouldn't get to hear the baby's first cry and witness the baby's first breath. 

However, as time went on, we certainly became more comfortable with the idea of bringing a new Flaherty into the family.

I wanted to wait until I was out of my first trimester, the same as I did with Nolan, but I couldn't contain myself. Plus, we had found our miracle cure...the baby aspirin. The baby aspirin helped me carry Nolan to term, and I intended to do the same with this baby. 

So aside from constantly hugging the toilet, I was overjoyed with having a new baby growing inside of me. I even started telling Nolan that there was a baby in my belly. At first, he certainly didn't understand. He knew what a baby was, and he couldn't figure out how or where a baby was in my belly. Nonetheless, he started to be very gentle around me and my stomach. Occasionally, he would even rub it and say "awww, it's a baby".

We even started picking out baby names before we knew the baby's sex. When we finalized our decision, it was between Elijah Ray Flaherty for a boy and Eliza Rae Flaherty for a girl.  Ray was my father's middle name, and we wanted to honor him in the naming of our child. The similarities between Elijah and Eliza, however, were not intended. I suppose we just really like the sound and flow of those names, and that is how they became so similar.

So "Baby E" became the name, until we knew the sex. I was getting so excited about "Baby E" and couldn't wait to find out the sex. I was leaning more for a boy (I think because Nolan was easy thus far to raise). However, everyone else was leaning for a girl. Even my husband. He kept saying, "I already have my boy. Now I want my daddy's girl". 

So when the time came, we went to find out the sex of "Baby E" as a family. I remember Nolan kept pointing to the screen and saying "baby, baby". 

They started the ultrasound off by doing the measuring and making sure everything was okay. I remember thinking, "can't you look at that in a minute...I need to know the sex of this baby now". Heck, they made me wait 19 weeks...there was no way I could possibly wait five more minutes. 

So then it was announced. "Baby E" was officially Eliza Rae Flaherty. While it was not my boy, I soon became very fond of referring to her as my daughter. Shortly after, I remember telling my husband, "I have grown fond of knowing she is a girl. I think now, if they told me they made a mistake and it was a boy, I would be disappointed". 

So that was that. I was now going to be responsible for teaching her how to do her hair, her makeup, and about pesky "Aunt Flow". Austin had already made it relatively clear that he wasn't even going to touch on that subject down the road. His job, in rearing a girl, was to make sure that no boys stepped foot around her. 

So I guess it was easy to say, that we certainly started including her arrival in a future dreams and hopes. Although she was not born, she was already so much apart of our family. She was already a very much loved daughter, sister, granddaughter, and cousin.