Some days are just hard.

     May 29th, 2012 was supposed to be a day I looked forward to, planned for and got excited about. Instead, it became a day I kind of dreaded coming, a day a wanted to hide from. But yesterday it came. Back in the end of September I found out I was pregnant. PREGNANT!!! I was totally shocked but so very excited and surprised in a good way. After some blood tests and an ultrasound to determine exactly just how far along I was, we were given the official due date of May 29th. (Yep, yesterday.) I can remember seeing the tiny little baby on the ultrasound and that little heart beating and I remember the rush of emotion that came over me. I couldn't help but start to cry. We were going to have another baby. Our little family was about to grow from three to four. I couldn't have been more happy. 

     I can literally remember pulling out my calendar and writing my due date down. There is that moment, I think for every Mom, where your head starts to plan. You think about all the things you will do to get ready. You start to think about holding your baby for the first time and counting their fingers and toes. You start to think about names and decorating the nursery. You think about planning and preparing. But, most importantly, you think about just how much you already love the teeny tiny person growing in your belly. 

     So fast forward from the end of September to the middle of November. I was 12 weeks along and in the "safe" zone of pregnancy. I was starting to feel a LITTLE better and was showing. We finally decided to start telling people, besides family and close friends, and were so excited to share the news with our Isabella. Telling her was on one of the most exciting days of my whole life. She had been praying and praying for a little brother or sister and finally we were getting to tell her that her prayers were being answered. We told her and then the news started to spread with anyone she got the chance to tell! LOL She was so proud.
  But things were about to change drastically.

The one and only "picture" of my sweet baby boy. I will cherish it forever.

     I won't go in to details...just not ready for that.

So, by the end of November, at almost 15 weeks along, some slight  complications in my pregnancy took a big turn for the worse. Monday night, November 29th - - it was really late actually, almost the 30th -- I was rushed to the ER. I thought maybe I was having issues with my appendix or gall bladder, but it turned out that I was losing the baby. I was having a miscarriage. It was awful. It was the single most painful experience of my entire life. Emotionally and physically, it was just so much to bear. Telling Alex, my parents, brother, friends and especially Isabella was even more painful. I felt like I was letting everyone down.

 I can remember EVERY single moment of that night. I can recall (almost as if a movie is replayed in my head) every pain, every contraction, every word I said, every face of every doctor and nurse and every single tear I shed. Its not that I try to remember, or even really want to remember every single moment, but its there. It happens every so often. Usually at night when the house is quiet and I am about to fall asleep. The second I close my eyes, the images of that night start to play back moment by moment in my head. Then I start to cry. Not just cry, I feel like someone is sitting on my chest, like the air is being held ransom from my lungs. I can't breath. I can't talk. I just cry.

     A few days after my miscarriage, I had more complications and ended up back at the doctor. During that visit the doctor also gave me the results from the tests they had run in trying to determine why we had lost our baby. They had no real answers, only that there was an "infection in the membranes". I'm still not sure what that even means. The only thing I cared about at that moment was finding out if my baby was a boy or girl. I asked the doctor if they could find out. I needed to know. I felt all along that I was going to have a boy, but I just needed that confirmation. I didn't want to keep saying "the baby" or "it". As soon as she said "he was a boy", I cried again. I knew in that instant that we needed to name him. He was my son. He deserved a name. He was real and I loved him.

     So after a few weeks of thinking, praying, searching through names and talking about it with Alex, we decided on a name. Logan Anthony Rodriguez. We chose his name because of the meaning behind it. Logan means "small hollow" and Anthony means "worthy of praise". How fitting for this little boy since my heart felt like it had a little hole that would never be fixed, only filled with my longing for him.  He was,and is, certainly worthy of praise! My Father in Heaven blessed us with this little miracle. Even though I don't understand why he had to leave before I ever got the chance to hold him in my arms, I am grateful that I got to be his Mommy here on Earth for the fifteen weeks he was in my belly and  I will forever hold him in my heart.  

     So,ever since I lost my baby, I have been dreading May 29th. I knew, that on that day, I would feel so much pain and sadness.  That day finally arrived yesterday and I was on the verge of tears all day long. I was thankful for distractions and the busyness of daily life to keep me from breaking down. I was grateful  for a beautiful, smart and perfect little girl who I DO get to love here on Earth, who fills my heart, even the empty part, with so much love and joy it feels like I could burst. I miss Logan. My heart misses him, my spirit misses him and physically I almost feel like my body misses him. My arms long to hold him and I wonder if that pain, that feeling, will ever really go away. But I made it through the day. I fought back the tears when I needed to and I let them flow when I just didn't have the strength to fight them any more. I was grateful for the love of an amazing friend (Jill) who gave me support all through the day. I was grateful for hugs from Isabella and Alex, even if we didn't talk about it. I just needed to feel the love. I made it through til bedtime without REALLY breaking down. Then when Alex and Isabella were asleep, I quietly crept out to the living room and knelt down and prayed and let my tears run. I talked to Heavenly Father about my love, about my sadness and about helping me find a way to heal. I prayed for over an hour.The tears never stopped but I felt love wrap around me. I felt the love I so desperately needed to feel.

     For most people in my life, family and friends, the day went by as just another block on the calendar. I didn't expect anyone to really remember my due date but I did feel lonely a lot yesterday. Felt alone in my sadness and in missing him
 Miscarriage is just not something that people talk about. I find it weird that it is such a "hush hush" subject. A loss is a loss, whether we lose someone we love when they are 15 weeks, 34 or even 92 years old. I am sure people are afraid of saying the "wrong" thing or not knowing the "right" thing to say. What I do know is that it is better to say something than nothing at all. I guess it is just  something that I have to find a way to deal with. It is something that I have to find a way of expressing. Maybe I need to find a way to get people talking about it. I know I am not the only one out there who has experienced this kind of loss and we shouldn't have to keep it quiet and locked up. My way of honoring my sweet little boy will be to find a way to get people talking and make them aware. Maybe I can heal by helping others heal too. It can't hurt, right?

     So, my little Logan, I know you are in Heaven with all your Uncle Jason and all those in our family who have gone on before us. You are with me and I know you are watching over us. Mommy loves you. Always. Mommy misses you. Every single day. I know that one day I will be with you again. For now, I will love you from here. Thank you for making  May 29th a day that will always be special to me.