Some good, some bad.

Yesterday was one of those days.

I felt it when I woke up, and could not shake the sadness as the day lingered.

During this season of my life, I wish I could be more like my brother Nate.

Thinking back on childhood, the biggest thing I remember is how easy going he was. Justin and I would be racing down the path; Nate would be a mile back looking at worms.

I flew home often when I lived in California.

It did not matter if I traveled with the kids, without the kids, with Josh, or the few times I flew with my mom.

I am a worrier.

I worried whether I packed enough activities and snacks to occupy the kids. I worried that their bottles wouldn't make it through screening. I stressed about getting strollers and diaper bags and shoes through security. I checked and re-checked boarding passes. Even before I left home, I wondered if I forgot to pack extra contact lenses or if I would miss my flight.

Nathan arrived home with a bank envelope full of money in his back pocket, and his BMW convertible car cover. Not one carry on; nare a checked bag in sight..

He just doesn't worry.

I envy that.

Justin and Amber are due with their first baby October 5th. Yup, you calculated that correctly...four days after my due date.

How our family is going to restructure is weighing on my mind. We currently do everything together- Sunday dinners, July 4th fireworks, Halloween trick-or-treating, lazy summer days by the pool.

It’s not a relationship I can step away from for a season.

I know I will love their baby. But I realize already that sweet newborn noises and baby coos will be a constant reminder of all lost if God does not grant me a miracle.

It felt heavy.

So unbelievably heavy.

Weary to the bone, I laid down to rest and finally fell asleep when Brycer took a nap.

Nightmares come often, the likes of which I won’t detail here.

Suffice to say, I cannot bear the thought of burying my child in the ground.

I desperately don’t want to do it.

By dinner, I felt unable to shoulder the load.

After the boys were appropriately fed (thanks to all you God gifted people that brought us meals), I did what any respectable pregnant lady would do.

I took a big box of pink nerds and went upstairs for a good cry.

My head knows The Truth, by that doesn’t stop my heart from hurting.

There is no pretty way to say it.

This hurts.