I'll be back soon, with newborn and Halloween photos. Until then, here's a few pics of Cami.
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Virginia Skye
Thursday, October 31, 2013
In Honor of Halloween...
...I think I'll go as a zombie. That's how I feel after averaging about 3 hours of sleep a night (usually broken into a couple smaller chunks). I'm slacking on the blog because we're in the midst of a growth spurt, potential reflux, and as a result, some nighttime sleeplessness. I promise I'm not giving up on the blog, just taking a little break. I'm making time for more important things right now. Like trying to brush my teeth at least once a day (gross, I know). And shoving food in my mouth when my stomach finally growls loud enough that I couldn't possibly wait any longer. And going to the bathroom (believe it or not, I sometimes "forget").
I'll be back soon, with newborn and Halloween photos. Until then, here's a few pics of Cami.
I'll be back soon, with newborn and Halloween photos. Until then, here's a few pics of Cami.
Saturday, October 19, 2013
Pat's Birthday
Today is Patrick's 31st birthday. Last year on his 30th birthday, we were still reeling from having lost Virginia only 2 months prior. I had wanted to plan a huge surprise 30th birthday bash for him, but instead, we celebrated by having a quiet dinner with close friends and getting our memorial tattoos to honor our sweet Virginia. Not at all the way we expected to be spending this milestone birthday.
This year, as I puttered around the house after drinking my 5am cup of coffee, I stumbled upon them fast asleep on the couch. Last year at this time, neither of us could imagine that we'd ever get to this point, where we would be lucky enough to bring a baby home. It wasn't even on our radar. What a difference a year makes.
This year, as I puttered around the house after drinking my 5am cup of coffee, I stumbled upon them fast asleep on the couch. Last year at this time, neither of us could imagine that we'd ever get to this point, where we would be lucky enough to bring a baby home. It wasn't even on our radar. What a difference a year makes.
Tuesday, October 15, 2013
October 15th: Wave of Light
Tonight at 7:00pm, in honor of National Pregnancy and Infant Loss Day, we lit a candle in honor of Virginia and all the other babies that were lost too soon.
What a year it's been since last October 15th. We've come so far in our healing. When we look into Cambria's eyes, I can't help but feel that all our loss, our heartache, our struggles have brought us exactly where we need to be. Watching our sweet little one sleep and smile and breathe and move (and even cry), it's hard to think about anything except that this precious little soul was meant for us. So while today is very much about honoring Virginia, there's also an element of celebration that our family wouldn't be where it is if not for Virginia's presence, and absence. And where we are is a pretty great place.
Sunday, October 13, 2013
Our Rainbow Baby Has Arrived, Safe & Sound!
Sorry for the delay in posting. I hope I didn't leave anyone worried. But it's been a whirlwind of a week, and I'm just now getting a chance to sit down and write out a post.
It was quite a weekend leading up to the scheduled c-section. By the time Monday arrived, I couldn't believe we would actually be meeting our baby. That day itself feels like a distant foggy memory. I do know I spent a few hours in Labor & Delivery waiting for the OR to become available. I started having pretty painful contractions that morning, and was in the very early stages of labor. I'd like to think Baby Dos wanted to pick her own birthday (even though she likely would've been born on the same day anyway--she wanted to do it on HER terms). Anyway, before I knew it, it was time to head into the OR.
We brought a few mementos of Virginia, so she was very much with us during the moments when her sister took her first breaths in the exact same OR and Recovery Room where we delivered Virginia only 14 months ago.
Cambria Skye Groff was born screaming at 1:24pm on 10/7/13, weighing 8lbs even, 19" long.
We are so in love. Even through the frustration, the sleep deprivation, and the issues we've had with feeding and her losing too much weight, I am still blissfully, unabashedly happy. God has been good to our little family.
It was quite a weekend leading up to the scheduled c-section. By the time Monday arrived, I couldn't believe we would actually be meeting our baby. That day itself feels like a distant foggy memory. I do know I spent a few hours in Labor & Delivery waiting for the OR to become available. I started having pretty painful contractions that morning, and was in the very early stages of labor. I'd like to think Baby Dos wanted to pick her own birthday (even though she likely would've been born on the same day anyway--she wanted to do it on HER terms). Anyway, before I knew it, it was time to head into the OR.
We brought a few mementos of Virginia, so she was very much with us during the moments when her sister took her first breaths in the exact same OR and Recovery Room where we delivered Virginia only 14 months ago.
Cambria Skye Groff was born screaming at 1:24pm on 10/7/13, weighing 8lbs even, 19" long.
We are so in love. Even through the frustration, the sleep deprivation, and the issues we've had with feeding and her losing too much weight, I am still blissfully, unabashedly happy. God has been good to our little family.
Sunday, October 6, 2013
Tomorrow
As I sit here this morning, quietly sipping on my Pumpkin Spice coffee, basking in the silence and chill of an early fall morning, I can't help but feel like today represents the last page in a chapter we've been waiting to close for what feels like eons. I've devoted 18 of the last 24 months of my life to the waiting game that is pregnancy. And the sacrifice has not been mine and mine alone. Pat has been through just as much as I have, but with way less control. He hasn't been able to feel this baby move, or get that constant comfort and reassurance that everything is ok. If anything, this process has been even harder for him because he hasn't been able to develop the bond that I have.
Tomorrow, that all changes.
Tomorrow, that all changes.
Tomorrow, that wait is finally over.
Tomorrow, all the hope and optimism we've tried to desperately to cling to finally comes to fruition.
Tomorrow, Virginia will be smiling down on us, and we will know that if it wasn't for her, we would never be where we are right now.
Tomorrow, we will meet our rainbow.
We are ready.
Tuesday, October 1, 2013
October
As I rolled over in bed to check the clock at 5:00am before getting up to for potty break #3 of the night, I realized that today marks the beginning of October, a month that is doubly meaningful for me this year. Of course you all know by now that Baby Dos, our Rainbow Baby, will be arriving this month (only 6 days from now, in fact). But what you may not know is that October is also National Pregnancy and Infant Loss Month. For those of you who have been reading my blog for awhile, you might remember my posts for Carly Marie's Project Heal: Capture Your Grief 2012. This photo blogging project, Capture Your Grief 2013, starts up again today. I am going to try to participate and post a few pictures, but I won't be as actively involved as I was last year, for obvious reasons.
As we close in on the final days of this pregnancy, I have noticed a major slide back into many of the PTSD-related symptoms I had in the early days after losing Virginia. The insomnia is back with a vengeance. I've been waking up in the middle of the night, unable to go back to sleep, lying awake and starting to ruminate over the past, or worry about what the future may hold for our little family. The hours of 3:00-5:00 are the darkest of the night for me. The day we found out we lost Virginia, I had woken up at 3:00am to pee. Once I climbed back into bed, I realized that I hadn't felt her kick or nudge since at least the day before. I got up and laid on the couch, drank some juice and had a blueberry muffin. Nothing. Then I downed a couple glasses of ice water. Still nothing. I tried to fall asleep again, reassuring myself that everything was fine, and I'd be able to hear her heartbeat at our monitoring appointment that morning. But of course, we all know how that ended. So when I wake up in those early hours of the morning now, I immediately put my hands on my stomach and wait for movement. Baby Dos is really good about sleeping when I sleep, and she typically doesn't get really active for the day until mid-morning. So oftentimes, getting those nudges and rolls at 4:00am is not an easy task. I'll poke and prod at my stomach, even drink water I keep on my nightstand. But I refuse to get up. I refuse to eat, to drink juice or ice water, to lay on the couch. Because all of those things are triggers, and it's set in my mind that if I do those things, she's not going to move, and we're going to have the same devastating outcome. So instead I lie awake in bed, changing positions every couple minutes until I finally feel a slight roll or punch. And then I keep poking at her, just to make sure what I was feeling wasn't just a fluke. Eventually she gets aggravated by being tormented, and will start moving consistently. But even then, the insomnia doesn't just go away, because by that point, I've gotten myself so worked up and anxious that it would be next to impossible to fall back asleep again. I talk to the baby silently in my head and thank her for giving Mommy some reassurance. I beg her to just hang on for a few more days. Please, sweetie, just stay alive until we can get you out.
I hate that the end of pregnancy has to be like this for me. These last few days are getting harder and harder. I just want to to be able to breathe again, to hold a live baby in my arms and know that she's ok. I'm ready to stop living in fear. I'm ready to meet my baby girl.
Six.more.days.
As we close in on the final days of this pregnancy, I have noticed a major slide back into many of the PTSD-related symptoms I had in the early days after losing Virginia. The insomnia is back with a vengeance. I've been waking up in the middle of the night, unable to go back to sleep, lying awake and starting to ruminate over the past, or worry about what the future may hold for our little family. The hours of 3:00-5:00 are the darkest of the night for me. The day we found out we lost Virginia, I had woken up at 3:00am to pee. Once I climbed back into bed, I realized that I hadn't felt her kick or nudge since at least the day before. I got up and laid on the couch, drank some juice and had a blueberry muffin. Nothing. Then I downed a couple glasses of ice water. Still nothing. I tried to fall asleep again, reassuring myself that everything was fine, and I'd be able to hear her heartbeat at our monitoring appointment that morning. But of course, we all know how that ended. So when I wake up in those early hours of the morning now, I immediately put my hands on my stomach and wait for movement. Baby Dos is really good about sleeping when I sleep, and she typically doesn't get really active for the day until mid-morning. So oftentimes, getting those nudges and rolls at 4:00am is not an easy task. I'll poke and prod at my stomach, even drink water I keep on my nightstand. But I refuse to get up. I refuse to eat, to drink juice or ice water, to lay on the couch. Because all of those things are triggers, and it's set in my mind that if I do those things, she's not going to move, and we're going to have the same devastating outcome. So instead I lie awake in bed, changing positions every couple minutes until I finally feel a slight roll or punch. And then I keep poking at her, just to make sure what I was feeling wasn't just a fluke. Eventually she gets aggravated by being tormented, and will start moving consistently. But even then, the insomnia doesn't just go away, because by that point, I've gotten myself so worked up and anxious that it would be next to impossible to fall back asleep again. I talk to the baby silently in my head and thank her for giving Mommy some reassurance. I beg her to just hang on for a few more days. Please, sweetie, just stay alive until we can get you out.
I hate that the end of pregnancy has to be like this for me. These last few days are getting harder and harder. I just want to to be able to breathe again, to hold a live baby in my arms and know that she's ok. I'm ready to stop living in fear. I'm ready to meet my baby girl.
Six.more.days.
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