It has been 8 months since we lost Lyndon.  I originally wrote this at the 2 month mark but didn't have the strength to share it.

As I slowly move through my grieving process I find that my thoughts keep coming back to the same question. What now? I have always felt that there were more children out there for me and my family, that we have so much love to share. I have had blessings that say that more children will come into our home. But at the same time, I can't imagine putting my body, my mind, my husband, or my children through another pregnancy. It would be torture. In the last 2 years I have spent 57 weeks pregnant, spent approximately 300 days throwing up, spent around 45hrs in labour, I have gained and lost and gained and lost and gained about 40lb and I have broken 4 teeth due to the constant vomiting and stress induced teeth grinding. Those are just a few of the physical consequences. I'll choose not to go over the emotional and spiritual issues at this point. I have gone through all of it and have virtually nothing to show for it. Almost everyone would think I am crazy to even consider trying again. I don't want to try again.

The problem is hope. When you are a victim of infertility and/or pregnancy loss, people tell you stories. Everyone tells you stories. The stories of friends and families that have had a success after years of trying and have never been happier. The stories where the trial was worth the reward. The happy ending. No one tells you about the couples that gave up, the ones that couldn't keep going. People think that they are helping when they tell you about the triumph over heartache but I have now come to realize that for me, I probably won't get my happy ending. Accepting that is very, very painful.

So what do I do now? Who am I if I am not trying to have a baby? This pursuit has been the main focus of my life for the last 8 years and if not this, than what? I know I have a lot to work through, a long way to go and a lot of questions to answer. Time to hunt up my crystal ball.

Land mines

It has been one month since we lost our baby girl at 23 weeks and I am glad to say that I'm almost through what I have come to call the land mine stage. It's the stage of grief where the world is a mine field and you just don't know from one moment to the next what harmless thing is going to explode in your face to bring you back to that ugly torturous place where you can't control your grief, where you sob in public places, where you feel like the worst moments of your life are now on display for friends and strangers alike.

Case in point. For me Church is filled with land mines. On my first Sunday back after losing Lyndon, I sat down and I made it through the hymns and thought success, the hymns are usually hard for me after a loss, they are designed to bring emotions to the surface. But I made it through and thought "I'm handling this, I can do this." And then the first speaker stood up. A woman in our congregation who is due one month before I was due. I tried to look every where but at her belly. Her topic, being of good cheer during trials. KABOOM, My self control is gone. I lasted for about 3 minutes of her talk before I left. The next Sunday was even worse.

For a while it seems like everywhere you look there is some one who has what was taken from you and unfortunately the nature of the beast is that the don't talk like they appreciate it. Women who are pregnant complain. A lot. Women who have babies complain. A lot. They're entitled. They're uncomfortable, they're tired, it's not all sweetness and light. I know that, I remember. But for those of us that have had that taken away, those little complaints and comments are like explosions in our heads and our hearts taking us back to our grief as if it were fresh and new again.

Luckily the land mine stage doesn't last forever. While there are always going to be your personal mines that will explode in your face, probably for the rest of your life, but it will stop being a 10 times a day thing and it will slow down to once a day, then, once a week and so on. Eventually you'll be able to go out in the world just like everyone else and strangers won't know that there is anything wrong and friends will tell you how well they think you coping. Those aches in your heart will be yours alone to share if you choose to, not because you can't help it. And that is a good thing.

My Truth

I haven't written much over the past few years and the truth is that I've been conflicted. The truth is that the things that I feel compeled to write about are the very things that I don't want the world to know. But now it's time to come clean, to tell my truth.

I am a 5 time pregnancy loss survivor.

I have had 5 babies die in the last 6 years. 5. Dead. Babies.

I use the term survivor loosly. The me that I was before all of my trouble started did not survive. I have changed. I have started to look at it like the equivelent of a fertility lightning strike. I am still alive but I am different. I am not the same as most of you. I was struck by lightning.

In my heart I am the Mother of seven but I only get to acknowledge 2. When you meet someone and they ask you how many kids you have they don't want to know about the dead ones. Nothing stops a conversation faster than talking about dead babies. So I don't. I say I have two children, a girl and a boy, and it breaks my heart every time. So here, today, I'm finally going to tell the truth. My truth. I have 7 children and they are:

Megan, Daughter, Nov. 2001 age 10
Dallin, Son, Oct. 2003, age 8
Taylor, Unknown, Aug. 2006 14 weeks
Avery, Unknown. May 2008, 10 weeks
Elijah, Son, Aug. 2010, 18 weeks
Jay, Son, June 2011, 16 weeks
Lyndon, Daughter, Feb. 2012, 23 weeks

I miss my babies.

I'd like to be thrifty but I just can't afford it.

So like many of you out in the world, I am (or I was) a huge fan of the home decorating on the cheep blogs. I would faithfully check out all of my favorite bloggers everyday and marvel over their amazing creative prowess. I started stalking the local thrift stores for diamonds in the rough that I could transform into home decorating gems.

But lately I've started to realize a change out there in the blogoshere. My favorite bloggers have become buisness women. They have changed from creative women who share their love of crafting and design with the world to crafty product placement advertisers. It seems like almost half the time I go to my favorite blogs to get inspired the post starts with " More From the Silhouette Craft Cutter" - www.makeit-loveit.com or "I just used the embroidry function on my Bernia computerised sewing machine" or "I did this using my Go Cutter machine." And the other half of the time I'll find a link to a shopping site or another lifestyle site like Martha Stewart.

I know that this is the way the world works and everyone has the right to make a living from their talents but I find myself dissapointed that places that I used to go for inspiration to make my povery striken life more pleasent have changed to be just like TV and make me fell like I'm less of a human because I don't have the money to buy all the gadgets that would help me to be "thrifty". Even if I had the money I don't have a clue where I would put a Silhouette, a Cricut, and the new computer that I would have to buy to go with my new sewing machine.

I guess I just have to accept the fact that I don't have the money to be frugal.

Mr. Wonderful?

I know, I know it has been a long while since I posted and I'm very sorry. A lot has happened that I need to catch all two of you up on but that will have to wait till another day as I have another topic in mind.

You, who have been waiting with baited breath to read the pearls of wisdom that I impart have my dear darling husband to thank for breaking the blog fast of the past several months.

First, the disclaimer. I am well aware that my husband is one of the best men out there. Many of my friends are envious of his kindness, his willingness to serve, his humility. I love him for all those qualities too but I have one question, At what point in our marriage vows did I promise to be responsible for all of his stuff?

Yesterday, after spending the third straight day at the church doing his calling( good job, hunny) he comes home with a small stack of papers and throws them down on the coffee table and goes to bed. Today after spending the evening doing more church stuff (good job hunny) he comes home and needs some info that was written on one of the pieces of paper. Some how I'm supposed to know what happened to the paper with the info on it. So he looks at me, slightly accusingly and asks me what I did with it.

Now, before last September that was a bit of a valid question. Most of the time I had the typical mommy radar and could come up with a pretty good guesstimate as to where just about anything was in our house. But thing have changed. First school started, the amount of paper that floods into this house from our two children boggles my mind. In any given day the kids can bring home between 5 and 1000 sheets of paper. (OK 1000 might be an exaggeration but seriously you should see my recycle bin.) it's easy for things to get lost in the shuffle. And second, I started working outside the home and I'm the first to admit that I have lost my touch.

Is it too much to ask that he just take care of his own stuff?
Am I being to hard on him?
am I blowing this out of proportion?
Am I blogging at midnight in the midst of a full blown PMS crisis?

The answers to these questions are no, yes, yes, YES! I probably just need some chocolate.

Rant of the week

I have a HUGE pet peeve. Literally. When I see people doing it I can't control myself. I have to say something, OK, if I'm being honest, I yell at perfect strangers. I try to be polite as I call the people to repentance but it always end with me being angry and yelling at random people.

So what is this issue that turns me into a crazed maniac you ask? Well, I hate, hate, hate dog owners that walk their dogs off leash.

There is a sports field that separates my house from the school that my kids attend and several times a week I see dog owners walking their dogs off leash. Me and my kids have been chased down several times by strange dogs and the lovely dog owners will yell from across the field as my daughter is screaming and crying in fear "Don't worry, he's very friendly". Yeah, that's going to dry her tears in an instant. Then they call the dog, but almost always, the dog is not well trained enough to actually listen. When I try to politely remind the dog owner that this is not an off leash area and could they please keep their dog on a leash. These awesome people either blow me off with a "Oh, he wouldn't hurt a fly." comment or they get very angry with me for censoring their behavior in the first place.

I don't want my kids to be afraid of dogs and if there is a friendly responsible dog owner with a dog safely on a leash, I will let my kids play with the dog. I want to know how to keep them from being afraid when almost every week they are being chased down by strange dogs that don't obey commands to sit or heel.

The city bylaw states that the dogs should not even be in the sports fields at all. Probably to keep the poop to a minimum (which by the way there is massive amounts of). But no one follows this rule and the city certainly doesn't enforce it so I am left to either police the park myself or ignore the dangers of the untrained dogs making my daughter cry as they invade her personal space.

I hope you all enjoyed my rant.

Potpourri

It seems like I have a lot to say today, so here it goes.

First of all, I am finally loving the weather. We have hit double digits for the first time this year that I can remember. The sun is shining, the snow is melting and I sent Dallin to school without snow pants!!

Now, the question becomes, do I pack away the snow suits, hats mitts and scarves or am I jinxing it? My entry way is clogged with all of the winter stuff and some of the spring stuff creeping in. Just the kids have 4 different pairs of shoes/boots depending on activity and destination. Add to that the snow suits, rain coats, hoodies and such. and I am being over run with stuff. Dallin has been begging to start ridding his bike now that the sidewalks are clear but the last thing I want to do is add helmets and roller blades and soccer balls to the mix.

Suggestions are welcome.

Next, the long weekend. We are traveling to southern Alberta this weekend and we are not excited about it. Kenyon and I have come to the conclusion that traveling 7 hours away for a long weekend is just not worth it. You may be asking yourselves why are they going then? We are biting the bullet due to family pressure from our kids as well as from everyone else.

The most annoying thing about it is My Husbands Family! (sorry Harris') I love them but they don't listen. We have told them repeatedly that we don't like to do big family functions(by big family functions I mean all the Aunts, Uncles, Cousins 2nd and 3rd) when we are only there for 1 or 2 days.

I understand why they want to have these parties 1) We're awesome everyone wants to spend time with us. 2)They all live within an hour of each other. It just doesn't occur to anyone that not everyone has to come to everything. And 3) They have this fantasy about our kids playing together with the kids of Kenyon's cousins in peace and harmony. A Harris family Utopia. What they don't realize is that my kids don't know those kids. My kids just spent the day before traveling for 7-8hrs and sleeping in a strange place. And in the case of Megan she is painfully shy and doesn't like large groups of people. So to make a long story short we make a huge effort for the soul purpose of having a bad time.

We have asked them to keep thing low key and casual and they agree. Then one thing is added, and then another family wants to come, and then we get the phone call "We haven't seen you for a year can't you just stop by for an hour?" And by the end of the weekend we have visited 6 different houses, 3different towns and about 50 people.

The worst part is that since my parents moved to the same town as some of Kenyon's Aunts and Uncles, they don't respect the time we want to spend with my family. Last year we had set aside a day for my family. We let everyone know ahead of time but still by about 1:00 they started to phone my parents house and kept phoning until Kenyon caved and went to go visit them. Kenyon and I were so angry and frustrated that we really haven't wanted to go back. I also get the distinct impression that I am being blamed for the lack of visits since last summer.

Now it's already started, plans have already been changed and visits already added.

Once again suggestions are welcome.

Last but not least it's looking like I will be going back to work shortly. I have accepted the reality that if I want to shop like I want to shop, I need to make some moola. Looking forward to my first paycheck. I should probably call my old boss and see if there is even a spot for me.