Since publishing this, so many of you have sent well-wishes, prayers, good thoughts, love through the internet and telephone. It’s only been a few days, but already we’ve gotten flowers, coffee, a dear card in the real mail. There hasn’t been much time to ask how we’re doing, but anyone who asks gets the real answer.
We laid real, real low this weekend. A fire has lit the hearth everyday this week, and The Boy hasn’t been allowed to run past me without a smooch. Movies were watched, music left on in the kitchen, comfort food eaten. I wore the same pair of jammie pants for most of the days, and a quilt from my in-laws has kept my feet warm as I sit on the couch. All things cozy and comfy, that’s what we’re doing.

Husby has been unreal. That man, I tell you, is nothing short of miraculous. He’s grieving what could have been too, and caretaking his hurting wife who is prone to climbing in bed, drawing the covers high. He’s being superdad to a bright star of a little Boy, who is unaware of anything but his puppy, crackers and joy. He’s working hard, not able to take the day after surgery off but spending it downtown, leading a day-long workshop that went off without a hitch. And tonight, when I complained of a sore throat and lack of ice cream in the freezer, that man went to Dairy Queen and brought home two treats for me. Ice cream, that’s what we’re doing.

Folks, I married up. Husby, you are a wonder.

After surgery on Thursday, I was groggy and sore and sad and truthfully, still in shock. Did this all just go down? Did the last couple weeks really happen? Honestly, were it not for a crappy cell phone picture of the positive pregnancy test and the lingering soreness in my lower belly, I may deem it a dream. The strangest, most unable-to-grasp-part of it all is the feeling that life has gone on. That what once felt like an earth-shattering tragedy has now, at its second occurrence, felt less enormous and more like another piece of our story. Wondering, that’s what we’re doing.

Maybe it’s because I’ve been in the exact place before, but with more fear and unknowns.
Maybe it’s because this adorable Boy is running around my house and he’s my own.
Maybe it’s because I was happy, and therefore expecting the other shoe to drop.
Maybe it’s because of your prayers holding me together.
Maybe it’s because I simply can’t crawl into bed for the afternoon. I have to be mama.
Maybe it’s because something has healed in me, a fear long realized and covered.

Whatever, why-ever, however it is, it doesn’t feel numb, like I’m ignoring it. The loss of what could have been a family of four in the bright autumn is not ok, and when my EDD comes I will cry and remember and dream of that family photo. But I do feel strangely, oddly, uncharacteristically peaceful. I’m not worried about health concerns, about whether or not we’ll ever have a child. I am jealous of others with big second/third/fourth-time baby bumps. I am plain sad, and a little angry. I have an overwhelming sense of gratitude for our son, for my Husby, for our families and friends, for our sweet home, for the life we get to share. A lot of feeling, that’s what we’re doing.

And we’re choosing to rest in all those things, even while we work and play. So today, we’re doing ok.

{girl with blog}

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