Day 15

I woke up in the middle of last night after an extremely weird dream. Bare with me now, because I'm going to try to explain it.

Picture a heart..a real heart, with the chambers, arteries, valves, and blood pumping through it. It was HUGE, and of course, bright red. It was all alone in total darkness.  It was MY heart. There were interesting things that I noticed about the heart in my dream. There were tiny scratches all over it, huge gaping wounds on the top, and parts that had appeared to be "patched up."

Okay, onto the weird (er) part...there were at least twenty people on scaffolding working on the giant heart. They were taping, gluing, hammering, sewing, and painting my heart. I could not see or recognize any of the workers faces, but I could FEEL various emotions as each injury was being worked on. I remember noticing that other defects were forming just as one would become "healed."

That was it. I woke up. I was unsure of how to feel about the dream, so I lay awake trying to contemplate the meaning behind it.

I'm sure some of you all have already formed your own opinions about my bizarre reverie. But here's mine:

The tiny scratches represent small events in my life that have left a mark on my heart, like moving and leaving friends and family behind, being set back involving self goals, or having my feelings hurt by someone I care about. The gaping wounds, to me, represent the damage that has been done to my heart since loosing my precious Wyatt. The patched up areas made me believe that those are the things in which I have forgicen others for causing. And, of course, the constantly occuring marks are everyday battles in which I face in this confusing world.

As you can guess, I believe that the "workers" in my dream were friends and family members who love me and are constantly trying to help me to heal. I noticed that no one was working on the big gaping wounds, however, and I'm not sure why. Maybe they will always be there? Maybe no one knows exactly where to start? Maybe the workers are afraid to "make matters worse" by touching the big sores?

I don't have all of the answers, but I do know this: those who have shown genuine compassion and love to me over the course of the past 6 months (and before) are definitely helping my heart to continue to pump adequately, allowing me to continue to live. I have been shown that many times, and I was shown it in its full glory last night. Last night was day 15 of a photography/grief project that I am taking part in. Across the globe, friends and family lit candles in remembrance of Wyatt and other angel babies that have left us all too soon. I was expecting a few family members to join me and possibly close friends. The response was overwhelming, and most didn't even have a prompt. Now, I am sure that some just "jumped on the bandwagon," but I'll give all the benefit of the doubt on this one.  Selfless and caring acts such as those are what bring smiles to my face and place a bandage on my ever-bleeding heart.

So, I say, thank you. Thank you for Day 15.

The Club

There is this exclusive club. Not just anyone is a member. The membership fees are extremely high and it's a lifetime commitment. Most people will never even know about this club... and members wish they were never considered a part of it.

 

The club consists of people of every race, gender, religious group, and culture. This club doesn't believe in discrimination. This club welcomes new members daily with open arms.

 

I am a member of this club. Some of you reading this are also members. Others may be thinking, " Why wasn't I invited? I want to be a part of the secret society!" I promise that you don't.

 

In order to gain admittance into the club you must pay a hefty price...the life of your child.

 

Once you become a member you are given a very distinct pair of shoes to wear. You can never take them off...it's not a choice. They are ugly shoes. Everyone either stares at the shoes or makes an effort never to look at the shoes. I found a poem that describes the shoes you get upon entering the elite group...I couldn't have said it better myself.


THESE SHOES

I wear a pair of shoes
They are ugly shoes
Uncomfortable shoes
I hate my shoes
Each day I wear them and each day I wish I had another pair.
Some days my shoes hurt so bad that I do not think I can take another step
Yet, I continue to wear them
I get funny looks wearing these shoes
They are looks of sympathy.
I can tell in others eyes that they are glad they are my shoes and not theirs
They never talk about my shoes
To learn how awful my shoes are might make them uncomfortable.
To truly understand these shoes you must walk in them.
But, once you put them on, you can never take them off.
I now realize I am not the only one who wears these shoes.
There are many pairs in this world.
Some women are like me and ache daily as they try and walk in them.
Some have learned how to walk in them so they don't hurt quite as much.
Some have worn the shoes so long that days will go by before they think about how much they hurt
No woman deserves to wear these shoes
They have made me who I am.
I will forever walk in the shoes of a woman who has lost a child.        

        

Capture Your Grief- 2012

October is pregnancy/infant loss awareness month.

I have chosen to take part in a photography project throughout the month of October. My goal will be to follow a list of subjects provided on the following link and to capture my grief through photographs using the guidleines on the website.  http://carlymarieprojectheal.com/2012/09/capture-your-grief-this-october-2012-for-pregnancy-infant-loss-awareness-month.html

I hope to be able to update for each day of October and fill in this post as I go, however, if I fall a few days behind, no worries, I will catch up. :)

I am praying that this project will be another healing outlet for me as it provides another glimpse for all of my readers into my heartbreak. This is for you, my sweet Wyatt.

Day 1: Sunrise

This beautiful photo was captured outside of my brother and sister-in-law's house in Jackson, TN.

I will forever treasure every single sunrise that I am able to witness because my baby boy never had the chance to see the sun come up with it's brilliant shades of color or to feel the warmth on his precious skin.

 

Day 2: Before Loss Self Portrait

This photo represents innocence to me. I was 36 weeks pregnant with our baby boy. We were fully expecting to have our perfect little family in less than 1 month from when this was taken. When I look at this picture I see a naive woman whose biggest concern at the time were her swollen feet and face. This photo projects happiness...happiness before there was any knowledge of the severe grief that would soon enter our lives. If I could go back in time....

 

Day 3: After Loss Self Portrait

 

Taken just over two weeks after our son grew his angel wings, and only five months ago from today, this picture was just the beginning of my life after loss. It was Mother's Day, and as you can see I was celebrating with my little girl. But a few things were missing: my genuine smile, true joy in my eyes, happiness in my heart, and a baby boy in my arms.



 

 

Day 4: Most Treasured Item

This particular day was a difficult one for me...I found it hard to choose 1 most treasured item, and the one thing I treasure the most is not tangible. The nine months that I spent as a happy expectant mother with her growing and active baby boy inside her womb is my biggest treasure. He was alive. He was well. Now, onto the reality of it all...the nurses at the hospital were kind enough to make me a very sweet memory book which contained numerous pictures, his foot prints, and my favorite, a lock of his sweet hair. THAT is my most treasured touchable thing.

 

Day 5: Memorial

After our loss many things were done in memory of our sweet boy. A friend bought and named a star for our little man, my aunt requested that a US flag be flown over the capital in honor of Wyatt, pinwheels were proudly displayed at the homes of friends and family members to symbolize their thoughts of our son, a tattoo with his name and the plane that was on his one and only piece of clothing was placed on my ankle, trees and plants were planted, shadow boxes were made, and then, of course, we had a stone set at the place of his forever bed. Wyatt receives many visitors at his memorial place and I'm so glad that he is where he is, although I would love so much to be closer to him.

 

 Day 6: What NOT to say

This response irks me to the bone. I can't fully explain it, and no, I have never been a believer in this statement. I feel as though it places some sort of blame on the people involved..like "oh, sorry, but you must've done something wrong, because there's a reason for everything." Um, no. Even if there is indeed a reason for the way that everything happens, the statement itself is not in the least bit comforting, neither are the following statements: "God needed another angel," "He was too perfect for this earth," " You are young, you can have more children," or " I can't even imagine if that happened to MY baby." Let's flip this around and pretend those things were said to you after you had just given birth to a lifeless baby and buried him before his first breathe. Would they help you to heal? Or simply make you mad? I think that that is a rhetorical question.

Day 7: What TO say

I realize that the above picture may a bit difficult to read, so I shall decipher it for you. Be real. Don't try to sugar coat or come up with the "right" words for the situation...there are none. Raw emotions mean more than cliche and forced responses. Tell me that you are sorry. Tell me that you miss him too. Tell me that I should be proud of BOTH of my children. Say his name...we didn't give him a name never to hear it spoken again. Lastly, don't be afraid to talk about him. You will not make me uncomfortable or any more sad than I already am. My responses might make you uncomfortable, but that is not my intention. I want to be honest and honor my baby in all of my words and actions...so if you aren't ready for the truth just offer a hug.

 

Day 8: Jewelry

Those who bought the above jewelry (and some that are not pictured) know me all to well. It was the perfect gesture to help me in my efforts to keep my son close and honor his life. I LOVE when people ask me about my jewelry, because it gives me a chance to talk about my boy.

Day 9: Special Place

I chose to list my "special place" as not an actual place, put a thing. My journal. When I write in my journal (and this is my Wyatt journal...Lyla has her own journal that I write in frequently) I am indeed in my very own special place...a place where no one can judge me for the thoughts and feelings that I may be having on that particular day....a place where I can imagine and dream of what life would be like if Wyatt were still here...and a place where I can look back on pasts entries to see how far I have come in six months. My journal is my own private, special place where I often find refuge in my own pen strokes.

 

Day 10: Symbol

 

Video of Wyatt singing along with Mommy through the pinwheel

 

Airplanes, butterflies, rainbows, pennies, and the wind (often felt and seen through pinwheels) are all symbols that remind me of our son. Singing or talking to the pinwheels allow me to feel as though I am communicating with my baby. It makes my heart feel like one giant ball of happiness and heartache when I see the pinwheel moving in response to my presence or voice.

 

Day 11: Supportive Family/Friends

To say we've been overwhelmed with supportive friends, family, and even strangers since our loss would be an understatement. Above is a picture of SOME of the cards we've received, along with a list of people who brought food to the funeral dinner, and the "guest book" from Wyatt's service. So much support. So much love.

 

Day 12: Scents

The blankie that is visible in all of Wyatt's pictures stays on my nightstand. I held it and rubbed it during his funeral because it reminded me of his soft hair. It also smelled like him. The scent is slowly fading, but I must make myself remember because I can still smell that sweet smell when I bury my face into the blankie.

 

Day 13: Signs

Rainbows have been painted in the sky on days that I've most needed to feel relief from grief( like Mother's Day). Butterflies have landed, and stayed for quite a while, on me which have often left me with a feeling of calmness and happiness. But the sign I'll use for this day is blunt and can't be ignored. My cousin captured this picture on the day of my daughter's birthday a we were driving around relentlessly trying to find helium for her balloons. Wyatt always knows when momma needs him the most.

 

Day 14: Community

I have received nothing but caring responses from those in the child loss community. I am in the process of creating an event to honor our Wyatt, but he was honored recently at an event for a sweet little angel baby girl named Ava. Ava's mommy was kind enough to include Wyatt in her event. What a sweet gesture.

 

Day 15: Wave of Light

 

The candle that we chose to light was given to us at Wyatt's funeral. On my husband's night stand sits a picture of our angel baby and one of his baby sister, Jennifer, whom he never got to meet. Our daughter actually lit our candle and we had quite the emotional night as people from all around lit candles in remembrance of our little guy. Our hearts were filled with sadness at all of the little ones taken all too soon from this world. We were also filled with pride when we think of the amount of lives that our little guy is affecting...and he's doing it all from Heaven.

Day 16: Release

The day of our son's funeral our daughter sent him a balloon to heaven. She also decided he need one on the day of her birthday. My sweet girl loves her brother.

Day 17: Anniversary/birthday/due date

Wyatt was born on April 25, 2012. His due date was May 9, 2012. We have yet to reach a yearly anniversary, but plan on a cemetery celebration on the spring for our boy.

Day 18: Family Portrait

Sadly, I will never have a picture of our whole family together. The top picture is at our daughters' fifth birthday party, and the bottom is the day we said hello and goodbye to our son.

Day 19: Project

My project is more of a challenge. I started a penny jar challenge on my blog that many family, friends, and even strangers have taken on. Read more about it here...http://kdforgey.blogspot.com/2012/07/penny-jar.html?m=0

Day 20: Charity/Organization

While, I was not fortunate enough to take advantage of this organization myself, I give realized that the pictures the hospital took are most most prized possessions. I support this organization and hope to donate to its wonderful, though saddening cause.

Day 21: Altar/Shrine/Sacred Place

Our memorial garden houses stones, plants, etc that were given to us after the loss of our son. We made the garden in the shape of a butterfly and it is visible from any of the front rooms of our house. A place all his own.

Day 22: Place of Care/Birth

Gateway in Clarksville, tn was the one and only place that I held my son. I had two of the best nurses imaginable, and the entire hospital was pretty accommodating to our family.

Day 23: Their Name/Their Photo

Wyatt Michael
Born sleeping at 38 weeks
7 lbs 6ounces, 21&3/4 inches
Love you to heaven and back

Day 24: Siblings

 

 

 

Fly High, Baby Boy

As some of you may know, my aunt requested that a U.S. flag would be flown over the U.S. capitol in D.C. in honor of our Wyatt. The date was chosen at random, and the flag was in the air flapping away in the breeze on August 15, 2012.

Now, those of you that KNOW our family, know that we are a proud, patriotic family. We love each other and we love our country. Our baby boy will never get to do a lot of things, but there are things being done in his honor that some of us can only imagine being a part of. With that said, this amazing gesture was such a meaningful gift.

The flag arrived a few weeks ago, and I trembled as I took it and its accompanying papers out of the box and held it tightly against my chest. I inhaled deeply, and smiled as the thoughts of the flag flapping wonderfully in the air as millions of people glanced up at the ol' red. white, and blue poured into my mind. I cried as I realized that those people hadn't the slightest clue behind the importance of the flag on that particular day to a grieving family from a small town in Western Kentucky. But, oh, how special. My boy flew high and proud that day, I'm sure of it.

 

"This is to certify that the accompanying flag was flown over the United States Capitol on August 15, 2012. At the request of the Honorable Mitch McConnell, United States Senator, this flag was flown in memory of Wyatt Michael Forgey."

"This is to certify that the accompanying flag was flown over the United States Capitol on August, 15, 2012 for Wyatt Michael Forgey, son of Waylon and Krystal Forgey, brother to Lyla Forgey, silently born on April 25, 2012, at the request of Senate Republican Leader Mitch McConnell."

152 Days

It has been almost 5 months, 152 days to be exact, since our son grew his angel wings.

Update on life after loss:

I have lost all (plus a few extra pounds) of my baby weight. I've been trying to fit back into more than just my clothes, though. I've been trying to fit back into life; but it's as if my shape has changed, and I can no longer fit into the shape I once filled. Trying to form a whole new shape can be exhausting and confusing to say the least.

The phantom kicks have subsided. That only means that Wyatt's kicks and squirms are becoming distant memories. I watch videos of him making my belly move to bring back those joyful memories when I feel as though they are starting to fade. Unfortunately, I still have not been able to watch his ultrasound video yet. I'm working up the courage.

I smile more. However, the smiles don't replace the tears...sometimes they simply cover them. Please just smile back...or cry. Your tears mean more to me than you will ever know. Tears show compassion and understanding of the depth of our feelings.

I haven't taken medication for pain or to ease my anxiety since May. Some days I can tell that my body and mind wish I would give in and allow them to feel the calmness that the medications provided. But I'm no wimp. If I can handle burying my son, then I can handle a little "odd" feeling in my chest.

I have successfully surpassed a few personal hurdles that only someone who has suffered a loss such as ours would understand: watching friends and loved ones welcome their newborns safely and happily into this world, plastering a smile on my face as someone announces their pregnancy, holding precious babies with my trembling arms and a racing mind, buying baby shower gifts and cards for expecting parents, speaking of our son with a smile instead of tears (not always), applying for and receiving a "birth certificate" for a child we never got to bring home, hearing/reading of milestones reached and seeing pictures of babies with their mommies and daddies wearing great big smiles as I long for mine (both the smile and the baby), gently touching the baby boy clothes with airplanes on them as tears roll down my cheeks (in public), and making plans--that's right--any plans, because anxiety is well known for trying to come on in and wanting to trample my hopes for a good day. These are feelings and scenes I'll have to battle forever, so please don't feel awkward around me if you fit into one of the above categories. Help me. Help me by not acting as though my loss is a disease and by not condemning my actions... even if you do not understand them entirely--you are lucky that you don't.



Some days it's like a dream--or a nightmare, I guess.  I wake up thinking, "Did this really happen? Did I have months of heartburn and back pain as my little man was busy growing and getting stronger? Did I attend numerous doctor's appointments and hear his healthy heartbeat?  Did I lay on an examination table as my world collapsed around me all becasue of a silent doppler? Did I have to tell my daughter that the little brother she had been waiting on would never be ours to keep?  Did I carry a real being for 9 months only to deliver his body after his soul had already left? Did I hold and kiss the very real body of my lifeless baby? Did I watch my husband carry a miniature casket to our son's resting place? Did I kiss that cold, hard box and walk off to let someone bury my baby? Did I come home to an overly prepared baby nursery with empty arms?

yes. yes. yes. and yes.

And here I am, 152 days later.  Still standing. Still thinking of him. Still missing him. Still wanting him. Still mourning him. Still loving him.

Knowledge is Power

In the last four months I have researched more about stillbirth than all other subjects for any paper I have ever written combined. I want answers. I want proof. I want to be educated. But mostly, I want to help others to become educated, no matter how taboo the subject may be. Fetal demise is real, its sad, and it CAN happen to YOU. Some of you will probably stop reading after that last line. You don't want to even think about the possibility of MY reality becoming YOUR reality. That's not okay. You may have a friend, relative, or acquaintance that is pregnant or hoping to conceive...they need to gain knowledge
(not just about stillbirth, but any and all information pertaining to unborn and newborn babies)...knowledge that hopefully will never have to be put to personal use, but would be more beneficial to have than to not have. "Better safe than sorry" ring any bells?

In those whirlwind two days in which I went so quickly from being an expectant and joyful mother to a woman grieving the death of her son I was forced to realize how oblivious and naive I had been.  As I promptly found out, it wasn’t just me who was unprepared to handle what was happening. My doctor seemed flabbergasted. The majority of the medical staff didn't know what to say or how to say it. Family and friends were broken and confused and seemed unsure of how to approach the subject. Silence became the default coping mechanism that day, and currently is still the most prominent.


My first hand experience combined with the hours and hours of research I have read through have lead me to the saddening confirmation that stillbirth is still an unmentionable topic in our society. Let's talk about cancer and alcoholism and rare childhood diseases that will inevitably all lead to death, but don't  you DARE think about discussing the looming possibility of carrying a child full term only to deliver a lifeless baby. No one seems to want to educate themselves on the topic. Even worse, medical professionals and others are afraid to mention the issue as a proactive measure. Why didn't my doctor ever causally ask me if I was knowledgeable on the subject? It would have prompted me to look into  the issue...to gain knowledge...to gain power.

No, I am not saying that stillbirth can be prevented. However, I am not certain that specific causes can't be determined and possibly prevented. I am not 100% convinced that I had no power in saving my baby. Had I been better informed about kick counts, fetal movements in the 3rd trimester, fetal hiccups, and any other warning signs of fetal distress my little man just MIGHT still be here. (I am aware of those of you out there reading this and thinking "Silly girl, it was all God's plan and there was nothing you could do" or " Everything happens for a reason, so stop trying to explain the unexplainable." but that's okay, because as a mother, I will always feel total responsibility for keeping my children safe.)
But guess what? Those things never even crossed my mind as being crucial in the well being of my unborn child. Everything "seemed" to be normal.

Research on stillbirth has so many gaps due partially to funding, but largely to the societal cheek turn to the subject. Did you know that the term stillbirth is defined differently in various states? I mean how can research even be conducted if we can't even get a universal definition? Accurate data has no way of being collected with such conflicting ideas.

Did you know that stillbirth occurs in about 1 in 160 pregnancies? Not as rare as you thought, huh?

Did you know that placental problems, birth defects, growth restriction, and infections are the most common KNOWN causes of stillbirth?

One study has stated that UCA (umbilical cord accidents) account for the majority of stillbirths. While on the other hand, another study concludes that cord accidents only account for 2-4% of all stillbirth cases. Who would have ever thought that they'd be in that teeny tiny percentage? Not this girl. But somebody has to be.

The UCA research is the most intriguing to me, for obvious reasons, and I can't even get any straight answers that anyone is even TRYING to make strides in research or raise money for studies. I mean, I have run across a few prominent names in the professional realm of stillbirth, but its just not satisfying.  I , as a mother of one healthy baby carrying her second child, was unaware that UCA usually occur when the mother is sleeping or that more tests could be ran (that insurance probably doesn't pay for) to insure all health of the baby is good. Hello, people, why are we in the dark on this issue?

See what I mean about the research? It's conflicting. Its sad. and Its not enough.



The simple topic of stillbirth is almost forbidden in our society; we have a tendency to pretend it doesn’t happen, so we don’t talk about it. This has to change. Tens of thousands of families endure the pain and trauma of stillbirth every year, and until we, as a society, acknowledge this and talk openly about it, medical professionals, family, friends and patients will remain ill-equipped when it comes to helping their loved ones.

Okay, so say there was no way for me to know that something was wrong and no way to stop the unthinkable from happening. There was still so much more that could have been done to prepare me for the unexpected. Reading materials. Discussions in the doctor's office. Posters. Articles. None of this was pushed on me. I'm sure I could have found the information if I had searched for it,  but why would I? The thought that I would not leave the hospital with my son at 38 weeks never crossed my overjoyed mommy mind. I might have scoffed or rolled my eyes at the mention of stillbirth before it happened to me, but I highly doubt it. I would have been intrigued, thirsty for knowledge; because that's what pregnant women do. They strive to prepare in every way for their newborns. We plan for the future in more ways than simply decorating a nursery or buying tiny clothes. We wonder what we would do if our baby was born with Down's Syndrome or any other conditions. We strive to think positively, while still entertaining the negative thoughts. You would be crazy to live in a world where you thought nothing bad could ever happen- to you. It's important to hope for the best, but plan for the worst.

In my opinion, medical professionals need more training in not only the health care aspects of stillbirth cases,  but the emotional support as well. More comprehensive protocols would be beneficial in easing the trauma and help to prepare those involved to make the short and long term decisions that face them during stillbirth events. Everyone seemed afraid to tell me what I needed to do. No one wanted to address the big elephant in the room. It shouldn't be that way. Nurses, therapists, and other health care professionals need more grief training and should be prepared to handle any such situation with grace and tact. With that said, my care was far from horrible, but I believe more could have been said and done to help us with our circumstances.

Phew.

Yes, I'm becoming THAT advocate. The one who only does something about a matter AFTER it has affected her life in some way. I only wish someone had done the same for me, and opened my eyes to the scary nightmare that became my reality. I guess I'm simply just hoping that by talking and writing about stillbirth that the ugly stigma will be erased and that someday, someone will benefit in some small way by acquiring knowledge on the topic. Knowledge that was freely and sincerely provided to them by a doctor, a friend, a family member, or a complete stranger.

  I challenge you to go to YouTube or Google and type that daunting word into the search box. Read a little. Cry a little. Learn a little. Help a little.

To get you started:
UCA

This is My Family.

Our little girl has started Kindergarten.

Most days I sit at home (while searching for a job) and think. I think about how I should be hearing a baby's coos instead of the ticking of the clock or the pecking of the keys on the keyboard. I think about upcoming events and how I will try to handle them or let them affect me. I think about ways to continue to honor my little boy's life. I think about all the normal everyday things too like cleaning, cooking, doctors appointments, and schedules (sometimes I actually do more than just think about cleaning, :) ).

I also worry. I worry that the quietness will overcome me. I worry that upcoming events and holidays will prove to be depressing...Wyatt was suppose to be a cute little puppy dog for Halloween. I worry about how my Lyla is fairing at school. I worry that she needs her momma to help her tie her shoes or carry her lunch tray. I worry about how other kids are treating her. I worry that I worry too much.

Sometimes I beat my anxiety to the punch and do something about it. For example, I was nervous that Lyla would be made fun of or scare off friends if she mentioned that she had a little brother...in Heaven. That thought was put into my mind on the day of the "Meet the Teacher" night after I saw the name "Wyatt" placed on one of the name tags in the room. Oh boy. So, I became the mother bear and proactively emailed her teacher. I explained our situation and that we encourage Lyla to talk about Wyatt and that he is indeed a part of our family. Her teacher was very sweet and understanding in the response and to this day has shown to be very attentive with Lyla's emotional needs. She also has a son whose name is Wyatt.  Maybe, she too, is a God send.

A poster was sent home with Lyla last week with instructions to complete it with the help of parents and send it back to school to display. The poster was entitled "All about Me." It requested her favorite color, food, games, and books. It inquired about her favorite activities, pets, and her family. She dictated, and I wrote. My chest tightened and tears stung my eyelids as she named the members of her family...leaving out our Wyatt. I didn't remind her, or try to correct her. This was HER project and I was simply the pencil. We finished the poster and sent it back to school. I was saddened. Saddened at the thought that she had already forgotten about her little brother...or maybe she was embarrassed.

I'm not sure what her thought process had been on that particular day, but just yesterday Lyla came home with an activity sheet. She had drawn four people and at the bottom of the paper was the sentence: "This is My Family."

A smile quickly spread across my face while the liquid escaped my eyes. She pointed to each character and explained who they were. Baby Wyatt was there...and that's who he'll always be, our baby Wyatt.

 

So, as I continue to wrestle with when to act on my insecurities and when to let them be, just know that this little girl will calm my fears and light my way. There is no denying that she is the best big sister any little angel baby could want.