Incoherently Yours

My Dearest Rory,                 Happy Birthday, my little Heaven Dweller. Somehow it has been a whole year since you came careening into our lives. What a crazy, happy day. You brought so much joy and love with you.                 We miss you, Rory. We think of you every day. There have been times – many, many times – when your Daddy and I didn’t know how we were going to make it through another minute without you. Losing you is the hardest thing we have even done, or will ever do. Losing you isn’t something that happened almost a year ago. It happens every day. Every time we see a little girl. Every time we see something cute and girlie and pink. Every time we think of you, we wonder what it would be like to have you with us. Our sense of loss never leaves. You are precious, baby girl, and we treasure our memories of you. ...

                So as a warning, this post will mostly be about breastfeeding. Because that’s pretty much my life right now.                 Kadon is a pretty chill little guy. Right now it looks like he’s definitely inherited his Daddy’s personality. It takes a lot to rile him up and not much to calm him down. He’s easy going and calm. Which is wonderful except for when you are trying to get him to nurse. You see, his big sister Rory had to switch to a different feeding schedule when she was two days old. Instead of being fed every three hours, she needed to be fed every two. Because she would start screaming her tiny little head off. When she wanted something, she wanted it NOW, and she didn’t care who knew it. I have no idea where she got her feisty personality from. Ahem.          ...

                Well, it was bound to happen. After my ultrasound appointment on Wednesday we were told everything was fine and dandy, baby was looking good, cervix was long, and they didn’t even think they needed to see me anymore. After my specialist appointment I was told my cervix was closed and everything normal. I started feeling pretty cocky. I’d make it at least another couple weeks.                 At least, that’s what I was thinking until I was walking to my vehicle around 5:30pm after spending the afternoon at the Neerlandia centennial celebration. I just started feeling strange. Menstrual crampy, uncomfy, strange. But it wasn’t the first time it had happened, so I went home and put my feet up. I told Sheldon I was feeling crampy and wouldn’t be picking the beans or the raspberries.       ...

Today is such a good day. A good, grand, wonderful day. I had been looking forward/dreading this day for two weeks. Today is a day that could have been filled with words like fetal growth restriction, early delivery, hospital admittance, steroid injections, inducement, and possible caesarean. Two weeks ago at my last ultrasound, Tater’s measurements were a bit off. The head was measuring bigger than the abdomen. This could be a sign of fetal growth restriction, the placenta not working properly, and baby needing to come out early. Because they had caught it so soon and ultrasounds are not an exact science, we would have to wait two weeks to see how Tater would grow. Two weeks. I didn’t want to cause alarm or have people badgering me with questions, so I didn’t say anything on facebook, or make it general knowledge. After all, there was a chance Tater had been caught in an awkward growing phase from an awkward angle. If I had chosen to make it public my status’ would have bee...