Had this poem placed in my box today: 

My mom is a survivor,
or so I've heard it said.
But I can hear her crying,
when all the others are in bed.
I watch her lay awake at night and go to hold her hand.
She doesn't know I'm with her to help her understand.
But like the sands upon a beach that never wash away,
I watch over my surviving mom who thinks of me each day.
She wears a smile for others, a smile of disguise.
But through Heaven's open door,
I see tears flowing from her eyes.
My mom tries to cope with my death, to keep my memory alive.
But anyone that knows her, knows it's her way to survive.
As I watch over my surviving mom through Heaven's open door,
I try to tell her that angels protect me now and forevermore.
I know that doesn't help her, or ease the burden she bears.
So if you get a chance, call to her and show her that you care.
For no matter what emotion she may feel,
My surviving mom has a broken heart that time won't ever heal.

I could have written this myself. It tears me down and brings me to such deep sobs, so true. This has been a hard week. Our babysitter and the boys' teacher, Jennifer, sent me pictures of Sawyer the other day. Not great pictures, but pictures that show him helping to clean up the daycare. That's what he was - a helper. He always picked up toys, took out the trash, fed the animals. Always a pistol, but such a blessing as well. She then sent me a video where he shushes everyone and then listens for the door to the daycare and says, "Mommy!" I miss that sound so much it hurts. I just want my baby back. I know it's not right, or even possible, but sometimes I wish we would've just kept him in the hospital so I could just hold him and kiss him. Near the end they transferred him to a bed so I could like down with him. I want to be there again - lying in that bed, rubbing one hand through his hair and the other over his pudgy little hands, singing to him...I want it back.
"Hush little baby, don't say a word,
Mama's gonna buy you a mockingbird,
And if that mockingbird don't sing,
Mama's gonna buy you a diamond ring,
And if that diamond ring turns brass,
Mama's gonna buy you a looking glass,
And if that looking glass gets broke,
Mama's gonna buy you a billy goat,
And if that billy goat runs away,
Mama's gonna love you anyway."
My mom sang it to me when I was young and I sang it to the boys all the time. I can't sing it to Logan anymore without crying.

When we first found out that we were expecting, Logan was at the doctor's with us. We didn't think he was paying much attention, but when we left, he asked if the baby the doctor was talking about was in my belly. A little later that afternoon he asked, "Mommy, is the baby gonna die too?" Broke my heart all over again. A few weeks ago we were leaving Chili's and after I put Logan in the car, I went to shut his door, and he said, "No!" He was watching two little kids play on the grass. I asked him what was wrong. He said, "Nothing. I just like watching brothers and sisters play together. They're lucky to have a brother and sister." He is so thoughtful, sentimental, sweet, and also broken-hearted. He's handling everything so much better than Matt and I, but we still know that he hurts inside too. He misses his bossy baby brother as much as we do.

Sawyer, you are so loved. You are so missed. I want you back. Please, come hold my hand at night. Wipe mommy's tears away and kiss me on the cheek. Let me know that you're here watching over your surviving mommy. I haven't had a dream of you in such a long time. I need to pick you up, see your beautiful eyes, have you hug my neck, and let you know I love you. Face to face. Come visit me. I miss you baby.

We've been holding off on announcing it, not quite ready to celebrate anything, especially another baby, but we are pregnant. We're expecting another baby boy on March 19.

There's so many mixed feelings going on between us. I was completely against having another baby. Our hands were full with our two boys, and honestly, I'm not the happiest pregnant person ever. Yet all that changed in the blink of an eye. Matt said to me on the night we said our final goodbyes to Sawyer that he wasn't ready to not hear "Daddy" anymore; not ready to not have a little guy toddling around his feet; not ready to be done with all things baby. And with those words we decided to start trying again. Little did we know, we were somehow already pregnant. The world works in mysterious ways, and this one is definitely a mystery to us. We're happy though. It's taken me up until yesterday to actually be excited at the thought of a baby though. I couldn't shake the thought of just not being deserving of another try. We failed Sawyer, why should we be given the chance to put another life in our hands? We are so scared. Babies are so fragile, and we're just so frightened to mess up again. And while we're still scared of that thought, I do need a baby. Logan needs a brother, seven year difference or not. People would ask if we wanted a girl or a boy and Matt would immediately reply, "Boy." I didn't have a preference at all - probably because I still wasn't really ready for another chance. However, yesterday we had our first trimester ultrasound where the sex was visible. I didn't know how badly I wanted a boy until she said that's what we're having. Matt is thrilled and so am I. For Matt, Sawyer was his athlete. He was rough and tough and eager to please. He loved baseball, he loved basketball. He loved sports. Matt wants that back. For me, I don't really know what it is. I keep hoping and hoping that this new little life will have a piece of Sawyer. I think that must be why it was important to me to have a boy. I know he won't be Sawyer, but if he could just have those big blue eyes, or that straight white hair, or those big mommy teeth, then I would have my piece of Sawyer. I just need a piece of him that I can hold onto. A piece that I can see, feel, hold. I miss him so much. He seems so far away. He really is just memories and stories now, and it's just not right. Nothing feels right about it.

Logan is helping me to get excited about this new baby though. He sits next to me with his hand on my belly (which is already ridiculously large by the way), and constantly gives us name suggestions. So far his number one choice is "cutie." We may be overruling that. Either way, here we are, starting again from the beginning it seems. Strollers, carseats, bottles, diapers - everything we thought we were done with. Bittersweet. I finally understand the truth behind that word.