you will always be my baby

Since the surprising news of baby #2, I have been caught in this conflict;
I have a baby on his way, 
but Cole still feels like my baby.
Which, quite literally, he was. This ball of fire was only 5 months old when we were shocked into a second reality. I remember a conversation with Shane in which I admitted that, to me, Cole was my baby. I felt worried at the thought that his baby-hood would be replaced with his little brother's - that he would get 'jipped' out of my baby love. 

Soon, as this little 5 inch pumpkin began to kick and nudge inside of me, I came to realize that no matter what order children come, each one will always and forever be your baby. That's how you came to know them...that's how your love began. It only grows as they get older, and expands along with their knowledge.

Now that baby Cole is 10 months old, I find myself grateful that I have been able to enjoy everything baby about him - and it seems like before my eyes, this baby that I had 10 months ago is turning into a little boy...

A little boy that will make the perfect big brother,

The perfect playmate,

And a brother that little pumpkin can always count on and look up to.

Yes Cole, you will always be my baby...

but you will also be the best big brother a mom could ever wish for.
I love you...
oh so much.


Putting it all out there.

I wrote this post and then saved it because I didn't feel ready to share. I have moved past my fear of being judged, which is why I have now decided to let others read my words. I hope by doing so, others may realize that they are not alone during their trials!
Pregnancy #2 was not planned. It was not expected. To be honest, it wasn't even accepted into my weary mind for the first week or so. I was dumbfounded...there was no science to back up how this little baby turned up inside of me. I felt scared, I felt lonely. Sadly to say, I even felt a little embarrassed.
I was a little over 5 weeks along when I called Shane at the hospital and asked them to relay the message, "I don't know whether to cry, or to laugh". He knew exactly what I meant.
A few weeks after delivering Cole, my mind took over and wrenched me to places that I vowed I would never go. I remember trying to convince myself that I wasn't one of "those" people...that I wasn't one to suffer with postpartum depression. It came on gradually, but it felt so sudden. I loved, LOVED my baby, but I was overwhelmed with new, daunting tasks - like breastfeeding and trying to keep my house clean. When Cole would be up for hours and hours in the middle of the night with no relief during the day, I became overly exhausted, and I questioned my Father in Heaven for allowing me to be a mother. Often times I prayed and plead that we could rewind and let Cole, my sweet miracle baby, to be sent to a better mother...a mother who could take him to the store or walk him around outside without having a mental breakdown. A mother who could put everything else aside to tend to the needs of this little one who required so much patience and love. I remember at my 6 week postpartum appointment, feeling desperate for the nurse or doctor to notice that I didn't seem like myself, so that I could have some excuse to ask for help. To my dismay, both happily noted that I seemed to be "so on top of motherhood" and that I "radiated happiness" for this new life I was given. I sunk. I was speechless. What was I to say? I was already embarrassed and confused as it was...I wasn't going to stop them and tell them that they were incredibly wrong.
Eventually, I stopped praying. I couldn't find relief, and I had dismissed any thought of seeking for hope. My faith was gone, and my heart only stayed beating for that sweet baby...that little angel that filled my home with his little spirit.
After a few months of all of us suffering, Shane and I decided that it would be worth going completely broke so that I could get help. Therapy sessions and medication would have taken every spare penny, plus much of our savings. It needed to happen. That same week found me staring down at a bold, positive pregnancy test, for the second time in my life.
My initial reaction was to laugh. That laughter very quickly turned to tears, and tears, and more tears. I literally wept two whole nights away without sleep. My doctor had told me that I needed to see this second baby as another miracle, because there literally was no explanation as to how I could have conceived. I knew it was impossible, but I sure didn't see the miracle part of it all.
Then it hit me. This was a miracle.
Pregnancy, for some odd reason or another, had wiped away my anxiety and depression the first time around. I didn't want to be medicated during pregnancy, but was afraid to not be. After only a few short weeks of weaning from my medication, I felt perfectly fine. I felt normal, I felt happy, I felt content! Now that #2 was on his way, I realized that my Heavenly Father truly was looking out for me. He knew my desperation, and he also knew how to fix it. How blessed I feel that my mentality has had the same outcome with this pregnancy as it did the first...how grateful I feel that I could be trusted again with another miracle. This time around, we will know what to expect after I deliver, and I will have help aligned BEFORE anything could possibly go awry.
Shane and I couldn't be happier for this new spirit to enter into our home. He was the miracle I had been praying for all that time. I can hardly wait to see my two boys, causing incredible mischief and driving me crazy...it brings me to joyous tears thinking of the bond those two will share.
I am blessed, beyond measure.