Girls

I just blogged about my darling Olivia. I am so, so, so, so grateful to have her. She makes me smile.
But I am sitting here missing my "girls" -notice the S-. I was so looking forward to having "girls". I would have made matching easter dresses. Found bracelets that were the same for both of them (or all 3 of us). Liv and Ella matching hair bows! Sister pictures! Liv being the "big sister". I am just sad that Liv and I are going to be the only girls in our family for a long, long, long (are you kids all seeing this?) long, long, long time.
Thank heavens for my twins that gave me my Princess Olivia!

GARAGE SALE

So, yesterday Brandon and I were trying to figure out a way to not bounce any checks til payday...the logical conclusion was "Garage Sale". We spent yesterday afternoon finding things, and many, many, many, many minutes putting together kids puzzles (all the pieces in 1 BIG box, 25 puzzles; you get the picture).
So, to bed at 2:30am, (Brandon was after 4am)alarm off at 6:30am to run to Winegars for lemonade for the kids to sell (killing 2 birds with 1 stone!!) and get change.
So, from 8-12 we sat in the sun, and entertained the neighborhood kids, and sold $116.47 worth of stuff! All stuff that was just in the house -gone-. Oh, I love it. But, there were a lot of things left, and since we didn't plan and dig deeper into the basement, we will be having another sale next week. So don't forget us on your Saturday planning!

An Ugly Pair of Shoes

I am wearing a pair of shoes.
They are ugly shoes.
Uncomfortable Shoes.
I hate my shoes.
Each day I wear them, and each day I wish I had another pair.
Some days my shoes hurt so bad that I do not think I can take another step.
Yet, I continue to wear them.
I get funny looks wearing these shoes.
They are looks of sympathy.
I can tell in others eyes that they are glad they are my shoes and not theirs.
They never talk about my shoes.
To learn how awful my shoes are might make them uncomfortable.
To truly understand these shoes you must walk in them.
But, once you put them on, you can never take them off.
I now realize that I am not the only one who wears these shoes.
There are many pairs in the world.
Some women are like me and ache daily as they try and walk in them.
Some have learned how to walk in them so they don't hurt quite as much.
Some have worn the shoes so long that days will go by
before they think of how much they hurt.
No woman deserves to wear these shoes.
Yet, because of the shoes I am a stronger woman.
These shoes have given me the strength to face anything.
They have made me who I am.
I will forever walk in the shoes of a woman who has lost a child.

-Unknown

**I borrowed this poem from Ella's angel friend, Olivia. It was on her blog last month.**

5 Months

Today I find myself thinking back to December 12, 2008 and what we were doing at 9:29 pm. We were in the hospital, laboring for our youngest baby to be born, still.

My life has categories of time (like, childhood/growing up). Then my teenage years, divided by "before I met Brandon" or "after I met Brandon" (like, when I last went to Disneyland, "I think it was the year before I met Brandon"). Then we have the "before Brandon's mission", or "when we first got married". There was not a name for the time when we were starting our family, but there is definitely a distinction known as "before the twins" and "after the twins". Now I have a new dividing life event. Before we lost the baby, and after we lost the baby.

I don't refer to my sweet baby as Ella. I call her "the baby", or "my baby". I think it is too personal to call her by name. I always think of her as my Ella Marie, but this is something I keep close to me, and separate from all others, even my closest friends.

Knowing how different my life is from what we had expected sometimes takes my breath away. It has been 5 months since I laid my baby, dressed and wrapped in love-filled, homemade things; yet it feels like no time has passed. I am so often in a fog of life. I am doing what I have to for my family, and others around me, but I am not acting my true feelings. I don't know how to do that. I have always kept things inside me, and this is no different. I smile, and chat cheerfully, but the sparkle and passion for life is not in it. I am acting a part.

I hate that my life is this. I hate that one of the differentiating time frames will forever be "before" or "after" the baby.

My sweet angle, I love You. I wish I could have you with me. I long to hold and snuggle you. I will never again nurse a baby. I will never again teach a baby to sit, crawl, walk, say new words. I will never again be whole.