Hi Baby. I hope you enjoyed our little visit with you today. Your baby brother is tiny, isn't he? So far the only thing you two have in common is your constant need for more milk. I think your appetite still has his beat, but I'm sure it's only a matter of time before he catches up to you. Logan is asking so many questions about you as a baby, trying to remember you that small. We took out your baby book and together we read about your birth and how you peed on everything, including your Peepa. The other day Logan said, "I've gone on three field trips so far. That reminds me of Sawyer." When I asked him why, he said, "Because Sawyer should be three now. Every time I hear the number three I think of Sawyer." Your brother loves you so much. I know you guys fought nonstop, unless you were in the pool together, but he really wishes he would have been there to protect you. We all do Baby.

Now that I'm at home alone with Everett while Logan is at school and Daddy at work, I've discovered that I really need to find a hobby. I thought about you all day today, and of course, that just leads me to rereading the blogs. There's so many memories of you that I've previously written about that I'm already starting to forget. I can't stand that. How can I forget the things you've done and said? I'm so sorry Baby. I also went through the cabinet where we keep all of the remnants from the funeral. In there I found your precious handprints and footprints that the hospital sent to us. The other night, we were at Grandpa's house talking about cats and dogs and how crazy hospital bills can be. The conversation then turned to people's experiences in putting their animals down. They mentioned that the vet sent out paw prints of the animals afterwards. They also mentioned that they were given the choice to watch the final breaths. That's about the time that Daddy and I left the conversation. Of course nobody would expect our minds to turn to you when talking about such things, but there were just too many similarities. So in a cabinet your prints sit because I wouldn't be able to look at them everyday, knowing that they were taken after you final breaths were, which I also wouldn't have been able to handle watching. We were in the room for the "brain death tests," but I couldn't watch. I couldn't watch them take you off of the ventilator and expect to see your little chest rise and fall only to be crushed that it didn't. I couldn't watch them check your lifeless eyes for any responses to the several tests they ran. I could only listen, and even that was almost too much to bear. We had already spent what seemed like eternity riding a roller coaster of hopes and tragic disappointments. Also in the cabinet, I found the DVD that the church sent us of the ceremony. We have never watched it, so in my moments of bawling grief, I decided to take it one step further and put that in. Your baby brother was sleeping through all of this by the way - I won't burden him with pain or sorrow ever. As I watched the DVD I realized that so much happened that I don't remember at all. So many of the speeches, the pastor's words, the faces in the crowd, all seemed new and unfamiliar to me. I thought I was holding it together so well that day, but apparently I wasn't even there. My breath caught every time the camera panned over your casket. I could just glimpse your gorgeous hair that I miss so much, your beautiful blue shirt that would have made your eyes stand out so much, tucked over you Scooby Doo shirt, and your hands. Oh your hands, your pudgy little carrot fingers that I miss holding and rubbing at night. And I'm so disappointed - the DVD freezes during the slideshow so I can't see anything that happened after that. I really wanted to watch Logan as he put your favorite truck in the casket with you. I wanted to see how he was reacting to everything. I feel like I was focused so much on him throughout that morning. I continue to be amazed with your brother. He is so strong - the only other thing you two had in common.

I've been thinking about you a lot lately, mostly at night as I sit up and watch your brother eat. You pop into my mind and I sit and cry as your brother drinks his way back to sleep. I had a dream last night too. Logan, Everett, and I were in the bath together (I'm not reading into that part at all), when all of a sudden I tripped over Logan and fell, dropping you under the water. I grabbed you and brought you up immediately, but you were still crying so hard. And then I woke up. I wasn't able to go back to sleep after that. I don't think I'll ever get past this blame and guilt. Things are so different around here. Your baby brother has brought some much needed happiness back into this home, but the hole in our hearts for you will never be filled. We love you so much Baby. We're still here, loving you, missing you, wanting you back. Forever and always, to the moon and back, we love you.

Here we are, in love again. Everett Sawyer Pennino was born March 15th at 9:04 am. He was 8 lbs, 1 oz and 21" long. Very similar to the boys. We kept waiting to hear some kind of bad news, but he is perfect. Absolutely perfect. He has a great temperament and is healthy as can be. The birth was very fast and very easy, but a little emotional, as we expected. All was fine until he was placed in my arms. So much emotion came flooding in, and before I knew it, I was in tears, along with Matt and both of our moms. It was instant love for this perfect little man, mixed with excitement that he was finally here, relief that he was healthy, fear for the responsibility of keeping him safe, and remorse that only Logan gets to meet and hold him. I told myself so many times that when the time came I would just be in the moment and enjoy the birth and coming of baby Everett. I wouldn't focus on what has happened or let the fear of bringing another baby into the world overcome me. Easier said than done. It's so hard to look at this little man and not focus on how fragile he is. I can't take my eyes off of him. I will be raising a very spoiled, high maintenance boy - I cannot seem to put him down either. Just when I do, I immediately miss him in my arms. He has already brought so much happiness into our home. Logan absolutely loves him and wants to sit and hold him often. Each time he does he asks questions about Sawyer and how he was as a baby. I tell Logan that Everett is much more like him than Sawyer. Logan was very quiet and calm as a baby (which is no reflection of him now), while Sawyer came out kicking and screaming and never stopped.

The other day Matt and I were inside watching a movie, holding Everett, while Logan played in the back with the sprinklers. All of a sudden I heard his voice yell, but couldn't tell if he was yelling for us or just yelling. I immediately jumped off the couch without saying anything and went to the back door. Then I heard Logan yell "Mommy!" in a scared voice. I ran out back and screamed for him. He was right there on the patio. He was leaning over in one of the patio chairs and it tipped over and landed on him. He wasn't injured at all and could have easily lifted the chair off of himself (he is a bit dramatic at times), but nevertheless, he was lying there on the patio, tears on his face, calling for me. As soon as I realized he was alright and we got him inside and cuddled on my lap, I noticed that I was shaking, trying to hold back tears. I was scared, my heart pounding. The thought of Logan out there, crying for me, waiting and not knowing if I was going to hear him, just rushed in. All my thoughts and fears of Sawyer's struggle, wanting Mommy and Mommy not answering happened all over again. Every time that I think things are okay, we're doing fine, something happens that reminds me of how we've changed inside. We're subtly different, but have forever changed. I'm always calm in tense or stressful situations, so the fact that I was literally shaking, trying not to cry over this was just so surprising to me. So now I struggle with the idea that it's impossible to have eyes everywhere. How do I make sure that my boys are always safe? My mind is always filled with horrible thoughts. Everett has a gag reflex because he likes to mimic sucking while he sleeps, so I am constantly scared he is going to choke while I'm asleep or while he's facing backwards in the carseat. Logan went to Disneyland yesterday and I kept thinking about the potentially dangerous drive out there, the crowds of people that he could get lost in. It's exhausting, but I can't help it. You really never think horrible things can happen until they do. Then you just seem to expect them to keep happening. I guess if anything good comes of this it's the fact that we're so paranoid now that we think ahead to the potential danger. Either way though, we've been forced to realize how short life can be and it's just scary.

So as Everett sleeps on my chest and Logan sits next to us watching Scooby Doo, I kiss them, tell them both I love them and promise myself that nothing will happen to them. They will grow up, graduate, get married, and have happy, healthy kids themselves. They will be old and gray (or bald with our family genes), and be able to look back on their long lives with happiness. This is my goal.

Logan's first words upon waking this morning:

Logan: "Mommy, what was the last kiss you gave Sawyer?"
Me: "I wish I could remember Honey. I'm sure I gave him kisses that morning, but I know at least he got night night kisses the night before. I think I kissed him when he asked me to take off his floaties after lunch, because I remember being so proud of him for saying 'Off, peez.' His talking was getting pretty good."
Logan: "My last kiss to him was at the funeral."
Me: "Oh, well then yes, mine too. We all kissed him before we left the church. Then we kissed his casket too before we left the gravesite."
Logan: "Can we visit Sawyer today? And drive by the zebras on the way? And bring him something again? Can I give him some of my geodes to decorate his grave?"
Me: "Of course we can Honey. You've never asked to go visit him before. How come he's on your mind this morning? Did you have a dream?"
Logan: "No, I just woke up thinking about him. I wish he was alive. I miss Sawyer."

Me too baby, me too. I can't believe I haven't written in a month. Sometimes I think about stopping writing, but other times I realize that I have to keep writing. Keep getting thoughts and feelings out. I like that Logan thinks about him, misses him, still loves him. He normally doesn't like going to the gravesite with me because he doesn't like seeing me cry, so after he cleans off Sawyer's grave and sits with me for a bit, he runs around and chases the squirrels. This little routine is perfect because I like to talk to Sawyer alone. I almost always say the same things, but I still like having my one-on-one time with him. Last time we were there I noticed another headstone for the first time. One family lost their first baby in the womb when his umbilical cord got tied around his foot, and then they lost their second baby to SIDS three months after she was born. I don't know how so many parents do this. I especially don't know how they are able to physically, mentally, or emotionally do this more than once. Once takes everything from you. Rips the deep and true happiness from you. You can laugh and have a good time again, but there's always that underlying grief. That guilt that you're smiling after such tragedy. And do I expect to mope around for the rest of my life? Of course not, but happiness won't ever really, truly be the same. It's impossible to ever remove this scar from our hearts, to ever just focus on the good times. Matt and I talk about Sawyer often, and both of us agree that we can't remember the great times with him without reliving that one single week with him. One of the memories with him came to me the other day after Matt sneezed. We were all sitting at the table one night, and Matt sneezed. Sawyer said, "Bess you Daddy." We both feel like that was the point in which he began to really talk, and not do so much gibberish. It was simple, but so cute that it's one of the memories we'll always take with us. I hate that we never got the chance to really see him grow, speak, and turn into the little man he would have been.

Everett Sawyer Pennino is just days away from coming. We are so excited, yet still so scared. What if something, anything, bad happens again? It's hard to ever get that thought out of our heads. I asked Logan if he wanted to be in the room when Everett is born (up by my head not able to really see much of course), but he said no. I was surprised by this because he is such a curious kid. So when I asked him why, he said, "There will be too much blood. It's too scary. Besides, Peepa can take me fishing while Everett's being borned." This kid. Always makes me laugh. I started wondering why he thought there'd be so much blood, and then I remembered that he saw Ella and the room after she delivered her first puppy. He didn't ask to come in and see any more after he saw that. There was a ton of blood, so I think that's what he associates birth with now. Logan asks all the time if Everett could go to Heaven. Of course we say no, that nobody else is going to Heaven. Sawyer has all the friends, powdered donuts, bananas and watermelon he could ever need up there. He will wait patiently for the rest of us to be old and wrinkled. So Logan's response is always, "Like Nana? She's really, really old. Like a hundred!" That always makes me smile and laugh. He always knows how to lighten to mood.

So we'll visit Sawyer today, get a good cry out, and continue to count the days until baby Everett comes along. We'll tell Sawyer about all the good homes we've sent the puppies off too, about Ella's scary sickness (she had a really bad uterine infection - though we'll leave the details out for Sawyer), and about Jake's upset tummy with the new dog food we bought. Sawyer will laugh when we tell him about Jakes' stinky farts and loud burps. He always laughed so hard when he farted, and would wave his hand in front of his nose and say, "Oh, stinky." Of course we'd try to teach some etiquette, but it's always hard to do when you're laughing along with him. We'll tell him that it's supposed to snow here again on Monday, though the rain hasn't been that hard and it really hasn't been that cold either, so we'll see. Logan wants to bring him some snow to make a snowman for his grave if it does snow. What a great and sweet idea. We'll tell him all about the flowers blooming in the backyard. He loved smelling flowers, which is what started his dandelion fascination. The trees are in full bloom, just like when we first moved in here. It's been almost a year since we moved into this house, and almost nine months since we've lived here with just the three of us. Sawyer never even got to spend a summer, fall, or winter here. I love this house, but I always think about what life would be like if we had gotten into a different house. I don't believe that things happen for a reason, so I do believe that Sawyer would still be here with us if we lived somewhere else. I just wish we could turn back time. Every day I have this same wish. Logan often says, "I wish we could snap our fingers and whatever we wanted would be here. I would say, I wish Sawyer was alive, and snap, he'd be right here." Again, me too baby, me too. Finally, we'll tell Sawyer how much we miss him, how much we love him, and how sorry we are. I'll rub his hair and his cheek on his little gravesite picture and tell him, "I'll love you forever, I'll like you for always, as long as I'm living my baby you'll be. To the moon and back." I always end with those words even though they're so painful because of how true they are. I am still living, and he will always be my baby because he'll never get the chance to grow up. I love that book, but can't ever read that line without crying now.

I love you baby. We will see you soon.