Every good and perfect gift

Comes from Heaven above.

We were blessed with twins

To cherish and love.

Born together, to grow apart;

One in our arms, the other in our Heart.

Four years ago today, my water broke. I had already been moved from my room on the antepartum (sit and wait) unit to L&D because my water had also broken the day before. I hadn't slept in days because the boys were continually on heart monitors (and continually coming off). I remember a number of doctors coming in to do an ultrasound, they would look, speak in quiet voices, go find another person to come and look. It seemed like this went on forever until we were finally told that it was time. The twin to twin transfusion which had been holding steady in the less severe stages had now progressed, Carter looked very sick.

Everything we had gone through over the last six months...tests, more tests, funny lab results, a spot on Cohen's heart, a meeting with geneticists, offers to terminate our pregnancy, suggestions to let one of our babies die so the other could live, weeks of bedrest, weeks in the hospital. This was it. Strangely enough, a calm and peace came over me. I can only say that I know that it was God's presence, that he was holding us in his hands the whole time.

The outcome was not what we wanted, hoped or prayed for. We joined the parenthood club in probably one of the most difficult ways possible. The boys' birthday is not one of the happiest days of my life, it never will be. The days leading up to their birthday are generally the hardest I relive all of those moments. But, generally when the day arrives, I am able to find some peace in remembering our Carter and celebrating Cohen.

As I drove home from picking up balloons, some to tie on Cohen's chair and some for Carter's grave, it hit me that I have never once been sad for Carter that he didn't get to experience this life. The sadness comes that we never got to experience his life. I know that being in God's presence and experiencing heaven is a way, way better experience than anything this life has to offer. And I find comfort in that. And that we also have our sweet, amazing four year old Cohen who we love and treasure and teaches us the meaning of strength and resilience every day.

The Grief Journey - 4 Years Later

Coming up on four years later...it still hurts. I can't say that it's better. All those memories, forever in my heart and brain, spilling out here and there. Still breaking my heart every time. The tears still fall, although maybe not quite as frequently, and my arms still ache to hold him, kiss him goodnight, and send him off to preschool.

We are so blessed to have met our sweet boy, but to have only known him for such a short time feels like a tease. Some days it feels like we didn't just lose him once, but we feel that loss at every birthday, first and last day of preschool and every milestone in between.

I know the emotions are stronger as we approach a milestone that "should have been". I know the waves that feel so strong right now will settle back down again. Sometimes it just feels good to get it out, to say that my heart hurts.

3 Years: A Grief Letter

Dear Family and Friends,

Well, it's that time of year. I should be joyfully planning a party for our twins.  Instead I throw myself into various projects and avoid going to bed so I don't have to be alone with my thoughts. My heart aches to hold and hug and kiss my child. The pain of not getting to see Carter playing alongside his brothers gets harder to bear. The new mom to the twins that walks by my house frequently and the neighbors calling to their Carter feels like salt in my wounds.

I can't believe it has been three whole years. Three years since we heard the words "It's time" even though it was far too early. We knew the boys would be early but we were in no way prepared for what was ahead of us. We didn't know our lives would forever be affected and changed as we simultaneously joined the world of both parents of preemies and baby loss parents. The boys'  birthday was not the best day of our lives, in fact it was one of the scariest and most devastating. I can still see his face and remember the moments I spent with him. I have lost a lifetime of hopes and dreams. We have lost a son. Our boys have lost a brother. I still wish it was all a bad dream and that I will wake up one day and we will be whole again. 

Does it still hurt three years later? Absolutely. Am I "over it"? No. I will never be over that my child died. Has the pain changed? Yes, it has. Most days I don't have to struggle to gather the strength to get out of bed. I still cry for Carter. I still want to see him play and run with his brothers. I still want to tuck him in at night and tell him I love him and I can't do those things. I still struggle to see twins because it is an incredibly painful reminder of our loss. Carter will always be a part of me, just like my other children. 

Carter's life was not for nothing, it has to be for something. Because of Carter (& Cohen), thousands of families will have tiny diapers to dress their babies in and will hopefully feel that their babies are treasured and that they matter. Care packages have been taken to the NICU. Money has been donated to the March of Dimes to continue research for treatment for preemies. I have found new purpose and meaning in my life because of him. I have learned so much about myself and who I want to be as a person and as a mom. I understand that there are no guarantees in life and that we need to do our best to make the most of each and every day. To love deeply because we may not have tomorrow. To not take for granted the gift I have to raise my other children (even when they are naughty) and to realize that there truly are things in life that don't matter. I have made connections and lifelong friends that I never would have if I weren't in this baby loss "club". 

In the days leading up to and surrounding the boys' birth, we watched people we thought were our friends walk away from us in our time of greatest need. We also saw people surround us and hold us up when we weren't able to stand on our own. The prayers, gifts, and support were truly amazing. Thank you to those of you who held our hands, prayed with us, cried with us, gave to us, and just loved us. Thank you for your kind and supportive words, on the blog, in emails, texts, and in person.  And thank you to those of you who didn't know what to say or do, but just stood by us. We couldn't have done it without you. 

We also watched as the Lord changed us and worked in our lives and others' lives as well. Our faith was shaken and then strengthened as we faced the hardest days of our lives. And we were reminded over and over and over of God's love and faithfulness, even in times of great darkness. He carried us through days we never thought we would make it through. And yet, he never left us.

And now, here we are. We have made it through three long, difficult, rewarding, and joyful years. I will always wish things had gone differently for our family. Always. But, we have learned that our lives are led by one who is greater than us. Who has gone before us and walked the path that we have and will walk. We know there is a greater purpose for our lives and that this world isn't the end.

Carter, my boy. In almost 3 years, not a day has gone by that I haven't thought of you and wished you were here. You will always be a part of this family. I can't wait to see you again. 

Sharing our Story at UW - Remembering Carter

Earlier this week, we made the trip to UW to share our story at a bereavement training for the second time. Last time we had another loss family with us and this time it was just us, which made it a little more nerve wracking.

We told the story of both of our boys and the impact it had made on our lives, basically turning everything we thought we knew upside down and causing us to think differently about everything.

We had amazing NICU nurses and they are like a part of our family, but one thing that I have struggled with is that I never felt comfortable talking about Carter in the NICU. Most of the time, it was like something that was separate and done and that we needed to focus on Cohen. To some degree that is true, but the boys were a part of each other. They were both our boys and Carter's death affected a lot of how I felt about Cohen in the NICU. I always wished I had more of a chance to talk about Carter as well but, with the exception of one nurse, didn't feel like it was ever brought up or okay to talk about.

But today, after we shared our story, we had 2 separate people come up and tell us that they remembered Carter. One was one of the nurses who was there the night the boys were born. For some reason, I never knew who the nurses were in there that night. I asked one of the NICU doctors who was there when they were born to go over some of Carter's records with me and she didn't seem to understand why I wanted to know or what good it would do and I wasn't able to get any of the information that I was seeking. When your child is gone and you have very limited memories, you desperately seek anyone who might have something to share about your child. So after we were finished talking, this nurse came up to us and let us know that she was there with the boys that night. It was just so nice to see the face that had been there with them. She had actually been helping with Cohen, but she was in the same room. It seems like a small thing, but it was like finding a little piece of Carter.

The second person was someone we saw nearly every single day, the NICU secretary who really is an amazing person. She always had a smile for us, always asked us how we were doing and liked to tell us little tidbits about Cohen. With tears in her eyes, she told us she remembers Carter because he was the first baby that had ever died since she had been working in the NICU. When she told us that she always fought to keep Cohen as "Baby A" (Twins are given Baby A and Baby B, instead of just baby boy) on his charts and documents and was protective of that, it made me smile.

These two little stories just made my heart a little bit happy. To know that Carter was remembered and to be able to find little pieces of his memory out there in the world.

Hope and Peace

The days leading up to now have been admittedly hard. I have been teary, cranky, and exhausted. I even cried at a wal-mart commercial about kids growing up. I just couldn't shake it and didn't quite know what I needed so I just kept trudging forward.

On Saturday we had a family Christmas party to go to. I had bought Carter a little tree but just hadn't taken it yet. I was avoiding it because I didn't know how it would go for me now that Cohen is talking. We told him we were going to take Carter his tree and from then on he was talking about "Carter's house" and "going to see Carter". The whole way to the cemetery I could hear his little voice in the backseat saying Carter's name. So bittersweet. I could feel the tears rolling down my cheeks as I wondered how he would respond when we got there and Carter wasn't there.

 We arrived and got the kids out. There was still snow covering the ground from our recent snow and visible footprints in the snow to various graves. We uncovered Carter's headstone and made a place for his tree. Cohen knew right away that there were toys buried under the snow. He remembered there was a car there that he liked to play with. We spent some time there and then got back in the car. As we drove on, it felt like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders. I could still hear Cohen saying "find Carter" and I wondered how on earth we were going to explain death to a child. And then I realized that although we wish we didn't need to explain death, what a great opportunity we had. By explaining death, we can explain life. We can share the great gift of life that we have because of Jesus, who also died. Carter isn't here physically, but he is living in heaven and we will see him again. We always planned on telling our kids about God, but what an opportunity we have to be able to teach them as they grow and to talk about these things. Afterall, this life isn't all there is. There is an eternity to be spent with Jesus, free from pain and sorrow and full of joy in His presence because of what he has done for us. I hope and pray that we can help them understand that while we have suffered great loss, we also have great hope and peace in Jesus.

It's Not Fair

Nope, it's not fair. Burying a child is totally, completely unfair. Whether you've lost a child or not, I think we can all agree on that. The thing is, we could all find something about our lives that isn't fair. I'm not sure life was meant to be fair.

While I have many days where I want to kick and scream and throw a 2 year old tantrum about the unfairness of it all (and some days I do), I just can't live there. This is a hard journey, and dwelling on things I can't change does me no good. You know what I mean? Some people don't even want their kids and I would give up a whole lot to have mine. Some people don't know how lucky they are. Some people smoke and drink throughout their pregnancy and get to keep their babies. There are a lot of these types of things that I could focus on, but I can't. Getting stuck in all of those thoughts makes me dig a deep, deep hole that I want to lay down in and not get out of.

It's a daily battle, it's not easy, and I am far from perfect. But, I know that it's not good for me, my relationship with Danny, or my boys. Everyone faces hardships in their lives and I truly believe that it is what we make of it. I can stomp my feet and get angry, and then continue living my life to the best of my ability.

People tell me that I do such wonderful things through Teeny Tears, NICU Care Packages and a few other projects. Truthfully? I do them for selfish reasons. It makes me feel good. I do it for Carter and for myself. Having my son die was one of the worst things I have been through in my life. The pain is often indescribable. If I let myself get idle, I find that I begin to go to "the dark place" where I wallow and pout about the unfairness of it all. And no, it's not fair. And yes, there is a place for being upset. But long term, I have to do something with it all. Sometimes I take on a few too many projects, but I need my grief and Carter's life to be for something. And so I bury myself in projects, get involved with causes, to try and keep myself moving and to hopefully make this world a little bit better for someone else going through a hard time.


This is not meant to be a "holier than thou" or "toot my own horn" type of post. I have hesitated to post this, but I do want people to know that even in those very dark places, there are ways out. My way out has been helping other people.  Everyone is at a different stage in their journey and I definitely didn't come to this place immediately. It's taken me a long time, I'm still not all the way there, and not sure I ever will be and I'm okay with that. Losing a child is still unfair. But I just have to keep asking myself how I want to handle it and how I want to make Carter's life meaningful.

Raising a Twinless Twin - The Next Stage

It's been a few months (um, since before Ezra was born?) that we have gone to Carter's grave as a family. I've gone by myself but we've never taken Ezra and it's been awhile since Cohen has gone. The reason?

I'm too scared.

We are entering a new phase on this journey. Cohen is becoming more aware. He's talking more. We are reaching a point where we are going to have to start explaining more. Of course we've been talking to him about Carter since day one, but I've been avoiding it a bit lately. We don't expect him to understand most of it right now, but someday he will.

Did I mention I'm a bit scared?

I'm scared to hear Cohen say Carter's name now that he's talking. I don't want to have to tell my son about his brother that died. I wish he could just know his brother because he was alive. Playing with him. Sleeping in bed with him. Fighting over toys with him.

I didn't exactly picture my boys being "together" at a grave site. I didn't expect to be raising a twinless twin.

Being a parent is hard. Being a parent of a child we don't get to raise or have a life with feels even harder. I am still trying to figure out how we acknowledge Carter as part of our family and remember him all while missing him terribly.

I want to be able to smile and laugh when I talk about Carter, and maybe some days I will be able to, but I think there will be a fair amount of tears too. I only have a few memories of Carter, and not all of them are ones that I would want to share. I want to be real, but I don't want to put my grief and sadness on Cohen. I want him to know it's okay to be sad his brother isn't here, but that there are a lot of good things that have come because of Carter's life. I want him to know that of course we would rather have Carter here, but that Carter has made lots of good things happen in our lives.

My 3 Boys

Carter has been finding me in his own little ways lately. I think he knows how hard this holiday season can be on his mom and how much I miss him.

Today at work I was prepping a patient for a procedure. I could tell she was nervous so I was making small talk with her. She asked me if I had any kids and I told her I had a 2 year old and a 5 month old. I've talked before about my thoughts on when and where I share our story. Generally, work is not a place where I discuss the details of my life, unless I feel it's a situation that could help someone else. I need to be able to be a professional at work and sobbing over someone's IV isn't generally ideal.

Anyway, I told her Cohen and Ezra's ages and she said "Oh you have twins?". I again repeated that I had a 2 year old and a 5 month old and then she said "So you have three kids?". So then I told her that I did in fact have three boys, that one lived in heaven and the other two were busy little boys that kept us very busy.

I just thought it was odd that twice I only told her about two of my boys and she first asked if I had twins and then asked if I had three children. It's like she just knew somehow. It made my heart happy to tell someone about all three of my boys.

Capture Your Grief - Day 9: Music

Rascal Flatts - Won't Let Go

Favorite Lyrics:

I will stand by you
I will help you through
When you've done all you can do
If you can't cope
I will dry your eyes
I will fight your fight
I will hold you tight
And I won't let go

I love this song for not only Carter, but for Cohen as well. I will never let go of any of my babies for as long as I live. I cry every time I hear this song.

Mercy Me - The Hurt and the Healer

Favorite Lyrics:

So here I am
What's left of me
Where glory meets my suffering

I'm alive
Even though a part of me has died
You take my heart and breathe it back to life
I fall into Your arms open wide
When the hurt and the healer collide

Breathe
Sometimes I feel it's all that I can do
Pain so deep that I can hardly move
Just keep my eyes completely fixed on You
Lord take hold and pull me through

So here I am
What's left of me
Where glory meets my suffering

This song. Everything about it, the lyrics describe this journey so well. This impossible journey that I could never walk without my Healer. 

Selah - I will Carry You

 Lyrics: 

There were photographs I wanted to take
Things I wanted to show you
Sing sweet lullabies, wipe your teary eyes
Who could love you like this?People say that I am brave but I’m not
Truth is I’m barely hanging on
But there’s a greater story
Written long before me
Because He loves you like this

So I will carry you
While your heart beats here
Long beyond the empty cradle
Through the coming years
I will carry you
All my life
And I will praise the One Who’s chosen me
To carry you

Such a short time
Such a long road
All this madness
But I know
That the silence
Has brought me to His voice
And He says…

I’ve shown her photographs of time beginning
Walked her through the parted seas
Angel lullabies, no more teary eyes
Who could love her like this?

I will carry you
While your heart beats here
Long beyond the empty cradle
Through the coming years
I will carry you
All your life
And I will praise the One Who’s chosen Me
To carry you

This song makes me cry every time. EVERY time. Written by a mom pregnant with a child that was not expected to live. Written by a mom who knows the pain of burying her baby. A mom that knows that Jesus is now carrying her child when she can't.

Capture Your Grief: Day 7 - You Now

I first saw the topic for this day and just thought Oh boy. How do I explain where I'm at? It's been two years but sometimes feels just like yesterday. I have come a long, long ways. I have been through the anger, the devastation, and the disbelief. I've wandered around in a daze, not knowing or caring what day it was. I've wondered how this could happen to us and why. I've questioned why people aren't more understanding and sometimes so insensitive. I feel like I've come so far sometimes, and not so far other times.

When I post about Carter or my grief, I hesitate. My head tells me that people are tired of hearing about it, but sometimes it just needs to come out. And I have always believed in being honest with people about what it's like to be a babyloss parent. The pain has definitely changed. It's still here and always will be, I will always feel the loss of my baby. Now instead of constant rip your heart out aching and longing, it comes in waves. A lot of times when I don't expect it, it sneaks up and washes over me, threatening to take me under. When it comes, I try to let myself "go there" and not just stuff it down. I think that has been a huge part of my healing is allowing myself to feel and be present in the pain which then allows me to continue moving forward. I have been so blessed in having family and friends that make a safe place for me to do that.

Carter will always be my child and I will always be living without him. I will always be wondering what he would be doing at which stage. Some days it makes me smile, other days it makes me cry. There are times I can think about Carter with joy that he is my child, and other times all I feel is the pain of his absence in my life.

That's where I am not. Still grieving, but living. Feeling the pain that means that I have lost something so special
in a big way. Trying to make the most of what we've been through and enjoying our life and my boys the best that I can.

Capture Your Grief: Days 4 & 5

Day 4: Legacy
When our babies aren't given the chance to leave their own legacy, we as their parents, want to leave one for them. We have donated many, many diapers in Carter's name and I love the idea that his name is written down and it's "out there" travelling the world.

However, I think the bigger legacy is us. Our family. We are forever changed because of Carter. He has made us slow down, be kinder, and love more. I think that is his legacy for us, to make the most of our lives that we have been given.

Day 5: Memory
I hate that I don't have more memories of Carter. Some of my favorite memories are how excited we were to be having twins. I loved getting to tell people that we were pregnant with two babies and watching their faces. And, of course, I will always treasure the memories I have of holding my son and studying his sweet face, trying to remember every detail of him, so tiny and perfect.

Capture Your Grief: Day 2 - Identity

2. Identity: What is your child’s name? Why did you chose that name? What is the meaning of their name? If they were born, what were their birth details. What were their features? Who are they?

Our Carter Garen was born on June 5, 2011, along with his twin brother Cohen. The boys were born at 25 weeks. Carter weighed 2 lbs and was 13 1/4 inches long.

He had the tiniest, longest fingers and toes. He had a perfect little nose and a mostly bald little head.  He was perfect in every way, except that his little body was too sick. When I look back at his pictures, he looks sick, but I don't remember him that way. I remember him as perfect and beautiful.

Who is he? He is our son. He is a twin and a brother. He is a grandson and nephew. He is our little boy. I don't know his personality, I don't know what he would look like today. I don't know what toys he would like. That is one of wounds that cut the deepest in my heart, is not knowing who he would be if he were here physically. I do know that in heaven, he is whole. He can run and jump and play and smile and laugh. I know that when I see him again, I will hold onto him for as long as he will let me.

A Parent's Grief

I shared this photo over on our facebook page, but wanted to share it here as well. I've never seen such a powerful, accurate picture of what it's like to lose a child. A parent that doesn't want to let go of their baby, who can't stand the thought of leaving them alone in a grave, who will never get to hold that child again.

I always thought that I was strange for having thoughts about wanting to go and get Carter out of his tiny coffin and to hold him. I thought I was odd for wanting to take a blanket to his grave so he didn't get cold. Clearly, I am not the only one who has these seemingly unnatural thoughts. Although, we of course want to take care of our living children, so why wouldn't we want the same for all our babies, even if they aren't on this earth anymore. A part of us goes and stays with our babies when they are buried. It was so hard for me to walk away and leave my baby there in the ground. This picture just says it so well...

Who We'd Be Today

I have entered the sleepless zone of pregnancy. Most nights I either just stay up late or try to go to bed and end up getting back up again even though I'm tired. As I laid in bed last night trying to sleep, I realized that the boys' birthday is coming up very soon. I don't know if we've just been so busy that I haven't thought about it or if it's a subconscious thing to hold myself together, I'm not sure. Part of me can hardly even believe that it's been two years since the boys were born and our world was forever changed.

A few weeks ago I posted the Kenny Chesney song that I know a lot of baby loss parents have related to, a song called "Who You'd be Today". I frequently think about who Carter would be today if he were here. But I also think about who we as a family would be. I spent part of Mother's Day in my bed crying because things just weren't supposed to be this way. Danny came in to find me and said the words I was thinking, things would be so different if they were both here. 

How would our little family be if we had our twins? I really can only imagine. Would we be struggling to keep up with two rambunctious toddlers? Would we be cheering and celebrating that we had survived our first two years with twins? Would we like the attention from having twins, the questions about having twins, and meeting up with other parents of twins? Would we be complaining to other parents about how busy and tired we were raising two toddlers? We are so very excited for Ezra and we wouldn't trade him for anything, but honestly, we probably wouldn't even be thinking about more kids until the boys were older, if ever.

The truth is, we will never know. It's an experience that we won't get to have, one that we are left to imagine. There is definitely beauty in the ashes, and we would certainly be a different family and different individuals had our situation been different and we were able to raise our twins.

Missing Carter

The holidays are upon us and I can feel it. I'm sure the extra hormones don't help either.

Christmas is coming and he's not here. The holidays are hard because it is supposed to be this magical time of year. The lights and the presents and everyone feeling festive. What should be the happiest time of year is a painful reminder of what isn't. This isn't to say that we don't remember the true meaning of Christmas and what all the celebration is really about, it's just that in this time of wonderful memories we are reminded of the memories we will never have. This pain is one that never leaves. It does get to a point where there are fewer heart wrenching days, but they are always still there.

Sometimes I sit and think about how different my life would have been if we were raising both our boys. I would probably actually want to put up my Christmas tree and decorate. I hate shopping, so I don't think that would change even if I did have two little boys to shop for. His stocking wouldn't be empty. There would be two sets of Christmas jammies instead of one. I would get to get two little smiling faces out of their cribs in the morning. We wouldn't have to go to the cemetery to be with our son on Christmas day.

Carter, your mom misses you so much. I know heaven is probably pretty cool at Christmastime, but I wish you were here. I just want to hold you again, to feel your weight in my arms, and see your sweet little face. I want to see you walk and I want to hear you say "mama". I love you with all of my heart and I can't wait to see you again little buddy.

Carter Garen - Safe in the Arms of Jesus

Today I am linking up with Kelly's Korner blog for parents who have lost children.

I am in that club that no one wants to be a part of or ever imagines that they will be a part of. In early 2011, we found out we were expecting identical twins. Hardly anything about our pregnancy was easy and due to complications, the boys were born at 25 weeks. You can read the whole story here. Our Cohen weighed in at 1 lb 8 oz, and his brother Carter weighed 2 lbs. Carter was just too sick and died in our arms.

Where does one start with what it's like to lose a child? How can you ever put into words the heartbreak and devastation of saying goodbye far too soon? It is impossible to describe to someone else what it feels like to hold your baby for the last time, knowing you will never see him on earth again. I can't tell you the feelings or emotions that go with trying to memorize every detail of his sweet face, looking over impossibly tiny fingers and toes, and feeling the weight of your baby in your arms, willing him to just open his eyes. Begging God to let me wake up from the nightmare. Words like painful, heartbreaking, full of anguish, and sorrow don't even scratch the surface of what it's like.

I lost a lot of hopes and dreams with the birth of Cohen and Carter. Our pregnancy was hard, the birth of the twins was hard, having Cohen in the hospital, living in a hotel for four months, while grieving the loss of Carter was hard. Well, actually, hard doesn't even begin to describe it. I know that it was only by the grace of God that I could get out of bed every morning to go to the hospital to be with Cohen. I would trudge to the hospital day after day, wishing I was going to see both of my boys. My heart was so full of fear that I was going to lose Cohen, too. People would tell me to "have hope", and I tried as hard as I could, but my heart was hurting so deeply. I have mentioned this before, but one of my deepest hurts is that I won't get to see my babies grow up together and that Cohen won't get to have his brother.

At first, I was so angry. I wrestled with God, I questioned how he could take my son away from me and I wondered how he could let Carter die. I couldn't understand how a God who controlled the entire universe could make me live without my baby. But, through many loving family and friends, I was reminded that God is still in control. God didn't cause Carter to die, death is a result of sin in this world. That was a hard truth for me to swallow, some days it still is. I still can't say that I understand it all perfectly, I'm not sure that I ever will until I get to heaven. What I do know, is that this doesn't change who God is. He is still good. He is still here for me. God is in the joy and he is in the hurt. Because of what he has done, Carter can be with him in heaven and I have the hope of seeing him again.

But, I have also gained a lot of new hopes and dreams. I have the hope of seeing Carter again someday. I have the dream of seeing my twins reunited in heaven. I have a deeper understanding that this world is not my home. I have learned to cherish the moments that I have/had with them. Poopy diapers, late night bottles, a fussy baby, while not easy, I will take it all because it means that I get another minute with my son. I take millions of pictures and videos of Cohen and I don't regret it. I'm okay with toys scattered around the house. I love celebrating every little thing Cohen does. Do I still get tired, cranky, and ungrateful? Of course, I'm not perfect. But, the reality of not having those moments with Carter, has made me realize that I need to be thankful for everything I have, easy or hard.

Hug your kids a little tighter today. Be thankful for the gifts that they are, even on the hardest of days.

Here are a few things about losing a child that I hope can be helpful:

* Don't compare losses. Losing a child is not the same as losing your pet or your great Uncle.

* If you haven't been there, you don't get it. But thank you for supporting us and trying to understand. Most of us are thankful that you don't know what it's like

* Time doesn't heal all wounds. We will move forward, but this is not something we will ever get over.

* We are thankful to have supportive friends and family who are there when we need them to sit with, cry with, and to hold our hands

* You don't have to have the right thing to say (although there are some things that we don't want to hear). Just being there for us is enough. But thank you for wanting to help take our pain away

* We don't know what we want or need, so just come over, bring food (or leave it on the doorstep), clean our house, help with other children.

* When we hear people complaining about their children or pregnancies, it is incredibly difficult. We would give anything to have our children here with us. 

* Please send cards, they are so healing and it's nice to know that people are thinking of us, even later on when the rest of the world has moved on

* Ask about our loved ones. We are thinking about them anyway.

* And also, please know that we are thankful for everything you do to support us. Even if we don't send out thank you cards or notes. We really are grateful.

For Love of Carter

Update: We have 50 "Carter edition" diapers sponsored!  Let's make it 100!? You guys are awesome!
 
There is this certain train fabric at Joann's. It's the same fabric that Cohen has a blanket out of and the same fabric that Carter got his pictures taken with by NILMDTS. Every time I see it I can't help but buy it, I have this strange fear that it might run out and I might not ever see it again. It makes me think of my sweet boy whenever I see it.

For today and tomorrow only, you have the chance to sponsor the "Carter edition" diapers made out of this very special train fabric for the March of Diapers. It's easy, all you have to do is make a donation to our March of Dimes team. Then be sure and let me know if you sponsor any diapers so that you can be entered in the drawing to pick the next hospital that we donate to (after UW)!

Sponsor:

 One set of diapers $2

Set of 5 diapers (10 individuals) $5

Set of 20 diapers (40 individuals) $20

 

 Thank you so, so much to those of you who have already supported us in the March of Dimes and with the diapers! These are both projects that I am quite passionate about so I appreciate all of you supporting and encouraging us. Bringing comfort to other families through these diapers gives me a renewed sense of purpose and are a project that I really enjoy working on.

Carter,

You have touched a lot of lives in your short life here on earth.

You have touched my life in such a way that I will never, ever be the same.

I think about you every single day and am constantly reminded of you.

You make me want to make me want to be a better person.

You make me want to make this world a better place. 

I can't wait until the day I can kiss your little cheeks again. 

Love, Mom

March of Dimes - March for Babies

Every day, thousands of babies are born too soon, too small and often very sick. I'm walking because I want to do something about this. And I need your help.

Please support my walk. Making a secure donation is easy: just click the 'donate now' button on this page. Or let us know if you want to join our team. Thank you for helping me give all babies a healthy start!

This is something close to our hearts as Cohen and Carter were born at at 25 weeks, 15 weeks premature. Carter is our little angel in heaven and Cohen spent 4 months in the NICU. We are SO thankful for all our nurses and doctors who helped him get to where he is today!

The mission of March of Dimes is to improve the health of babies by preventing birth defects, premature birth, and infant mortality.

The March of Dimes - March for Babies is Saturday, May 5 in Seattle. Let us know if you want to walk with us! This is my mom's birthday and also Cohen's 11 month birthday, so it will be a good way to celebrate. 

Whiplash & Some Serious Cuteness

Do you ever feel like you are getting whiplash reading this blog? Yeah, me too. One day happiness, the next day pain. If you haven't noticed, this journey we are on is full of opposites. Ups and down, joy and pain, fear and comfort. My brain is continually going and going. Usually it goes something like this:

I never imagined I could love someone as much as I love Cohen.
I wish I had Carter here because I know that love would just be multiplied. Having Cohen makes me realize how much I am missing with Carter.

I am so thankful for Cohen and what a miracle he is.
I am so thankful for Carter, too. 

I wish this wasn't my life, this isn't how it was supposed to be.
This is my life, I can't change what happened, what am I going to make of it?

I love it when Cohen smiles in his sleep.
I wonder if he sees Carter in his dreams.


Man, Cohen goes through a lot of formula and diapers.
Imagine what it would have been like with both boys. 

Cohen keeps me awfully busy, twins would have been hard.
But it can't be as hard as this. And I would have loved to know what it was like to be a mom to twins.


Cohen is so cute.
They would have been so cute together.

And speaking of cute...

Doesn't he look so grown up?? I can't take it!

Not Alone

Last week I received Carter's medical records. I wanted to read through them myself. I find myself grasping for any little piece of him that I can find. I ask people repeatedly what they remember of the night that he was born. There were only a handful of people there who got to meet him and be a part of that night. I ask Danny to tell me again and again what he remembers.

One thing that has always haunted me and that I have a lot of guilt over is that I thought Carter died alone. I thought he was already gone when they brought him to me and that he had only been surrounded by nurses and doctors and not his family. I felt awful that I wasn't there for my son. When I read through the records, I saw something that surprised me. His heart was still beating when they brought him to me. He was alive. No one told me one way or the other and I had assumed that he was already gone. I was so overtaken by my grief that I never even thought to question it. Maybe by their standards he was gone, but it brings me a small amount of comfort to know that I got to hold him as he went to heaven and that he wasn't alone. I hope he felt how much we wanted him, loved, him, and how proud of him we were and continue to be.


I also received Cohen's medical records to have for future doctor's appointments etc. Cohen's came in two separate envelopes. There were pages and pages and pages of documents. I have a stack probably 6 inches thick of his records. Carter's came folded up in a regular envelope. There were 2 pages inside. Two pages documenting his life and death. How I wished there were pages and pages and pages, and that there were more still being written. At first I was upset that there were only a few pages. And then it hit me that he is more than two pages and his story is still being written, even though he isn't here with us. I have pages in a pregnancy book, pages on this blog, and many letters that I have written to him. We have cards, emails, and letters from people who were touched by his life. His life is so much more than those two sheets of paper. We are happy to know that Cohen and Carter's pages are still being written.