I am a mother.

I am a mother.
I am a mother, and when I think of being a mother, I think of both of my children--Miles and Elliott.
And I say this in a factual way, not a sad, guilty, or sentimental way: For Miles, I felt like I was being the best mother I could possibly be--and it wasn't enough. For Elliott, I feel like I am doing my best yet never have that feeling of being the best mother I could possibly be--yet it's enough. And all of that leaves me feeling like there's no sense in the world. And I feel grateful and sad.
I fill my days with Elliott now. Smiling at her smile, laughing at her laugh, singing to her in the kitchen, holding my breath during nap time that she'll keep sleeping longer than 45 minutes this time. And I carry her around the apartment, catching glimpses of my Miles in our photographs. I think of him and smile. I think of him and the lump in my throat grows as I wish he were here as well. And now I see Elliott look at his photograph, too. And I think, how long until she knows, too, what we're missing?

Elliott is (now over) two months old!

Each month, we took Miles' photo with his courage lion. As you can see, we love these photos and a couple of them are around on this blog. It was easy to pick the perfect animal for Miles, but I'm having a harder time figuring out which one to photograph Elliott with.
  

For Elliott, I couldn't decide whether to take her photo with her stuffed bunny (Hops), giraffe (currently nameless), or lamb (Lambie). Clearly impossible, right? Crazy how I made actual difficult decisions for Miles and then here I am spending time making insignificant ones for Elliott...it's a gift to do so actually. Truly. So I took her one month and two month photos with each animal to make up for my ridiculous indecisiveness on this...and to put off the decision until later. After this photo, though, I'm going to have to say that it looks like Hops might be the winner!

Being here and there

A friend took this picture of Elliott and me last week:

I love it. My heart just smiles with this picture as I live in the now, the reality of my life. Yet there is so much more than this photo can show. But this picture does show my happiness of having this little screamer, this little one who does everything to the extreme--eat, play, cry, you name it, she gets after it when it's time. I'm right here with her.

And I also go back to this one of Miles and me:

I love it. My seconds, minutes, hours, days, months were filled with standing by Miles' bedside. There's so much to say. But most of all, I was happy because I was with him.

So I'm here and there.
It's me, I can see. And I can see that it takes both photos for my heart to completely fill up with the happiness it can hold.

A dream that I long for

Sleep now comes in snatches. Two or three hours at a time. Short but oh-so-sweet sleep.

During one late night sleep session during a night when there was way more screaming than sleep happening, I dreamt that I was holding both my babies. I had Miles on one shoulder and Elliott on the other. Elliott was her four-week size. Miles was his four-and-a-half month size--the size that I remember him last. They were both fussing, and I was busy being their mommy. Both of them. I had both of them.

I woke up feeling both of them in my arms. As I cradled Elliott in my arms, I scrambled to remember every detail of holding them both. I smiled to think of Miles, I smiled that he was in my dream. And a lump settled in my throat.

It will never happen on this earth. Elliott and Miles won't be physically together. I'll never hold both of them at the same time. It is just a dream I long for.

Elliott Rhea Mitchell is here!

And she's HOME!

Elliott Rhea arrived in the world on Sunday, July 10 at 3:22 pm. She kept us waiting for six days after her due date, but once she decided it was time she really got moving to make her debut. My mom and I made it to the hospital at 1:55 pm...where Mitch was waiting. He was already at work delivering babies (thus the scrubs in the photos)...and I was very happy to see him there, helping me for that last intense, INTENSE hour and a half. I was 9 cm dilated when they checked me at the hospital (same as for Miles). Everything went according to the birth plan...do anything to help the baby, no drugs, no mirrors, Mitch and my mom on the birth team, Dr. Page delivering the baby, breastfeeding right away. One major thing was a bit different than planned...no need to go into major details here, but I absolutely refused to sit down so we had to be more creative with laboring and delivering positions. To show how humorous he found my sudden all-natural-granola-ness with how I wanted to deliver Elliott, Mitch asked between contractions, "Do you want me to light some incense too, hippie?" He claims that all kinds of jokes are allowed so long as they are made between contractions. A few more contractions and...

I could HEAR her crying!  I could SEE her as they handed her to me.  I could HOLD her.

I just have so much joy in my heart.  Elliott is immediately a joy of my life just as Miles is.

She's here and she's ours.

Every moment is full of so much joy--both filling my heart with our girl and remembering our boy.  I miss Miles more than ever. As before, I think of him constantly. And now I think of Elliott as well. Elliott is in our arms and, quite simply, Miles is here with us too in everything.

Oh, how much our two children share on the days of their births. (Thank you, thank you to Hudson's mama for sharing the idea of having a baby picture of Miles ready at the hospital for Elliott's birth.) "Well, that is definitely Miles' little sister," a friend commented immediately. Yes. Yes, it is. Their tiny little chins, the shape of their faces, the color of their hair and eyes, the little noses--a connection right there plain as day. And she is totally herself. They have unique facial expressions, that's for sure. Elliott's mad face is quite different, I can see already. But their calm faces, the ones on their precious, perfect sleeping faces are strikingly similar. It takes my breath away.

Much, much more to say, but this was at least a start to say, "Welcome to the world, Elliott!"

Always in the backseat

Before Miles was born, I went to the fire station for them to safely install the car seat. It was there for a month, empty and awaiting his arrival.  And then it was there for months, empty and waiting to take him home for the first time.

Miles never rode in his car seat. It's a sad thing but amid all of the truly sad things of losing Miles, it's just a drop in the bucket.

And now it's there again.  To have it ready for his little sister.
It doesn't make me sad to see it. At least, I should say, it doesn't make me any sadder than I already am.
But it does symbolize how we are waiting and ready and hopeful. So hopeful.
So really, in a way, it gives me some peace that we had it for Miles and now we have it for our baby girl.

~

A few weeks after we lost Miles, Mitch and I went on a weekend road trip, to get away, to be with Mitch's parents. On the drive, it was just the two of us, wishing it was just the three of us.

Our car's AC was out, so we took the truck only to discover that the truck's AC was out. So our windows were down, and it was loud on the highway, making it so only the important things were said.

"I wish Miles was in the backseat," I said.

Mitch said, "Me, too. But don't you think he'll kind of always be there--in the backseat with us?"

~

And so here we are. Farther down the road. With Miles always with us. Waiting any day for our sweet little Elliott Rhea.

Holding my babies

I am 38 weeks and 2 days pregnant. So I'm busy waiting for our girl to arrive. I've got our bags packed, complete with the usual suspects but with different essentials than we had when Miles was born. Now we have a framed photo of Miles so we can see how our little ones compare on the days of their birth. I've got a baptism dress ready for her because we are hoping for the pediatric chaplain (who supported us during Miles' life and held Miles' memorial service for us in New Hampshire) to baptize her in the hospital...untraditional, sure, but it's where Miles lived and we want for her to have a special connection to that place, too. And we have a tiny little hospital shirt with her name embroidered just like the shirt that Miles wore with his name. And then, most importantly, I remind myself, we have us--Mitch and me--the two people who loved and adored Miles carrying on to love and adore our baby girl.

And here's the thing. I haven't held a baby since I held Miles. It has been intentional. I wanted for my memory of holding Miles to not be cloudy, to not possibly be confused with holding another baby. I did that for me--a gift of sorts and, in another way, as a way to be careful with myself, to give myself a break, to keep me from completely breaking, to hold out until it could be one of my babies in my arms. And now I am getting so close again. But I have held two infants. When our friends' daughter Grace was one and a half years old, she held her arms up for me to pick her up to get in the stroller; it was precious, and of course I grabbed her. My niece Claire, born just three weeks after Miles, needed to be in a family photo of all the girls when she was almost a year old; for the first time, I held her for just a few moments, proving to myself that I could do it, amazed at how heavy she was. And then, several months later, she was crying, and I held her, trying to comfort her, dancing her around, playing in the mirror, looking at the crazy bird in its cage, walking outside, changing her diaper. She is precious to me in the kind of way that tears my heart out. Will I ever look at her and not think of Miles? Will I ever see her and not think, "Miles should be here, too. That's what Miles should be doing..."? Probably not. And that's painful, but it's also real. Yes, I'll be crying (sometimes on the outside and always on the inside), but that's real. It takes Miles away from me yet brings him to me.

So that's it. I've held infants three times but no babies since Miles. And now, finally, finally, I'll get to hold our girl. I'm so excited I can barely stand it. And it brings the painful lump to my throat as the tears form. The moment she is born will mark her place in the world. It will bring such happiness. We will suddenly have two children. And one of them still won't be here. As I hold her and smile and laugh, I will think of holding Miles on the day he was born, I know. Both babies will have my heart, and I wonder how much of a mess I will be.

Sharing

Miles will be "sharing" his room with his baby sister.

I hate that I have to put quotation marks on it.
Miles never made it to this room. But it was his. It was ready for him.
And we didn't change anything about it after he died. It was still his. I sit in there and cry sometimes, but it isn't the room that makes me cry; I could cry anywhere.

Miles is still in our hearts, and it is still his space. We still have plenty of space for him.
And now, we've just added some pink. Just like any big brother, he's passing down his hand-me-downs. It's not in the way I would have wanted or would have dreamed of, but I'm doing the best I can now as I love both of these little ones so much.

And I added this to the shelf...

We've got a picture of Miles and a picture of our baby girl.
Because just like in our hearts, Miles and the baby girl on the way share this room.