I recall a sermon I heard preached once down at Little Union.  I don't remember the entire message, but I recall him talking about how we would be given houses and lands, and that we see that fulfilled in the Church kingdom, when we can travel across this entire country and have a place that is like home perhaps with strangers we have never met and spend the night being perfectly at rest.  He spoke about having houses, lands, wealth, and not lacking for any need.

We also read in the New Testament where those in the Church gave "to all men, as every man had need" (Acts 2:45). Gary and I have been humbled to experience this in such a unbelievable way in this experience with Abigail. We have seen so many people give of what they had, to provide a way for us to bury our daughter. We had two funeral homes, Buse here in PA, and Hopewell back home in Florida write off as many of the charges as they could, as Gary has said, they lost money on us.

Gary said it reminded him of when they were building the tabernacle and the people had such a desire to give and serve the Lord in that manner, till they had too much and Moses had to restrain the people from giving. (Exodus 36:5).  When Bro. Chris mentioned allowing people who had a desire to give, I thought a few people might send Little Union money to hold for us, maybe enough to bury Abigail, perhaps enough assist with the gas to get down and back.  I was surprised with the page he set up, and thought he must be dreaming big to set a goal of $7500.  Gary and I cannot relate just how floored we were that not only did people give that much, but they continued to give even after the goal was met until we had over $9000.  Even more of you sent checks to us or our parents or our Church.  It was a gift from the heart of so many, something we can never adequately say thank you for (II Cor. 9:7).  It was astounding to see His love, shown by His people in such a way.

Gary and I asked Bro. Chris for a list of those who gave, since so many gave anonymously.  We had hoped to be able to send some thank you notes, to be sure everyone knew just how grateful we were for their love and prayers and help.  We were even more shocked to discover that many of the names on the list we didn't know but that they gave because they knew our friends, and saw a need.  So many gave not even knowing us personally, but just because they saw a need.  We also were sent so many card with words of encouragement, and gifts that in our grief are even more precious.

Due to the love of so many, we were able to travel to Florida to bury her at home, pay for the burial and her stone, and come home.  Much of the money we have set to the side to wait and see what medical expenses will be.  We've already gotten in our first bill, that insurance won't pay anything on.  But, we also felt that as it had been given to us in our need, we should also share it with others who have a need.  After all it wasn't our money, but something the Lord had shared with us.  We set a small portion aside both in Florida and in Pennsylvania so that any family who has to endure the loss of a child, comes to either of the funeral homes that were so gracious to us, has help.  We hope in the same way that so many of you helped us that we will be able to help another family who has to travel this hard road.  We also have a friend here in PA who lost her son a little more than a year ago, just an hour after his birth.  They have been saving up money for a stone for his grave, and have been such a help to us arranging things with the funeral home here, that we asked them to allow us to help them with the rest of the money that they need.  We want you to know that your giving helped not only us, but will help three other families.

I love this man.

He handles the day to day stuff that sometimes seems so overwhelming, like what in the world are we going to feed all these little people who live with us?  Trust me, sometimes feeding kids is more like managing a small circus.  He is laid back and can not stop making lame jokes when I am too serious.  He is always grounded and steady, when I am frazzled and at my wits end about everything.

However, he will also tell you he is a lousy comforter.  I mean absolutely stinks at it. He never seems to have the right words to say.  And his response to sadness and stress is to get a grin that rivals the Cheshire Cat's and try to stifle laughter.  Not really what you are going for in those situations.

But you know that even though he says that, and even though I have completely agreed with him.  The last month has shown something else in him.  Today it has been a month since Abigail's birth.  In that time he hasn't known what words to say; but he has always known when to reach out to hold me or when to grab my hand and give it a squeeze.  He hasn't found any magical way to relieve some of the weight I feel; but he has never made me feel like it's all in my head or that I should be over this already.  Even though I'm sure he's talked out, after all talking isn't really his cup of tea; he's always been willing to listen to me cry and ramble.  He's sheltered me and been the one who has made the phone calls and answered doctor's questions so I don't have to say the words out loud, "We lost the baby.  I had a stillbirth in August."  But he's also refused to let me sit in the house and mope under the covers, encouraging me to get out and do things.  All these things he does, even though I know he has to hurt too, even if he doesn't show it like me.  Most of all though he's here, and he's not leaving.

He doesn't grieve like I do.  It's not visible like my grief.  In the nearly 8 years I've known him, I've never seen him cry.  But I will never forget him making that first phone call after we found out.  The one to my dad.  I don't know how many time he started and stopped before he got it out, every time half choking half clearing his through.  "We're... Im calling... We're calling to tell you... tell you that we... that Danielle... that Danielle lost the baby."  Then again at the funeral trying to express the comfort we found in the song "Be Still, My Soul."  But even if he doesn't show his grief like I do, even if he doesn't talk about it, he is always here, always with me, always supportive, always loving.

No, he doesn't have the right words, but he is comforting, and I love him for it.

So on Friday, I mentioned that our final shot for figuring out what happened to Abigail was with the results of 4 vials of blood they drew.  Results that we expected to be completely unspectacular, and completely unhelpful.  The only reason that my doctor even did the autoimmune blood tests, was because I was once diagnosed with hypothyroidism.  Hypothyroidism is where you thyroid is underactive, and doesn't perform as it should.  It is mostly monitored by checking your thyroid stimulating hormone (TSH) levels.

The first of the test came back Friday afternoon.  First the TSH results were 1.75, well within normal range (higher than ever for me).  Next were the Thyroid antibodies.  They were high, incredibly high.  The nurse at the office couldn't tell me anything right away, and the doctor wanted to wait for the rest of the blood work before giving her opinion, but today they confirmed what I have read.  She will be referring me over to an endocrinologist if they have one in the system that accepts our insurance.  So, I did what you should never do.  I started searching the internet.  I quickly discovered that you can have thyroid problems even though you TSH levels appear normal, and that high thyroid antibodies can actually increase your risk of miscarriage 290% (follow the link for the article with the study).   Now I had never even heard of thyroid antibodies, but typically above average levels indicate that your immune system is systematically destroying your thyroid.  I also discovered that while the normal range for TSH is .27 to 4.2 that in the first trimester of pregnancy for women who have had hypothyroidism (that would be me) it shouldn't be higher than 2.5, and now looking back through the records at my initial appointment my TSH was at a 3.01.  In yet another study I read that high antibody levels can cause fetal tachycardia or thyroid problems in the baby.  A normal fetal heartbeat is 120 to 160, fetal tachycardia is 170 to 220.  A baby's heart rate is it's highest at 9-10 weeks, and it can get as high as 170 then.  That of course had me looking up Abigail's recorded heart rates.  Due to the new computer system there weren't any except what was saved on the ultrasound that we did at 9 weeks, 5 days.  Her heart rate was 181.  It is possible then that my dysfunctional thyroid caused my child to basically have a heart attack.  My body killed my baby.

On one hand this news is absolutely maddening.  I mean we KNEW I had hypothyroid issues in the past, and the midwife even told me it would need to be monitored.  But we weren't testing everything that needed to be tested and we weren't even measuring it on the right scale.  This could have been prevented.  My aunt and a Church member back in Indiana, suggested I find an actual thyroid specialist and not leave it up to the regular doctors.  I should have pursued that.  I feel STUPID for thinking oh it's back to "normal," no problem here.  I should have done more personal study, it's my health, my responsibility not just whatever-doctor-in-whatever-state-we-happen-to-be-in-at-the-moment's responsibility.  I mean do health problems ever just miraculously disappear?  On the other hand while this knowledge is now worthless for Abigail, it's good to know for the next pregnancy. Because next time, levothyroxine can be given which brings the rate of miscarriage back down to the same level as those without thyroid problems.  Also I need to have higher levels of iodine than usual in pregnancy, which might explain the salt cravings I was having.

As for me, that means I need to have more follow up work done with an endocrinologist, because high thyroid antibodies increases my risk of having masked hypothyroidism, most likely Hashimoto's Disease, or a slight possibility of thyroid cancer.  To be quite honest though, I could care less right now about what this means for me, because all it means to me is that my baby unnecessarily died.

The bracelet I made for Abigail.   I have it and my necklace on now, and feel much better.

The falls are truly difficult to picture.  I always knew they were big, but just how vast is difficult to explain.  They told us how many of hundreds of thousands of gallons of water pour over the edge of each set of the falls each second, telling the kids to picture that many milk jugs.  It was truly too much to fathom and that is each second.  The mist that is kicked up is enormous as well.  And while it may seem like alot in the pictures when the sunlight catches it right, it doesn't even compare to being in it, on the boat.  On the Maid of the Mist, at the Horseshoe Falls, it felt like we were being pelted in a rainstorm, you seriously could barely force yourself to hold your eyes open to try to look at them up close.








With all that said, we know if we ever do it again, what we would change for next time.  Tips for Niagara Falls:

1. Unless it's just really cold, wear shorts.  Even better wear swim trunks.  I'm completely serious next time I'm going to the boys department to find some swim trunks.  You are going to get wet, alot.  Now my bluejeans completely dried out twice (it got up to 89 there on Wednesday) but still, it would have been more comfortable in shorts.
2. Tennis shoes are overrated.  Yes you do some climbing, but unlike a regular waterfall where you are actually hiking and climbing, this is a tourist destination.  There are concrete steps or wooden platforms to everything.  But you are going to get wet, alot so wear some good sandals instead, but some you don't mind getting wet.
3. That brings me to my next point, if you still think you want to hang on to your tennis shoes for support.  Go to the Cave of the Winds first.  As part of that tour, you get a free pair of sandals that are required for that area.  The reason why is that you are going to have water flowing over your feet alot.
4. Then go on the Maid of the Mist (or the Hornblower if you are going to the Canadian side).  We did it the other way around and our shoes and socks were soaked all day long.  Plus if you decide to hike the lower gorge (which is completely free) you will get really wet too, it ends right up under the mist on the opposite side of the waterfall from the Cave of the Winds.
5. Have I mentioned you will get really wet, alot.  You might want to invest in a waterproof camera, or a waterproof case, or even one of those new phones with the waterproof coating where you can drop the whole thing in a glass of water and leave it there and still have no problems.  You are going to want to take alot of pictures, don't let a little mist stop you.
6. We picked a great age to go.  Five and under are free to everything - Maid of the Mist, the Cave of the Winds, the Niagara Movie, the Children's Aquarium.  That cut the cost in half for us.  We really recommend the Discovery Pass.  And you can look around and find discounts for it.  Pay for one thing and then you don't need to pay for anything else the rest of the day.
7. So the age of our kids made it a great time to go.  However, if you are thinking about bringing a stroller, just forget it.  Too much climbing and steps, it's not going to be useful.  That said, even though I've not used the carrier for Rebecca in nearly a year, it would have been great to have, because toward the end of the day she fell asleep and I ended up carrying her for a good mile or so. I could have strapped that baby on my back.
8. We picked a good time of year too, warm but not melting.  Kids back in school so it wasn't so crowded.  So spring or fall would be my suggestion. I would have loved to have waited another couple of weeks when the leaves would have been in full swing, maybe another time.
9. Being there during the week was great again less crowds, cheap hotel price.  BUT there is a great restaurant (we've been told) on the American side that overlooks the Canadian falls, but they are only open on the weekends.  There are a few other things that are weekend only attractions so you might look at that before you plan a trip.
10. Get a passport.  We didn't, but wish we had.  Supposedly the view is better from the Canadian side, and they have alot of cool attractions over there, like their massive observation tower (and restaurant).  You can apparently get a fast track passport card instead of a full blown passport, by going through an office there in Buffalo, NY if you don't go ahead of time.  And it's cheaper than an actual passport.  When we found that out it was already 3 pm, so we didn't follow up on it though.  Maybe next time.

Ashley sells Origami Owl Jewelry, and she made me a beautiful piece to remember Abigail.  With a little girl, a pair of angel wings, a ribbon for pregnancy loss awareness, an A for her name, her birthstone, and a rose gold cross.  Ashley didn't know but rose gold is something I've come to associate with Abigail.

Yesterday, I had my follow up with the doctor's office.  Now, I thought I had been keeping it together pretty well, since getting home.  I'm not crying every 15 seconds, I'm not even falling apart every day anymore.  I'm immeasurably sad, and if I am awake she is on my mind.  And despite being rather distracted, slow to focus, even slower to get things accomplished, I'm functioning.  Yesterday proved otherwise.

First I had to check-in, and apparently in the new system, they ask not for your name first but for your due date.  So I choked out that we had a stillbirth 3 weeks ago, and that I was here for my follow up.  For the next 20 minutes or so we sat in the waiting room.  Now seeing pregnant women or newborns hasn't bothered me so far.  After all I shouldn't have a newborn yet, and I hope no other pregnant woman goes through what I have.  I am a bit wistful when I see someone about half way along or so, where I should be.  I've even been able to listen to the pregnancy chit chat.  But, yesterday being in a room, where everyone had a baby but me, left me feeling like I had been gutted.  Like I am empty and defective somehow.  I sat in there with tears just streaming.  We finally went back, and the nurse had to ask a ton of questions, once again because of the new record keeping system.  When she laid out things for a physical exam, I just blurted out that I didn't want one, I needed some answers.  She went to get the doctor, and I just sat there crying hanging on to Gary's hand for dear life.

Even though they told me that half the time, there are no answers as to why a child dies in utero, I expected to get some answers.  I suppose on some level I was already telling myself that it was most likely a chromosomal issue (like the majority of first trimester losses are), that Abigail lived longer than most, that she couldn't have survived outside of me.  I could live with that, even if it hurt.  Instead I got to hear a list of what it wasn't.  There were no genetic anomalies.  There were no chromosomal defects.  There were no obvious cord problems.  The placenta had begun to break down after Abigail being gone for at least 2 weeks, but it was a good size and shape.  There were no signs of infection or anything else in my blood work.  Since I have had three textbook, boring pregnancies they could rule out any issues with my "hardware" (which accounts for most of second trimester losses).  Basically she was a perfectly healthy baby, who died for no apparent reason.  I just wanted to scream "THEN WHY did my baby die!" instead I just sat and cried and cried some more.

They could tell me nothing.

Oh she could speculate a bit.  She suggested that perhaps it was that the cord was pinched in some way, a freak accident that left no trace.  Maybe it was an infection that I contracted through something I ate or through my gums, something that didn't even give me the slightest cold, but crossed the placenta to her.  Neither of these help, they just make me feel more paranoid.  I wanted something I could fix, something I could prevent from happening next time. Not random guesses.

I asked about my hormone levels.  They never checked them, so they can't tell me anything about them.  But, they will monitor them next time, from the time we get a positive on an at home pregnancy test.  I asked if it could relate to my thyroid, but she felt it was a long shot since my TSH levels have been normal my entire pregnancy, however for my peace of mind, she ordered an autoimmune work up since sometimes that raises the risk of a miscarriage.  So after we finished the appointment with the physical exam, and after I apologized to the nurse for being so abrupt with her, we headed across the parking lot to the lab for some more specialized blood test.  After which I cried some more.

We will know more hopefully on Monday.

On the back she engraved something very special, a reminder that I find myself in need of hourly.

9-13, Dad went to SoHo this week and picked out some flowers.  He carried them to Mrs. Cindy, who also did our wedding flowers, and asked her to make something for Abigail.

I sat on the bathroom floor one night a little more than a week after Abigail's birth, and silently screamed inside my head so no one would hear me, over and over again, "I want my baby back" knowing it was an absolutely futile cry. We chose II Samuel 12:23 for Abigail's stone.  For those who aren't familiar, David had a child by Bathsheba that was sick, and God told him through the prophet Nathan that the child would die. But, David fasted and prayed begging God to heal the child, but God chose not to intervene. After the child died, David cleaned up and went and worshipped God. And in that verse, David says, "I shall go to him, but he shall not return to me."

The night before our induction with Abigail, I begged God to intervene. I remembered the account of Elisha bringing back the Shunammite woman's child back from the dead. (II Kings 4) I even thought of the man who was restored back to life after touching the dead bones of Elisha years after the fact. (II Kings 13:21) But even as I begged God, James 1:6 and 5:16 came to mind. I knew that I couldn't ask without wavering, I was always aware that it might not be His will to intervene in this matter. But even then I knew that if He would intervene, it wouldn't be based on if I could ask with or without doubt. Before we agreed to start the induction, I asked for them to verify with an ultrasound the lack of a heartbeat, and while they probably felt that they were just humoring me, they obliged, and Gary looked to verify it as well.

They say that anger is one of the stages of grief, but I'm not angry. Perhaps that will come later, but I'm not angry right now. I'm not angry with the doctors, nurses, or ultrasound technicians. Though I will confess I'm a little annoyed that the nurses wouldn't just leave us alone the entire time we were there, of course I've also had that complaint every pregnancy. I like my privacy, and my alone time with Gary and my babies. I'm not angry with myself, though I can't help but wonder if I had gone in the first time I had nagging concerns, if there might have been anything that they could have done to save her.

The truth is the only one who could have changed the outcome was God himself, and He chose not too. But, I'm not angry with Him. The truth is, if Abigail is one of His she's already in Heaven (II Timothy 2:19).  She's better off, it isn't her I hurt for it's me.  I hurt for what might have been, for my desire to hold and rock her at night when the house is quiet, to see what spunky personality she might have contributed to our family dynamic. Oh I wish He might have intervened. I wish our testimony was one of miraculous healing not one of faith even in loss. OH, I want my baby back. But the truth remains that I'm not deserving of the least of His blessings, and if as my Daddy has often said when he prays, if I never receive another blessing or show of favor from the Lord, I still would be compelled to say, just and holy is the Lord. He doesn't owe me a thing, not one, not even an explanation, though I desperately wish to know what happened.  I on the other hand owe Him everything especially all honor and praise regardless of my outward circumstances. I recognize this fact, even in this, and so I cannot be angry even though He is the only one that might have changed the outcome.

I'm not angry, I just have an intense longing, an immense emptiness, an overwhelming sadness. But you know, even though I don't see it and I don't understand it people have seen a strength in us in this in our faith. I feel as though I'm struggling to stay afloat on a rough sea, and I can't really swim. I feel like if I really had a strong faith, that I wouldn't ache like I do, I would be able to rest in the knowledge He's provided, I wouldn't randomly burst into tears with no provocation. Nevertheless, if the lesson of Abigail's life is one of faithfulness in loss, if it is one of God's continued goodness not despite hardship but even within hardship, if it is one that glorifies Him then I can be grateful for that.  In my 30 years I'm not sure that I've even come close to glorifying Him in the way that she did in the short time she was with me.  And no matter how painful it is, I wouldn't have given up the time I had her, to instead have lived life without her and without the loss. After all, while she can't return, I feel in my heart that one day I will see her there.

8-29, Ruth at the Beach

On our way down to Little Union one day, Gary took the back road from Mom and Dad's house to the Church.  Growing up he told Ruth that they referred to it as the Hillway, and that it had some of the only hills in Florida.  We traveled down it, and she said "Weeeee" as she hit all the appropriate hills.

9-3, Britt and Ruth in the bumper cars at Chucky Cheese.

That afternoon we went to the beach over at Anna Maria Island.  On the island, we hit a pothole, and bounced a bit, and she pipes up in the back seat and tells Britt and Rebecca, "That's one of the only mountains in Florida!"

8-29, Ruth being goofy with Grumps.

8-25, Abigail's Memory Box from the hospital

It has been two weeks since Abigail was born.  Two weeks isn't so long, but the day before Monday August 24th was a lifetime ago.  In two weeks my iv bruise has nearly faded away, my milk has come and gone.  Physically I'm pretty much back to my normal pre-pregnancy state, other than I am still nearly 15 pounds heavier, and can only wear maternity pants.  Talk about an insult, to still be wearing maternity clothes, but have no baby.  Who knew that the simple act of getting dressed each morning would be like a daily slap in the face.

Like I said, I am pretty much physically back to normal, but I think there are now some scars that will never completely heal.  Things that you can't see from the surface.  I feel like a complete fake, trying to keep it together, and act the way that you are suppose to in public in front of people, like nothing ever happened.  The loaded question came today, I was asked how many children I had by a perfect stranger at the nail place.  I answered four, but for once didn't elaborate.  After all no one wants you to bring down their day.  No one wants to hear you just had a stillbirth.  No one wants to deal with someone who randomly burst into tears with absolutely no rhyme or reason.  I don't even want to deal with me right now.  The me who has unwavering faith and believes without a doubt the truth that He is real, and He is returning for His people, and we will all have peace in Heaven with Him.  So why doesn't my daily walk reflect that.  Why if I know these things, and feel these things as strongly as I do, why am I like this?

But how can I act normal like people want and expect, like nothing ever happened, as if Abigail never existed?  Because she did and she mattered.  I don't want to forget her, and I don't want everyone else to either.  How can I function without feeling like it's just a show?  How can I grieve without wallowing in it, and throwing one of Bro. David's legendary Pity Parties, complete with poor me punch, and sad sack sandwiches?  How do I find a new normal?  I suspect that it is something that I will be grappling with for some time.

Last week, in Florida, we had a field trip to Menard Park.  Momma spotted a giant gopher turtle and ran to catch it, so that we could examine him.  We looked at his claws, and the spiky places up and down his arms and legs that make him such a good digger.  We looked at his hard shell, he even pulled his head in once and showed us how he protected himself.  We saw that he had no teeth, just a sharp beak like a triceratops.  After we told him bye, and let him go he headed off for the woods, and turtles aren't slow like people say, he was moving fast.  After that we played on the playground a little before we went and explored the sand hills.  A long time ago Mosiac or somebody dug all the phosphate out there, and left behind big sand hills and deep holes.  Now there are big oak trees and ponds everywhere.  We threw rocks in the ponds that were covered solid in algae and watched how it broke up, and changed.  We ran all along the paths and saw some raccoon prints.  But the best part was seeing where all the rain had washed the sand out from under the trees, so we could see and climb around in the exposed roots.  It was so much fun to see the roots, some trees had more roots than branches, some trees looked about the same.  A tree on top is about the same on bottom.  It was great fun with my cousins.

8-29, Anna Maria Island

This morning, we left Florida.  I thought it would be excruciating when the time came to actually leave, knowing our child was buried here.  It's so ironic Gary and I spoke just the Sunday before our lives changed, about how irrational we are as humans about the death of our loved ones.  I remarked that since we know as Job wrote, that our bodies go back to the dust, but at the Resurrection we will see Him with our own eyes (Job 19:27); it shouldn't matter to us if those who leave us are cremated and scattered to the four winds, we know that He will raise them again, and it is no hinderance to Him.  I remember telling him I'm not sure why we stress so much about where we are buried, because we don't know any difference, and in that day we will all be raised together with Him, regardless of where we were buried.

And yet, during this process, I knew I wanted Abigail buried at home at Little Union.  I knew I couldn't bear the thought of her being buried in PA, only for us to possibly be moved across the country, never to return.  Perhaps it was the memories of decoration day as a child, or knowing the care that my grandmother takes in keeping up the graves of our family, but I couldn't bear the thought of it being alone and unkept, a place where flowers are never left.  The entire time part of me kept telling the rest of me how irrational I was being, how it really didn't matter.  And besides this was not her, she was gone.  That part still tells me, that I shouldn't grieve as those who have no hope, because I know better (I Thes. 4:13).

8-29, Me and Gary.  The only picture we've had of just the two of us in a while.

I find that there are moments that I can think objectively and be rational, that I can function.  And then unexplainably, there is the overwhelming realization that my baby the one that at times I could swear I still feel moving, is not safe inside, but gone, and I will never hold her again.  That ache to hold her is nearly unbearable.  And I wonder how I can function long term, with a gaping hole in my life, in our family, a family that is no longer complete, that never will be this side of eternity.

I expected it to be hard to leave today, knowing that she was buried here, and yet as I stood there, looking one last time, at the now dead flowers, I found that it wasn't that hard at all.  The flowers that after a week in the hot Florida sun and pouring afternoon rain, were faded droopy and obviously no longer in the land of the living, just reminded me that my baby isn't really there in the dirt, only the shell I held.  That the woman I imagine that she might have been is with our Lord.  It was good to be there, to see the Church yard, a place where we have so many good memories, where we have been encouraged and uplifted in song so many times, where we have heard so many scriptural messages that teach us about our hope.  It was good to be reminded of that, and to listen to Gary say prayer, and even though it still hurts it was ok to leave today.

8-29, A few very tiny shells we found.

9-1, Rebecca pushing Ruth at Menard Park.

We have been back in Florida for a week now.  It's our first trip down in just over a year, and while we've seen some of the family when they have visited us, others we haven't seen. It's been fun to watch Rebecca with everyone.  She has really taken to her Aunt Joan and Aunt Heather.  She has slept with Aunt Joan every night since we got here.  Aunt Heather has been taken into the play tent, and to play games at Chucky Cheese, she's been her buddy.  Memaw on the other hand, she held out with for the longest time, and finally one day when me and Gary were in town, Memaw got on her good side by bribing her with ginger cookies.

9-2, Rebecca with Aunt Heather at Chucky Cheese.

9-2, Rebecca and Julia playing.

8-12, After the initial refusing to be peeled off the instructor, and still refusing to dunk her head in the water, she decided that it was fun.

This summer I got to go to the YMCA for swim lessons for some school.  I liked it lots and little.  I learned to back float, and I used a floatation belt.  I swimed with ice cream cup hands, and big kicked.  I wore my pink swimming suit.  When I was swimming I used tools, a noodle or a kick board.  I liked the kickboard best, but I also liked the toy turtle thing.  When it was play time I used it to swim all the way to the end of the deep side and then all the way back to the end of the play side.  I think I want to do swim lessons again.

8-12, According to his teacher, he is almost swimming on his own, he just needs to better coordinate himself.  The last day when we got to watch, he worked on boating safety, and how to use a life vest.  He really enjoyed it all.

Britt of all of our children most understands what has happened.  He was very much looking forward to another baby, and frequently requests 10 brothers, and 10 more sisters.  He is always informed that we won't be having that many more children.  Since he is busy enjoying cousins.  I thought I would share a very special conversation we had last night as he was about to go to bed.

Britt:  Is your chest sore, Momma?
Momma: Yes.
Britt:  Why?
Momma:  Well, what do babies drink after they are born?
Britt: Milk.
Momma:  Well, what do you think happens if they don't drink the milk?
Britt: I guess it gets full.
Momma:  That's why I'm sore.
Britt: Because we don't have our baby, because Abigail died.
Momma: Yes.
(a quiet moment)
Britt:  Momma, I wish our baby hadn't died.  I wanted to teach her stuff like all about how to be good and about superheros.  I think Ruth would have taught her all about dress up stuff, and Rebecca would have wanted to play with her.  But now we can't do any of those things.
Momma:  No we can't.
Britt:  But you still have me and Ruth and Rebecca.
Momma:  Yes I do, Britty boy.
Britt:  We didn't lose everything.
Momma: No we didn't.
Britt:  I love you, Momma.  It's going to be ok.
Momma: I love you too, sweet boy.

Then there were lots of hugs and kisses before he hopped up and headed off to bed with Lilli in his tent fort under the dining room table.