Today, February 17th, is Luke's third anniversary in heaven. The entire month of February has been hard for me, but the week leading up to Luke's birthday is the most difficult. My mind fluctuates between remembering the most acute details of my last days with Luke wiggling around inside of me, to practicing the fine art of denial. It is a strange balance. Night time is the worst though, as my hands are no longer able to be busy and my mind wanders to my sweet firstborn, and how much I still miss him. Needless to say, I haven't been sleeping much this week. I remember the last times I felt Luke move inside of me. It was a Saturday night, February 16, 2008 and we had spent it at Will's parents house. I remember doing my daily kick counts that evening to make sure that everything was okay with Luke. My doctor had told me that if Luke passed his kick counts (10 movements within an hour at around the same time each day) then I could rest easy knowing he was okay in there until the following day's kick counts. Luke passed his kick counts within minutes, as he always did. The doctors told me he was super active because he had more room than most babies his age, on account of all the extra liters of amniotic fluid I was carrying. What I remember distinctly is that he had hiccups when I did the kick counts that night, and I could also feel his head turning from side to side, and even the hairs on his head, moving against my stomach. Will would always look at me in slight disbelief when I told him this part, at which I would respond - wait and see, he will be born with hair on his head!
That evening, Will and I had no idea as we snuggled in bed that it would be the last time we would be together with Luke on earth. When I think about it now, it still chokes me up to realize that Luke went home to heaven while his mom and dad were peacefully sleeping, warm and comfortable together in each other's arms. As any woman in her 35 week of pregnancy can attest - a peaceful night's sleep when your stomach is as big as a house is not easy to come by. Plus, with all of Luke's health concerns, my mind wouldn't shut off the worry most nights and I usually watched the sunrise, relieved that night was finally over. But I remember telling Will the next morning how well I had slept. I like to think that God gave us the gift of a good night's sleep because He knew what lay ahead, and how many sleepless nights would unfold. I also like to picture Jesus coming into our bedroom in the still of the night to bring Luke home, and Luke looking back on his parents with love, happy to see us so relaxed and at peace, together as a family on earth for the last time, and Luke's last picture of life on earth.
We had a very busy day that Sunday, which involved two different social engagements, I cleaned the house from top to bottom, and we also borrowed Will's parent's pickup truck to pick up a bookcase that they gave us for Luke's storybooks. It is ironic to me how busy that day was - how usually I was always so in tune with Luke - but that I didn't have time to pause for a moment that day and think about the last time I had felt him move. Not until we were getting ready for bed on Sunday night, and I sat down to do my kick counts did it occur to me that I hadn't felt him move since the night before. After the first hour of nothing, I drank some orange juice and walked around. After the second hour of no movement, it began to dawn on Will and I that something was seriously wrong. Luke never sat still for a moment - he was always kicking and poking me. When it occurred to me that I couldn't recall any movement from him all day, we called the doctor and they advised us to go the ER immediately to get checked out. The ride to the hospital around 11 that night was completely silent. It was freezing cold and dark, and I just remember pleading in my head to Luke to wake up and move, while squeezing Will's hand like it was the last concrete thing I had to hold on to for life. I have never experienced such fear. I have never prayed so fervently to God.
When we arrived at the ER, the events seemed to take place to someone else. They checked us in, and we had a bed in triage before we had time to think twice. They put the ultrasound on my stomach, and I swear the entire hospital went silent. I think Will and I both held our breath as we waited for Luke's image to come up on the screen. Will and I had still not let go of each other's hands, and they were numb and sweaty from the pressure. When Luke's image finally came up on the screen, the truth hit us like a blow to the stomach. We knew immediately that our little guy was gone. We could see his still form, usually so active with movement, still and lifeless on the screen, gently floating in the amniotic fluid. It is an image that Will and I will have as clear as the moment it happened, ingrained in our minds until the day we die. Doctors and nurses surrounded us, still not giving up, trying to find a heartbeat and shaking my stomach to try and wake him up. But Will and I locked eyes and we KNEW. He was gone. Finally, a nurse took my free hand and told me she was sorry, but that our baby was gone. We nodded at her. Silently, the doctors and nurses filed out of our curtained triage room. The silence was broken by a giant, shaking sob which I realized with surprise was coming from me. Will and I clung to each other.
What was left of February 17th, and into the next morning was filled with the most empty feeling I have ever experienced, coupled with numbness and disbelief. We had decisions to make. We had people to call. We had doctors and nurses to talk to. My body was subjected to multiple pokes and prods. All of this occurred as if through a dimly lit dream. These were the darkest hours of my life. Looking back, I can see the hand of God gently leading us through this dark place. I cannot imagine how else I came through it. To have my baby boy still inside of me, but yet to know he was gone was surreal. I didn't want him to ever be born, but on the other hand, I wanted him out so that I could move through this pain. I kept my arms tightly wrapped around my swollen stomach for most of this time, and would look at Will and cry because he couldn't hold Luke like I could. I kept reminding myself that I was only holding Luke's little body, that his spirit was soaring with the angels already, and that he was healthy and whole. But my heart wanted him here with me. I still want him here with me.
I have gone over the above scene probably a million times in my mind. Driving in the car, laying awake in bed at night, and staring off into space while I eat lunch. It is like my mind has to keep going over and over it again and again to finally be able to come to terms with all that has happened. Three years later, I feel like I am happy again, and able to experience life to the fullest - something I never thought would happen after losing Luke. But it is still different. There is still a hole that can never be filled on this earth. Will and I are different people. We have lost the hopeful thoughts of the future that the young are blessed with. We have seen the future. We are older. We are wiser. And although we can look to the future again with hope, we also understand that futures can contain both happy AND sad times.
Will and I have weathered losing our son together, and have emerged as a stronger couple. But I still look back on those days before losing Luke, and miss the carefree people we once were. We had no idea how our vows of for better or for worse would play out. So February 17th is a difficult day for me. And I'm not through the worst of the anniversary dates yet. There is still Luke's birthday, and then the day we buried him.
This year, I have Lucy to think about as well. She talks about her brother in heaven, and knows that Will and I miss him. She talks about how when she was born, she cried, and that when Emma is born she will also cry. Then she says, "Luke. Born. Cry?" This sends a knife through my heart when I tell Lucy that "No, Luke didn't cry when he was born but mama and dada did." Lucy also talks about how she can't wait to hold Emma when she is born. She then transitions into how she wants to hold Luke, and again I have to choke back the tears. I tell her, "I want to hold Luke too, more than anything, but we have to wait until we go to heaven." For now, Lucy is okay with these answers. I do wonder how these conversations will play out in the future. After having Lucy, and now being pregnant with Emma, Will and I have realized a new grief we are working through - the grief of our other children missing their brother.
For Luke's birthday this year, we want to celebrate our son's life with Lucy, and make it a happy day for our family. This is easier said than done, but we will be trying to do that. Lucy told us that Luke wanted a chocolate cake for his birthday, so we will make that as well as eat all of his favorite foods for the day. We will also be putting out a dozen or so birdseed cupcakes at the cemetery, along with a card for anyone who stops by this weekend to sign. All of these traditions are more for us than for Luke, but it is important to Will and I to celebrate Luke the same way we would our other children. It is my hope that my living children will know their brother, even though he isn't physically with us on earth, and that they will also realize that death cannot separate or lessen their parent's love for their children.
And so I began this week much like I would any other week where a child of mine's birthday will be celebrated. I made a grocery list and a to-do list to get ready for the big day. I also planned out the meals for Luke's birthday, and bookmarked the recipes in my cookbooks. There is a vase of yellow tulips now sitting in the center of our dining room table. At meals, Lucy will point to it and say "Luke." Yup, those remind us of Luke we respond back. They are for Luke's birthday. This year, Luke has another little sister who will celebrate (in her own way) with us, and make the trip to the cemetery, and for that I am grateful. Life is to be celebrated, no matter how short it's stay on earth. Truly every beat our heart makes is a miracle and Will and I feel so blessed that we had the miracle of Luke for the 35 weeks that we did. He will be forever woven into our family and our lives.
Feel free to stop by the cemetery this weekend. We will have the birdseed cupcakes there until Sunday evening, along with the card and of course Luke's favorite candy, tootsie rolls. Send me an email if you would like directions to his plot and cemetery hours. Otherwise, if you could lift our family up in your thoughts and prayers as we journey through this weekend, it would mean more to us than we can say.
The below picture is of me with Luke happily swimming in my belly at 31 weeks.
Luke, through all the pain, you were worth it to your mom and dad, and we would do it all again, even now, knowing the outcome. We are so glad we have a son named Luke, and we are so very proud of you.
That evening, Will and I had no idea as we snuggled in bed that it would be the last time we would be together with Luke on earth. When I think about it now, it still chokes me up to realize that Luke went home to heaven while his mom and dad were peacefully sleeping, warm and comfortable together in each other's arms. As any woman in her 35 week of pregnancy can attest - a peaceful night's sleep when your stomach is as big as a house is not easy to come by. Plus, with all of Luke's health concerns, my mind wouldn't shut off the worry most nights and I usually watched the sunrise, relieved that night was finally over. But I remember telling Will the next morning how well I had slept. I like to think that God gave us the gift of a good night's sleep because He knew what lay ahead, and how many sleepless nights would unfold. I also like to picture Jesus coming into our bedroom in the still of the night to bring Luke home, and Luke looking back on his parents with love, happy to see us so relaxed and at peace, together as a family on earth for the last time, and Luke's last picture of life on earth.
We had a very busy day that Sunday, which involved two different social engagements, I cleaned the house from top to bottom, and we also borrowed Will's parent's pickup truck to pick up a bookcase that they gave us for Luke's storybooks. It is ironic to me how busy that day was - how usually I was always so in tune with Luke - but that I didn't have time to pause for a moment that day and think about the last time I had felt him move. Not until we were getting ready for bed on Sunday night, and I sat down to do my kick counts did it occur to me that I hadn't felt him move since the night before. After the first hour of nothing, I drank some orange juice and walked around. After the second hour of no movement, it began to dawn on Will and I that something was seriously wrong. Luke never sat still for a moment - he was always kicking and poking me. When it occurred to me that I couldn't recall any movement from him all day, we called the doctor and they advised us to go the ER immediately to get checked out. The ride to the hospital around 11 that night was completely silent. It was freezing cold and dark, and I just remember pleading in my head to Luke to wake up and move, while squeezing Will's hand like it was the last concrete thing I had to hold on to for life. I have never experienced such fear. I have never prayed so fervently to God.
When we arrived at the ER, the events seemed to take place to someone else. They checked us in, and we had a bed in triage before we had time to think twice. They put the ultrasound on my stomach, and I swear the entire hospital went silent. I think Will and I both held our breath as we waited for Luke's image to come up on the screen. Will and I had still not let go of each other's hands, and they were numb and sweaty from the pressure. When Luke's image finally came up on the screen, the truth hit us like a blow to the stomach. We knew immediately that our little guy was gone. We could see his still form, usually so active with movement, still and lifeless on the screen, gently floating in the amniotic fluid. It is an image that Will and I will have as clear as the moment it happened, ingrained in our minds until the day we die. Doctors and nurses surrounded us, still not giving up, trying to find a heartbeat and shaking my stomach to try and wake him up. But Will and I locked eyes and we KNEW. He was gone. Finally, a nurse took my free hand and told me she was sorry, but that our baby was gone. We nodded at her. Silently, the doctors and nurses filed out of our curtained triage room. The silence was broken by a giant, shaking sob which I realized with surprise was coming from me. Will and I clung to each other.
What was left of February 17th, and into the next morning was filled with the most empty feeling I have ever experienced, coupled with numbness and disbelief. We had decisions to make. We had people to call. We had doctors and nurses to talk to. My body was subjected to multiple pokes and prods. All of this occurred as if through a dimly lit dream. These were the darkest hours of my life. Looking back, I can see the hand of God gently leading us through this dark place. I cannot imagine how else I came through it. To have my baby boy still inside of me, but yet to know he was gone was surreal. I didn't want him to ever be born, but on the other hand, I wanted him out so that I could move through this pain. I kept my arms tightly wrapped around my swollen stomach for most of this time, and would look at Will and cry because he couldn't hold Luke like I could. I kept reminding myself that I was only holding Luke's little body, that his spirit was soaring with the angels already, and that he was healthy and whole. But my heart wanted him here with me. I still want him here with me.
I have gone over the above scene probably a million times in my mind. Driving in the car, laying awake in bed at night, and staring off into space while I eat lunch. It is like my mind has to keep going over and over it again and again to finally be able to come to terms with all that has happened. Three years later, I feel like I am happy again, and able to experience life to the fullest - something I never thought would happen after losing Luke. But it is still different. There is still a hole that can never be filled on this earth. Will and I are different people. We have lost the hopeful thoughts of the future that the young are blessed with. We have seen the future. We are older. We are wiser. And although we can look to the future again with hope, we also understand that futures can contain both happy AND sad times.
Will and I have weathered losing our son together, and have emerged as a stronger couple. But I still look back on those days before losing Luke, and miss the carefree people we once were. We had no idea how our vows of for better or for worse would play out. So February 17th is a difficult day for me. And I'm not through the worst of the anniversary dates yet. There is still Luke's birthday, and then the day we buried him.
This year, I have Lucy to think about as well. She talks about her brother in heaven, and knows that Will and I miss him. She talks about how when she was born, she cried, and that when Emma is born she will also cry. Then she says, "Luke. Born. Cry?" This sends a knife through my heart when I tell Lucy that "No, Luke didn't cry when he was born but mama and dada did." Lucy also talks about how she can't wait to hold Emma when she is born. She then transitions into how she wants to hold Luke, and again I have to choke back the tears. I tell her, "I want to hold Luke too, more than anything, but we have to wait until we go to heaven." For now, Lucy is okay with these answers. I do wonder how these conversations will play out in the future. After having Lucy, and now being pregnant with Emma, Will and I have realized a new grief we are working through - the grief of our other children missing their brother.
For Luke's birthday this year, we want to celebrate our son's life with Lucy, and make it a happy day for our family. This is easier said than done, but we will be trying to do that. Lucy told us that Luke wanted a chocolate cake for his birthday, so we will make that as well as eat all of his favorite foods for the day. We will also be putting out a dozen or so birdseed cupcakes at the cemetery, along with a card for anyone who stops by this weekend to sign. All of these traditions are more for us than for Luke, but it is important to Will and I to celebrate Luke the same way we would our other children. It is my hope that my living children will know their brother, even though he isn't physically with us on earth, and that they will also realize that death cannot separate or lessen their parent's love for their children.
And so I began this week much like I would any other week where a child of mine's birthday will be celebrated. I made a grocery list and a to-do list to get ready for the big day. I also planned out the meals for Luke's birthday, and bookmarked the recipes in my cookbooks. There is a vase of yellow tulips now sitting in the center of our dining room table. At meals, Lucy will point to it and say "Luke." Yup, those remind us of Luke we respond back. They are for Luke's birthday. This year, Luke has another little sister who will celebrate (in her own way) with us, and make the trip to the cemetery, and for that I am grateful. Life is to be celebrated, no matter how short it's stay on earth. Truly every beat our heart makes is a miracle and Will and I feel so blessed that we had the miracle of Luke for the 35 weeks that we did. He will be forever woven into our family and our lives.
Feel free to stop by the cemetery this weekend. We will have the birdseed cupcakes there until Sunday evening, along with the card and of course Luke's favorite candy, tootsie rolls. Send me an email if you would like directions to his plot and cemetery hours. Otherwise, if you could lift our family up in your thoughts and prayers as we journey through this weekend, it would mean more to us than we can say.
The below picture is of me with Luke happily swimming in my belly at 31 weeks.
Since Christmas, Lucy innocently believes with all of her might that every present and unopened box contains Elmo in it, and excitedly will shout "Elmo, Elmo" while watching her Aunt Jane open her birthday presents, or while shaking a giant popcorn container at Grandma and Grandpa T's. I can't help but laugh and feel sad for her at the same time - I always hold my breath for disappointment when the present or box is opened to reveal something other than an Elmo inside. She seems to take the disappointment in stride though, and it doesn't seem to dilute her enthusiasm the next time an unopened box presents itself to her. 
Lucy's Uncle Mike and Aunt Jenna came over one evening, and Uncle Mike brought his guitar which Lucy loved. Uncle Mike played all of her favorite songs, including Rock-a-Bye Baby and Twinkle Twinkle Little Star. I was impressed that he could play these songs by ear, and I can't help but think of how lucky his little one, Tiny, due in July, will be to have a daddy who can play such great music for him or her.
Lucy also got to hold another baby this past month, when my good friend from Chicago came for a visit with her daughter Eleanor. This brought her endless amounts of excitement in anticipation of getting to hold Ellie, and she has been talking about her ever since.
Other favorite things to talk about are holding babies, what to do when a baby cries, and giving the people she misses "hugs" and "kisses". She even went so far as to tell me that when we went to a doctor appointment for Emma last week to hear her heartbeat, that she was going to "Hug and kiss Dr. 
But on a more serious note, Lucy has decided that she no longer cares for wearing diapers. At first this really stressed me out because I was not ready for this giant leap to be so cold turkey. I know, I know, Santa did bring Elmo undies for Christmas and I did order two 
This is the only decent picture I have of Lucy on her 
We've found the energy it takes to bundle Lucy up for the great outdoors a couple of times this month, and are always underwhelmed when it seems like it takes longer to bundle her up than she spends outside.
She still doesn't know how she feels about the fluffy and cold white stuff, but she did find it in her to make a snow angel for Luke in our front yard so that he could see it from heaven.
Now that the calendar has turned to February, we have begun to think and talk about Luke even more. This year Lucy understands birthdays as well as talks about Luke by name. We want to find a meaningful and happy way to celebrate her older brother's birthday while finding a way to balance the sadness that we still feel so deeply. Stay tuned for more on that, and please keep us in your prayers as we approach the third anniversary of Luke going to heaven. I also promise to write a post devoted to Emma soon too.
Lucy also discovered the paper goods drawer in our kitchen, and loves setting up the plates, napkins and plastic cups all over the floor to serve play cookies on.
My friend Krista gave Lucy a cookie jar for Christmas, which timed perfectly with Lucy's new vocab word "COOK-eeee". Lucy is also learning shapes, and can point out circles, triangles, squares, and new this month - cookies, which you or I call a star. I am guessing this knowledge is based on the 8 dozen star shaped Christmas cut-out cookies Lucy helped me decorate and eat.
Other favorite words this month include her shouting "FLAG!" and "LIGHTS" (as in Christmas lights) everytime we see them while driving, as well as "Thank You". She will now cutely sing to herself "Humpty-Dumpty" every time she is doing something dangerous, like trying to climb on the table or balance on a pedal of our elliptical machine. This is a great clue for me to come running if I ever hear her get to "had a great fall" - I know my time is limited. She also loves singing "Tinkle Tinkle" which is not bathroom talk, but rather a favorite bedtime song. But my favorite word of the month is "Wheel", which is actually Will's name in toddler-speak. She really only says Will's name when shouting it across the house, up the stairs, or when being pushed by me in a shopping cart as we are trying to find Will. What makes it even funnier to me is that Will thinks this behavior is not appropriate, causing me to laugh even more when she does it. I asked Will if he would rather I start referring to him as Dada the next time I am trying to find him in a shopping center. I am still awaiting his answer on that.
A dust pan is the perfect sized snow shovel for Lucy!
It has been a great month for Lucy, and to top it all off, she finally cut her top two canine teeth which she has been working on since the summer. She only has the two bottom canine teeth left and we'll hopefully get a break before her two year molars come in. 
A couple weekends before Christmas, we took Lucy to see Santa at the Rochester Christmas parade a couple of blocks from our house. It was a beautiful and cold day, but we 
Last year for Lucy's first Christmas, we began the tradition of a yearly Christmas photo of all our children. As Lucy is the only child we had on earth, we found a way to include Luke by pinning an amethyst pendant (his birthstone) onto Lucy's Christmas dress. This year, we pinned the purple gem on her again and she proudly wore it, telling all who would listen that it was for "Luke's 
I wish I could say that the rest of this much anticipated family tradition went as smoothly. We packed Lucy up in the car to make the trek out to the cemetery and she screamed the entire half hour trip there. I have no idea what her issue was, but for some reason she was just not having it. When we got to the cemetery, Will's and my blood pressure was soaring. To add to Lucy's joy, we had to bundle her up in a hat, scarf and boots since getting to Luke's grave involved a short walk in the snow. For those of you who visit a loved one at the cemetery for Christmas, you understand when I say that it is an emotional experience. Christmas is one of those holidays where the loss of a loved one is magnified, and the empty hole in your heart that only your missing loved one can fill is felt all the more painfully. Lucy clearly did not care about this though. She screamed "SNOW" over and over the entire time while sobbing uncontrollably. Will and I did what we could to put the ornaments on Luke's grave blanket and tell our son how much we love and miss him as quickly as possible. We left the cemetery feeling frustrated and sad. When I was relating this story to my sister Jane the following day, and telling her how disappointed I was because my meaningful Christmas tradition was ruined by a cranky toddler she wisely pointed out that what I experienced yesterday was a true family tradition. She then went on to remind me of all the family traditions my parents worked so hard to create for me and my siblings, and how one of us would inevitably find a way to ruin it for the rest of the family. That made me feel so much better! While I am still wishing I could have had some peaceful and meaningful time with my son's memory at the cemetery, I am happy to know that I have successfully created a REAL family memory. It doesn't matter that I have a son in heaven - this is still real life folks!
...and the most exciting gift of all - Elmo "undies" from Santa, that Lucy insisted on wearing all morning with great pride. And yes, Santa kept good on his promise and her stocking was filled with all things Elmo.
Here she is below chilling with her Uncle Tim while waiting for Christmas dinner.
I just had to end this lengthy blog with this picture - here Lucy is below in the new kitty-cat bath towel Will and I got her for Christmas. Lucy says, "MEOW!"
Merry Christmas, and Happy New Year to you and your family. For those of you who spent Christmas missing a loved one, know that I was thinking about you and sending warm thoughts your way. Thanks to Baby Jesus, we have the hope of seeing our loved ones again someday, and what a joyous holiday that will be!
Besides the regular weekly activities like a trip to the chiropractor, story time at the library, the grocery store and play dates with friends our days are mostly spent playing around the house. We go outside as much as possible but lately, as the days have gotten colder, we have been trying to find creative things to do indoors. She watches Elmo once a day, usually at the end of the afternoon while we are waiting for Will to come home. This makes for great bribery leading up to Elmo Time and why I will almost never let her watch it first thing in the morning. When we are not eating, spending time on the potty, watching Elmo or playing outside, we are usually changing the diapers of Lucy's multiple stuffed animals and dolls. The best is when I hear Lucy telling me on the baby monitor at 4 in the morning that her stuffed Elmo "pooped". Finally I had to tell her that dolls and stuffed animals do not poop at night time - only in the day time! Here she is below kissing her doll Simone. Lucy likes to hold a doll on her lap while I push them both around the house in the doll stroller. One of these days those wheels are going to break, and I'm just shocked it hasn't happened yet.
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