And Then There Were Two

Sept 27 2016
I havent written in a while. I apologize. It has been a very...very...intense summer. There have been and continue to be so many changes I just havent had the time or the mental acuity to put pen to paper...or fingers to keyboard as it were.

The last post I wrote had talk of moving to Boise. That didn't happen but is still an open and ongoing discussion. Instead, in June I found out I was pregnant. It was a very emotional ordeal. So much guilt, so much anger, so much fear.  I didn't tell anyone for a very long time. I actually never told Khaily at all. I was afraid something bad was going to happen. I had a feeling. And unfortunately I was right. On August 27th at 11:20am after 26 hours of drugs and labor Kheatyn John was born sleeping at 16 weeks. He weight 2oz and was 5.5 inches long. Perfect baby boy. Ten fingers ten toes, all organs developed perfectly. It was a cord accident. It got twisted right near his belly button. I didn't even know that could happen. Now I spend a lot of time daydreaming about him and Khyri playing together. It put me back in a dark place, I am starting to come back slowly but...on top of losing him being awful it also brought back a lot of things from Khyri, making it double hard. The situations are so different but still so the same. When Khy died I came home to on the floor, clothes on the floor, a brand new box of diapers, breakfast she hadn't finished. With Kheatyn I came nothing. And for being so opposite...its the exact same pain. The exact same aching empty arms, the same longing, the same tears. Futures we won't have, lives I won't get to watch unfold. I will never know his sounds,  his likes or dislikes, the ferocity of his tantrums. I will never kiss an owee or remove vegetables from nostrils. So many 'nevers.'  They let me keep him overnight at the hospital...and before you get judgey and disgusted, imagine you were only given 24 hours to be with your baby. And that was all you were ever going to get.  I took it. I took ever second. I stared at him and memorized his features. I counted and recounted the fingers and toes. I prayed and cried and tried to understand how someone so perfect didn't get to live. And what I had done to deserve it again.

The funeral home came and took my baby away from the hospital. Again.

Khaily still doesn't know. Shoes seen pictures, she knows that tiny baby is in heaven with sissy and that they love eachother very much. She doesn't know its her brother. We will talk about it later. 5 is too young to know that pain twice. I can't look my little girl in the eyes and have 'that' conversation again. I can't do it.

Today...if he had somehow lived...he would be a month old. He would be prepping to be a tiny skeleton for Halloween. He would be keeping me awake at all hours. Instead he sits on a shelf next to a jar of rose petals from his big sissy's funeral. Sometimes I wake up and forget that I'm not pregnant anymore. Then it hits...and I curl back up with his baby blanket and cry.

October is coming again. The 18th will be two years without Khyri. Two years. 730 days. 17520 hours. It may as well have been 5 minutes. Every day it repeats in my head. Last year I painted car windows for awareness. This year I am so emotionally spent that i will probably spend the day in bed. I don't want to do anything. I just want to sleep.

Its intense summer.

This Is Not the Life

Sept. 27, 2016
This is not the life I wanted. This is not what I envisioned as a little girl playing house with the neighbors. It was never in my plan to be a mom of 3 and have to explain it to people. My kids were always meant to be visible. I never planned on being married and divorced by 21. I never imagined having to take out restraining orders against people I love. Never thought to myself that one day I would explain death and Heaven and God and Jesus to my 4 year old in a non-religious situation. Wasn't planning on the panic attacks, the sleepless nights, and the crippling fear of dropping my daughter off at school.
I want to be the mom who drops her off and thinks, "ok I have 7 hours to get things done."
Instead I drop her off and count down the minutes until I pick her up...because one time I didn't get to pick her up.
I want to be the mom who goes to sleep at night exhausted from my kids overwhelming me all day long.
Instead I go to bed and cry because Khaily is low maintainence and once upon a time I was that mom.
I want to be the mom who complains about the laundry and the dirty house because I can't take it another second.
Instead I fold laundry with a heavy heart because there used to be so much more of it.
Everywhere you look there are people complaining about their kids, complaining about their spouse, complaining about their house. Stop. Just stop. Because it could all be gone tomorrow. Two years ago today, I went to a job that i loved, then I picked up my kids who drove me crazy, I cleaned the house despite being exhausted and had dinner ready before my honey got home from work. Two years ago today I had the crazy busy happy life that I, like so many of you, take for granted. In three weeks it will be 2 years since Khyri passed away. 2 years since everything fell apart. And in two years...I've gone from 3 kids to 1, a happy family to drying my daughters eyes because she misses her dad, a house full of noise, toys, and laughter to a house full of heavy, empty, painful, silence.

The life I have not the one I wanted. But I wouldn't give back a single second of the "before" in exchange for an ounce of the "after." The screaming and fighting and tears and devastation and falling apart...suuuucks....but...there were 2 and a half years that were absolutely amazing.

That little girl at the table behind me drives me crazy. She does. We yell. We scream. We both say things we don't mean. We miss our family. We miss sissy. We miss dad. But at the end of the day its us against the world. And all things considered I think we redoing pretty okay. So...while its not the life I sure glad its mine.

Hiatus -or- Mentalmotional Vacation

K so obviously, it's not January anymore, which means-obviously-that it's been a second since I've been online. My bad. It's been a super awful couple months, and tho this blog was a lifeline in the beginning, I've gotten to where it's easier to blog when I've had a beat to clear it all out. I survived her birthday again, if only just barely. There were balloons, 50 of them to be specific, there were cupcakes, there were people at my house, there were more tears than I cared to really deal with. Holidays are rough. I spent the majority of the day, while decorating cupcakes, trying to imagine what my 3 year old would look like...what she'd sound like...the things she'd know.  I can't.  I can't imagine any of it, and it's so hard.  To me she will always be my lil 19 month old. I don't know her any other way anymore.  I can remember up to that point obviously, but then it just stops.  I think that's one of the saddest things...that it just stops.  I try really hard not to be mad at God, I've been working towards rebuilding my faith for almost a year and a half now, but some her birthday...I feel like we should at least be able to keep tabs on them.  Like, we should at least be granted the ability to imagine their faces as they would be if they were here.  He couldn't give us that much? I don't believe it was His will for her to die, but I KNOW that He could at least let me peek. But do we really want to?  I don't know.  It's a complicated thing.   I remember when I went in for surgery 4 days after her funeral, I remember (it's dark, sorry) thinking to myself that maybe the anesthesia would be a lil too much, since I hadn't been eating or sleeping right, and I'd been drinking...maybe I'd get to peek.  No such luck.  Don't get me wrong, I am not at all suicidal, by any stretch of the imagination, but just to have that split second to see that she's alright, would change so much. So that was her birthday...thoughts, and tears, and freaking cupcakes. It all feels wrong either way. It feels wrong to bake that day, but I don't think I could live with myself if I didn't.  It feels wrong to get out of bed that day, but I don't think I could live with myself if I didn't. Complicated.

Easter was yesterday. Not nearly as catastrophic as I thought it would be. It was fun to watch Khaily at the egg hunt and do the Easter bunny thing, but I spent most of the day just being grateful that the day even exists. Without Easter there would be zero hope of getting back to my baby bear.  And at the end of the day, that hope is all I have of her. 


On a lighter note, me and miss Mae went to Boise a couple weekends ago.  It was super nice to get out of town for a couple days to be with family and friends. We hit up the Boise Zoo, which is so much cooler than the IF zoo, everyone should go...seriously, they have jellyfish. Whaaaaat?  They also had a bench that was sponsored by the Compassionate Friends, which for those of you who aren't familiar, is a support group for parents and families who have lost a child. Amazing organization, they do a Walk to Remember every year, theres a worldwide candle lighting event in December every year, just an amazing amazing group of people.  Anyway, there was a bench. The bench about did me in for the day.  It's right next to the giraffe slide, and those who know, know that giraffes were Khyri's "thing."  The irony floored me and I had to stop and get myself for a second before I could function again.

Boise was fun.  So fun theres been talk of a move.  I found on my way back to this side of the state, thatthe closer i got, the more I wanted to flip around and go back.  I did not realize how completely SAD this entire little city makes me until I got out of it for a couple days.  Thinking that way brought on guilt like you wouldn't believe, so I reached out to a friend who lost her daughter 5 years ago, same age, same situation (except for the daycare part.)  I asked for her thoughts, and after being reassured that I'm not a horrible mom for leaving the place where my baby is, she told me that her and her husband waited five years to move but have always said they wish they had gone maybe a drastic change is in order?  Maybe Boise? Maybe the moon?  Who knows what comes next really...


I have gotten really good at visualizing, or "grounding." Its kind of a self-soothing anxiety technique, since I myself am not a fan of pharmaceuticals. One way to ground yourself is to literally ground yourself...plant your feet firmly on the floor and push yourself against it, or grab say a shopping cart handle and squeeze as hard as you can. Or you can count and breathe, which is super common. I myself prefer mental blocking... Once you recognize a stressor you visualize it in your mind and mentally build a brick wall in front of it. It makes me feel like I can control it, like if I put this wall here whatever is behind it has to wait until I take it down to get through and then I can deal with it on my time. Another thing I do quite a bit when I'm feeling out of control is to name my surroundings...its supposed to help keep you in the moment...if I find myself worrying about bills that aren't even due yet or going back to scary hospital flashbacks...I look around the room and make very basic statements about what's around "why's" or "buts," super basic..."the chair is white" "the blanket is blue" "the pillow is soft" "there's a book on the shelf"...super basic.

Tonight none of it is working. I can't sleep, and I can't shut it off. Its not even the hospital, which is a welcome change, but tonight its her little fingers, and her chubby thighs, and the way she used to suck on her lower lip. Its the cute tiny things that I love thinking about, and I recall them often to make sure I don't forget. When you lose your baby though, even the happy thoughts are so sad. So I tried, "her skin is soft" and pushed away the "but it was cold when she died", "her nails are sharp for baby nails" and pushed away the memory of trying to clean the dirt out of them at the funeral home...nothing is working. I still can't sleep, and the tears still won't stop. So ive come to the conclusion that, maybe sometimes being strong isn't blocking it out, but letting it in and being vulnerable...I just want to hold those little fingers and tickle those tiny thighs so bad. It physically makes my arms hurt to think about going into her room and not being able to just pick her up for even a second....its just so hard.

The dog is black...the couch is tan...the walls are white...the tea is hot...

Adios 2015

So, before I start, you will notice that this post is at the top. I lost track of my backwards time stamps and decided that...that's a lot of starting today the newest posts will be at the top of the blog, and everything from 2014 and 2015 will read oldest to newest like a story (it's the 80 posts under 2014 on the right side of the screen). That being said, here we go.

I apologize for not being on here more recently, but as you can imagine, everything from October to New Years is pretty unpleasant and sad and unmotivational in my house, this year being no exception. After the angelversary was halloween, lots of fun, Khaily was Elsa and was SO excited to get to wear Mommy's make up.

In November a very sad thing happened in our house when me and Jason split up. We both just changed too much over all the events of the last year and the two new people that came out of the storm weren't the compatible pair that went into it. Super painful, super messy, I will spare you the soap opera and just sucked.

Thanksgiving came and went. Me and Khaily went to spend it with the family, but ended up leaving early. It's hard to be happy in a room full of happy people when over the course of a year you go from happy family of four to a mama daughter duo. Sorry family.

Enter Christmas. Christmas is hard. It was not the soul draining, life ruining experience that it was last year though, and progress is progress right ? Again we spent it with my parents, Khaily was soon excited...she snuck out of her room and caught the stockings...but Santa hid quick before she saw anything else!  It was such fun to see her excitement Christmas morning. It helped ease the ache, though I was still super grateful for the drive to work so I could fall apart. Holidays are just hard.  Her assignment for her Christmas program was to be the Christmas angel...and the irony almost killed me. She was a beautiful angel though, and she had so much fun. I seriously recommend Lots O Love Preschool to everybody, so amazing.

Now here we are, in 2016.  Another year that Khy will never see, the first of four without Jason, and we still have snow the second week of January. ..that hasn't happened for a few years. Khyri would be turning three in March, starting pre-k, learning to read and tie her shoes...all these little things are so big when they are just daydreams.  I am still very grateful and very blessed to have had her at all. Even knowing what I know now there's no way I'd give her back to avoid it.  I do not in any way believe that it was her time to go or that God had anything to do with it, but He is keeping me going so I know that there's some kind of plan at work now, even if it's not the original draft.  happy new year everyone ♡