Is It...

too early to start dressing the wee one in Halloween garb?

Me thinks not.

Onesies and skirts...

(good thing that's a onesie or it wouldn't be the only thing playing peek-a-boo, if ya know what I'm sayin....)

Halloween jammies...

compelete with ghost feet

and am I the only parent that thinks it's adorable when their babies cry, and instead of pick them up right away, grab the camera?

And there are plenty more Halloween outfits to still wear. And there may be a witch's hat to subject her to. Good thing we've still got a few more weeks in October...

On an unrelated note....does the babe look ANYTHING like her mama? All I ever hear is how she looks exactly like daddy...there has to be some of me in there somewhere!

And on another unrelated note....the wee one wore jeggings today. Jeggings.

Awful name? Yes.

Adorable on her? Absolutely.

The Unknown

I don't have all the answers.

I don't know when this whole ordeal will be over.

I haven't passed anything yet and therefore still have all my pregnancy symptoms including but not limited to: nauseau, fatigue, hunger, back pain, and oh ya that pregnancy bump.

It's frustrating, really, not knowing "when."

I don't know when we'll have another baby.

I don't have all the answers.

But, I know someone who does.

And I've turned everything over to Him, knowing I'm in good hands.

Until then I rely on a little face around here for my sunshine.

 I don't know why blogger turned this one.

I don't know what it is, but I love watching her play and laugh and crawl in her jammie jams. I just think she looks so cute in them.

She makes going into the unknown a lot more bearable.

Dictionary.com defines a miscarriage as: the expulsion of a fetus before it is viable, esp. between the third and seventh months of pregnancy; spontaneous abortion.

Babycenter.com defines a miscarriage as:  the loss of a pregnancy in the first 20 weeks.

It should say: a loss of a piece of you, a piece of your whole being, of who you are in the first 20 weeks.

To me, miscarriage means: a piece of your world crashing down as you stare at the ultrasound, trying to make sense of what you deep down know you're seeing, and trying to fill in the spaces of what they're not saying.

It means crying on a table while your husband holds your hand and tries to be strong, only to break down himself on the long drive home.

It means your family crying with you and not knowing what to say because really, nothing can be said to take this away.

It means constant tears, whether it be 3 pm or 3 am, because I don't really know what else to do but cry.

It means praying every five minutes and thanking Heavenly Father for the healthy 8 month old squirming in your arms.

It means tears as I shakily try to type this up.

It means really trying hard to summon the faith that you know you have somewhere to get through this.

It means, as My Albert said, another reason to look forward to the next life.


I miss you already, baby. Your dad and I were so excited for you. But I know this is all part of Heavenly Father's plan, and we'll see you again. Until then, I love you.

Many thanks in advance for all the love and support.