My dear sweet Journee,

You are two months old. How this happened I do not know, as it seemed just yesterday I was marveling over your newness and perfectness. You were so tiny, I was constantly terrified I was going to hurt you and held you ever so gently. For your first two weeks of life as I was recovering from your birth, Grandma gave you all your baths. I had so much fun choosing what you would wear for the day, lovingly handling all your tiny, soft baby clothes and adoringly looking on as you were placed so carefully in the water. It didn’t bother me at all to just look on because you were so tiny and squirmy, and even as a weeks old infant you loved bath time. When I finally decided it was time I gave you a bath, I think I held my breath the whole time. When I was sure you were squeaky clean, I wrapped you so carefully in your soft towel; Mamo and Grandma laughed so hard when you decided that was the perfect time to urinate all over me!

Journee, you have changed my life so much. My world revolves around you. Every smile enters my heart and breaks into a thousand pieces and fills me with such joy. I thrill when your eyes find me and you recognize me, your mama, and you flash that smile that lights your entire face. When you cry, I fight tears myself. Every single tear that slides down your rosy cheek breaks my heart and fills me with worry. Are you in pain? Is your diaper too tight? Do you have a headache? I keep worrying until the sobs cease and you smile again.

 Before you arrived, I was very much into my sleep, and sometimes I’m pretty sure I spent more hours of the day sleeping than been awake. Now I feel lucky if in 24 hours I get to enjoy 3-5. Even at one in the morning when I am so tired I can’t think straight and you want to be changed and fed, my heart is happy. Yes, sometimes I do desperately ask you to please, please, go to sleep so I can sleep. Sometimes when I’ve just crawled into bed so very tired and fallen asleep, your crying awakes me and I cry too, but I want you to know they are just the tears of exhaustion, and I look at your sweet face and I am so happy you are the reason I’m awake. On those rare occasions when you do sleep 5 or 6 hours, I awake horrified and jump out of bed to rush over and look at you to make sure you are still breathing. Dad and Grandma think this is quite funny, though they understand and I don’t mind when they laugh.

Your Grandma has had such fun laughing at me, my dear one. Before you were born, I emphatically assured everyone that we were going to have a schedule and a routine! You were not going to sleep with Mama and you most definitely were going to sleep in your beautiful crib. I reasoned you would be comfortable in your very expensive bed and it would be good for you to get used to sleeping in your beautiful nursery. At these moments when I would be expounding on how it would be, Grandma would just smile a knowing smile and say, “Uh-uh, we will see.”

When we brought you home, all Mama’s reasoning went out the window. I took you in your nursery and showed you all the exquisite finery awaiting you, but I knew in my heart there was no way you were going to be placed in that room, out of my sight. Since it was too painful to get up into the bed, I slept in the recliner and you were put in the cradle right beside me. I even insisted on a night light (several actually), so I could see you. Even then, your mama wasn’t comfortable and so I ended up cuddling you on my chest all night. That was simply the best way for me to get sleep and I reasoned you would sleep better next to my heart. It made perfect sense to me and Daddy, Grandma and Pa just smiled. When you did sleep in the cradle, Mama didn’t really rest and woke all hours to check on you. Even now, sleeping in my own bed, you sleep right beside me in your swing and just recently, in your pack ‘n play.  

Grandma has begun telling me it is time to put you in your crib - I am not sleeping well, you are not sleeping well, Daddy hardly sleeps at all, and I know in my heart she is right. However, the very thought terrifies me, and quite frankly, when the time comes and you are put to dreamland in the crib, I know I will be sleeping on an air mattress in your nursery for the first night or two. I know this is more for my comfort than yours, but really, if you wake up and cry, I will be right there.  

At your two month checkup, the doctor asked if you were sleeping in the crib yet. She smile got bigger and bigger as I earnestly listed all the reasons why you were not: after losing your four siblings to Heaven you were my Lil Miracle: I waited and waited for you to arrive and you have only been in this world 8 weeks: you were barely finished with colic: and yes, you still slept right next to Mama’s bed. I confidently told her in a month or two I would be transitioning you to the nursery, but for now it wasn’t going to hurt for you to be where I could see you at all times (I didn’t tell her I would then start sleeping in there, too!) I looked at Mamo and she was smiling too!  

The doctor agreed that our current sleeping arrangement was quite all right and she understand my anxiety. She did suggest that during the daytime after I rocked you to sleep, I put you in your crib for your nap. This way, it will be easier because when you wake up, you can see your new surroundings and I can check on you often. So, my sweet baby, over the next month, Mama is going to try this and I hope you like your crib, but for a little while longer, the nighttime will be spent with you right beside me.

Thankfully, you are finally done with colic and now that we know you are sensitive to corn sugar and possibly gluten and dairy, we will be extra careful in the future to protect you. Hopefully, you will grow out of it and the acid reflux that plagues you.

Your dark hair that shocked your adoring family is lightening up and your Daddy is still holding out hope that it will, by some miracle, turn red. Mama doesn’t think this will happen, but she loves all the copper highlights in it that remind her of her hair! If it stays dark, sweetie, that will be just fine! I do think you will turn out to be a blondie, though!

 Do you feel all the love you are surrounded with, Most Dear? I think you do, because you are such a happy baby. Even when you were crying with your tummy when we told you how much we loved you, you would stop crying for just a minute to smile at us before the pain made you cry again.

Your Grandma laughs and says when I write I always write a book, but when it comes to you, she is just as bad! We love you so much. I will end by quoting one of my favorite books that I hope becomes one of your favorites - “I’ll love you forever, I’ll like you for always, as long as I’m living, my baby you’ll be.” I love you, Baby Doll!

The Sun Has Risen...At Last

Journee Izabella Rose made her long-awaited debut into our lives on March 23, 2012.  I wish there were words to express how I felt to hear that first cry from our baby, but there isn’t.  I’ve heard of people crying tears of joy and happiness, but never experienced it for myself until 9:21 a.m. when I heard our daughter’s first cries.  That was a moment I will cherish for the rest of my life. 

I had imagined her birth a thousand times before.  I had imagined what it would be like to hear that first cry and see the face of my miracle baby for the first time. The problem with imaginations is they are only that – interpretations of what you think an event will be like or feel like. Until the event happens, it remains an imagination. It’s like closing your eyes and pretending to bite into a warm, chocolate chip cookie if you’ve never tasted a warm, chocolate cookie.

The tears I shed that morning were for so many reasons. I cried because birth is beautiful and miraculous. I cried for the empty years of waiting for this one, perfect moment. I cried because one journey was ending and another one was beginning. I cried for all five of my children because even the joy of her birth did not cause me to forget my four other little ones I never got to meet. I believe I started crying at that first wail and I’m not sure when I finally stopped. 

Her birth was much different than what I imagined. I had imagined 24-48 hours of labor followed by that moment when my doctor would deliver her to Puccini singing the last strains of Nessun dorma (my favorite aria) and then she would be laid on my chest.  What really occurred was not in the plans to say the least.  My doctor announced he would be doing an emergency cesarean section.  We hadn’t anticipated that and in all honesty, it wasn’t my favorite option.  I had thought about the possibility, but never wanted to go that route since only my husband would be with me and my mom wouldn’t get to welcome Baby Girl in her first moments of life.  That was upsetting since Mom has been with me through each and every loss, and every step of the way with Baby Girl.  When my doctor finished explaining the details, I asked him if Mom could please be in the operating room with us.  He smiled and said he didn’t have a problem with it and he would check with the anesthesiologist, but was sure it would be fine. I don’t think he was surprised at my request since Mom was with me on so many of my visits. She cried with me as we heard the heartbeat for the first time. She was there when we were told she was a girl and the doctor laughed with us as we laughed and cried and held each other as told each other over and over, “It’s a girl, can you believe it? We are going to have a girl!!” I’m sure he knew what I would want before I even asked.

The doctor left to get things rolling and then the nurses came back saying that it was a go for Mom!  I’ve said it before, but I love my doctor!!!  I know it is VERY rare they allow two people in there and I also know if my doctor hadn’t known our journey of loss and heartache, it probably wouldn’t have happened. 

I fought major anxiety all the way to the operating room.  It surprised me honestly because I’m no stranger to surgery and it wasn’t until they wheeled me in there and I saw that sterile bed that I knew why.  The last time I was in that environment, they were taking what was left of my dream – the tiny baby that would never know life outside my womb .  It surprised me that the heartache and trauma of that day still lies deep within my subconscious.  Fortunately, before I had time to mull over that, my doctor was there helping me out of the chair and being my support for the spinal anesthetic.  It was a new experience getting numb from the chest down. In fact, I have laughed since then because there I was lying on the table looking down at my toes, not feeling a thing.  Since it was new and I wanted to make sure for myself I was numb before they started cutting on me while I was awake, I actually laid there and told myself, “Move your toes!”  Then for the next 30 seconds or so, I concentrated the hardest in my life to move my toes.  No movement at all! Whew! LOL!

So there I was, flat on my back, paralyzed, this big, huge, blue screen in front of me so I couldn’t see what they were doing, my hubby at my left and my mom at my head.  I heard the wonderful words from my doctor, “We have our baby” and then I heard the most exquisite sound on earth - her cry.  Let me tell you, she wailed in protest and there was no denying that she had arrived.  I bawled and bawled and bawled some more in between asking, “Is she all right?”  I heard my doctor saying, “She is perfect,” but I had to ask Mom several more times before I was satisfied.  I just kept saying, “We have our baby!  We have a daughter! We have our miracle.”  It was so frustrating to just hear her cries and not to be able to see her for myself. Baby’s daddy left to be with her while they examined her and I had to rely on Mom to tell me what they were doing.  I’m so thankful Mom was there because she was able to reassure me and keep me informed of the details around me. She actually used her iPhone to video the events happening across the room and I got to see a bit of what was happening, but it seemed so far away!

And then, the moment I had been waiting on so long - my hubby comes walking up with this tiny bundle all swaddled in blankets and I saw our Journee for the very first time.  She wasn’t too happy being out of her warm swimming pool and squinted up at me, but she was the most beautiful little person I had ever seen.  I stared in awe at her and then looked up at my hubby to see two very teary eyes.  I had wondered what his reaction would be.  He is not a very emotional person so I knew he wouldn’t sob or cry like me, but I’m satisfied with those teary eyes.  They told me all I needed to know.

When they wheeled me into recovery and I left the operating room, all I could think about was the barren woman whose arms were empty for so long is no longer barren and those lonely arms are filled.  I no longer have to sit on the sidelines and watch babies being cradled in their mother’s arms and wonder for the thousandth time what it feels like to cuddle your own baby.  The days of coming home to an empty, quiet house filled with the knowledge of love lost was over.  I felt fulfilled and complete. 

I also thought about my other babies and sent a prayer Heavenward in thanks for those four little babies who are waiting for me beyond that crystal river and all I could say in my heart was “Thank you so much for giving me today, for letting me hear that healthy cry, thank you God for a beautiful daughter.” 

Unfortunately, the effects of surgery caught up with me in recovery and after the happiest 15 minutes of my life holding her, I don’t remember much of her first day of life.  Since we had waited so many years for this miracle, we had all agreed I would be the first one to post those wonderful words on Facebook and select the first picture that would be sent out. We did not think of a backup plan, and Mom and hubby were getting panicked. So many dear friends had shared the journey with us and were getting frantic at no news, but what now that I was so out of it and couldn’t send the announcement? We had names picked out, but I had told them we were not naming her before she was born and before I got to meet her.  I would know at birth if her name fit her.  Somewhere in the middle of the day, I remember Mom and my hubby insisting I make a decision. Actually, they had been asking and pleading with me for a while, but I would just go back out to dreamland without answering.  I eventually remember looking at her tiny face, those intense dark blue eyes and the shock of dark hair and thinking, “Yes, this is my Journee AT LAST.” 

My mom had to be the one to share the news since I went back to being unaware, but Mom and Justin were understandably relieved I came to enough to make a decision! I knew most all of you who know me would understand the meaning behind her name.  This has truly been a long journey to meet our miracle baby, but her name has another meaning that is just as poignant.  In French, Journee means “Rising Sun.”  How perfect.  The sun has risen in our lives to a new day, a new chapter, one that is the happiest I’ve ever known.  I know there will be some raindrops in this new chapter, but for now I bask in the warmth of this exquisite piece of humanity, this beautiful creation, my Journee, who warms my soul as surely as the sun warms the earth.