Everything I've ever wanted... Just not quite how I had planned.

This is so true. If I think back on what I have always dreamed my life would be, with rare exception, I have what I always envisioned. When I was in high school, I concocted my "plan"; the blueprint that designed my future through college and beyond. It went something like this:

1. Get married at age 20

2. Start a family right away, having 4 children spaced 2 years apart. I figured if I did this, I would be done by age 28 and still young and hot.

3. Live life to its fullest because my plan had played out exactly as I had planned.

I had it all figured out, right? If only. God did hear my plan, and in someways he did listen. I just think my ability to communicate my plan to him became a bit like the game of "Telephone", he heard me, it just got lost in translation. I say this because this is how it happened:

1. Meet future husband at 26, marry him at 28. Shouldn't I have 4 kids by now???

2. Live life to its fullest and enjoy my husband for 4 years before even entertaining that "kid" thing.

3. Try for 2 years to conceive and then give birth to my daughter 1 week after my 35th birthday. Shouldn't I have a 14, 12, 10 and 8 year old by now?

4. When my daughter is 6 months old, conceive spontaneous triplet boys. Give birth to them at 32 weeks and 5 days gestation. 1 sleeping, 2 living. I am 36 years old.

5. When my boys are 9 months old, get pregnant again (not on purpose). Miscarry the pregnancy 1 month later.

6. Before even resuming a normal menstrual cycle, get pregnant again (not on purpose). I am 37 years old when the test comes back positive. Shouldn't I have a 16, 14, 12 and 10 year old by now?

7. Still being written...

So you see, God DID hear me, sorta. He heard 4 children and he heard spaced 2 years apart. What he did not hear was that I wanted them EACH to have 2 years between them, not all be born within 2 years. He also seemed to miss the fact that I, of course, wanted them all alive, here with me.

I am past the point where I "blame" Him. In keeping with the title of my blog, we may have one plan for ourselves, while His is totally different. Not wrong, not bad, just different. I DO have everything I ever wanted. I have a loving and supportive husband, and he was soooo worth the extra 6 years I waited. I have 4 beautiful children, 3 living and 1 in heaven, with 1 more on the way. God heard me there too. I'll have 4 children with me on this Earth, I just get an extra one up above. I have a beautiful, warm home filled with laughter and chaos, I am healthy, and I am loved.

So you see, even though life may not always work out as WE had planned, it does work out as planned. Just not our plan. This is a daily reminder to me that I need to keep my mantra in the front of my thoughts. What happens to me in this life is not up to me. It is not my design. I must remember to want what I have and take what I'm given with grace.

Sensitivity 101

So, there's this new "game" circulating on Facebook that is designed to bring awareness to Breast Cancer. This "game" basically has women who choose to participate post how "far along" they are in their pregnancy and what they are craving. For example, I am 14 weeks and craving M & M's.

I am all for raising awareness of causes which are near and dear to our hearts, but to do so by posting a fake pregnancy is beyond repugnant. I am sure there is some other fun and creative way to bring awareness to a cause that does not involve trivializing the sanctity of life. I have asked my self if I am being overly sensitive to be bothered by this "game".

I have decided that, no, I am not being overly sensitive. As a woman who has lost a child, I find creating a fake pregnancy for the sake of raising awareness for a totally unrelated cause to be extremely gauche and flat out insensitive to the scores of women who have lost a child.

Why not post your dream bra size? Or how old you were when you first got a training bra? Better yet, just post "Save the Ta-tas" or "I love Boobies". Short, sweet and to the point. It is so very sad to me that so many people are so quick to post a status that champions something such as cancer, how wonderful your mother is, what a superior sibling you are, but very few people are willing to change their status to something which has to do with the loss of a child.

I'm sure very few people even know that more children are lost to stillbirth every year than die of SIDS. Yet, how much information are we bombarded with in relation to a tragic happening such as SIDS???

Don't get me wrong, causes such as cancer awareness, the prevention of abuse, drunk driving, smoking, etc... are all quite noble and I personally support all of them; however, I think we all, as human beings sharing this life, need to be a little bit more sensitive to what we say and how we say it. Not that we need to be "politically correct", that ship has sailed way TOO FAR in my opinion. We simply need to be a bit more AWARE for lack of a better term.

So, I challenge those of you who read this to find out if and when there is an "Awareness" month or day to bring attention to child loss. Post something pertinent and sensitive as your Facebook status on this day. In the meantime, I'll play along at your little "game".

I am 30 weeks pregnant with my Rainbow baby, whose name is Brody. I am craving the feel of my little boy Boe in my arms.

Dear "Unknown",

This is the FIRST and ONLY time I shall ever write a post such as this. When I started this blog, it was designed to be my "safe place" to vent any and all feelings that I was experiencing as I navigated through Boe's loss, NO MATTER HOW UGLY, etc. This blog serves as a sounding board for me. It helps me to organize my thoughts and sort through them, sometimes BEFORE I speak to my husband or others about them. I guess, in a way, this blog helps me to blow off steam and take the angry edge off of my feelings so that when I do speak to the individuals (who I am always very careful not to name) in question, I can be clear, focused and kind when I impart my feelings.

Well, yesterday, my sanctuary was violated. Someone, titling themselves simple as "Unknown", posted a comment to my post that was very distressing, hurtful and disappointing to me. I am not going to give this person's comment too much energy because I think the fact that they refuse to identify who they are speaks volumes about their character (or lack thereof, should I say?).

Apparently, "Unknown" feels that Adam and I have not returned any of their efforts to correspond with us in the months since Boe's passing. Adam and I both find this very odd, as we try very hard to return all calls, texts, etc... even if it takes a few days for us to do so. "Unknown" also alludes to the fact that people do not bring up Boe or his passing because they don't want to go "there" and upset me. Perhaps "Unknown" needs to reread a few paragraphs of my entry, but I specifically say that IT WILL ALWAYS BE SAD. The mention of Boe's name will always strike a chord with me, IT |DOES NOT MEAN THAT I DO NOT WANT TO TALK ABOUT HIM. I go on to say that not mentioning him hurts worse than talking about him.

"Unknown" purports to love me and my family and says they just want "to love on" my family. If that was the case "Unknown" would have let their name be known so that Adam and I might have the opportunity to take them up on offers of help and support if they are being put out there. "Unknown" 's parting words are "Keep your head held high".

I DO keep my head held high. I try to live everyday of my life being a kind and compassionate mother, wife and friend. I know there are times when I fall short in any or all of these categories, those are opportunities to grow and learn. I am a person who believes very strongly in justice and fairness and I try to love my life in this way as well.

What is not just or fair is that "Unknown" felt that is was OK to take my place of refuge and sanctuary and turn it in to a platform for their hurt feelings and grievances toward me and Adam. This is MY place, MY feelings, MY journey for BOE. I will not allow people who do not have the strength to address me personally to taint my place for Boe.

So, Unknown, whoever you may be. If you have an issue with me or my husband, clearly you know how to get in contact with us since you claim to have tried on numerous occasions in the last 16 months. Please, contact us personally, and we WILL get back to you. My blog about my son is not your place to tell me how pissed off you are at me because you feel that I have failed you during my grief.

And that's all I have to say about that.

I apologize in advance...

When I first found out, at 15 weeks, that I was pregnant with triplets, I got all kinds of advice. One of the things I was told, by more than 1 woman, was to find a good Moms of Multiples Club and join. So I did. I was looking forward to meeting moms who had "been there, done that". I knew they would be a wealth of information and tips on how to make life with triplets a little easier to navigate.

As much as I wanted to go to a few meetings before I delivered the boys, it never happened. The meetings always seemed to be on a night when we had something else going on, or I was too far along to drive myself anywhere anymore, and so on. Then Boe died.

A few members of the club have reached out to me over the last year, but I let my club membership expire. I no longer feel like I have a palce with them. Sure, all 3 of my boys' names are listed in my directory profile, but they would only ever meet 2 of them. Although I intensely dislike assumptions, I just assumed that no one else in that club could possibly understand what I was going through, and I severed all ties before really ever even getting involved.

I mention this solely because I have noticed how very isolating this kind of grief is. I, as Boe's mother, want people to feel that they can ask about him or me, uncomfortable though it may be. Check in on us, I guess. People feel as though they can't or shouldn't ask because it will be sad; almost as if the sadness I feel will be contagious and spread to them like an awful disease. Guess what? IT WILL ALWAYS BE SAD. Yes, hearing Boe's name spoken inevitably brings tears to my eyes, but not hearing it is exponentially more painful.

As I look back over the last 16 months, I see how many people have chosen to distance themselves from Adam and me. That's fine, we have made many wonderful new friends on this journey; friends who "get it" because they, too , have suffered a loss. This doesn't really bother me so much as the people who appear to be "involved" in my (our) life, yet only when the mood strikes them.

I openly and unabashedly admit that I feel (recently, anyway) as though I relate better to those who have lost a child. Maybe it's just where I'm at in my grief, and it will pass. BUT, I can't help but feel so isolated from the rest of the world.

I am with my kids all day, everyday. Yes, my husband is very good about giving me breaks, and we have family who will watch the kids when we want to go out to dinner or a movie, but, by and large, my life is no longer my own to do as I choose. Don't get me wrong, I love my children, but this can be very isolating in and of itself, couple that with grief and the stigma of being a woman who has lost a child, and I may as well be in solitary confinement.

I feel like I am still making pretty much the same efforts I always have to reach out to friends, a few of whom are out of state. Ironically enough, I feel like the out of state friends keep in better touch with me than the some of the in state ones.

I get the sense that I am beginning to ramble, so I'll just make my point. This lonliness SUCKS. Feeling like I have no one except Barney or Elmo to confide in SUCKS. Feeling like I am always the one calling, texting, emailing SUCKS (are your fingers broken??). Yes, we all have day to day stuff that needs to get done in our lives, but I really don't like feeling like I am the one doing all the work to check in and see how your life is going only to have you not even acknowledge my effort for days or respond to me with some random comment that has nothing to do with how you are.

I need to know that I am surrounded by people who get who I was, who I currently am, and who I hope to be as I make my way through this. If you don't have the fortitude to see me or our friendship through that - PEACE OUT. No hard feelings, just goodbye will do.

I don't need anyone to hold my hand, I just need to know I am not the only one who gives a shit. I need to know that in the midst of your crazy life, you sometimes think of me too. I apologize if this was an unorganized post, I have a feeling it really got off track, but the more I wrote, the more I realized how very irritated and pissed off I am right now. That's all, I do hope I have not frightened you off.

Hindsight

They say that hindsight is always 20/20, right? These days, I'm not so sure. I look back over what has happened in the last 2 years and I am not convinced that I see things anymore clearly.

The day that we were told Boe had passed away set off a crazy chain of events in our life. In an instant, our worries multiplied from "will we all be OK?", "how long will we spend in the NICU" and "what will happen when we are ALL home?" to "do you want an autopsy?", "do you want to hold him?", "what kind of funeral arrangements do you want?", all the while still trying to care for our little girl at home and our 2 surviving boys in the NICU.

Recently, I find myself pondering many of the above questions and wondering, if I could go back, would I do anything differently? Now that the dust has settled, a routine is in place and my husband and I finally feel that we are beginning to emerge from "the haze", the answer is YES.

As far as conducting an autopsy goes, I do not believe that I would have one performed if I could go back. The result would be no different, Boe would still be gone. The fact that the results may even have come back as inconclusive offers NO solace whatsoever. Also, the thought of what happens to a human body during autopsy was just too much for me to bear. I shall forever ask "WHY?", so the thought of my Boe with a "y" shaped incision on his chest to POSSIBLY get an answer was just not territory to which I wished to travel.

I remember the nurse asking me, as I was being prepped for my C-section, if I had thought about holding Boe. Of course I had, but after he was born and nestled in his isolette in the NICU. I am so grateful that I made the choice to hold him; feeling his weight, his warmth, his LIFE in my arms ignited in me a desire to make sure that his brothers and sister will ALWAYS know who he was, what he did for our family, and that life is precious, not to be squandered. In hindsight, I do have a few regrets about the time we spent with Boe.

I regret not holding him LONGER. I hold Adler and Cameron everyday, but the feel of Boe in my arms is lost to me forever. I regret not dressing him in the "coming home" outfit I had for him. It was a little gown with ABC all over it; he and his brothers each had one. Adler and Cameron both wore theirs home. Just because Boe did not come home with us does not mean he is not HOME; he should have been bundled in his cute outfit for his arrival there. I also wish that I had a picture off all 3 boys together. I do not know if this is something that even would have been possible, as Adler and Cameron were in the NICU and had tubes and leads galore attached to their little bodies, but I long for it nonethless.

Boe's service was beautiful. I may have preferred some secular music, but I loved every word that was spoken and shared. Looking back, would I make the same choices again? We opted to have Boe cremated. I can't speak for Adam, but I know for me the thought of having to choose a casket that SMALL was so heartbreaking and so outside my realm of comprehension at that point, cremation seemed like the only option. Boe is currently "sharing" a niche with my Opa (grandfather); my Oma (grandmother) offered the space until we decide what we want to do. It was so kind of her to do this, and took the responsibility of having to decide NOW off of our shoulders, and for that I am grateful; however, I can't help but be sad when we go to visit Boe at the cemetary and there is no sign that he is there. The placard says "Albert W. Muller" and the years of his life. There is no acknowledgement that my little boy is in there resting with his Opa. I find myself resentful as we walk down the corridor to his niche, reading all of the other placards; these people all lived such long lives. My Boe would have 1 date on his stone, April 22, 2010.

In a way, I envy some of the other BLM's I have had the privilege of meeting. They have a place to go to visit their children where the world can see who is there. Their babies are with other babies and children, playing in 1 kickass playground with the best recess monitor I can imagine. Is my little Boe allowed to play with them? Or, do they not recognize or acknowledge that he is one of "them"? More and more I want a place for Boe, a place that tells his story so all who pass by will know what a sweet little angel is watching over them. I know, in time, we'll decide what to do. For now, all I have is hindsight, and as I said, it's not necessarily any more clear.

I think, sometimes, it's worse. I can't go back and change my mind about certain things, what's done is done. I know that none of this matters to Boe, he loves me and his dad and his family no matter what. I just wanted so damn much for him.

Anytime, anyplace

It has been almost 15 months to the day since we lost Boe, and IT just happened. I openly sobbed in public over the absence of my Baby Boe. Not just silent subtle tears that most would not even notice; no, shoulders heaving, voice raised 3 octaves higher than usual crying.

It started off quietly, just crocodile tears rolling silently down my cheeks. I thought I might actually be able to stop it before it got out of hand and no one would be the wiser. WRONG!

I was standing in line at a little shop in Disneyland waiting to buy Mickey ears. Problem is, they were ears for Boe. His sister and brothers all have ears, and I decided Boe needed his own. I knew just what I wanted, Baby Blue ears with his name embroidered on the back.

I picked them off the shelf and found my place in line. As I thought about seeing his name on his ears, the tears started. I was reminded that he would never place them on his head and pull at the elastic, he would never outgrow them and need a new pair, there would never be the picture of my "3 Mouseketeers" in front of Sleeping Beauty's castle. These ears would remain empty, pristine, suspended in time.

I tried my best to put these feeling aside as I stepped up to the counter, and as I said, I almost managed to do it. But then, the cashier asked for the name I wanted on the hat and how it was spelled. My throat closed up, but somehow I managed to choke out B O E and then pay for the ears.

As I stepped away from the counter looking down at my wallet as I tried to jam my change back inside, I had no more fight in me. The tears took over and the sobbing began. As luck would have it, at that moment, my best friend who was with us, walked in to the store and asked me what was wrong. All I could do was hang my head further as I tried to find the words to tell her what was wrong.

I finally managed to explain that Boe deserved to wear his ears, he SHOULD BE THERE to wear the damn ears. She understood immediately and helped me calm down. Of course, people in the store were staring, but I soooooo did not care. I felt like Biff in the movie "Back to the Future"; I seriously considered looking right at those who were staring at me and shouting, "What are you lookin' at, Butthead?"

I fought this urge, wiped my tears, composed myself and walked to the counter to pick up Boe's hat. The cashier must have had a sense of what had transpired because she looked at me very sympathetically, place the ears very gently in a bag and told me she hoped I'd be able to enjoy the rest of my day.

I am sure that this will happen to me again on numerous occasions over the course of time that I have left in this life. Will I be more prepared? Will I be able to take control of my emotions more quickly? Probably not. That's the funny thing about grief, it does not wait for a "more appropriate" time or place. It rears its ugly head when it wants, where it wants, it does not hold back.

It is like the tide lapping at the shore or a beach goer's ankles. Sometimes it is peaceful, there, something simply to be tolerated but not bothersome. Then, in the blink of an eye, it surrounds you, engulfs you, pulls you under and leaves you gasping for air as you struggle to the surface.

No, there is no way to prepare for it, there is no way to escape it; it is only to be endured and hopefully, God willing, bring strength to those who must fight it.

Mended

OK, so here it is. I am pregnant again, like 20 weeks pregnant. Some of you knew that already, but most of you did not. When Adam and I found out, on Libby's 2nd birthday, that I was pregnant again we were shocked. I had just suffered a miscarriage in January, and we had been using protection. After confirming the news, I was immediately flooded with all kinds of emotions and questions.

I was scared. What if I made it almost to the end of my pregnancy, only to lose my little baby again? Could Adam and I handle one more little mouth to feed and bottom to diaper in the midst of the chaos that we call life and grieivng for our Little Boy Lost?

I was confused. What was God trying to tell me? Why had he taken Boe away only to send me this little bean? What was my lesson to learn? Have I not been working diligently to learn it as best I can for the last year now?

I was ambivalent. I actually convinced myself that there would be no heartbeat for the first ultrasound or doctor exam. I figured if I went if "knowing" that, it wouldn't hurt so badly when they confirmed what I already "knew" to be true.

Now, at just past 20 weeks, I am hopeful. Hopeful that this little boy's birth will be a step towards something wonderful, good and full. We shall never be able to put back perfectly the pieces of our hearts that were strewn about when Boe passed, but I do believe that our little Rafe will help us to see that even in the darkest of places there will always be light.It is up to us to find the light and run toward it, embrace it and allow it to soothe what pains us.

Margaret Mitchell's iconic Rhett Butler said it best: "...I was never one to patiently pick up broken fragments and place them together and tell myself that the mended whole was as good as new. What is broken is broken - and I'd rather remember it as it was at its best than mend it and see the broken places as long as I lived."

The pain of losing Boe will always be with me, but I think I need to leave it as it is. If I carry that pain, he'll always be close. I know my arms and my heart are big enough to not only carry that pain, but to also make room for the light and joy. To make way for the sunshine that inevitably follows the rain.