titles are just words sometimes there are none

Tonight I talked to a friend, she wears many hats and somehow she is intertwined in many aspects of our life in just a few short months. Funny when you meet people during a traumatic event. I have waited for some time to actually blog about what has been going on since my move. Certain aspects you want to keep private while others at a certain point don't matter anymore.

November 30th my husband and I went in to find out the sex of our baby to be told there no longer was a heart beat. It was the single most shocking event of my life. I thought before I had been through emotional trauma but nothing like this.

We were to find out the sex of the baby. Seriously we had talked only of a girls name really, Shelby. November 4th was our anniversary and for a gift I bought the early gender test. It said we were having a girl. Shelby Rae. Ray is Philip's dad's name. He is a honorable man worthy of much more than a name but all the same he doesn't ask for much.
I was told by the Dr after three different tests there was no heart beat and that delivery was needed that day. We went home cried and screamed into my pillow. Now looking back there is wisdom, don't scream bloody murder into your pillow. For the rest of the evening overpowering most of my labor pains was a horrendous migraine.
My Mom and GG drove up from Kansas City and cousin (who is also a nurse), for the delivery. It was interesting for the three of us women to be together. I never had anyone with me overseas but P. They were amazing support. GG took the boys after P picked them up from school. Telling our children was one of the hardest things he has had to ever do he said. I can only imagine.
Sometime in the evening we delivered a baby boy, Logan Ray. I had liked Logan but until then it wasn't official. Bergen Hospital is a Catholic hospital much different from the military one at Yokota AFB. The Chaplain came in to pray with us and we realized we really wanted more than a figure of faith in our lives. A Pastor who would know what our faces read more than our words. Sometimes the basic prayers are the best. Silence and warmth of a hand much more powerful. The hospital staff was nice, the social worker got me quite upset when there was mention of a mass grave for babies born before 20 weeks. I didn't know before 20 weeks a baby wasn't considered alive because it cant sustain life outside of the womb. Never before had I had to choose my voice in this but to me that little hand I held when I kissed his cheek was real enough to love. The lips and toes in my heart held life. Why do I mention this? Well emotionally draining as it is to read, there is closure. Life is happening in so many layers.
Later I realized my mom was waiting for me to ask her to stay, I wished I had. No matter that I am twice the size of her, when she wrapped her arms around me I fit. Her heart beat was soothing to hear, and made my tears stop. All the words that had gotten in the way over the years were thrown to the side. This time, in silence I had healing in so many ways. It is ok to be still, and listen and feel empty.
Part of my closure is to know what happens as much as we may want to drag our feet kicking and screaming to do, may be it was really just what we wanted most after it is over. Yes I was so confused that we were having another baby and the timing it was hard to not to panic.
P and I have a strong faith in God. To us he is omniscient or all knowing, there is still this need to be in control.
The day before I delivered was a Sunday, we went to visit Victory Baptist Church. We were attending a few in the area. Pastor Moore and his family were in a small storefront church. Sometimes life doesn't make sense, neither does how you can attend a church thinking it is too small, well nothing is to small for God. ty. It is better to allow others to help, when you don't know what to need for. His sermon touched my heart and filled my soul. Sermons are sometimes intimate and personal a kind you cannot ignore or discard after you leave the building.
The Moore family would be at our sides for the next 6 weeks encouraging us along. He was the first Pastor to visit our home Dec 3. We had not called him during our time in the hospital. He did get a welcome in the door, and hope was left as he went home.

We decided to cremate Logan's ashes. When P made arrangements the woman was very moved and offered sincere condolences. P isn't a huger and was quite surprised when he received a hug when picking up the ashes. It wasn't that he was offended more that he needed someone to care besides family. A stranger had mourned for our child she shared. The small amount was placed carefully among some wispy flowers in a tin with a note of certification. In my heart there was some small sort of closure. My prayers were for not begging for myself but all those mothers who don't get to say goodbye. My small boys asked so many questions. The most significant to me was G asked WHY US? my answer simply was because we were suppose to. There is always someone else. Of all the hospitals in Omaha filled with children, I didn't have to say goodbye after months of pain. Our time with Logan was cuddles on my belly, and C yelling Good MORNING baby or GOOD NIGHT BABY into my belly. E was most vocal it coming out as to why he would never get to teach him to play football, sometimes its not what you had but hoped for.

whoa NELLIE

ok hold on STOP
First of all I have spent enitrely too much time with myself inside my own head/
I learned a few things la

ok quick list since i shouldn't be wasting time pshyco analyzing myself.

my own language to myself is filled with crazy mix of languages and other wise strung together with curse words.

Jesus argues with me a lot in regards to how things should be done or addressed. I should listen more.. Ok the holy spirit. inner conconscience whatever you may believe ...

Philip brings me to insanity when i think about him.mmmmmmmmm

I have so many places I have been I should have been journaling becaus e those times were much better than now.