"Yes. It's saying; Ahh! Help! I don't want to be in this butt!!"

I use the sentence; "I'm doing as well as can be expected." quite often.  It is the truth.  My days are filled with joy, that I am capable of recognizing, for which I am so grateful.  But I also acknowledge the extra efforts it takes me to get to get through the day.  Exercising, for one, must be done daily whenever possible, and while it is very much appreciated that the secondary, for me, result of this is physical health, my most important reason for doing it is mental health.  I also rely on time to myself to read blogs.  A lot of those in my reader are from fellow Baby Loss Mamas, but they are not all so.  What they all have in common is they are about the daily struggles and happinesses of life.  They provide me with a touching stone, to feel the hearts' desires of other people in this world.  I am happy I see what makes me feel better and I'm in a place to utilize them.  I am doing well.

My biggest struggle remains getting out of bed each day.  I do all my mourning in the morning.

I go get G when my alarm goes off.  Yes, I'm a stay at home mom who sets her alarm every single day.  I wouldn't get up otherwise.  Even when I wasn't depressed I'd oversleep for hours if some sound didn't wake me up.  I bring her to bed with me and put on a mic.key mouse movie.  They're around 30 minutes.  Every morning I tell myself she'll only watch one.  If we don't have anywhere pressing to go to, it's always 2.  For that  hour I doze.  Snuggle G, argue with myself about getting up.  Watch as the words "I miss my babies" float by my closed eyes.  I rest my hand on my concave abdoman and think how diffferent my mornings would be with a 1.5 year old.  A 9 month old.  Being 17 weeks pregnant.  They crowd into bed with us.  I see them tugging on G's hair, drooling on my pillows.

We finally get up and we do all the morning things.  I've always taken her outside to play before lunch if we're staying at home.  But now 90% of the time I just can't.  I loathe the idea of going out to play in the cold pale sunshine.  Bundling up, noses running in the wind.  I can't make myself fight with winter as well as the internal battles I'm perpetually locked in.  I ask G if she cares, she always wants to stay in, read a book, play with her dolls.  I'm relieved but I see she is pale, she needs some vitamin D, some running around time.  My house is fantastically clean, my penance for not doing what I think I should.  Not to mention, I can't stay still.  I can't wait for winter to end.

A few weeks ago G went to storytime with 6 other kids.  All sets of siblings.  2 older brother younger sister combos and one with 2 sisters, all the younger children were G's age.  G was the only singleton. I thought for a moment the brother/sister ones would be hard, but it was the 2 sisters that tugged on my heart.  I watched as they came in, both carrying their Amer.ican Dolls.  The younger one unsure, she'd never come to storytime before so she sat close to her older sister. Gaining reassurance with her proximity.  They were so in tune with each other.  The older one making room for her sister.  I think about what kind of sister G would be.

G ADORES babies.  Try and keep her away from one.  Kids her own age?  Meh.  But babies she'll fawn over, make googly eyes at, sing songs to.

She comes running up to me the other day and says; "My siblings are LOST!"  I could tell she was playing a game of make believe, I don't think she even knows what siblings are.  We had to go searching for them, I don't remember where they ended up being.  I didn't get that gut reaction, where everything drops a few feet lower, it was just like a Wow, you couldn't be more right kid.

My doctor has sent a recommendation to the specialists I see when everything goes to shit for my pregnancies, so I can see them before I suppose.  I don't see much hope in this.  I went to do the bloodwork though, and am waiting for their call.  In the very least I'll get a day in the city and In N Out out of the deal.  

She asks me for a bunny.  A hamster.  A sister.  I handle all these requests fine.  But in the morning I ache for that which I can not give her.  That I can not provide for myself.

I do really well all day.  Except for when it comes to beginning it.

*My quote.  Oh my goodness my quote.  G has been ridiculously hilarious of late.  The things coming out of her mouth are priceless.  She decided, for the 2nd night in a row, that she needed to poop well after bedtime.  If she'd ever tried this tactic and been wrong, I'd feel perfectly justified and calling her on her procrastination of bedtime and sending her to bed.  But she actually poops so I'm screwed.  She also request water, books, snacks, you name it, but hits pay dirt with using the bathroom.  On this night I very frustratedly asked her; Are you sure it wants to come out?  And this was her reply.  In a high pitched poop voice apparently.  And she was right.  Of course.