It’s Christmas morning and I’ve just laid Brooke back down after a 630am feeding; a third successful night of sleep with our new routine. *fingers crossed*
If you had told me last year that I would have a beautiful baby right now I wouldn’t have believed you. I’m still trying to wrap my head around the fact that she’s still all mine. She’s. All. Mine.
This time last year we were grieving. We’d had our second loss a short 12 days prior to Christmas. I was still bleeding on Christmas; a constant reminder that my body had failed me yet again. I’d baked over 200 cookies for the cathartic effect. We’d overnighted nearly 150 of them to Kevin’s office in LA after they sent us beautiful flowers for our loss. I wore a fake smile as we made the rounds for the Holiday. I would sneak off into the bathroom just to sob my eyes out.
And then this year… This year it’s so wildly different.
It’s been nearly 12 hours since I started this entry and guess what? She’s still here. She’s still mine. It’s still real. We’ve celebrated Christmas, Santa visited, she’s (breast) milk drunk, we’ve seen family and the girl got more gifts than days she’s been alive! It’s fair to say she’s loved. So wonderfully loved by so many people.
I’d lost all my hope last around this time last year, but what I realized as I watched my sweet girl sleep in my arms is that I hadn’t lost my hope, she just hadn’t been born yet.
The difference a year makes is incredible.
Wishing you and yours all the best as we wrap up 215!
Damn girl, that's a lot of fattitude 
I still hurt for your losses. It’s a stopper in my chest, still. It’s a little angel saying “hold on one second and remember, because it’s important.”
I am so grateful for your family, your health, your new addition, and the (mostly) ease of it all. Trey said last night, “They’ve just settled in so naturally.” And I said, “It’s been like that since Day 1. They are made to be parents.”
I am so entirely grateful. I also always take a moment to pause for those families who are not so fortunate. Not everyone gets this happy ending. I know it isn’t the end of the world, but it certainly feels that way for a while.
Sending all my love and best wishes to all the families out there, and wishing health and happiness in all its forms, to all who have struggled. There is enough love in the world to overcome everything. Danielle’s mom taught me that.