I get a little bit stronger

Last year on Landon's birthday... Septmber 4th, 2011,  one of my dearest friends called me and she was on her way to the hospital in labor to give birth to her daughter. I was excited for her,  until I remembered what day it was. I drove to the hospital very anxious and nervous for my friend, for this was the day of the year that changed my life for the worst 5 years prior. I knew that I couldn't show any signs of fear to my friend because her husband was hundreds of miles away getting ready to leave for a deployment and couldn't make it home. I had to be strong. I had to put aside my pain for that day and be strong for my friend. How was I going to do that? On September 4 for the past 4 years I lay in bed all day and sobbed and mourned the loss of my own child. How could I help my friend welcome her new baby on that same day?

The answer to this question is simple. God allows you the strength to get through each day... especially days like that one. I know that to some of you that might be a stupid answer, and 6 years ago I would have said that is the most stupid answer, because God is the one that took my son away. I was so angry with God for allowing something so awful to happen to me. There are days that I question it still, but God is the one that keeps me going. No matter what the obstacle, God will give you the strength if you just have faith. I made it through that day last year without breaking down in front of everyone.

That day was always Landon's day before... a day for me to remember my sweet boy... the first and last time I would ever lay eyes on him. It is still Landon's day, but it can be other things too. It can be Aubree's birthday, and my dad's birthday. I can be happy, and I can go on with my life. There is no doubt I will always shed a few tears on September 4th, but hopefully the rest of the day will be filled with smiles. God wants me to go on, and he has provided the strength I need to do that.

He doesn't get to go...

This week as I have looked at the news feed on Facebook, I have seen tons of pictures of kids going to their first day of school. They are so cute, and the parents are sad to let them leave the house for that new chapter of their life. All of this leads me to think about Landon, and how I would be feeling this morning as school starts in the town where I live.

It would be his first day of kindergarten. Would I cry when I leave him all alone in a class full of other children he doesn't know? Would he cry and not want his mommy to leave him there? I know it would be hard to leave someone I love so much in the care of someone else, not knowing what the day would bring for my little one.

These are things that I will never know. Things that I must miss out in in life because he was taken from me. I never got to see any of Landon's firsts. His first breath... no. His first word... no. His first time to roll over...no. His first steps...no. His first birthday...no. His first time to spend all night away from home...no. His first time to see the ocean and feel the wind on his face...no. His first time to tell me he loves me...no. None of these things... and especially not his first day of kindergarten. I feel robbed and broken just thinking about it. I feel like a failure.. like I couldn't even keep my son alive to experience all of these things, so he was taken from me.

I know that my way of thinking is a little over the top right now, but losing your child is a little over the top. I didn't realize at first how much he was going to impact my life... that itty bitty bundle of joy that was handed to me, lifeless. Everyday something comes along and makes me think of him. Often times these days, it is when I see a little boy about his age, and I think to myself...what would Landon look like? Would he have my crazy personality?

There are reminders of my missing son everywhere. I don't have to see the tattoo on my ankle to remember... often times I remember and then look at the tattoo.. at his actual foot prints. Sometimes that is the only thing that brings it all together and makes it real.

So my son... he doesn't get to go to school today, or ever. What a painful truth...

Yet another blow to my heart...

It was so easy the first time, speaking of the first time I got pregnant. I was only 18 years old, and very naive. I just knew in my head that it wouldn't happen to me, so I didn't ever think about it. I had never had a regular period, so missing a few months was normal for me. Finally, I started having the morning sickness... and my belly began to pooch! I was already 3 months pregnant before I even took a test. Even after I took the test and got the positive... I didn't want to believe it. I kept thinking... this is a hoax... until I heard the heartbeat at the doctor's office the first time. This baby that I didn't pray for and definitely didn't need or deserve was in my belly. I was going to be the mother to a baby that I didn't work to get. My brother and his wife had been trying and praying and worrying over having a child, and I did nothing and ended up pregnant anyway. I didn't even want to tell them about my pregnancy, because I felt guilty. They were grown adults, getting older, ready to be parents, had been married for several years, and had a home for a child. What did I have... I had just finished my freshman year of college, where I did poorly because I partied too much, and I lost my full-ride. I had just moved out of the dorms and in with my dad and step mother. I stayed in a room in their house that wasn't really even mine... and I was about to bring a child into this world. I had a job that my parents graciously helped me get. I had become the epitome of the person I never wanted or thought I could be.

Those were my feelings from 6 years ago. That is how I felt at 18. I had no business having a child... I wasn't ready, but I knew that I would be ready when he made it here. I knew that I would have my life on track, and I would do this on my own. I never got to finish out that story, because it was cut short when I was 26 weeks pregnant. If I could have made it another month... maybe the story would still be going, but that didn't happen. I have to stop thinking about the "what if's".

So, 6 years later... I have a totally different mindset. I am now praying for a child, praying for a miracle to happen to me again. I am missing my son that I only got to hold for a short time, and continue to wish he was here with me. Every night when my husband and I sit down to eat dinner, we pray for God to bless us with a child. I wake up every morning hoping for a sign that it is going to happen, and I think about what we will name that baby if it is a boy or a girl. How will I decorate the nursery? Should we try and buy a house before the child comes? Wait... I am getting ahead of myself.

There is no baby coming. There are too many things wrong in our effort to conceive a child. Not only do I have some reproductive issues, but now we know that my husband does as well. He will have more tests done in a few weeks, but from the results that he got on Friday, I have a feeling that these next results couldn't be any worse.. because these first results were so bad.

I was blessed with a child I never prayed to have... and now, every day I pray for one for my husband and I so that we can complete our family, and it just won't happen. Ever since we have been together, we have been welcome to the idea of a child, and we have never used contraception. That means that for over 4 years... nothing. I can't help but cry, because our dream of having children together seems to have been shattered. We continue to talk about adopting a child, but the expenses are insane... and as selfish as it sounds, I desperately want to be pregnant again and prove to myself that I am a good mom and I can carry a child to term. I want to go through the whole process again and have a better outcome.

I know there are lots of other options to get pregnant...but we don't have the money for that... well we do, but then we wouldn't have the money to take care of a baby once it got here.

So, I have to remind myself that God does perform miracles, and I am praying for one to happen.

Boomer

There isn't a night that I lay down without him in my arms.

No, it isn't my husband, and it isn't my dog (well not my real life one). Every night I snuggle with Boomer, a stuffed animal dog that my dad gave me in the hospital when Landon was born. It was something that I could remember my little boy by, and something that I could hold to comfort my "empty arms". Sometimes I wake up and I have dropped Boomer in my sleep. I will frantically search for him in the dark until he is in my arms again and my panic is over.

When I talk about it now, it seems silly that I have let a stuffed animal hold such a special place in my heart. To me it is way more than that. Instead of bringing Landon home, I brought home Boomer. He doesn't compare to the son that I love so much, but he is a gift that was given to me that hasn't been taken away. I'm worried that somebody will finally take it from me, telling me I am too old for stuffed animals, or that one of my rowdy dogs will think it is a toy. I know it is only a stuffed animal and just a worldly possession, but it is one that I will cling to for the rest of my life. Boomer has been there for me to cry on and soak up my tears for many years now. He has listened to me give up on life and declare defeat. He has also been there when I have picked myself back up and moved forward even when I didn't have the strength to.

Boomer is a stuffed animal to most, but to me... He has been the one with me since my worst day, the one I hug when I miss my son, and the one that came home from the hospital with me so that my arms weren't empty.

Tests, waiting, and prayers

We have been praying for an addition to our family. Every night when we sit down for dinner together, we pray out loud about our wants and our hopes and for God's will. I pray throughout the day that a miracle will happen, and I will be pregnant. My husband tells me that he prays for the same thing several times a day. When I reflect on our prayers, I feel as if we are being selfish. Is it selfish to want a child of your own?

My body already tells me that I am a mother. I have those instincts that only mother's have, and I am longing so bad to have a child to raise and love. Some days, I have to distance myself from Facebook because I can't bear to see all of the pregnant pictures, or new baby pictures. I am jealous. I know that isn't right, one shouldn't covet thy neighbor, but my instincts tell me otherwise. Some days I wish I could go dig my son up and breathe life in to him, make him mine again, but I know that will never happen. Some days I weep and feel sorry for myself because of what I went through.

I have recently been reminded that I am not the only one that this terrible thing has happened to. Just within the last 2 years, I have met over a dozen women that have suffered this very same fate. These were all women that were very deserving of children... they had stable homes for the babies, lots of support, plenty of love, and no problems with drugs or other abuse. These were good people that had something bad happen to them. I was fortunate enough to cross paths with these ladies and offer words of encouragement, cry for and with them, and just be someone that could understand what they are going through. Some people I had to reach out to, but with others, we seemed to have been brought together by fate.

One of my very dear friends, Randi, lost her son just last year. It was a story very similar to mine, but different medical problems that caused the early delivery of her son Coy. Together over the last year, we have been able to help each other in a way I never thought possible. We both became stronger in our Faith in the Lord, and we also became best friends that could really understand what the other was going through. Some mornings I wake up, and without hesitation I will send her a text about our boys, about something that they might be doing in heaven together that day. She will usually text me back and ask me how I knew she needed a "pick me up". I give all the credit to God on that... I just have the urge to send the message. Without a doubt, our sons have brought us together. Two people that never even breathed a breath on this Earth have impacted so much already. Randi checks on me several times a week to see how my newest endeavor is coming along. I always tell her... not yet.

Not yet, but hopefully one day is my motto.

My husband had an ultrasound done on his testes this week to see if there were any problems. There were a few minor problems, but nothing that can't be fixed with a little outpatient surgery. On Friday he will submit some "samples" for analysis to see what we are working with. If we find out that he is not the problem in our endeavor to conceive, then we know that it can be blamed on my PCOS. I am trying so hard on my new PCOS Diet that my friend provided, and I pray that we will see some results from it. If I don't get pregnant, then maybe at least some of my symptoms of PCOS will start to disappear.

Stay tuned for the test results in my next blog post. If there is not a "next" blog post, then start looking for remains! My husband might not like me sharing his "business" online for the whole world to see! Haha...

marriage, depression, and prayer

So over the past 4 years, I have been lucky enough to be married to a great Christian man that loves me unconditionally. I find myself wondering how someone like him could love someone like me. I have my faults... and lots of them. I usually seem well put together and like a strong individual. That is not the case at all.

My walls have been broken down, and I am weak. I struggle to smile every day. I take medication to make me "happier", and medication to help me sleep. My life is much different at 24 than I thought it would be. Ten years ago I imagined myself being graduated from college now, not married, being a successful business woman and providing for myself.

All of that changed the day that I fell in love with Josh. I had already been through the turmoil of losing Landon, but I saw a new future with Josh, and he was able to keep my mind off of what had happened to my family and I just a few months before. He brought sunshine back into my life, and I decided that I never wanted that to go away.

After a while, the new wears off. He still makes me happy, and he still makes me smile, but it is much more difficult now. After we got married I fell into a deep depression, when I should have been happy about my new life.

I immediately assumed that since we were married that we should have a baby, because of course that was all that was missing in my life. My husband quickly reminded me that we had some living to do before children, and that we were broke! We had no business bringing a child into this world. I eventually got over the thought of having a baby and realized that would wait until later. At the same time, I was struggling with our financial situation. When we first started dating I was spoiled rotten... given anything I wanted. Now the bills of real life started piling in and we were both overwhelmed. We had jobs, but not good jobs. We were just starting out!

The first 2 years of our marriage we lived in poverty. We had enough money to pay our bills and get by... but it was not a glamorous life style. My husband was not and is not willing to go into credit card debt (smart man!). Ramen noodles had become a staple in our home. We have since dug ourselves out of poverty and are doing well for ourselves.

After a year long deployment to Kuwait, Josh snagged a civil service job at the airbase at Ft. Leonardwood doing his military job as a civilian Monday through Friday. I am and was so proud of him for taking such a big leap for us and bringing even more stability to our home. I am now going to school to finish my degree - which I always dreamed would have been finished much before now, and working a few part-time jobs to make some extra money.

Even though my life seems like it is falling into place... it just keeps falling apart. I am reminded daily of the son that I lost. I am sad and depressed, and it takes a toll on our marriage. No one should have to deal with my depression except for me... but it doesn't work that way. I know that it effects my loving, caring, compassionate husband. This wasn't the woman that he married... and I want so much to be happy, for him and for me.

Sometimes I think if I just had Landon here that I would be fine, that I could smile again. Then I remember, if Landon were here... I probably wouldn't have Josh either. I know because of this that things do happen for a reason. Josh has told me time and time again (and no I do not think he is a mean person for this) that if Landon were still here we probably would never have even gone on our first date... much less be married now.

So I think it is time for me to let go of my sorrow, and bring on the happiness that is waiting for me in life. I don't need any medication to make me feel that way, I just need to embrace my life for what I have in it. Landon isn't here, but I feel him around me every day. I am thankful to have held an angel in my arms for the short time I had him, and now I am ready to hold my real life angel, my husband, in my arms for the rest of my life.

If you are dealing with depression, don't be scared to get help. Medication may be needed, but it won't take care of everything. God will, and you must turn to Him in your time of need. He can mend you. Prayer is powerful medicine...

The things that bring us together...

My friend Krystal recently lost her son Wyatt. I probably wouldn't have called her my friend before we were brought together by cruel circumstances. I went to school with her my whole life, but never really knew her. When I heard about her loss I immediately felt connected and wanted to share some comforting words. She has started a blog and asked if I wanted to share Landon's story on there. This is what was posted on her blog.

 

Angel Stories

Landon's Story

This story is written by a kind hearted and beautiful lady named Emily. Emily and I went to school together in our younger days. This is the story of her sweet Landon:

I was 25 weeks pregnant. I woke up on Thursday August 31st, 2006 with a sick feeling in my stomach. I had a sick feeling in my stomach every time I woke up, because I had non –stop morning sickness during my pregnancy, but this was different. My whole body was swollen. It felt as if my fingertips would bust open at any second. Something wasn’t right… but I blamed it on my ever changing body during this pregnancy. I thought this was just another side-effect that I would have to deal with. I got up as usual, went to class. I was taking a full load this semester so I wouldn’t get behind. I didn’t want to be one of those teen moms that didn’t amount to anything. I wanted to get my degree and be able to give my son everything that he deserved. I pushed on through the day, then after class went to work. I was a secretary at a law firm where my step mom worked. When I got there that afternoon, I showed her my ankles and my hands. She said that was just part of it. That evening when I got home I kept my feet propped up, trying to relieve some of the swelling. I fell asleep with several pillows under my legs that night. I remember laying there and putting my hands on my belly, feeling Landon kick. He was always very active when I lay down to go to sleep.
I woke up the following morning feeling worse than I had the day before. I knew for sure that something was wrong. My dad checked my bloodpressure at home and it was sky high. We called the doctor that morning and they asked me to come in as soon as possible. I got ready as quickly as I could and went to the doctor’s office. They checked my blood pressure upon arriving –the nurse said “This can’t be right.” She had me lay in one of the exam rooms for about 15 minutes so my blood pressure would have time to level off after my stressful morning.  She came in and checked it again. I had tears running down my face. My blood pressure was even higher than before. They immediately admitted me. I called my parents and told them I was in the hospital so they could monitor me and the baby, run some tests, and get my blood pressure down. I had several visitors that night at the hospital - Good friends and family to keep me company while the doctors could make everything better and I could go home.
I was expecting to be released the next morning and get on with my life. That wasn’t the case at all. The doctor came in and informed me that my condition was way worse than they anticipated and he didn’t feel he was the right person to care for me. He recommended a specialist at Norton’s Hospital in Louisville, KY… and by recommended that meant flight nurses were outside my door to prepare to fly me to Louisville. I had been diagnosed with preeclampsia, which I knew nothing about.  Was I really that sick? They only fly people if it is life threatening…right?
I was loaded into the helicopter. I was scared and confused. No one could ride with me because the helicopter was full of nurses, so my parents had to drive to Louisville as quickly as possible. I had always wanted to ride in a helicopter… but not a medevac. The nurses were constantly checking my vitals and looking me over. Then I noticed the concerned looks on their faces…not because of me but because of the weather. It had just taken a turn for the worse. The pilot flew as far as he could and landed at a tiny airport in the middle of nowhere. I was transported from the helicopter to an ambulance that was waiting on us. The flight nurses demanded that they ride in the ambulance with me instead of the paramedics. I was happy with that… but also concerned. What was wrong with me?
The sirens were on and we were flying down the highway. I was trying to relax with all the commotion around me. All I wanted was for my baby boy to be okay, I didn’t care about me at that point. We arrived at the hospital and I was unloaded and rushed to a room they had waiting for me. Dr. P was there to see what condition I was in. The flight nurses were giving him information he needed, and before they left, one of the nurses leaned over to me and assured me that everything was going to be okay, and that my son was going to be a little heart breaker one day so I needed to keep him away from the girls. Right then and there… I knew everything would be fine.
I was sent down the hall for an ultrasound. My little baby boy was perfect… whew, what a relief! I knew this was all some mistake. The tech printed off a few of the ultrasound pictures and gave them to me before I was wheeled back down to my room.  When I got to my room, my brother and aunt and uncle were there waiting on me. They lived close to Louisville, so my parents thought since they couldn’t get there quick enough that they could have them waiting on me. I immediately showed my pictures around the room. There Mr. Perfect was! Nothing was wrong with him…why was I here?
A few hours went by, and my parents finally arrived. During the time I was waiting I had been poked and prodded dozens of times. The nurses were very upbeat and nice. They said I would most likely have to stay in the hospital until it was time to deliver my baby boy, because of my elevated bloodpressure. Bed rest…in the hospital…for 2 more months?! I was willing to do that though so that my son would be healthy and strong. I was willing to do what ever was necessary for him. I loved him already so very much.
As time passed Friday turned into Saturday, and I expected some sort of improvement. There was none. I was given more medications to see if they could help me… because my kidneys were shutting down. My condition worsened. My doctor came in that afternoon and gave me a choice, continue my pregnancyand risk complications, or be induced now. I couldn’t even wrap my mind around that question… of course I wanted to continue my pregnancy. I wanted to deliver a healthy baby. If I was induced now, that meant there was basically no chance that he would survive. I made my mind up, I was going to fight this and get my son here safely.
The next day, the doctor was doing his rounds, and when hecame into my room, he had a somber look on his face. He asked that everyone leave the room except for my mom and dad. My dad held my hand; we all knew something was wrong. Dr. P told me that I no longer had a choice in this matter. He had to induce me because I was his patient, and he couldn’t risk my life. He said that my condition had worsened even more since I had arrived there. The only choice that he had at this point was to save me.
That afternoon pitocin was started in my IV. I was scared and numb and praying for a miracle, praying that my son would be born healthy and alive. The contractions finally started and the pain set in. I could still feel him moving inside of me. He was still alive, there was still a chance.Late that night I was given my epidural. The doctor said it would be better for me the less I could feel.  I didn’t sleep much that night, just lay there thinking about what was going to happen in the next few hours. Would Landon come out screaming? I sure did hope so…
My entire family piled in the room the next morning. My contractions were getting stronger, and I was getting closer to delivering my sweet baby. Little did I know that my body was beginning to shut down. I was in danger of organ damage or even death. Instead, I was reassuring my family that I was okay and that everything would be fine. I even called Landon’s dad andgave him the news. He could have cared less, but I did my job by letting him know what was going on. He was his son too… and I guess I thought if I called him, he would rush to my side to be with me when our son was brought into the world. Instead he said he was sorry and hung up.
Around 1:00 pm, on Monday, September 4th, 2006, Landon James Stephens was born and taken to heaven. He got to spend a few hours with us in the hospital room. We held him and loved on him and were amazed at how tiny he was. His feet were no bigger than my thumb. He was perfect.
After they wheeled him out, I realized they would not be taking him to the nursery. They would be taking him to the morgue. He wouldn’t be taken to a room full of life, but a room full of death.
I was given a few different options of what to do with him. Have a funeral? Have him shipped back home and buried there? Cremated? My family and I decided to have him buried at the infant memorial garden in Louisville. I didn’t think I was strong enough to deal with a funeral on top of having to bury my son. Arrangements were made and he was taken to the beautiful garden where his body was laid to rest.
I had to stay in the hospital for several more days to make sure that I was getting healthier. When I finally got to go home, I was dreading seeing all of the baby stuff at our house, but I was ready to close that chapter of my life. My family had some of their friends come and remove all of the baby stuff from our house so that I wouldn’t have to deal with it when I got home. I was hurt and relieved all at the same time. I spent weeks lying in bed and dealing with my grief…and for the last 5 years I have still been dealing with that same grief, the loss of my perfect son. I continually blame myself for not being able to sustain a pregnancy. What did I do wrong? Why me?
I will never know the answers to those questions, but one thing I do know is that my son is an angel in Heaven watching over me every day. I can’t wait till we meet again.

A Box

It is sad really. Anytime that I want to spend time with my son, I go to a box. It is a small memory box full of very few memories of the baby I love so much. His pictures are in there, all the sonograms, the blanket he was wrapped in at the hospital, his little hat that is stained with blood that he wore, the sympathy cards, his birth certificate with foot prints, and the book I was obsessed with reading "What to Expect when you are Expecting". Also in that same box you will find a pamphlet about the Empty Arms program, and a bear I was given. Was that bear supposed to help me feel better about my son not going home with me?

So, I have a box... that is all that is left of his memory, except for what is left in my heart.

This time six years ago I was scared out of my mind. I was trying to figure out how to tell my dad that I was pregnant... that his little girl was not longer innocent. I was a little over 3 months pregnant, and I was so sick! I threw up every day all day long. I lost weight at the beginning of the pregnancy instead of gaining. My dad took the news hard, but then he became excited, just as the rest of my family did. There was a new life, a miracle in my belly and we couldn't help but be happy about it. Dad would come in my room before I went to sleep to talk to Landon and tell him he was gonna be the best grandpa in the world. He was so happy when he found out it was a boy... the first thing that was bought for Landon was a UK outfit. My dad couldn't get rid of it... I know that it broke his heart that Landon didn't come home with us either.

I was so terrified about being a mom back then... and maybe I wasn't ready and God just knew better, so he took Landon home with Him. But now... all I want is to be a mom to a baby here on earth. Friends, please pray for my husband and I as we are trying to make that dream come true. We want a little miracle of our own... I don't just want a box of a few memories to bring home with me, I want a living breathing baby that can love me back, and make a lifetime of memories with me. Landon will never be replaced and I know that, but that isn't what I am wanting.

 My dad wrote a letter/testimony to the people that helped me and my family during the loss of Landon and my close brush with death. I would like to share it with everyone...

DO YOU BELIEVE IN ANGELS?

We live in a skeptical world these days where technology allows us to prove and disprove theories, ideas, old wives tales, myths, legends, etc. There's much talk these days about the existence of angels or even of God for that matter. My family had the opportunity recently with the illness of out daughter, Emily, to learn the turn of this first hand and to reaffirm for us that God is very real and that angels do exist in our lives. 

Emily became suddenly ill as a result of her pregnancy and was rushed via helicopter to Norton's Hospital in Louisville, KY where they specialize in the necessary treatment. Soon after we arrived, we were informed that her condition was graver than we thought and a very hard decision needed to be made. If Emily continued to carry her unborn son both she and he would most likely die. After much anguish and prayer the choice was made to begin the medicine that would induce labor. About twenty-four hours later, Landon James Stephens was born and taken to heaven. He weighed 12 ounces and was beautiful in every way. He is buries in a special garden in a Louisville Cemetery.

During this period Emily's kidneys had very nearly shut down and she was in danger of organ damage or even death. God granted her the strength to survive and continue to bless us with her presence. God gave us all a strength we did not possess on our own to be steadfast and bear this sorrow while looking ahead to a brighter day. While we were gone for these several days taking care of our daughter we had friends and family come to our home and take care of things like laundry, the lawn, our son Heath, who stayed at home by himself during this time, and other details I'm sure I've forgotten to mention.

We not only know without a doubt that angels exist but we saw them. We saw the work of their hands, we heard their soft voices of concern and consolation, we felt their hands on our shoulders, and even looked them in the eye. They wore ambulance flight suits, nursing uniforms, every day clothes, and plain old work jeans. They were by our sides, in our home, and in our hearts. The best angel of all was Emily, who received a measure of strength from God that helped her handle this loss and to make tough decisions on her own with an unwavering mind. At times when she saw the concern on our faces and maybe fear too, she told us she loved us and that she was alright. I have no doubt that God sent them all to help us in our need and I will thank them for this every day for the rest of my life. 

"Thank you" to everyone for your prayers, thoughts, and deeds during our time of need. We only hope we get the chance to repay your kindness in some small measure some day. 

Randy and Connie Stephens

"Be careful for nothing; but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known unto God. And the peace of God, which passeth all understanding, shall keep your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus"   (Philippians 4:6-7)

"In my distress I called upon the LORD, and cried unto my God: He heard my voice out of His temple, and my cry came before Him, even into his ears"    (Psalm 18:6)

So maybe it is more than just a box... it is the stretch marks on my belly, the extra weight I still carry, the tears I cry daily, and the gut wrenching feeling that I get when I hold a baby. I pray to God every day to make me a mother... but I AM A MOTHER. I am the mom of a beautiful baby boy. His name is Landon James Stephens... and just as my dad said, he was perfect in every way. Maybe too perfect for this world. 

I now hope for the chance for another baby, one that my husband can love as well. One that is part of both of us. This is my prayer to God every day... and maybe just maybe it will happen soon.