<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1888724479748278423</id><updated>2011-11-20T05:59:31.061-05:00</updated><category term='dell'/><category term='he&apos;d be two now'/><category term='christmas'/><category term='healing after stillbirth'/><category term='Clarence'/><category term='grief'/><category term='TTC'/><category term='Brenden'/><category term='miss my baby boy'/><category term='mom&apos;s death'/><title type='text'>Life Without Clarence</title><subtitle type='html'>My name is Alisha.  I am 35 years old &amp;amp; married to a wonderful man, Chad.  Thanksgiving  2008 our world fell apart.  Our baby&amp;#39;s heart stopped beating.  I was 20 weeks &amp;amp; 1 day pregnant.  Clarence William was born to Heaven the next day, November 28, 2008.  My heart is torn to shreds.  Here is where I share my hurt.  This is my therapy &amp;amp; my healing.  There is so much support &amp;amp; love here.  Thank you all for reading.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Alisha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17213136633055248109</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/TSyKAj8R-KI/AAAAAAAAFbQ/55oE7yfUpjI/S220/me%2B1-10-11.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>82</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1888724479748278423.post-6439602177929512708</id><published>2011-02-18T23:59:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-02-18T23:59:52.458-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='miss my baby boy'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='he&apos;d be two now'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Clarence'/><title type='text'>Hello Out There</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Hi.&amp;nbsp; I haven't been around much.&amp;nbsp; Two kids have me pretty busy.&amp;nbsp; I've been thinking about Clarence a lot lately though.&amp;nbsp; Not that I ever don't think of him, but I just have been thinking of him even more.&amp;nbsp; I miss his lazy kicks and thumps in my belly.&amp;nbsp; I wish he had been born alive and survived and was now a thriving 2 year old.&amp;nbsp; I wish, I wish, I wish.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1888724479748278423-6439602177929512708?l=lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/feeds/6439602177929512708/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1888724479748278423&amp;postID=6439602177929512708&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/6439602177929512708'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/6439602177929512708'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/2011/02/hello-out-there.html' title='Hello Out There'/><author><name>Alisha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17213136633055248109</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/TSyKAj8R-KI/AAAAAAAAFbQ/55oE7yfUpjI/S220/me%2B1-10-11.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1888724479748278423.post-186716739919195100</id><published>2010-10-12T10:16:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-10-12T10:16:03.236-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Light a candle on Oct. 15 for babies lost to miscarriage or stillbirth</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;October 15th is&lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pregnancy_and_Infant_Loss_Remembrance_Day"&gt; Pregnancy &amp;amp; Infant Loss Remembrance Day.&lt;/a&gt;&amp;nbsp; Please take a moment to view this video and remember to light a candle @ 7PM YOUR time on that day. Leave it burning for at least an hour so that there will be a continuous wave of light throughout the globe in remembrance of our precious little ones, gone too soon.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;object height="344" width="425"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/iSYvT-Qv_5w?fs=1&amp;amp;hl=en_US"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/iSYvT-Qv_5w?fs=1&amp;amp;hl=en_US" allowscriptaccess="never" allowfullscreen="true" wmode="transparent" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;To view remembrance events taking place in your area, please visit &lt;a href="http://www.october15th.com/activities_walks.htm"&gt;HERE&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1888724479748278423-186716739919195100?l=lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/feeds/186716739919195100/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1888724479748278423&amp;postID=186716739919195100&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/186716739919195100'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/186716739919195100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/2010/10/light-candle-on-oct-15-for-babies-lost.html' title='Light a candle on Oct. 15 for babies lost to miscarriage or stillbirth'/><author><name>Alisha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17213136633055248109</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/TSyKAj8R-KI/AAAAAAAAFbQ/55oE7yfUpjI/S220/me%2B1-10-11.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1888724479748278423.post-5642745758596143226</id><published>2010-06-13T15:05:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-06-13T15:05:54.850-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Blaze 'n' Crochet: Strider PREBike Review and GIVEAWAY!!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://blazeandcrochet.blogspot.com/2010/06/strider-prebike-review-and-giveaway.html#comment-form"&gt;Blaze 'n' Crochet: Strider PREBike Review and GIVEAWAY!!!&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I so wanna win this bike for Kensi!!  Check out this awesome give away!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1888724479748278423-5642745758596143226?l=lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://blazeandcrochet.blogspot.com/2010/06/strider-prebike-review-and-giveaway.html#comment-form' title='Blaze &apos;n&apos; Crochet: Strider PREBike Review and GIVEAWAY!!!'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/feeds/5642745758596143226/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1888724479748278423&amp;postID=5642745758596143226&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/5642745758596143226'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/5642745758596143226'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/2010/06/blaze-n-crochet-strider-prebike-review.html' title='Blaze &apos;n&apos; Crochet: Strider PREBike Review and GIVEAWAY!!!'/><author><name>Alisha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17213136633055248109</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/TSyKAj8R-KI/AAAAAAAAFbQ/55oE7yfUpjI/S220/me%2B1-10-11.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1888724479748278423.post-9206352338467825423</id><published>2010-05-14T11:30:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2010-06-11T23:27:03.776-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='mom&apos;s death'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='grief'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Clarence'/><title type='text'>Dead</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I can't believe my mom is dead.&amp;nbsp; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;The soundtrack of my mind?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;My mom is dead.&amp;nbsp; My mother is dead.&amp;nbsp; My mom DIED.&amp;nbsp; My mom is dead.&amp;nbsp; DEAD.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; I can't believe my mother is dead.&amp;nbsp; My mom is dead.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;dead&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;dead&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;dead&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;dead&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Repeat, over &amp;amp; over &amp;amp; over......&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1888724479748278423-9206352338467825423?l=lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/feeds/9206352338467825423/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1888724479748278423&amp;postID=9206352338467825423&amp;isPopup=true' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/9206352338467825423'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/9206352338467825423'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/2010/05/one-of-those-days.html' title='Dead'/><author><name>Alisha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17213136633055248109</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/TSyKAj8R-KI/AAAAAAAAFbQ/55oE7yfUpjI/S220/me%2B1-10-11.jpg'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1888724479748278423.post-8962327974963350775</id><published>2010-05-02T13:24:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-06-01T22:10:55.147-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='grief'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Clarence'/><title type='text'>A Beautiful Day To Honor Beautiful Mothers</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;a href="http://youareabeautifulmother.blogspot.com/"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://i624.photobucket.com/albums/tt324/carlymariedudley/anigif-9.gif" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Thank you Carly!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1888724479748278423-8962327974963350775?l=lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/feeds/8962327974963350775/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1888724479748278423&amp;postID=8962327974963350775&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/8962327974963350775'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/8962327974963350775'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/2010/05/beautiful-day-to-honor-beautiful.html' title='A Beautiful Day To Honor Beautiful Mothers'/><author><name>Alisha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17213136633055248109</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/TSyKAj8R-KI/AAAAAAAAFbQ/55oE7yfUpjI/S220/me%2B1-10-11.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1888724479748278423.post-4856110955193324827</id><published>2010-04-27T11:12:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2010-06-11T23:28:18.113-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Brenden'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='mom&apos;s death'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='grief'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Clarence'/><title type='text'>Caught By Surprise</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Last night I was talking to my stepson Brenden about my mother dying.&amp;nbsp; He was unable to come to the memorial services because he was on spring break with his mother.&amp;nbsp; I wanted to talk with him about it a little and see how he felt and ask if&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;he had any questions. It had occurred to me that this was the only death he had ever experienced, aside from his great grandfather who died just weeks after he was born.&amp;nbsp; Or so I thought.&amp;nbsp; He reminded me otherwise....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Me: "This is the first person that you have know that has died, right?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Brenden: "Well, except for Clarence"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I knew that.&amp;nbsp; It's not like I didn't know that.&amp;nbsp; I just didn't expect him to say that.&amp;nbsp; I wasn't even sure how much Clarence's death affected him because he never got the chance to meet him.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I looked @ him and kinda smiled.&amp;nbsp; "You mean your brother Clarence?" I said.&amp;nbsp; I asked because this was also the name of his great grandfather. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;He nodded.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I don't remember my exact words after that.&amp;nbsp; I know I was happy (is that the right word?)... pleased maybe... that he remembered.&amp;nbsp; And more than a little embarrassed that I "forgot".&amp;nbsp; Not that I really &lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;forgot.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&amp;nbsp; I mean, how &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;could&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt; I?&amp;nbsp; I just&amp;nbsp;didn't think he would consider that the same I guess?&amp;nbsp; I don't know.&amp;nbsp; It's hard to put into words why it caught me by surprise, but it did.&amp;nbsp; I knew his death had a profound affect on me and my husband.&amp;nbsp; I knew my mother's world crumbled when he died.. and yes my father and my in laws as well, but my mother for sure.&amp;nbsp; I guess I just never realized how it affected him.&amp;nbsp; It made my heart grow with warmth and love for him.&amp;nbsp; He truly is a great kid and I am so blessed to call him my son.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/S9b-dz6n0qI/AAAAAAAACo0/XVmjMvN4KlM/s1600/IMG_4992.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="223" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/S9b-dz6n0qI/AAAAAAAACo0/XVmjMvN4KlM/s400/IMG_4992.JPG" tt="true" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Brenden with Kensington&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1888724479748278423-4856110955193324827?l=lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/feeds/4856110955193324827/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1888724479748278423&amp;postID=4856110955193324827&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/4856110955193324827'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/4856110955193324827'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/2010/04/caught-me-by-surprise.html' title='Caught By Surprise'/><author><name>Alisha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17213136633055248109</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/TSyKAj8R-KI/AAAAAAAAFbQ/55oE7yfUpjI/S220/me%2B1-10-11.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/S9b-dz6n0qI/AAAAAAAACo0/XVmjMvN4KlM/s72-c/IMG_4992.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1888724479748278423.post-9192531821011751696</id><published>2010-03-31T22:10:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-06-11T23:27:42.083-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='mom&apos;s death'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='grief'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Clarence'/><title type='text'>Company</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Clarence has company in Heaven.&amp;nbsp; My mother, his grandma Gigi, died on March 23rd.&amp;nbsp; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;That is about all I can manage right now.&amp;nbsp; I am still in shock.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1888724479748278423-9192531821011751696?l=lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/feeds/9192531821011751696/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1888724479748278423&amp;postID=9192531821011751696&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/9192531821011751696'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/9192531821011751696'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/2010/03/company.html' title='Company'/><author><name>Alisha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17213136633055248109</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/TSyKAj8R-KI/AAAAAAAAFbQ/55oE7yfUpjI/S220/me%2B1-10-11.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1888724479748278423.post-93246162037859666</id><published>2010-03-03T23:21:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-06-01T22:10:55.149-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='grief'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Clarence'/><title type='text'>Mommy Loves You</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Thought of you with love today, but that is nothing new. I thought about you yesterday, and days before that too. I think of you in silence, I often speak your name. All I have are memories and a picture in a frame. Your memory is a keepsake, with which I'll never part. God has you in His keeping, I have you in my heart. ♥ Mommy loves you, Clarence...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1888724479748278423-93246162037859666?l=lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/feeds/93246162037859666/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1888724479748278423&amp;postID=93246162037859666&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/93246162037859666'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/93246162037859666'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/2010/03/mommy-loves-you.html' title='Mommy Loves You'/><author><name>Alisha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17213136633055248109</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/TSyKAj8R-KI/AAAAAAAAFbQ/55oE7yfUpjI/S220/me%2B1-10-11.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1888724479748278423.post-7945270311463065568</id><published>2010-02-24T22:55:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2010-06-01T22:10:55.149-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='grief'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Clarence'/><title type='text'>I Don't Know What To Do With This</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;I spend a lot of time on F.&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;aceBook&lt;/span&gt;.  It keeps me sane to keep in touch with other mommies through out the day.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Recently there was a status update going around.  Usually it is a statement of some sort and if you agree with it you are supposed to copy and paste it in as your status update too.  I don't usually participate, but this particular one carried a good message and I wanted to.  However, I didn't know &lt;em&gt;HOW&lt;/em&gt; to.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;It was something about "My body isn't perfect, but I nurtured (fill in the blank) children....."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I think you can see where I got tripped up.  Just how many children has my body grown and nurtured?  2?  3?  I hesitate to say that my body nurtured Clarence b/c, well, that is why he died... my placenta kept bleeding and could no longer provide him with the nutrients he needed to grow.  And yes, he lived in my womb for 20 weeks, but I feel my body failed him.  Was I nurturing him... or was he suffering?  I'll never know.  I'd like to think it was the former.  It certainly appeared he was thriving, well, until he wasn't... right up until the day before his little heart stopped beating, he appeared to be thriving.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; I didn't re post it, because, well.....  I just didn't know what to do with it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1888724479748278423-7945270311463065568?l=lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/feeds/7945270311463065568/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1888724479748278423&amp;postID=7945270311463065568&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/7945270311463065568'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/7945270311463065568'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/2010/02/i-dont-know-what-to-do-with-this.html' title='I Don&apos;t Know What To Do With This'/><author><name>Alisha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17213136633055248109</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/TSyKAj8R-KI/AAAAAAAAFbQ/55oE7yfUpjI/S220/me%2B1-10-11.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1888724479748278423.post-6614684930746057659</id><published>2010-01-19T22:19:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2010-06-01T22:10:55.150-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='grief'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Clarence'/><title type='text'>Ramblings</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;~I haven't posted here in forever. Life is going fine. It is a challenge juggling two children right now. Dell is, of course, a wonderful baby. He is exhausting though! Especially when I am running around after his sister too! He is up most days by about 4 or 5 am to nurse and after that wants to stay awake. That is hard on me because I am not smart enough to go to bed early! Nope. Not me. I want to stay up after Kensington and Brenden go to bed for some "me" time. I love my night times. I do a little laundry, run the dishwasher, catch up on the computer and am glued to my DVR. Then of course once I do make it to bed I want to read a little! It's a habit I have had forever and even if I only read just a page, I have to do it. During the day I have little energy or motivation and think about how tired I am. Night time I come alive.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;~It's amazing to see how much my children look like I did in my baby/toddler pictures. Some of the pictures I have found of myself could easily be mistaken for Kensington. Just the other other day Chad and I were trying to decide whose nose she had. Then that night I was going through some old photos to put on FB. I came across a photo of myself @ KK's age and there was the nose... her nose! So funny. I looked exactly as she does now except for my hair was a lot straighter than hers which has some wave. As I kept going through the pics I came across one of me @ about 2 months old. Guess what? I was the spitting image of what Dell looks like right now. People keep telling me how much he looks like me and I just didn't see it. Well, if my baby pictures are any indication, I guess I do!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;~So besides being busy and exhausted there is another reason I haven't posted here in awhile. I guess I am trying to figure out what belongs here on this blog. Do I end it? Do I continue it and write about my rainbow baby and other children/life else where? Or do I move forward here... no longer centering the blog around Clarence, but around my life as it is now, Clarence and other children, life events included?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;~I gaze @ Dell and often wonder what Clarence would've looked like. Who he would've looked like. We did see him of course. We held him for hours. He had his sister's (mine I now know) button nose. But what would he look like NOW? Would he resemble Dell? It is hard to look @ my live son and not ask these questions....to not have a glimpse of who Clarence might have been. I know that Clarence is not Dell and Dell is not Clarence. They are separate. I don't ever want Dell to feel he lives in his brothers shadow. But I wonder when I look @ him. I can't help it. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;~I also think a lot about what if Clarence had survived? What if by some miracle he had been born alive @ 20 weeks and lived? I would have an almost 2 1/2 year old, a 14 month old and a 6 week old! Wow!! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;~I know I am blessed to have the children I have. But I am mourning a little as well. Chad wants to be done having kids and I just can't come to terms with never being pregnant again. It is such a sad thought to me. But with as crazy as my life is right now, could I even handle another child down the road? I have always said I wanted 3 children. And that is what I have. 4 actually, because I also have my stepson Brenden. So, 3 alive, 1 dead. I just don't know. I know I want another child some day and I know it is going to be next to impossible for me to come to terms with that not happening. For now I am gonna try my best to concentrate on enjoying my new little man and try to push the thoughts of more children aside. I guess we will cross that bridge when we get there. No sense in dwelling on it now.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Rambling over.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1888724479748278423-6614684930746057659?l=lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/feeds/6614684930746057659/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1888724479748278423&amp;postID=6614684930746057659&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/6614684930746057659'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/6614684930746057659'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/2010/01/ramblings.html' title='Ramblings'/><author><name>Alisha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17213136633055248109</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/TSyKAj8R-KI/AAAAAAAAFbQ/55oE7yfUpjI/S220/me%2B1-10-11.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1888724479748278423.post-9078925671690006671</id><published>2010-01-03T22:27:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-06-11T23:29:51.135-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dell'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='grief'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Clarence'/><title type='text'>Lovin' That Face</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/S0FiJw9A0AI/AAAAAAAACJo/WuSw_Xcw_ZY/s1600-h/IMG_3336.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 224px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5422723346229940226" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/S0FiJw9A0AI/AAAAAAAACJo/WuSw_Xcw_ZY/s400/IMG_3336.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Just a few of Mommy's favorites!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/S0FiJkrqpwI/AAAAAAAACJg/C3mBcF3-nuo/s1600-h/IMG_3347.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 224px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5422723342935959298" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/S0FiJkrqpwI/AAAAAAAACJg/C3mBcF3-nuo/s400/IMG_3347.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/S0FiJeM_SAI/AAAAAAAACJY/Jb8iMpVAjK0/s1600-h/IMG_3366.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 400px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 224px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5422723341196675074" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/S0FiJeM_SAI/AAAAAAAACJY/Jb8iMpVAjK0/s400/IMG_3366.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;His "oooooo" face.&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/S0FiJKNetLI/AAAAAAAACJQ/UH2hUXLBVCo/s1600-h/IMG_3374.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 400px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 224px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5422723335830025394" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/S0FiJKNetLI/AAAAAAAACJQ/UH2hUXLBVCo/s400/IMG_3374.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/S0FiI_o0sKI/AAAAAAAACJI/jLJxmLmKoMQ/s1600-h/IMG_3376.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 224px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5422723332991922338" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/S0FiI_o0sKI/AAAAAAAACJI/jLJxmLmKoMQ/s400/IMG_3376.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1888724479748278423-9078925671690006671?l=lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/feeds/9078925671690006671/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1888724479748278423&amp;postID=9078925671690006671&amp;isPopup=true' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/9078925671690006671'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/9078925671690006671'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/2010/01/lovin-that-face.html' title='Lovin&apos; That Face'/><author><name>Alisha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17213136633055248109</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/TSyKAj8R-KI/AAAAAAAAFbQ/55oE7yfUpjI/S220/me%2B1-10-11.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/S0FiJw9A0AI/AAAAAAAACJo/WuSw_Xcw_ZY/s72-c/IMG_3336.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1888724479748278423.post-267526982602388201</id><published>2009-12-24T14:11:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2010-06-11T23:27:59.742-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='grief'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Clarence'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='christmas'/><title type='text'>Christmas In Heaven</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;Merry Christmas sweet Clarence.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Hopefully all of our angels are celebrating Christmas in Heaven together.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1888724479748278423-267526982602388201?l=lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/feeds/267526982602388201/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1888724479748278423&amp;postID=267526982602388201&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/267526982602388201'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/267526982602388201'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/2009/12/christmas-in-heaven.html' title='Christmas In Heaven'/><author><name>Alisha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17213136633055248109</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/TSyKAj8R-KI/AAAAAAAAFbQ/55oE7yfUpjI/S220/me%2B1-10-11.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1888724479748278423.post-9212818311785581485</id><published>2009-12-16T15:41:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2010-06-11T23:29:51.136-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dell'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='grief'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Clarence'/><title type='text'>A Quick Photo</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/SylGSGe4f3I/AAAAAAAACCQ/fgCGdVGb21w/s1600-h/November+and+December+2009+167.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 224px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5415937303681466226" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/SylGSGe4f3I/AAAAAAAACCQ/fgCGdVGb21w/s400/November+and+December+2009+167.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1888724479748278423-9212818311785581485?l=lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/feeds/9212818311785581485/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1888724479748278423&amp;postID=9212818311785581485&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/9212818311785581485'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/9212818311785581485'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/2009/12/quick-photo.html' title='A Quick Photo'/><author><name>Alisha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17213136633055248109</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/TSyKAj8R-KI/AAAAAAAAFbQ/55oE7yfUpjI/S220/me%2B1-10-11.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/SylGSGe4f3I/AAAAAAAACCQ/fgCGdVGb21w/s72-c/November+and+December+2009+167.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1888724479748278423.post-5742176481925659627</id><published>2009-12-15T10:09:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-06-11T23:29:51.136-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dell'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='grief'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Clarence'/><title type='text'>Our Son</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;Clarence's baby brother, Dell Richard, entered this world on December 10th @ 1:07am.  He weighed just 6lbs 6oz and was 19 1/2 inches long.  As soon as I get some pictures on the computer I will proudly share.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;What a sweet blessing we have this Christmas.  Clarence was really looking out for us.  His brother is perfect in every way, just as he was.  His big sister, Kensington, just adores him, as does Brenden his older half brother.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Thank you Clarence.  There will always being a space for you in our family, but having Dell it now feels more complete.  I believe that is because of you.  I love you!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1888724479748278423-5742176481925659627?l=lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/feeds/5742176481925659627/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1888724479748278423&amp;postID=5742176481925659627&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/5742176481925659627'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/5742176481925659627'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/2009/12/our-son.html' title='Our Son'/><author><name>Alisha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17213136633055248109</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/TSyKAj8R-KI/AAAAAAAAFbQ/55oE7yfUpjI/S220/me%2B1-10-11.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1888724479748278423.post-8773018897521071576</id><published>2009-12-06T21:54:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-06-01T22:10:55.152-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='grief'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Clarence'/><title type='text'>Please Lend Your Support</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;I have unfortunately recently met a new mommy to an angel named Ben.  Her heart is aching and she could use some of our love and support.  Please stop on over and visit her &lt;a href="http://myloveforben.blogspot.com/"&gt;here&lt;/a&gt;.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1888724479748278423-8773018897521071576?l=lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/feeds/8773018897521071576/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1888724479748278423&amp;postID=8773018897521071576&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/8773018897521071576'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/8773018897521071576'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/2009/12/please-lend-your-support.html' title='Please Lend Your Support'/><author><name>Alisha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17213136633055248109</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/TSyKAj8R-KI/AAAAAAAAFbQ/55oE7yfUpjI/S220/me%2B1-10-11.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1888724479748278423.post-7304521399312756539</id><published>2009-11-28T14:07:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-06-01T22:10:55.152-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='grief'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Clarence'/><title type='text'>Wish You Were Here</title><content type='html'>A year ago today my sweet boy Clarence William entered this world silent. The tiniest of angels, he arrived @ 5:24 am only 10.2 ounces and 10 inches long. Happy Birthday sweet boy. You have changed our lives forever! We love and miss you everyday!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1888724479748278423-7304521399312756539?l=lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/feeds/7304521399312756539/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1888724479748278423&amp;postID=7304521399312756539&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/7304521399312756539'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/7304521399312756539'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/2009/11/wish-you-were-here.html' title='Wish You Were Here'/><author><name>Alisha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17213136633055248109</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/TSyKAj8R-KI/AAAAAAAAFbQ/55oE7yfUpjI/S220/me%2B1-10-11.jpg'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1888724479748278423.post-428899297279232004</id><published>2009-11-13T13:48:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2010-06-11T23:29:51.137-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dell'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='grief'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Clarence'/><title type='text'>36 weeks 5 days</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;That's how far along I was when I gave birth to Kensington.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I will be 36 week and 5 days pregnant with this baby on November 28th... the day, last year,  my sweet boy Clarence came into this world without a sound. Kind of ironic I think. It has me worried.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Please let this baby stay put in my womb longer than that. This seems to be the only thing I can think about lately. I want November 28th for Clarence. I want November for Clarence.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Please let December be for this baby. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;PLEASE&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1888724479748278423-428899297279232004?l=lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/feeds/428899297279232004/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1888724479748278423&amp;postID=428899297279232004&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/428899297279232004'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/428899297279232004'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/2009/11/36-weeks-5-days.html' title='36 weeks 5 days'/><author><name>Alisha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17213136633055248109</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/TSyKAj8R-KI/AAAAAAAAFbQ/55oE7yfUpjI/S220/me%2B1-10-11.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1888724479748278423.post-8736213745299345490</id><published>2009-11-12T21:35:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2010-06-01T22:10:55.153-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='grief'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Clarence'/><title type='text'>Bittersweet</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;Tonight I am trying to get some things ready for the new baby on the way.  In doing this I ran across a few things that were purchased for Clarence.  A little preemie outfit that my mother bought, when we didn't know what to expect when he was delivered and I didn't want him to be naked.  As tiny as it is it would've completely engulf him.  A blanket my mother bought just weeks before he died.  A little bib that says "I'm The Little Brother" on it and has dinosaurs, part of my first and only purchase for my son.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I've thought about it and thought about it.  What to do with this stuff.  Up until now it has been neatly tucked away with other mementos of his.  Tonight, with the help of Chad, I decided it would be OK to put them in the wash with this baby's clothes.  Chad says he thinks it would be OK with Clarence for his little brother to have these things.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Isn't that what big brothers do anyhow?  Hand down their clothes and toys and friendship to their little brothers?   This will be the one and only time Clarence is able to do that.    It will bring a smile to my mouth and a tear to my eye every time I see this little baby wearing that bib or sleeper, or snuggling that blanket.  I'll be sad that he is gone, but also so happy he is here.  A part of our family still and always.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;So bittersweet.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1888724479748278423-8736213745299345490?l=lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/feeds/8736213745299345490/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1888724479748278423&amp;postID=8736213745299345490&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/8736213745299345490'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/8736213745299345490'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/2009/11/bittersweet.html' title='Bittersweet'/><author><name>Alisha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17213136633055248109</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/TSyKAj8R-KI/AAAAAAAAFbQ/55oE7yfUpjI/S220/me%2B1-10-11.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1888724479748278423.post-4108226521939486536</id><published>2009-10-28T13:34:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2010-06-01T22:10:55.154-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='grief'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Clarence'/><title type='text'>Retracing Time</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;This time last year. That is a phrase I hear in my head a lot lately. Everyday seems to have a memory attached to it from my pregnancy with Clarence. My husband's birthday for example. We went to the same restaurant as last year. Of course I couldn't help but think about "this time last year" when we followed dinner with a trip to the costume store for Halloween. How when I stood up out of the car, I had my biggest gush of blood yet. I had to walk to the bathroom in Target, trying to act and walk normal, while blood was pouring out of me. Then I had to try and act normal while my stepson tried to pick out a Halloween costume.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Thanksgiving is fast approaching. I have no idea how I want to spend it this year. It was on Thanksgiving day last year that I tried for hours to find my baby's heartbeat on the Doppler. I had to sit through the dinner, trying to be OK, wondering if my baby was dead. I am terrified what feelings will be stirred this year when I sit @ the table to eat my turkey. Do I want my family around? Or will that just make it more like "this time last year"? Maybe it should just be Chad, I and the kids? Or will that feel too empty? Maybe we should go to a friends? The offer has been put out there.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;On top of all of this, as of this Friday my husband is without a job. Cut backs @ work. Sure he has some irons in the fire as far as other opportunities. Sure he gets a severance package. That doesn't stop me from stressing out over it all. Could the timing be any worse? Not that it is ever a good time to lose a job. But seriously? I am trying so hard to enjoy this pregnancy, as it may be my last, but feeling tired and stressed all the time doesn't help. I want to make these last weeks with my daughter special... she won't be my only (live) child for much longer. I feel like this baby is gonna come before I am ready. I wish I could turn back the clock some. I feel like I am in a pit and keep trying to dig my way out, only to have the dirt keep falling back down to cover me. I'm scratching for the surface trying to be a healthy, happy, functional adult.... but I usually end up feeling knocked down and like a child.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;It's hard. Enjoy this pregnancy, be happy for my daughter, deal with the stress of life, struggle with my depression... and still take time to remember "this time last year". Take time to mourn the pregnancy and the son that I lost. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Sometimes I want to give in and just let the dirt win.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1888724479748278423-4108226521939486536?l=lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/feeds/4108226521939486536/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1888724479748278423&amp;postID=4108226521939486536&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/4108226521939486536'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/4108226521939486536'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/2009/10/retracing-time.html' title='Retracing Time'/><author><name>Alisha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17213136633055248109</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/TSyKAj8R-KI/AAAAAAAAFbQ/55oE7yfUpjI/S220/me%2B1-10-11.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1888724479748278423.post-8115858031287561604</id><published>2009-10-19T14:14:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-06-11T23:29:51.138-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dell'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='grief'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Clarence'/><title type='text'>30 Weeks Pregnant</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;Just wanted to share some pictures we took last week.  I actually had my hair and makeup done and was wearing something other than a t-shirt and yoga pants so we figured we'd take advantage!&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/Stys--vIl2I/AAAAAAAABvI/3fh8Gh_Ulns/s1600-h/IMG_2681.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 224px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394376651675572066" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/Stys--vIl2I/AAAAAAAABvI/3fh8Gh_Ulns/s400/IMG_2681.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/Stys-fHWP9I/AAAAAAAABvA/zKqeX1tXSkY/s1600-h/IMG_2682.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 224px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394376643187195858" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/Stys-fHWP9I/AAAAAAAABvA/zKqeX1tXSkY/s400/IMG_2682.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/Stys91hoBkI/AAAAAAAABu4/bqSBLbAoMcM/s1600-h/IMG_2684.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 224px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394376632023123522" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/Stys91hoBkI/AAAAAAAABu4/bqSBLbAoMcM/s400/IMG_2684.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1888724479748278423-8115858031287561604?l=lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/feeds/8115858031287561604/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1888724479748278423&amp;postID=8115858031287561604&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/8115858031287561604'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/8115858031287561604'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/2009/10/30-weeks-pregnant.html' title='30 Weeks Pregnant'/><author><name>Alisha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17213136633055248109</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/TSyKAj8R-KI/AAAAAAAAFbQ/55oE7yfUpjI/S220/me%2B1-10-11.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/Stys--vIl2I/AAAAAAAABvI/3fh8Gh_Ulns/s72-c/IMG_2681.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1888724479748278423.post-1777657770753376140</id><published>2009-10-13T16:02:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2010-06-01T22:10:55.155-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='grief'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Clarence'/><title type='text'>October 15th</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;Any other Mother that has lost a baby will probably already know this.  In case someone is reading who hasn't lost a baby and wants to remember these little lives that have touched us so much, please light a candle on October 15th @ 7pm.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://miscarriage.about.com/od/copingwithmiscarriages/qt/october15.htm"&gt;http://miscarriage.about.com/od/copingwithmiscarriages/qt/october15.htm&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.october15th.com/"&gt;http://www.october15th.com/&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1888724479748278423-1777657770753376140?l=lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/feeds/1777657770753376140/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1888724479748278423&amp;postID=1777657770753376140&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/1777657770753376140'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/1777657770753376140'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/2009/10/october-15th.html' title='October 15th'/><author><name>Alisha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17213136633055248109</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/TSyKAj8R-KI/AAAAAAAAFbQ/55oE7yfUpjI/S220/me%2B1-10-11.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1888724479748278423.post-722090205255190467</id><published>2009-10-13T15:24:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-06-01T22:10:55.156-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='grief'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Clarence'/><title type='text'>Lost</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;I lost my cat.  Wednesday evening we let her out for a bit...and I completely forgot about her.  My husband assumed I brought her in when he locked up for the night.  She normally hangs out in the basement most of the day and comes out @ night.  So when I didn't see her on Thursday, I didn't think anything of it.  Then Thursday night we were out celebrating our anniversary.  We were gone most of Saturday and out of town Sunday and Monday.  This morning I asked Chad if he had seen the cat recently.  He said "No" and that is when it hit me.  What kind of person loses their cat and doesn't realize it for a week!  I am so upset and don't know what to do.  The last time we let her out and didn't bring her in until late she was attacked by either a raccoon or another cat.  Now it has been a whole week!  She is 12 and has her front paws declawed. I just picture her lying dead somewhere.  I picture her sitting on our porch wondering why no one would let her in.  I picture her @ the Humane Society being euthanized.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;What kind of person am I?  She was my very first baby and I LOST her.  Just put her outside one night and never let her back in.   I feel so ashamed and so guilty and mostly so so so sorry.  I pray maybe by some miracle someone kept her and is giving her the kind of attention she deserves.  My poor, poor Dottie&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1888724479748278423-722090205255190467?l=lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/feeds/722090205255190467/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1888724479748278423&amp;postID=722090205255190467&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/722090205255190467'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/722090205255190467'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/2009/10/lost.html' title='Lost'/><author><name>Alisha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17213136633055248109</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/TSyKAj8R-KI/AAAAAAAAFbQ/55oE7yfUpjI/S220/me%2B1-10-11.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1888724479748278423.post-4949558259309852064</id><published>2009-09-27T09:58:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2010-06-01T22:10:55.156-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='grief'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Clarence'/><title type='text'>Honest Scrap</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/Srz2vNBA7iI/AAAAAAAABmY/476_6VjQWM8/s1600-h/honestscrap.png"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 215px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 208px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5385450545236471330" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/Srz2vNBA7iI/AAAAAAAABmY/476_6VjQWM8/s400/honestscrap.png" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Thank you &lt;a href="http://lifeafterleila.blogspot.com/"&gt;Leila's mommy &lt;/a&gt;for nominating me! Sorry it has taken me so long to post this!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here are the rules:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;1. Choose a minimum of 7 blogs who you find brilliant in content or design.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;2. Show the 7 winners’ names and links on your blog, and leave a comment (on their blog) informing them that they have won the Honest Scrap award.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;3. Tell us 7 honest things about yourself.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;These are the blogs I am nominating. I'm sure some of you may have been nominated before. If so, it must be a compliment!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;1. Shana @ &lt;a href="http://blazeandcrochet.blogspot.com/"&gt;http://blazeandcrochet.blogspot.com/&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;2. Lindsey @ &lt;a href="http://livinglifeaswego.blogspot.com/"&gt;http://livinglifeaswego.blogspot.com/&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;3. Heidi @ &lt;a href="http://joshandheidisjourney.blogspot.com/"&gt;http://joshandheidisjourney.blogspot.com/&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;4. Jamie @ &lt;a href="http://theflukenfamily.blogspot.com/?zx=42643394632235bd"&gt;http://theflukenfamily.blogspot.com/?zx=42643394632235bd&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;5. Christina @ &lt;a href="http://scfmrankinfamily.blogspot.com/"&gt;http://scfmrankinfamily.blogspot.com/&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;6. Christina @ &lt;a href="http://littlegraciev.blogspot.com/"&gt;http://littlegraciev.blogspot.com/&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;7. Julia @ &lt;a href="http://wontfearlove.blogspot.com/"&gt;http://wontfearlove.blogspot.com/&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Seven honest things about me. Hmm... This may be tough.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;1. I have 2 dogs and a cat that I feel don't get nearly enough attention since my daughter was born. I feel tremendously guilty for this. I try to remind myself that they are loved, sheltered, fed and happy and that there are many animals out there that aren't.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;2. I often call my daughter just "Kensi" in public b/c I love her full name so much (Kensington) and I am afraid someone will hear it and use it someday. It is a very unique name and I don't want it to become the next "Emma". As if I could single-handedly prevent that! LOL&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;3. My daughter eats breakfast in front of the TV every morning. It allows Mommy time to wake up... and surf the net.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;4. I struggled with infertility. I have PCOS. Kensington came as a "Christmas Miracle" while we were on a break waiting to start injectibles. I got a surprise call from the nurse not to take the first injection that night b/c I was pregnant. Her estimated conception date? Christmas Eve or Christmas Day!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;5. I often feel guilty that my struggle with PCOS has been mild compared to so many wonderful women I know. My problem is corrected by treating the underlying problem of insulin resistance, for others it is not so easy. My heart breaks for these women. Many of them close friends.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;6. I am pretty boring I think. I love to read, watch TV. I do better in small groups of people. Actually one on one. I kinda sink into the background in bigger groups of people. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;7. I have ADD. I get very overwhelmed @ times and have no idea how to organize myself. Consequently, if I have a ton of stuff that needs to be done...well.... I either flip out or nothing gets done at all. I'm one of those people that start to clean in one room (kitchen) and go to return something somewhere else (bedroom) and then start cleaning that room...until I find something that belongs somewhere else! LOL! I am getting better. I have recognized ways to "talk" myself out of being so overwhelmed, but it is definitely a continuing struggle.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Well, there you go. Seven honest scraps about me. I guess I did them more like "confessions". I would love it if when you do your "Honest Scrap" you leave me a link in one of my comments so I can read yours too. No pressure. Have fun. Take your time. I look forward to learning little tidbits about everyone!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1888724479748278423-4949558259309852064?l=lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/feeds/4949558259309852064/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1888724479748278423&amp;postID=4949558259309852064&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/4949558259309852064'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/4949558259309852064'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/2009/09/honest-scrap.html' title='Honest Scrap'/><author><name>Alisha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17213136633055248109</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/TSyKAj8R-KI/AAAAAAAAFbQ/55oE7yfUpjI/S220/me%2B1-10-11.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/Srz2vNBA7iI/AAAAAAAABmY/476_6VjQWM8/s72-c/honestscrap.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1888724479748278423.post-5762410299003577119</id><published>2009-09-23T21:56:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2010-06-01T22:10:55.157-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='grief'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Clarence'/><title type='text'>Unexpected Suprise</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;I am currently 27 weeks pregnant.  Officially in the 3rd trimester.  We went to the MFM for an u/s on Monday and got some great pictures.  This first one made me a little sad.  This pose is the same way we last saw our Clarence on u/s.  His feet up above his head, comfortable for him I guess.  And when we went to the hospital the next day and learned his heart had stopped beating....well, he was still in that position.  Seeing this baby like that tugged on my heart strings a bit, as I am sure you can imagine.&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/SrrSa_JKnTI/AAAAAAAABjY/jIQMO5XKBag/s1600-h/img045.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 348px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5384847665543159090" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/SrrSa_JKnTI/AAAAAAAABjY/jIQMO5XKBag/s400/img045.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Love the little foot print.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/SrrSahrv9eI/AAAAAAAABjQ/6tXp5v7qi3E/s1600-h/img044.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5384847657635149282" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/SrrSahrv9eI/AAAAAAAABjQ/6tXp5v7qi3E/s400/img044.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; And this looks to me to be a strong soccer leg!  No wonder I feel those strong kicks!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/SrrSaHOthyI/AAAAAAAABjI/rd_K0MGDwJI/s1600-h/img041.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 325px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5384847650534033186" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/SrrSaHOthyI/AAAAAAAABjI/rd_K0MGDwJI/s400/img041.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But the best picture?  This one here.  I didn't even know they could do a 3D u/s there. The u/s tech. just said, lets see if we can get some 3D pics and before I could reply (I have never had a desire for one b/c I feel it is like peeking @ your presents before Christmas) she had the first picture up!  Needless to say,  I was very suprised and VERY happy we got it.  AND it was free!  I think he is rather handsome.  How 'bout you?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/SrrSZ8cNUxI/AAAAAAAABjA/LPYiZJgNb-g/s1600-h/img039.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 324px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5384847647637852946" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/SrrSZ8cNUxI/AAAAAAAABjA/LPYiZJgNb-g/s400/img039.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1888724479748278423-5762410299003577119?l=lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/feeds/5762410299003577119/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1888724479748278423&amp;postID=5762410299003577119&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/5762410299003577119'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/5762410299003577119'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/2009/09/unexpected-suprise.html' title='Unexpected Suprise'/><author><name>Alisha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17213136633055248109</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/TSyKAj8R-KI/AAAAAAAAFbQ/55oE7yfUpjI/S220/me%2B1-10-11.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/SrrSa_JKnTI/AAAAAAAABjY/jIQMO5XKBag/s72-c/img045.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1888724479748278423.post-25553014728941373</id><published>2009-09-22T13:14:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2010-06-01T22:10:55.157-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='grief'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Clarence'/><title type='text'>Shit</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;I had an eye exam today. I love the doctor I go to see. He is very friendly and is always happy to talk about his grand kids and asks many questions about my family. I almost made it though the appointment without mentioning Clarence. In the end though, as he was comparing my exam from today to last year, he must have saw where he made a note that I had been pregnant. He kinda stumbled for a minute and then seem confused. And then, God love him, he said "Did you lose one?" Plain and simple, not awkward, not apologetic, just matter of fact. He wasn't afraid of "reminding me" or "hurting my feelings". Maybe that would make some people mad that he asked so nonchalant like that. But it was OK with me. Others would have stumbled, been confused and then ignored the "elephant in the room". He didn't. We even talked about my pregnancy hormones. He made the comment (b/c we were talking about the meds I take) that the child bearing years wreck havoc on your hormones but once you are done having kids they seem to level out and you get some relief. "That shit does go away" he said. I had to laugh. My "shit" has been with me long before pregnancy, but I pray he is right and that it has just been exacerbated these last few years. I would love for my "shit" to go away or @ the very least even out and tame down!  I bet Chad would be happy with that too ;)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1888724479748278423-25553014728941373?l=lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/feeds/25553014728941373/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1888724479748278423&amp;postID=25553014728941373&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/25553014728941373'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/25553014728941373'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/2009/09/shit.html' title='Shit'/><author><name>Alisha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17213136633055248109</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/TSyKAj8R-KI/AAAAAAAAFbQ/55oE7yfUpjI/S220/me%2B1-10-11.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1888724479748278423.post-5121799365502280716</id><published>2009-09-01T13:59:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2010-06-01T22:10:55.158-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='grief'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Clarence'/><title type='text'>Why?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;How does &lt;a href="http://freyja-kees-lovedsomuch.blogspot.com/"&gt;this&lt;/a&gt; happen? How is this fair? My heart is breaking for this couple right now, as they mourn the loss of yet another child. A third child. A son named Jet.  I don't even know them, but my heart feels so much pain. Thinking of you, &lt;a href="http://freyja-kees-lovedsomuch.blogspot.com/"&gt;Mirne and Craig&lt;/a&gt;, and keeping you and your sweet children in my prayers.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1888724479748278423-5121799365502280716?l=lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/feeds/5121799365502280716/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1888724479748278423&amp;postID=5121799365502280716&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/5121799365502280716'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/5121799365502280716'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/2009/09/why.html' title='Why?'/><author><name>Alisha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17213136633055248109</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/TSyKAj8R-KI/AAAAAAAAFbQ/55oE7yfUpjI/S220/me%2B1-10-11.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1888724479748278423.post-2127687708336590115</id><published>2009-08-30T18:20:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-06-01T22:10:55.158-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='grief'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Clarence'/><title type='text'>9 Months &amp; A Birthday</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;As of the 28th it has been nine months since we said goodbye to our sweet boy.  I made a mental note of it @ the beginning of the week, that the day was approaching.  It wasn't until I crawled into bed on the evening of the 28th that I realized what day it was.  It had been a horribly emotional day.  Overwhelmed, stressed, on edge and just worn out.  A lot of that had to do with my daughters birthday party coming up the next day.  And then that brought about another thought.  At Kensi's party last year I was newly pregnant with Clarence and we hadn't told our friends and family yet.  It was so exciting b/c after the cake and ice cream we changed her into an outfit that said "I'm the Big sister" and waited for everyone to notice.  What sweet memories.  I look back @ those pictures from her party, when he was safely snuggled inside of me and smile.  Then I want to cry.  Because that was the innocent me.  The innocent us.  So unaware of the storm ahead of us.  That just in a few months our world would split down the middle and we would go tumbling through the crack.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1888724479748278423-2127687708336590115?l=lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/feeds/2127687708336590115/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1888724479748278423&amp;postID=2127687708336590115&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/2127687708336590115'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/2127687708336590115'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/2009/08/9-months-birthday.html' title='9 Months &amp; A Birthday'/><author><name>Alisha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17213136633055248109</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/TSyKAj8R-KI/AAAAAAAAFbQ/55oE7yfUpjI/S220/me%2B1-10-11.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1888724479748278423.post-8634727416132829562</id><published>2009-08-25T13:48:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2010-06-01T22:10:55.159-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='grief'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Clarence'/><title type='text'>Emotional Mess</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;I have been an emotional mess this pregnancy. Not necessarily for the reasons you would think. Not about losing Clarence. Not about being scared to lose this baby. At least not overwhelmingly so. Just sad, tired and ..... I don't know what else. Maybe &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;subconsciously&lt;/span&gt; it is about Clarence and fear? I don't know. I just wish it would get better. I wanna enjoy these last months of &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;Mommy hood&lt;/span&gt; with my daughter as an only (live) child.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1888724479748278423-8634727416132829562?l=lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/feeds/8634727416132829562/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1888724479748278423&amp;postID=8634727416132829562&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/8634727416132829562'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/8634727416132829562'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/2009/08/emotional-mess.html' title='Emotional Mess'/><author><name>Alisha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17213136633055248109</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/TSyKAj8R-KI/AAAAAAAAFbQ/55oE7yfUpjI/S220/me%2B1-10-11.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1888724479748278423.post-9218106594266755134</id><published>2009-08-10T21:15:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-06-01T22:10:55.159-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='grief'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Clarence'/><title type='text'>I Don't Know What To Say</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;To my babylost momma friends, &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I read your blogs.  They move me and make me think.  They help me understand some of my own feelings that I can't quite put my finger on.  Most of the time I don't know what to say in your comments.  That bothers me.  I start to write a comment and I feel it sounds superficial, so I will erase it.  But I want you all to know I am there reading and supporting you.  Maybe I should just write "I was here"?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I don't want you to think I am not here.  That I am not listening.  I am.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I just don't know what to say always.....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;All my love,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Alisha&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1888724479748278423-9218106594266755134?l=lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/feeds/9218106594266755134/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1888724479748278423&amp;postID=9218106594266755134&amp;isPopup=true' title='11 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/9218106594266755134'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/9218106594266755134'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/2009/08/i-dont-know-what-to-say.html' title='I Don&apos;t Know What To Say'/><author><name>Alisha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17213136633055248109</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/TSyKAj8R-KI/AAAAAAAAFbQ/55oE7yfUpjI/S220/me%2B1-10-11.jpg'/></author><thr:total>11</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1888724479748278423.post-7979472566267872796</id><published>2009-08-09T20:35:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-06-01T22:10:55.160-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='grief'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Clarence'/><title type='text'>Clarence's Teddy Bear</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;Here is a picture of my DD &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Kensington&lt;/span&gt; hold the Teddy Bear the hospital gave to Clarence.&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/Sn9rzbhcMmI/AAAAAAAABNg/R0u8qwheWB0/s1600-h/IMG_2080.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 224px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5368127812154438242" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/Sn9rzbhcMmI/AAAAAAAABNg/R0u8qwheWB0/s400/IMG_2080.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1888724479748278423-7979472566267872796?l=lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/feeds/7979472566267872796/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1888724479748278423&amp;postID=7979472566267872796&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/7979472566267872796'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/7979472566267872796'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/2009/08/clarences-teddy-bear.html' title='Clarence&apos;s Teddy Bear'/><author><name>Alisha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17213136633055248109</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/TSyKAj8R-KI/AAAAAAAAFbQ/55oE7yfUpjI/S220/me%2B1-10-11.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/Sn9rzbhcMmI/AAAAAAAABNg/R0u8qwheWB0/s72-c/IMG_2080.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1888724479748278423.post-6138351250383193294</id><published>2009-08-04T21:42:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2010-06-01T22:10:55.160-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='grief'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Clarence'/><title type='text'>20w1d</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;Or read that as 20 weeks 1 day.  That is how pregnant I was when we lost Clarence and that is how pregnant I am today. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; We had our anatomy scan yesterday.  Everything was just wonderful.  Healthy and thriving, moving and posing.  So different from our 20 week with Clarence.  I mean he appeared to be thriving and growing just fine.  Some of his measurements were a week or a few days behind, which is totally normal.  But he wasn't active @ all.  But because he had a strong &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;HB&lt;/span&gt;, there was really no concern.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;We found out we are having a boy!  I think Clarence had a little something to do with that.  What a little angel he is.  I was worried how I would feel about another son.  I am absolutely happy though....and nervous!  I only know about little baby girls so far.  A boy will be a whole new adventure.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; A bitter sweet u/s yesterday.  And a bitter sweet day today.  I think Clarence was up there working his magic today to help his Mommy through the day.  He's made sure his little brother in my womb has been making his presence known to Mommy all day with little kicks and thumps!  What a glorious feeling.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1888724479748278423-6138351250383193294?l=lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/feeds/6138351250383193294/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1888724479748278423&amp;postID=6138351250383193294&amp;isPopup=true' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/6138351250383193294'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/6138351250383193294'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/2009/08/20w1d.html' title='20w1d'/><author><name>Alisha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17213136633055248109</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/TSyKAj8R-KI/AAAAAAAAFbQ/55oE7yfUpjI/S220/me%2B1-10-11.jpg'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1888724479748278423.post-4772677010633548989</id><published>2009-08-02T19:18:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2010-06-01T22:10:55.161-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='grief'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Clarence'/><title type='text'>July 31st</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;I can't believe it, but it has been a year already. Not since Clarence died and was born, but since he first came into our lives. We didn't yet know it but this day in 2008 (or shortly before or after) a very special thing &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;happened&lt;/span&gt;. A sperm and an egg came together and the miracle of life began. Kinda embarrassing to write about his conception...but that is the REAL beginning of his life, right? A little secret taking root in Mommy's womb.... What a beautiful day!  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;And what a difference that life would make.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1888724479748278423-4772677010633548989?l=lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/feeds/4772677010633548989/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1888724479748278423&amp;postID=4772677010633548989&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/4772677010633548989'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/4772677010633548989'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/2009/08/july-31st.html' title='July 31st'/><author><name>Alisha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17213136633055248109</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/TSyKAj8R-KI/AAAAAAAAFbQ/55oE7yfUpjI/S220/me%2B1-10-11.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1888724479748278423.post-4086608282606843994</id><published>2009-07-26T18:54:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-06-01T22:10:55.161-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='grief'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Clarence'/><title type='text'>Adorable</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;Someone new read my blog.  They told me that my son was "adorable".  How wonderful that felt to have someone say that.  Someone who isn't family, isn't a "member" of this terrible club.  I hardly know her in fact. That single sentence made me so happy.  A lot of people don't have the courage to speak so freely.  I made sure to tell her how much I truly appreciated that.  I too think he is adorable!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1888724479748278423-4086608282606843994?l=lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/feeds/4086608282606843994/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1888724479748278423&amp;postID=4086608282606843994&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/4086608282606843994'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/4086608282606843994'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/2009/07/adorable.html' title='Adorable'/><author><name>Alisha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17213136633055248109</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/TSyKAj8R-KI/AAAAAAAAFbQ/55oE7yfUpjI/S220/me%2B1-10-11.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1888724479748278423.post-4286340864602756134</id><published>2009-07-20T21:39:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2010-06-01T22:10:55.162-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='grief'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Clarence'/><title type='text'>Some Good &amp; Some Bad</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;It's been awhile. I hadn't realized how long. Everything here is going well. Perfect really. Maybe I shouldn't have said that? I am 18 weeks today. I am thinking of Clarence a lot lately as I am quickly approaching the point in this pregnancy that we lost him. I was exactly 20 weeks when I got my last u/s with him. And I will be exactly 20 weeks for my next u/s with this one. This time we will be celebrating, hopefully, good, glorious news. With Clarence we received the news that there may have been further complications on the way. They suspected a &lt;a href="http://www.vasaprevia.org/vasaprevia/velamentous.htm"&gt;Velamentous Cord Insertion&lt;/a&gt;, or VCI. It was never actually confirmed though b/c he passed away the next day. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I wonder if it hurt? Him dying, I mean. Did he just fall asleep and slip away? This baby is always so active when we listen with the Doppler. Clarence really wasn't. So I wonder if he was weak from all the bleeding I was experiencing. These are thoughts that are fresh to me. They have just recently occurred. I really hope he didn't suffer. Someone told me that the only thing he ever new was his mommas warmth and the coziness of my womb. I had never thought of it like that. I had always thought of it as I had failed him. It's a new way to see things I guess. It certainly is true.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Why, why, why? I still wonder why. And while I wish things were different, then I wouldn't have this sweet baby I am carrying now. I mean if Clarence had come early, maybe...but not likely. It's a weird feeling knowing the baby in your womb would not be here if the one you yearned for hadn't died. How ironic is that?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Sorry this post is just a bunch of rambling. I came on here thinking I had nothing much to say. guess I should do that more often?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1888724479748278423-4286340864602756134?l=lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/feeds/4286340864602756134/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1888724479748278423&amp;postID=4286340864602756134&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/4286340864602756134'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/4286340864602756134'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/2009/07/some-good-some-bad.html' title='Some Good &amp; Some Bad'/><author><name>Alisha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17213136633055248109</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/TSyKAj8R-KI/AAAAAAAAFbQ/55oE7yfUpjI/S220/me%2B1-10-11.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1888724479748278423.post-9063740735478725203</id><published>2009-06-30T18:59:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-06-01T22:10:55.162-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='grief'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Clarence'/><title type='text'>It's Here!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;It came today!  The Doppler of course.  156 bpm!  I LOVE that galloping sound.  *sigh*  Thank you, thank you, thank you!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1888724479748278423-9063740735478725203?l=lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/feeds/9063740735478725203/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1888724479748278423&amp;postID=9063740735478725203&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/9063740735478725203'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/9063740735478725203'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/2009/06/its-here.html' title='It&apos;s Here!!'/><author><name>Alisha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17213136633055248109</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/TSyKAj8R-KI/AAAAAAAAFbQ/55oE7yfUpjI/S220/me%2B1-10-11.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1888724479748278423.post-9141315015031469490</id><published>2009-06-25T20:38:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-06-01T22:10:55.163-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='grief'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Clarence'/><title type='text'>A Big Step</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;We just placed our order yesterday to rent a fetal heart doppler.  We had one with both Kensington and Clarence and used it daily...sometimes twice a day.  I have put it off for quite some time with this pregnancy.  Terrified to get it too soon and flip out and be terrified if we couldn't find the heart beat.  I think part of me was putting it off too b/c of the last time we tried to listen @ home with a doppler.  It was the day we learned that Clarence had died.  We spent HOURS trying to find it before calling the doctor.  Terrified of what I already knew was true.  It's kinda of funny.  Well not really, but...up until we called the doctor that day Chad was convinced we just couldn't find the heart beat, but that the baby was still alive.  Just hiding somewhere or something.  I was convinced the opposite.  He was gone.  After talking to the doctor and being told to go to L&amp;amp;D it switched.  I felt relief, that in just a short while I would be reassured that everything was indeed OK and that Chad was right, he was just in a hard spot to hear. (Even though we had dopplered every single inch of my torso and my back, hoping for something) And once we were on the way to the hospital it became more "real" to Chad and he "knew" it wasn't going to be good news.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;So, will I be scared to death to use the doppler for the first time when it arrives on my door step?  Hell yes.  Absolutely.  I have even decided we can't listen for this baby's heart beat while I am laying in our bed, b/c that is what we used to do with Clarence.  I would lay in bed and read and when I was ready to go to sleep I would call Chad up and we would listen before I turned in for the night.  We listened in other areas of the house as well, but most frequently there.  And of course being that on Thanksgiving Day my house was full of family...well that is were Chad and I were when we were struggling to find it that last time.  A picture so clear in my mind.  To imagine that day again the fear comes storming back.  The sick feeling in my gut, the pounding in my chest, the shaking and anxiety.  The bile in my throat.  I certainly never wish to relive that again.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;So, we will avoid listening in the bedroom.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1888724479748278423-9141315015031469490?l=lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/feeds/9141315015031469490/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1888724479748278423&amp;postID=9141315015031469490&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/9141315015031469490'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/9141315015031469490'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/2009/06/big-step.html' title='A Big Step'/><author><name>Alisha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17213136633055248109</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/TSyKAj8R-KI/AAAAAAAAFbQ/55oE7yfUpjI/S220/me%2B1-10-11.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1888724479748278423.post-4638425779676058450</id><published>2009-06-24T20:27:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2010-06-01T22:10:55.164-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='grief'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Clarence'/><title type='text'>What Do You Think?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;My "baby" is 22 months old. Exactly. She was 15 months old when Clarence died. She never really understood or knew that mommy was pregnant. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I have a picture of Clarence out in our room. I don't "hide" him from her. We speak of him and don't censor ourselves. Do you think that is healthy? Is that OK for her? I don't ever want to hide the fact that she has a baby brother up in Heaven.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I don't go out of my way to "show" her Clarence either. I have picked up his picture on occasion and pointed to him and said to her "baby". She has picked up his teddy bear I have next to his picture and I have let her play with it telling her it is Clarence's bear.  I figure if he is spoken of naturally, that one day it will be natural for her to ask about him. Or that she will grow up knowing about him already.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;What do you think?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1888724479748278423-4638425779676058450?l=lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/feeds/4638425779676058450/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1888724479748278423&amp;postID=4638425779676058450&amp;isPopup=true' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/4638425779676058450'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/4638425779676058450'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/2009/06/what-do-you-think.html' title='What Do You Think?'/><author><name>Alisha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17213136633055248109</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/TSyKAj8R-KI/AAAAAAAAFbQ/55oE7yfUpjI/S220/me%2B1-10-11.jpg'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1888724479748278423.post-559184668450545913</id><published>2009-06-22T10:51:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-06-01T22:10:55.164-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='grief'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Clarence'/><title type='text'>Hey there</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;I have many posts twirling in my head as I lie in bed @ night.  I will try my &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;darnedest&lt;/span&gt; to get them in print!  We just returned from vacation.  I have a ton of catching up to do.  Just wanted you all to know I am still here reading and supporting you.  And that I appreciate your continued support as well.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1888724479748278423-559184668450545913?l=lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/feeds/559184668450545913/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1888724479748278423&amp;postID=559184668450545913&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/559184668450545913'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/559184668450545913'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/2009/06/hey-there.html' title='Hey there'/><author><name>Alisha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17213136633055248109</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/TSyKAj8R-KI/AAAAAAAAFbQ/55oE7yfUpjI/S220/me%2B1-10-11.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1888724479748278423.post-298415326340256740</id><published>2009-06-09T13:50:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-06-01T22:10:55.165-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='grief'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Clarence'/><title type='text'>A Trip To The Beach</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;I got a chance to get out of town for a little girls "weekend".  We went to VA Beach.&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/Si6hYbKK71I/AAAAAAAAAzg/r_GKhCshtzM/s1600-h/IMG_1475.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5345387248714706770" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/Si6hYbKK71I/AAAAAAAAAzg/r_GKhCshtzM/s400/IMG_1475.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;So of course while I was there, I had to test out writing Clarence's name in the sand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/Si6hYfosqZI/AAAAAAAAAzY/U5wlPb7OXTY/s1600-h/IMG_1476.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5345387249916488082" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/Si6hYfosqZI/AAAAAAAAAzY/U5wlPb7OXTY/s400/IMG_1476.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; And here is one for Clarence and his angel friend Casey.  There was something very peaceful and calming that came over me while doing this. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/Si6hYLvVjnI/AAAAAAAAAzQ/9a_8rivRzD4/s1600-h/IMG_1480.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5345387244575624818" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/Si6hYLvVjnI/AAAAAAAAAzQ/9a_8rivRzD4/s400/IMG_1480.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;It made me smile.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1888724479748278423-298415326340256740?l=lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/feeds/298415326340256740/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1888724479748278423&amp;postID=298415326340256740&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/298415326340256740'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/298415326340256740'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/2009/06/trip-to-beach.html' title='A Trip To The Beach'/><author><name>Alisha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17213136633055248109</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/TSyKAj8R-KI/AAAAAAAAFbQ/55oE7yfUpjI/S220/me%2B1-10-11.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/Si6hYbKK71I/AAAAAAAAAzg/r_GKhCshtzM/s72-c/IMG_1475.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1888724479748278423.post-6444498748494438764</id><published>2009-06-03T00:21:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-06-01T22:10:55.166-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='grief'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Clarence'/><title type='text'>So Scared</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;I have an OB appt in the morning.  They will check for the HB with a Doppler.  We all know what happened the last time I had a baby in my belly and we checked for the HB with a Doppler.  I am nervous as shit.  Even though this pregnancy is going so well.  Even though I have had no bleeding.  Still....what if?  I hope I sleep tonight.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1888724479748278423-6444498748494438764?l=lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/feeds/6444498748494438764/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1888724479748278423&amp;postID=6444498748494438764&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/6444498748494438764'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/6444498748494438764'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/2009/06/so-scared.html' title='So Scared'/><author><name>Alisha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17213136633055248109</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/TSyKAj8R-KI/AAAAAAAAFbQ/55oE7yfUpjI/S220/me%2B1-10-11.jpg'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1888724479748278423.post-4157631352817210479</id><published>2009-05-28T22:32:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2010-06-01T22:10:55.166-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='grief'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Clarence'/><title type='text'>It's Been 6 Months</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;I would love to say it doesn't feel like it.  Like it feels like just yesterday.  But it doesn't.  It almost feels like it happened in an alternate reality.  It feels so surreal that I (Me, Alisha) was pregnant with a perfect little boy that just died in my womb.  Died.  I have a child that was born dead.  It feels so far away.  So far away.  He was born (dead of course) on November, 28th.  His heart stopped beating sometime on November 27th.  So I have had this morbid thought in my head about how his tombstone would read?  "Born 11/28/08, Died 11/27/08"?  Or 11/28/08 -11/27/08?  Weird isn't it? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Back to my original thought though.  He just feels so far away.  Further than 6 months.  Further than....I don't know what.  He is only going to get further and further.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; In the weeks following his death, I would cry myself to sleep @ night.  Sometimes clutching the teddy bear or blanket they gave him in the hospital.  Always smelling him before going to bed.  Taking in the aroma of the little gowns and hats that he wore.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I still haven't (and @ this point probably won't) washed them.  It has been awhile since I have opened the Ziploc baggy and breathed them in.  A smell that is so sweet and so sad @ the same time.  I don't know what I will do when the smell fades away.  It will just be another part of him further away from me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Today I reread a post on a forum I am a member of.  It was posted by my husband to inform my dear friends that our little boy had passed.  My eyes swelled with tears and the tears spilled over.  I know on some level I think of him everyday.  Whether it be specifically him, or maybe the memory of how terrifying the pregnancy was and how more terrifying it makes THIS pregnancy.  It was nice to take a moment today and really think of him and what occurred on this day 6 months ago.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;So please, if you will.  Take a moment and think of my sweet Clarence today.  And I will smile in appreciation of how many people this little life touched.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Thank you for all your love and support.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1888724479748278423-4157631352817210479?l=lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/feeds/4157631352817210479/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1888724479748278423&amp;postID=4157631352817210479&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/4157631352817210479'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/4157631352817210479'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/2009/05/its-been-6-months.html' title='It&apos;s Been 6 Months'/><author><name>Alisha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17213136633055248109</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/TSyKAj8R-KI/AAAAAAAAFbQ/55oE7yfUpjI/S220/me%2B1-10-11.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1888724479748278423.post-8999850412922072105</id><published>2009-05-17T21:25:00.009-04:00</published><updated>2010-06-01T22:10:55.167-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='grief'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Clarence'/><title type='text'>Trying To Make Peace</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;My husband had a dream the other night.&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;When I was pregnant with Kensington, he dreamed I was pregnant with a girl and he was right. When I was pregnant with Clarence, he dreamed I was pregnant with a boy and he was right. So when he originally told me the other day that he dreamed that we were gonna have a boy this time, I figured "OK, boy it is".  But further inquiry, (because let's face it, guys tend to be sparse on the details) revealed that he actually dreamed we had a little boy and he saw him as a toddler. So now I wonder if he was dreaming of the child I am carrying now or if his dream was really of Clarence and what might have been? I'd like to think his dream was of Clarence. Maybe Clarence was visiting his Daddy in his dream.  Isn't that a beautiful thought?  I hope that he chooses to visit me in my dreams someday. Right now though, I don't think my heart could handle it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;The wheels have been turning now and I have been trying to assess how I'd feel if indeed Tweet &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;is&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; a boy. Honestly? I am terrified of that. I want the experience of raising a son. I do. But somehow I feel.... I don't know. I mean he wouldn't be Clarence. That is an awful lot for another little boy to follow. I mean in my heart I know I would love him and wouldn't change a thing.... but right now it just seems like it would be so much easier if Tweet was a girl. I need to reconcile this feeling. I need to make peace with the idea that this baby could very well be a boy. And that that is OK. I need to figure this out. I don't want to be disappointed to be carrying a son. I want to be happy. I want to be @ peace with whatever God has planned for our family. I don't know how to do that. But I am working on it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1888724479748278423-8999850412922072105?l=lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/feeds/8999850412922072105/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1888724479748278423&amp;postID=8999850412922072105&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/8999850412922072105'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/8999850412922072105'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/2009/05/trying-to-make-peace.html' title='Trying To Make Peace'/><author><name>Alisha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17213136633055248109</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/TSyKAj8R-KI/AAAAAAAAFbQ/55oE7yfUpjI/S220/me%2B1-10-11.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1888724479748278423.post-4804267577732270326</id><published>2009-05-06T17:19:00.007-04:00</published><updated>2010-06-01T22:10:55.168-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='grief'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Clarence'/><title type='text'>Look what the Easter Bunny brought us!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;This is what we got on Easter Sunday this year.  Clarence is gonna be a big brother!!&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/SgIADxER-AI/AAAAAAAAAn0/ozGtOc5KqqU/s1600-h/IMG_1143.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5332824973470988290" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/SgIADxER-AI/AAAAAAAAAn0/ozGtOc5KqqU/s400/IMG_1143.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Meet our wittle Easter Tweet!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; These were taken yesterday 5/5/09.&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/SgH_C6HKjtI/AAAAAAAAAns/c3X3CfJLCaU/s1600-h/tweet..jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 337px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5332823859207507666" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/SgH_C6HKjtI/AAAAAAAAAns/c3X3CfJLCaU/s400/tweet..jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;The HB measured 148 bpm. We are due 12/22!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/SgH_C5jLAOI/AAAAAAAAAnk/zVfjxdEJOHo/s1600-h/tweet2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 236px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5332823859056541922" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/SgH_C5jLAOI/AAAAAAAAAnk/zVfjxdEJOHo/s400/tweet2.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1888724479748278423-4804267577732270326?l=lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/feeds/4804267577732270326/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1888724479748278423&amp;postID=4804267577732270326&amp;isPopup=true' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/4804267577732270326'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/4804267577732270326'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/2009/05/look-what-easter-bunny-brought-us.html' title='Look what the Easter Bunny brought us!'/><author><name>Alisha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17213136633055248109</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/TSyKAj8R-KI/AAAAAAAAFbQ/55oE7yfUpjI/S220/me%2B1-10-11.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/SgIADxER-AI/AAAAAAAAAn0/ozGtOc5KqqU/s72-c/IMG_1143.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1888724479748278423.post-869129193900329701</id><published>2009-04-29T12:56:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2010-06-01T22:10:55.169-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='grief'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Clarence'/><title type='text'>Silent</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;I have been silent here lately. I just don't really have anything new to say or share I guess. Do I still think of Clarence? Of course. Do I still ache and hurt from his death. Yes! Everyday. But I am also finding more joy in my life everyday too. I am enjoying my daughter and watching how fast she is growing right before my eyes. I am trying to be a better homemaker and keep up with things. I am trying to get out more with Kensington.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;So I may continue to be silent for awhile. It is nice to just BE. To try not to analyze so much and to just take life as it comes. That is what I am working on.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I'll still be around though....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1888724479748278423-869129193900329701?l=lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/feeds/869129193900329701/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1888724479748278423&amp;postID=869129193900329701&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/869129193900329701'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/869129193900329701'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/2009/04/silent.html' title='Silent'/><author><name>Alisha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17213136633055248109</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/TSyKAj8R-KI/AAAAAAAAFbQ/55oE7yfUpjI/S220/me%2B1-10-11.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1888724479748278423.post-1149818372396821263</id><published>2009-04-20T23:33:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2010-06-01T22:10:55.169-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='grief'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Clarence'/><title type='text'>A Day About Clarence</title><content type='html'>April 16th was a day all &lt;a href="http://keepingupwithkk.blogspot.com/2009/04/about-clarence-day-57.html"&gt;About Clarence&lt;/a&gt;.  I posted in Kensington's blog about what we did.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1888724479748278423-1149818372396821263?l=lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/feeds/1149818372396821263/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1888724479748278423&amp;postID=1149818372396821263&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/1149818372396821263'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/1149818372396821263'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/2009/04/day-about-clarence.html' title='A Day About Clarence'/><author><name>Alisha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17213136633055248109</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/TSyKAj8R-KI/AAAAAAAAFbQ/55oE7yfUpjI/S220/me%2B1-10-11.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1888724479748278423.post-2271786214084405847</id><published>2009-04-16T21:03:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2010-06-01T22:10:55.170-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='grief'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Clarence'/><title type='text'>Thank you</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Does Anyone Know?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Does anyone know what today should be? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Anyone else or is it only me? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Does anyone know how great today would have been, If you would have come now, instead of then. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;It seems people forget; to them it is just another day. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;But for me, I just can't think of it that way. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;My heart aches and I can't stop the tears. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I keep on wishing that you were still here.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; Others just don't understand why, today, I mourn. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Today is a special day; the day you should have been born.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;~ Author~ &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Heather Will&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I am so blessed and lucky to be able to say the answer to this question is yes. I have had so many people reach out to me to day with kind words and gestures. &lt;a href="http://barbaraboucher.blogspot.com/2009/04/alisha.html"&gt;Here&lt;/a&gt; is just one example. Thank you Barbara. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;The poem above is another. Thank you Lesley for finding it and having the courage to share it with me. There are no words to describe how much it means to me. Thank you!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1888724479748278423-2271786214084405847?l=lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/feeds/2271786214084405847/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1888724479748278423&amp;postID=2271786214084405847&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/2271786214084405847'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/2271786214084405847'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/2009/04/thank-you.html' title='Thank you'/><author><name>Alisha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17213136633055248109</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/TSyKAj8R-KI/AAAAAAAAFbQ/55oE7yfUpjI/S220/me%2B1-10-11.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1888724479748278423.post-5527001735947908718</id><published>2009-04-16T09:34:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-06-01T22:10:55.170-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='grief'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Clarence'/><title type='text'>It's Finally Here</title><content type='html'>Today's the day.  April 16th, Clarence's estimated due date.  How different things could have been.  I am not sad today though.  At least not yet.  Just grateful for my little man and the time I had with him.  He forever changed me...for the better.  I love you little guy!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1888724479748278423-5527001735947908718?l=lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/feeds/5527001735947908718/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1888724479748278423&amp;postID=5527001735947908718&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/5527001735947908718'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/5527001735947908718'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/2009/04/its-finally-here.html' title='It&apos;s Finally Here'/><author><name>Alisha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17213136633055248109</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/TSyKAj8R-KI/AAAAAAAAFbQ/55oE7yfUpjI/S220/me%2B1-10-11.jpg'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1888724479748278423.post-7957770467009629313</id><published>2009-04-08T23:09:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2010-06-01T22:10:55.171-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='grief'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Clarence'/><title type='text'>I Cried</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;I cried as I spoke to him. For the first time in awhile I shed tears for him tonight. I told him I loved him and that I was proud of him. So proud of him and happy he was a little boy. That he was perfect. I'm sure I have told him this before. In the days and weeks following his death, I am sure I spoke to him. But I don't remember it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I will forever be haunted by the disappointment I felt when I found out I was having a little boy. I can not tell you enough how much that hurts my heart. I never want Clarence to think he wasn't good enough. He was perfect, from his head to his toes. I loved every inch of him. He was a fighter. The odds were against him. He struggled to grow and thrive while his lifeline, my placenta, bled and bled. While my body let him down... He fought.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I felt him kick for the first time when I was 15 weeks along. A big thump. There was no denying it. And I thought to myself that it was a sign. We had a fighter growing in there. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I am so thankful for his strength to fight. I am so glad I got to hold my baby boy. Tiny as ever, but still a baby. Ten fingers, ten toes, a perfect button nose. He hung on and he fought so his mommy would have a chance to hold him and see him fully formed. &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Perfectly&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; formed. I am sure he would've held on longer if he could have. But his little body put up a long fight and needed to rest.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;It's OK Clarence. I am proud of you.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1888724479748278423-7957770467009629313?l=lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/feeds/7957770467009629313/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1888724479748278423&amp;postID=7957770467009629313&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/7957770467009629313'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/7957770467009629313'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/2009/04/i-cried.html' title='I Cried'/><author><name>Alisha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17213136633055248109</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/TSyKAj8R-KI/AAAAAAAAFbQ/55oE7yfUpjI/S220/me%2B1-10-11.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1888724479748278423.post-3591789475996082982</id><published>2009-04-08T00:47:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2010-06-01T22:10:55.172-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='grief'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Clarence'/><title type='text'>I Don't Feel Like It</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;I have stuff to say.  I just really don't feel like it.  Hopefully I will soon.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1888724479748278423-3591789475996082982?l=lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/feeds/3591789475996082982/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1888724479748278423&amp;postID=3591789475996082982&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/3591789475996082982'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/3591789475996082982'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/2009/04/i-dont-feel-like-it.html' title='I Don&apos;t Feel Like It'/><author><name>Alisha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17213136633055248109</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/TSyKAj8R-KI/AAAAAAAAFbQ/55oE7yfUpjI/S220/me%2B1-10-11.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1888724479748278423.post-5053170706484437427</id><published>2009-03-28T12:22:00.011-04:00</published><updated>2010-06-01T22:10:55.172-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='grief'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Clarence'/><title type='text'>Under The Tree</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="right"&gt;There is a wonderful special place for us Babylost Mamas to meet. &lt;a href="http://scarletriver26.blogspot.com/2009/03/under-tree-march.html"&gt;Under The Tree &lt;/a&gt;was created by Carly. The same lovely lady who created &lt;a href="http://namesinthesand.blogspot.com/"&gt;To Write Their Names In The Sand&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/Sc-o6B1hPsI/AAAAAAAAAXE/hLPUjCBBnqM/s1600-h/UnderTheTree.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 272px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5318655399826636482" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/Sc-o6B1hPsI/AAAAAAAAAXE/hLPUjCBBnqM/s400/UnderTheTree.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; It was created as a place for us all to gather together and talk of our lost babies. To share what is in our hearts. To bring us all together and meet other mamas and bring new readers to their blogs. I am honored to be able to participate in this. Today will be my first meeting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/Sc-ouu2gGhI/AAAAAAAAAW8/WKktUmzYgZ4/s1600-h/UnderTheTree.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Do you have a special place in your home for your baby/ies? What is it like? Do you have any rituals that you perform in memory of your baby/ies?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I do have a little place set up in our bedroom. It is on the little dressing table that goes with our bedroom set. Here I have a framed poem "The Broken Chain" that Chad's parents got us in memory of Clarence. It has an engraved brass plate @ the bottom with Clarence's full name and date of birth. Next to that is a little glass angel Chad's mother got me for Christmas.&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5318654118931510002" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/Sc-nveIUsvI/AAAAAAAAAWs/i2GVsCGbQbQ/s400/IMG_0651.JPG" /&gt; Then I have a wooden memory box a wonderful friend and &lt;a href="http://soulcysters.com/"&gt;Cyster&lt;/a&gt; sent me to hold little mementos of Clarence dear. A molding of his foot print taken by the nurses and the teddy bear that was snuggled with him when they brought him to us in his basket. The picture you see, you will recognize @ the top of my blog. This was taken by me and is my most precious possession. Here he looks like a sweet little angel to me. Snuggled and cozy and sleeping. Peaceful. I am so thankful for this beautiful picture of my son. If I was left with only the photos the hospital staff took, I would be so disappointed. They tried so hard and were just wonderful. However, the photo's were either cold and unnatural, or extremely blurry from the poor quality of the disposable camera.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/Sc-nvFghFnI/AAAAAAAAAWk/mBeNt5k2jlk/s1600-h/IMG_0664.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5318654112322098802" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/Sc-nvFghFnI/AAAAAAAAAWk/mBeNt5k2jlk/s400/IMG_0664.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;If you believe in an afterlife, do you receive signs from your baby/ies? Have you ever felt their presence? Do you find them in nature? Do they visit you in your dreams?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5318654103819444706" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/Sc-nul1U4eI/AAAAAAAAAWc/E58943_C8iA/s400/IMG_0606.JPG" /&gt; Something about this angel touches me. I can't quite explain it. Maybe because it is so tiny and perfect like he was? I almost feel like this angel was made with the very purpose to represent him. The blue gown, the stone so close to his birthstone, Topaz. The fact that it came from a virtual stranger, just so I would know that he was being thought of. That he would not be forgotten.&lt;br /&gt;It hangs in my rear view mirror. And I am not gonna lie. I feel him with me when I am near it.&lt;br /&gt;As I drive with &lt;a href="http://keepingupwithkk.blogspot.com/"&gt;Kensington&lt;/a&gt; to and from play dates or on errands, I glance back @ her in the rear view mirror. Talking to her or singing with her or even checking to see if she has fallen asleep. And when I do, I catch a glimpse of this tiny little angel dangling from the mirror and I feel him there. He is with us on our outings. Waiting in the car to hear of our adventures when we return. Giggling along as I sing out loud and dance in the car, trying to make Kensi laugh and dance with me. He is there. And I am so so grateful for that.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Do you have a special poem, song, prayer or quote in memory of your baby/ies?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;The answer to this question is relatively new. Every time I visited &lt;a href="http://scarletriver26.blogspot.com/"&gt;Carly's blog &lt;/a&gt;I heard this beautiful song. It just grabbed my heart and made it hum. It brought tears to my eyes and made my soul and arms ache with emptiness.&lt;strong&gt; &lt;/strong&gt;It is the song you hear playing now as you come to this blog. After returning to Carly's page over and over and having it touch me every time I finally figured out how to add it to my page. It is "Family" by &lt;a href="http://www.darwilliams.com/"&gt;Dar Williams&lt;/a&gt;. Someone I had never heard of. If you haven't heard it already, take a listen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1888724479748278423-5053170706484437427?l=lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/feeds/5053170706484437427/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1888724479748278423&amp;postID=5053170706484437427&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/5053170706484437427'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/5053170706484437427'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/2009/03/under-tree.html' title='Under The Tree'/><author><name>Alisha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17213136633055248109</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/TSyKAj8R-KI/AAAAAAAAFbQ/55oE7yfUpjI/S220/me%2B1-10-11.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/Sc-o6B1hPsI/AAAAAAAAAXE/hLPUjCBBnqM/s72-c/UnderTheTree.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1888724479748278423.post-5196679904563786781</id><published>2009-03-20T22:00:00.008-04:00</published><updated>2010-06-01T22:10:55.173-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='grief'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Clarence'/><title type='text'>Ignorance Is Bliss, Right?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;The other day I came across a beautiful blog called &lt;a href="http://pregnancylossribbons.blogspot.com/"&gt;"Stepping Stones"&lt;/a&gt; by Emily. She wrote a post entitled &lt;a href="http://pregnancylossribbons.blogspot.com/2009/03/lightning-strikes.html"&gt;"Lightening Strikes" &lt;/a&gt;that really struck (no pun intended) me. I was in awe of the actual statistics. According to AmericanPregnancy.org there are 6 million pregnancies every year throughout the United States. Out of those 6 million pregnancies approximately 2 million don't survive. That is 1/3 of all pregnancies!! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Then why don't we hear more about it? I mean yes, we do hear how common miscarriages are and how many women have a miscarriage and don't even realize they were pregnant. Their period was just a few days late. Please don't misunderstand me. I am not talking light of miscarriage. It is devastating in it's own right. Any pregnancy loss is a tragedy. Any pregnancy loss is painful. The potential for that child to be brought into this world will never again be. That is earth shattering no matter how far along you are in your pregnancy. Days, weeks or months. But what about all the stillbirths? Cord accidents? You rarely hear about them until you or someone close to you has been through it.  I've been told what happened to Clarence was a "fluke". I have been told it is like being hit by lightening and the chances of it happening twice are minuscule. However everywhere I turn I hear of more babies dying. I spoke with a friend yesterday on Facebook who told me her cousin just lost her baby @ 38 weeks pregnant. The heartbeat wasn't there. Apparently a cord accident. It was wrapped around her neck. A "fluke". God I hate that word.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Since the death of Clarence there are people everywhere just coming out of the woodwork to tell me about this person that had a stillborn or that person who had preterm labor and lost their baby. It seems so &lt;em&gt;common... &lt;/em&gt;yet it is never spoken of. Why aren't we told by our OB's the true statistics about pregnancy? That there truly is NO guarantee? It isn't over until the fat lady sings so to speak. Until you bring home a healthy, squealing, squirming baby in your arms.... Well you just may end up being one of those statistics.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I suppose there are many reasons they don't tell you. Can you imagine the slew of panicky pregnant women? They already have do deal with the ones who are no longer blissfully ignorant about the odds. I'm guessing they don't want to add to the hysteria they already have to deal with. Let those other lucky ladies remain blissfully ignorant. I am envious of them. I will never have that again. I loved being pregnant and can't wait to be again. But it will never be the same as it was with my daughter. I am so grateful for my wonderful pregnancy with her. My blissfully ignorant pregnancy....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1888724479748278423-5196679904563786781?l=lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/feeds/5196679904563786781/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1888724479748278423&amp;postID=5196679904563786781&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/5196679904563786781'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/5196679904563786781'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/2009/03/ignorance-is-bliss-right.html' title='Ignorance Is Bliss, Right?'/><author><name>Alisha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17213136633055248109</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/TSyKAj8R-KI/AAAAAAAAFbQ/55oE7yfUpjI/S220/me%2B1-10-11.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1888724479748278423.post-5084728448508791094</id><published>2009-03-19T09:47:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-06-01T22:10:55.173-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='grief'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Clarence'/><title type='text'>My Friend Barbara</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.misi.me.uk/store_info.php?user_id=1162"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 366px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 272px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5314711900385521474" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/ScGmUJoFL0I/AAAAAAAAAR0/TjgLD87nZMg/s400/frame9130261.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I have made some wonderful friends here through this blog. &lt;a href="http://barbaraboucher.blogspot.com/"&gt;Barbara&lt;/a&gt; recently reprised her love of making jewelry. It warms my heart beyond belief to picture her tirelessly and lovingly pounding letters into the metal to spell the names of our dear lost babies. Thousands of miles away we are. Yet, I will forever feel close to her and wear her work close to my heart. Thank you Barbara and congratulations on your store &lt;a href="http://www.misi.me.uk/store_info.php?user_id=1162"&gt;Tiny Moments Of Pure Joy&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;P.S. Do you see Clarence's name? It is up in the top right hand corner. Beautiful, don't ya think?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1888724479748278423-5084728448508791094?l=lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/feeds/5084728448508791094/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1888724479748278423&amp;postID=5084728448508791094&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/5084728448508791094'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/5084728448508791094'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/2009/03/my-friend-barbara.html' title='My Friend Barbara'/><author><name>Alisha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17213136633055248109</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/TSyKAj8R-KI/AAAAAAAAFbQ/55oE7yfUpjI/S220/me%2B1-10-11.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/ScGmUJoFL0I/AAAAAAAAAR0/TjgLD87nZMg/s72-c/frame9130261.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1888724479748278423.post-8900083543567208711</id><published>2009-03-17T13:31:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-06-01T22:10:55.173-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='grief'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Clarence'/><title type='text'>That Should Be Me</title><content type='html'>So today was a beautiful day. We were grilling outside when my neighbor came out with her daughter who is about 9 months old. I went inside to grab something and heard my husband ask her if she was pregnant. I'm thinking "What?!" Then came her answer. Yes she was 5 months pregnant. My stomach hit the floor. My heart sank. "That should be me" I thought. That was my dream. Two children so close together in age. It was hard enough dealing with &lt;a href="http://women.webmd.com/tc/polycystic-ovary-syndrome-pcos-topic-overview"&gt;PCOS&lt;/a&gt; trying to get pregnant the first time. The second came pretty easy and I was so grateful for that. Then I lost him. Now my dream of 2 children under 2 years apart is gone. I can't get that back. Can't get Clarence back. I feel like fate just slapped me in the face. The rational part of me knows it is not her fault. I want to be happy for her. From the outside it looks so easy for others. I can't help but wonder what I did to deserve the harder road. For all I know she doesn't have the "perfect" life that I imagine she does. I know you can't judge a book by it's cover. I don't care about her "perfect" life. I just want her perfect fertility and perfect pregnancy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am green with envy. Bright leprechaun green. Fitting for St. Patrick's day, huh?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1888724479748278423-8900083543567208711?l=lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/feeds/8900083543567208711/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1888724479748278423&amp;postID=8900083543567208711&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/8900083543567208711'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/8900083543567208711'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/2009/03/that-should-be-me.html' title='That Should Be Me'/><author><name>Alisha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17213136633055248109</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/TSyKAj8R-KI/AAAAAAAAFbQ/55oE7yfUpjI/S220/me%2B1-10-11.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1888724479748278423.post-4360667272476431150</id><published>2009-03-13T15:54:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2010-06-01T22:10:55.174-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='grief'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Clarence'/><title type='text'>Missing you</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;Mommy's heart is aching today sweet Clarence.  I am missing you.  It hurts so.  I love you sweet baby boy.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1888724479748278423-4360667272476431150?l=lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/feeds/4360667272476431150/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1888724479748278423&amp;postID=4360667272476431150&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/4360667272476431150'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/4360667272476431150'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/2009/03/missing-you.html' title='Missing you'/><author><name>Alisha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17213136633055248109</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/TSyKAj8R-KI/AAAAAAAAFbQ/55oE7yfUpjI/S220/me%2B1-10-11.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1888724479748278423.post-3020184324224184354</id><published>2009-03-09T22:41:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-06-01T22:10:55.174-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='grief'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Clarence'/><title type='text'>Solution</title><content type='html'>I posted last month about my toe nail polish &lt;a href="http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/2009/02/chippingi-mean-slippingaway.html"&gt;chipping away&lt;/a&gt;.  It was polish that I had on since I was pregnant with Clarence and I was afraid for it to totally chip away.  With the warmer weather this weekend I started to realize just how bad my feet looked and how much I needed to do something about it.  I just couldn't bring myself to take off the polish though.  So instead, I painted over it.  It felt strangely liberating.  Now I am not constantly looking down @ my toes and wondering what I am gonna do when it all comes off.  And I didn't have to make the decision to take it off, wipe him away.   It was the perfect solution I think.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1888724479748278423-3020184324224184354?l=lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/feeds/3020184324224184354/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1888724479748278423&amp;postID=3020184324224184354&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/3020184324224184354'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/3020184324224184354'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/2009/03/solution.html' title='Solution'/><author><name>Alisha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17213136633055248109</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/TSyKAj8R-KI/AAAAAAAAFbQ/55oE7yfUpjI/S220/me%2B1-10-11.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1888724479748278423.post-2485289053160098146</id><published>2009-03-08T14:34:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2010-06-01T22:10:55.175-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='grief'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Clarence'/><title type='text'>The Life Of Clarence Part III</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/SbLS-NZCYGI/AAAAAAAAALg/E4JSqjf3sfQ/s1600-h/13w+%233.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 400px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 295px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5310538876811632738" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/SbLS-NZCYGI/AAAAAAAAALg/E4JSqjf3sfQ/s400/13w+%233.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Beautiful pictures of my baby boy @ 13 weeks.&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/SbLSpSGH1bI/AAAAAAAAALY/78V5MXhGoPI/s1600-h/13w%232.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 400px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 299px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5310538517297223090" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/SbLSpSGH1bI/AAAAAAAAALY/78V5MXhGoPI/s400/13w%232.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/SbLSo5y_U-I/AAAAAAAAALQ/qI314ok1fgA/s1600-h/13w.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/SbLSoa7pnSI/AAAAAAAAALI/Htw2M0wivlM/s1600-h/Pregnancy+Pics+Week+1520081022_01.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 265px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5310538502489349410" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/SbLSoa7pnSI/AAAAAAAAALI/Htw2M0wivlM/s400/Pregnancy+Pics+Week+1520081022_01.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/SbLSmTdCnPI/AAAAAAAAALA/ot7l-P2WsRw/s1600-h/Pregnancy+Pics+Week+1520081022_03.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 265px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5310538466122177778" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/SbLSmTdCnPI/AAAAAAAAALA/ot7l-P2WsRw/s400/Pregnancy+Pics+Week+1520081022_03.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is me @ 15 weeks pregnant. So anxious to document my growing belly. These were my first belly shots for this pregnancy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1888724479748278423-2485289053160098146?l=lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/feeds/2485289053160098146/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1888724479748278423&amp;postID=2485289053160098146&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/2485289053160098146'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/2485289053160098146'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/2009/03/life-of-clarence-part-iii.html' title='The Life Of Clarence Part III'/><author><name>Alisha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17213136633055248109</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/TSyKAj8R-KI/AAAAAAAAFbQ/55oE7yfUpjI/S220/me%2B1-10-11.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/SbLS-NZCYGI/AAAAAAAAALg/E4JSqjf3sfQ/s72-c/13w+%233.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1888724479748278423.post-1653374232529724180</id><published>2009-03-07T14:04:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2010-06-01T22:10:55.176-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='grief'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Clarence'/><title type='text'>The Only Grandson</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/SbQOWkbyKEI/AAAAAAAAALo/PS9IZmT0dUk/s1600-h/clarence+angel.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 274px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 218px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5310885641476778050" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/SbQOWkbyKEI/AAAAAAAAALo/PS9IZmT0dUk/s400/clarence+angel.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I've been waiting for it. I knew it would happen one day. I didn't know how I would react. I think I handled it with &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;dignity&lt;/span&gt;...and I hope I made everyone think twice about what was just said. It felt surreal to have it said. My husband fell right into the trap too. I am hurt by that. Pissed almost.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;So I only have one nephew. I have teased him before with the statement "Tyler, you are my favorite nephew". The &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;rebuttal&lt;/span&gt; always is, as expected "I'm your ONLY nephew Aunt Alisha!" &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;So, I know where the statement was coming from. I surely know where it was headed.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Chad (my husband), &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Kensi&lt;/span&gt;, Brenden, I and mother and father in law all piled into our van to go to dinner last night. As we were backing out of the driveway my father in law said "Brenden, you are my favorite grandson".&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;"His only grandson" was the reply from my husband.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;"No he's not" I said.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Yes, he is" said Chad. He looked at me confused.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;"His only LIVING grandson" I said. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Oh, right"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;And that was it. Nothing else was said.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I sat in the passenger seat wanting to scream looking @ the little angle dangling from my &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;rear view&lt;/span&gt; mirror. A tiny little Clarence purchased for me by a virtual stranger. Just to let me know that he is remembered. Never forgotten. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;"He's right here!" I wanted to yell. "Right here!!! How can you possibly forget about him when he is right here!? Just because he isn't alive doesn't mean that he doesn't count. He counts &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;damn it&lt;/span&gt;. He counts!"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;But I remained silent. I know it was unintentional.  It still hurt though.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;A &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;similar&lt;/span&gt; thing happened when my family went "home" to visit my parents a few weeks ago. My mother had a picture of Clarence up on her bureau in her dining room. She also had a picture of her and my father with Clarence and on of me and my husband with Clarence. She made the comment that she had showed my uncle those pictures a few days ago and he said that she might not want to have those up when I came to visit. That it might hurt my feelings or make me sad. Really!!!???? He couldn't have been further from the truth.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Why does everyone want to ignore the "elephant in the room"? Clarence is very real. He did exist. He did live. He can not just be forgotten or brushed under the rug. You are not sparing me my feelings by not mentioning him. What you are doing is sparing your &lt;strong&gt;own&lt;/strong&gt; feelings. You use the excuse that you are sparing mine. When in &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_6" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;actuality&lt;/span&gt; you don't want to deal with the difficult feelings it brings up for you to mention his name. Lets get that straight people. No more freaking excuses. Own up already. Listen to what I am saying. Ignorance is bliss for only so long. Then it is just stupidity and selfishness.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_7" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;A lot&lt;/span&gt; more came out just now than I intended to type. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I feel good.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1888724479748278423-1653374232529724180?l=lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/feeds/1653374232529724180/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1888724479748278423&amp;postID=1653374232529724180&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/1653374232529724180'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/1653374232529724180'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/2009/03/only-grandson.html' title='The Only Grandson'/><author><name>Alisha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17213136633055248109</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/TSyKAj8R-KI/AAAAAAAAFbQ/55oE7yfUpjI/S220/me%2B1-10-11.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/SbQOWkbyKEI/AAAAAAAAALo/PS9IZmT0dUk/s72-c/clarence+angel.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1888724479748278423.post-4430173662083990121</id><published>2009-03-02T15:08:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2010-06-01T22:10:55.176-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='grief'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Clarence'/><title type='text'>Sad</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;I am sad today.  That is it really.  Nothing else.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1888724479748278423-4430173662083990121?l=lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/feeds/4430173662083990121/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1888724479748278423&amp;postID=4430173662083990121&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/4430173662083990121'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/4430173662083990121'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/2009/03/sad.html' title='Sad'/><author><name>Alisha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17213136633055248109</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/TSyKAj8R-KI/AAAAAAAAFbQ/55oE7yfUpjI/S220/me%2B1-10-11.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1888724479748278423.post-2966696962829560569</id><published>2009-02-28T17:55:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-06-01T22:10:55.177-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='grief'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Clarence'/><title type='text'>3 Months</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;The title really says it all.  Today is 3 months to the day of giving birth to my sleeping Clarence.  I don't know how I feel today.  It's ONLY been 3 months?  It feels like an eternity.  It has ALREADY been three months?  It feels like just yesterday.  Those are the two extremes I go between.  Today it is the "it feels like any eternity".  I feel that way most of the time now I think.  It feels so distant and surreal.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I spoke to an ex co-worker on the phone yesterday.  She lost her daughter in her 23rd week to preterm labor.  This was about 6 years ago.  She was born breathing and lived a very short time.  She was telling me how @ that particular hospital @ that particular time they didn't do anything for a baby born before 24 weeks.  They couldn't I guess.  So she had to hold her daughter and watch her die and they could do nothing to save or help her.  I can't imagine that torment.  I mean she was DAYS away from 24 weeks!!  In the end though, she feels that maybe it was best it wasn't her decision to decided if to do something and how much to do.  Seriously. Where do you draw that line?  She feels now that maybe it was best left up to God.  Still though, it is heart wrenching.  My immediate thought is "I can't imagine that feeling of utter helplessness."  I recognize now though that I have experienced that.  I realize that although her situation was completely different from mine it was also the same.  My helplessness just came@ a different point.  I know some of you in DBL have experienced what she has and my heart just breaks for you.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;It was helpful to talk with her though.  To be able to discuss with someone IRL all of the feelings that go along with losing your baby was very validating.  To hear those emotions in someone else's voice was moving.  I don't know why I waited so long to call her.  I guess I just had to be ready.  She was sweet and understood it had to happen in my own time.  So she offered a card and her number and waited.  I clung to her card and number like a life line.  I panicked when I thought I didn't know where it was.  I am forever grateful to her for reaching out to me like that.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;And on that note, I am so grateful to all of you who reach out to me through commenting on this blog.  I love to read your blogs and will try to do better in the future about leaving comments on yours.  I am realizing that even if someone doesn't know what to say, just to see them write "I am sorry" or "Hugs" lets me know that they empathize with me and that they are here, reading along. I am not alone. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Thank you, thank you , thank you.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1888724479748278423-2966696962829560569?l=lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/feeds/2966696962829560569/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1888724479748278423&amp;postID=2966696962829560569&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/2966696962829560569'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/2966696962829560569'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/2009/02/3-months.html' title='3 Months'/><author><name>Alisha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17213136633055248109</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/TSyKAj8R-KI/AAAAAAAAFbQ/55oE7yfUpjI/S220/me%2B1-10-11.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1888724479748278423.post-4704765508978943536</id><published>2009-02-27T21:58:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2010-06-01T22:10:55.177-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='grief'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Clarence'/><title type='text'>I Will Never</title><content type='html'>I will never get to rock my baby to sleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will never get to whisper I love you into his ear and have him hear me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will never hear my sweet baby's cry....or his laughter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will never get to give my baby his first bath.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will never get to breast feed my baby.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will never get to see him crawl or take his first steps.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will never hear him say "mommy".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will never brush his hair or clip his nails.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will never be able to give my baby a massage.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will never be able to buy those cute little boy clothes I see when I go shopping.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will never see his eyes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will never feel his hand grasp my finger.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will never see him open a Christmas gift.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will never sing him "Happy Birthday".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will never watch him hunt for Easter eggs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will never teach him to ride a bike.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will never send him off for his first day of school.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There will always be someone missing from our family photos.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There will always be someone missing from our dinner table.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is a piece of my heart that is gone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Forever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fuck.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1888724479748278423-4704765508978943536?l=lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/feeds/4704765508978943536/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1888724479748278423&amp;postID=4704765508978943536&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/4704765508978943536'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/4704765508978943536'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/2009/02/i-will-never.html' title='I Will Never'/><author><name>Alisha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17213136633055248109</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/TSyKAj8R-KI/AAAAAAAAFbQ/55oE7yfUpjI/S220/me%2B1-10-11.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1888724479748278423.post-8020570126020043589</id><published>2009-02-24T20:24:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2010-06-01T22:10:55.178-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='grief'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Clarence'/><title type='text'>Window To My Soul</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/SaSeN5tesTI/AAAAAAAAAIY/KrtAvWJNi2s/s1600-h/IMG_0435.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 195px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 149px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5306540222616351026" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/SaSeN5tesTI/AAAAAAAAAIY/KrtAvWJNi2s/s400/IMG_0435.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I was browsing DBL when I came across this blog entry by &lt;a href="http://deadbabyjokes.blogspot.com/2009/02/because-magpie-asked.html"&gt;Niobe.&lt;/a&gt; I thought it was a really neat idea and I wanted to join in the fun. So here it is. These are my eyes. Well, one of them @ least. I'm not sure what color my eyes are. Is that funny? I've always said Blue. They have Gold around the pupil and sometimes look Green depending on what I wear. So does that make them Hazel? Hmmm.... What do you think?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#339999;"&gt;*Edit to add* I have dry eyes so excuse the "hung over" appearance. They are always bloodshot! lol&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1888724479748278423-8020570126020043589?l=lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/feeds/8020570126020043589/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1888724479748278423&amp;postID=8020570126020043589&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/8020570126020043589'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/8020570126020043589'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/2009/02/window-to-my-soul.html' title='Window To My Soul'/><author><name>Alisha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17213136633055248109</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/TSyKAj8R-KI/AAAAAAAAFbQ/55oE7yfUpjI/S220/me%2B1-10-11.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/SaSeN5tesTI/AAAAAAAAAIY/KrtAvWJNi2s/s72-c/IMG_0435.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1888724479748278423.post-9105226943603420145</id><published>2009-02-23T16:56:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-06-01T22:10:55.178-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='grief'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Clarence'/><title type='text'>Frozen</title><content type='html'>I can't pray.  I just can't do it.  I don't go to church, never have.  I have always prayed though.  I prayed all through my pregnancy with Clarence.  Every single night.  I want to.  The words won't come.  My lips are frozen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wonder if He listens anyhow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He doesn't seem to.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1888724479748278423-9105226943603420145?l=lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/feeds/9105226943603420145/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1888724479748278423&amp;postID=9105226943603420145&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/9105226943603420145'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/9105226943603420145'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/2009/02/frozen.html' title='Frozen'/><author><name>Alisha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17213136633055248109</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/TSyKAj8R-KI/AAAAAAAAFbQ/55oE7yfUpjI/S220/me%2B1-10-11.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1888724479748278423.post-1057052070821488377</id><published>2009-02-18T15:31:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-06-01T22:10:55.179-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='grief'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Clarence'/><title type='text'>To Dream Or Not To Dream?</title><content type='html'>Why don't I dream of you?  I want to.  I think?  What does it mean that my subconscious won't let me see you in my dreams?  Why won't you visit me?  I want so badly to see you.  To have a glimpse of what life would be like with you here.  Or will that destroy me?  Maybe I don't want to dream of you.  I feel like I should though.  I should be dreaming of you.  So why aren't I?  Where are you?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1888724479748278423-1057052070821488377?l=lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/feeds/1057052070821488377/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1888724479748278423&amp;postID=1057052070821488377&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/1057052070821488377'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/1057052070821488377'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/2009/02/to-dream-or-not-to-dream.html' title='To Dream Or Not To Dream?'/><author><name>Alisha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17213136633055248109</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/TSyKAj8R-KI/AAAAAAAAFbQ/55oE7yfUpjI/S220/me%2B1-10-11.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1888724479748278423.post-6943415529905384919</id><published>2009-02-14T13:47:00.008-05:00</published><updated>2010-06-01T22:10:55.179-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='grief'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Clarence'/><title type='text'>Knocked Down Naive</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;I debated p0sting this here. This is supposed to be a blog about Clarence and my life without him. But that is just it. This is my life, without him. Anything that happens to me now and forever for the rest of eternity is "Life Without Clarence", right? I mean, it is not like he is ever coming back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So here it is. I got a BFP the other day. My first cycle since Clarence's death. My OB had told me to wait 2 or 3 cycles before TTC again so that my body would have time to heal and there would be less chance of a miscarriage with a future pregnancy. There is some debate in the medical community about if this is really necessary. When we went to meet with the perinatologist to discuss the pathology report from my placenta and the possible causes of Clarence's death this very subject came up. He thought that once my body had it's first cycle that was the go ahead to try again. So I chose to believe what I WANTED to hear. As far as I was concerned we were cleared to try again. I also chose to believe that nothing bad could happen again. Or, I'm not sure I so much chose to believe it as the other words of advice just went in one ear and out the next. Selective memory you might say. I mean, God and fate wouldn't be so cruel, right? Especially since I have a beautiful little girl already, proof that my body was capable of doing this all the way. The right way. So I went into this BFP completely optimistic and astounded @ how blessed I was to be pregnant again so quickly. Jokes began flying between me and my husband again about his super sperm. It is funny how the mind works, isn't it? How could I so quickly forget all the bad I had recently been through?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I woke up the morning of my first OB appointment and decided it would be a wonderful idea to take a pregnancy test. I was so eager to see those two beautiful pink lines again. No sooner had I finished peeing on the stick that I suddenly thought "what if it is negative?" Oh crap! Of course it would be positive, right? I already began to feel sick to my stomach. Three minutes passed and sure enough the line was barely there. I mean BARELY there. Great. I know. I know. It doesn't matter how dark the line is. A line is a line is a line is a line. Right. I know. But I also knew the feeling in the pit of my stomach. I knew it was over. Great. Lovely. Perfect. Now I had to sit and wait for the next 3 hours until my OB appointment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At the OB the test came back negative and as I was talking to the midwife she looked down @ it again and started to see a line. Knocked down....given hope. They used my urine to dip another test. I got dressed (no sense in doing a PAP and first prenatal exam if I wasn't pregnant, right?) and met the midwife outside of the room by the lab. The 2ND test was negative. Knocked down. Whoosh! Kicked in the gut. This couldn't be happening. "This is supposed to be easy for you now after what you have been through" the midwife said. They drew some blood to do a beta test for pregnancy. I wouldn't get the results until the next day. For the second time in a row I left that OB office in despair. I am really starting to not like that place. Understatement. I HATE it. Liza, the midwife, promised to call in the morning with the results.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At this point I am thinking it was a chemical pregnancy. It suddenly smacks me in the face what I had conveniently chosen to forget. The OB said to wait 2 or 3 cycles for this very reason. You would think after losing Clarence I wouldn't be of the "this can't happen to me" mindset anymore. I learned one of the most humbling, horrifying lessons in just how invicible I wasn't. Instead, I had slipped right back into the mentality that I was. Damn!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Liza called the next morning and my beta came back @ 5. On the fence she said. I asked if she thought it could be a chemical pregnancy and she said she wasn't even thinking that yet, that hopefully it was still just too early. She wanted to repeat the beta the next day to check for doubling. Given hope. I rolled over in bed and attempted to go back to sleep. After tossing and turning for a little while I decided to get up. Knocked down. There was no longer any question. The bright red blood was evidence enough. Doubled over. Humbled again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I should have stayed in bed with hope just a little bit longer. Damn.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1888724479748278423-6943415529905384919?l=lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/feeds/6943415529905384919/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1888724479748278423&amp;postID=6943415529905384919&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/6943415529905384919'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/6943415529905384919'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/2009/02/knocked-down-naive.html' title='Knocked Down Naive'/><author><name>Alisha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17213136633055248109</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/TSyKAj8R-KI/AAAAAAAAFbQ/55oE7yfUpjI/S220/me%2B1-10-11.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1888724479748278423.post-2504020360277281329</id><published>2009-02-09T20:35:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2010-06-01T22:10:55.180-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='grief'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Clarence'/><title type='text'>The Life Of Clarence - Part II</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/SZDaIajylPI/AAAAAAAAAGA/MXHbKQ1g6Nc/s1600-h/8weeks+even+9-04-08+%233.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 400px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5300976599518319858" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/SZDaIajylPI/AAAAAAAAAGA/MXHbKQ1g6Nc/s400/8weeks+even+9-04-08+%233.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; This first picture is from my 8 week ultrasound. This is the day that it was first time we heard our baby's heart beat.  It was the most beautiful sound in the world.  It was also the day that it was discovered that I had a Subchorionic Hematoma. The baby was doing great though and I was assured that 9 times out of 10 these hematomas heal and cause no troubles. Getting out of the car @ home I stood up and had my first bleed. It was small and I attributed to the fact that I had just had a trans vaginal ultrasound and things were sensitive up there. If only it had been that simple.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/SZDaITfdLqI/AAAAAAAAAF4/xdDLL1bTw9k/s1600-h/10w4d+9-21-08.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 400px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 294px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5300976597621092002" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/SZDaITfdLqI/AAAAAAAAAF4/xdDLL1bTw9k/s400/10w4d+9-21-08.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; These next ultrasound pictures were taken @ an ER in Charleston, West Virginia when I was about 10 1/2 weeks pregnant. We had been in town for my husbands high school reunion. After attending the reunion we went on a "date" to see the movie "A Righteous Kill". About half way through the film, I switched position in my chair and the flood gates released. A huge hemorrhage. We immediately left and went to the ER. After several LONG hours there we were able to see our baby and he was doing wonderfully. We had a little fighter! They saw the hematoma on the &lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/SZDaIbnyQNI/AAAAAAAAAFw/1T7Qs4JO3Tc/s1600-h/10w4d+%232+9-21-08.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 400px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 293px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5300976599803510994" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/SZDaIbnyQNI/AAAAAAAAAFw/1T7Qs4JO3Tc/s400/10w4d+%232+9-21-08.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; monitor and assured me that it would most likely resolve itself. So off we went, traumatized, but happy and proudly showed off our new pictures of our precious little one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1888724479748278423-2504020360277281329?l=lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/feeds/2504020360277281329/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1888724479748278423&amp;postID=2504020360277281329&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/2504020360277281329'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/2504020360277281329'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/2009/02/life-of-clarence-part-ii.html' title='The Life Of Clarence - Part II'/><author><name>Alisha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17213136633055248109</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/TSyKAj8R-KI/AAAAAAAAFbQ/55oE7yfUpjI/S220/me%2B1-10-11.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/SZDaIajylPI/AAAAAAAAAGA/MXHbKQ1g6Nc/s72-c/8weeks+even+9-04-08+%233.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1888724479748278423.post-614995488296134490</id><published>2009-02-05T19:09:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2010-06-01T22:10:55.180-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='grief'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Clarence'/><title type='text'>Chipping...I Mean Slipping...Away</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/SYt__7YEKGI/AAAAAAAAAFI/05P8L9KkrTk/s1600-h/IMG_0355.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 162px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299470122778634338" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/SYt__7YEKGI/AAAAAAAAAFI/05P8L9KkrTk/s320/IMG_0355.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;So you are probably wondering why I posted a picture of my feet on my blog. Weird, I know. I was in the shower today and as I was shaving my legs, something hit me. I have not painted my toe nails since Clarence died. Yes, I know. That's a little obvious. You are thinking what is wrong with this chic? What that also means is that the polish on my toes has been there since I was pregnant with him. I remember when I painted them even. It was the weekend of my husbands class reunion. That night was the night I had my first hemorrhage. Because of this, because Clarence was still alive in me when I painted my toes, I can't bring myself to remove it. It is like it represents a part of him, a part of my pregnancy, my time with him...and I don't want to let it go. It doesn't make any sense at all. However, it makes perfect sense to me. It is like a little piece of him is chipping away every day, getting further and further from my memory. Sometimes he feels like a dream. If this crummy chipped polish represents all I have left of him, what will I have when it is gone?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1888724479748278423-614995488296134490?l=lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/feeds/614995488296134490/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1888724479748278423&amp;postID=614995488296134490&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/614995488296134490'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/614995488296134490'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/2009/02/chippingi-mean-slippingaway.html' title='Chipping...I Mean Slipping...Away'/><author><name>Alisha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17213136633055248109</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/TSyKAj8R-KI/AAAAAAAAFbQ/55oE7yfUpjI/S220/me%2B1-10-11.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/SYt__7YEKGI/AAAAAAAAAFI/05P8L9KkrTk/s72-c/IMG_0355.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1888724479748278423.post-3923507113002632751</id><published>2009-02-04T09:36:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-06-01T22:10:55.181-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='grief'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Clarence'/><title type='text'>Support Group</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;I didn't go.  It meets once a month for 2 hours.  I went last month and it was very helpful.  I didn't feel like I needed to go this month.  But yet, I feel guilty.  Like this means I am forgetting him or something.  I don't know.  Now I feel awful and guilty for feeling so "OK" lately.  I don't even know what else to write.....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1888724479748278423-3923507113002632751?l=lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/feeds/3923507113002632751/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1888724479748278423&amp;postID=3923507113002632751&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/3923507113002632751'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/3923507113002632751'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/2009/02/support-group.html' title='Support Group'/><author><name>Alisha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17213136633055248109</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/TSyKAj8R-KI/AAAAAAAAFbQ/55oE7yfUpjI/S220/me%2B1-10-11.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1888724479748278423.post-3220450918548739223</id><published>2009-01-31T15:04:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2010-06-01T22:10:55.182-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='grief'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Clarence'/><title type='text'>Please Forgive Me</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;I wanted to apologize to my body. I called you broken. But you did an amazing thing this past week. You ovulated! Something so many women take for granted. I shouldn't have given up my confidence in you. I should be more patient with you. For that I am sorry. Thanks for working like you are supposed to! And lets not forget my beautiful daughter that you grew and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;nurtured&lt;/span&gt; for 9 months in my womb and 13 months outside of my womb. I hope you can forgive me. Truce?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1888724479748278423-3220450918548739223?l=lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/feeds/3220450918548739223/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1888724479748278423&amp;postID=3220450918548739223&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/3220450918548739223'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/3220450918548739223'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/2009/01/please-forgive-me.html' title='Please Forgive Me'/><author><name>Alisha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17213136633055248109</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/TSyKAj8R-KI/AAAAAAAAFbQ/55oE7yfUpjI/S220/me%2B1-10-11.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1888724479748278423.post-7446345751121418831</id><published>2009-01-30T22:05:00.006-05:00</published><updated>2010-06-01T22:10:55.182-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='grief'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Clarence'/><title type='text'>The Life Of Clarence - Part I</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;I wanted to take you on the short journey of the life of my son, starting with finding out I was pregnant with my little guy. Below is a picture of the charting I was doing to see if I was ovulating and when. It was a long cycle and I was getting very discouraged and didn't think it was gonna happen. Then one night Chad and I were feeling romantic. As luck would have it I ovulated the next day and conceived Clarence. Of course we wouldn't know that for a little while longer though. About 6 or 7 days after I ovulated I started to bleed. I was devastated. Not only was I not pregnant, but my period came way too early....or so I thought! The very next day, the bleeding tapered off and then was non existent. I began to suspect the the bleeding was what is called "implantation bleeding". I was cautiously excited! Finally when I was 10 days past ovulation and about 3 days after the implantation spotting I decided to take a HPT.&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/SYPAQMyDqtI/AAAAAAAAAFA/0Bj5g8herOQ/s1600-h/BFP+chart.bmp"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5297288971259456210" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 230px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/SYPAQMyDqtI/AAAAAAAAAFA/0Bj5g8herOQ/s400/BFP+chart.bmp" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; The very faintest of lines appeared. I was shocked. I couldn't believe it. Chad returned home from a short walk with the kids and I called him upstairs to make sure I wasn't seeing things. I wasn't!! Here is a picture of that pregnancy test taken on 8/4/2008.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/SYPAINGt0oI/AAAAAAAAAE4/zqb934KxEJ0/s1600-h/BFP+10dpo+8-04-08.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5297288833907151490" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/SYPAINGt0oI/AAAAAAAAAE4/zqb934KxEJ0/s400/BFP+10dpo+8-04-08.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; We were so excited. I think Chad was more shocked actually than anything. We told a select few people and decided that we would surprise the rest @ Kensington's first birthday party later that month.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just a few short days before her party I started to have brown spotting. I felt sick to my stomach with worry. I had had spotting all through out the first trimester with Kensington, but that doesn't harden you to the fact that it is scary. I called the OB the first thing the next morning and they quickly scheduled me in for an ultra sound. You can imagine our relief when we saw the tiny blob below just flickering away! I was only 6 weeks pregnant and already there was a very strong heartbeat. I was in love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/SYPADdecJoI/AAAAAAAAAEw/t-I5lJzk-vY/s1600-h/6+weeks+even+8-21-08+saw+hb.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5297288752402278018" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 296px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/SYPADdecJoI/AAAAAAAAAEw/t-I5lJzk-vY/s400/6+weeks+even+8-21-08+saw+hb.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1888724479748278423-7446345751121418831?l=lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/feeds/7446345751121418831/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1888724479748278423&amp;postID=7446345751121418831&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/7446345751121418831'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/7446345751121418831'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/2009/01/i-wanted-to-take-you-on-short-journey.html' title='The Life Of Clarence - Part I'/><author><name>Alisha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17213136633055248109</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/TSyKAj8R-KI/AAAAAAAAFbQ/55oE7yfUpjI/S220/me%2B1-10-11.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/SYPAQMyDqtI/AAAAAAAAAFA/0Bj5g8herOQ/s72-c/BFP+chart.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1888724479748278423.post-47665207031818378</id><published>2009-01-29T15:25:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-06-01T22:10:55.183-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='grief'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Clarence'/><title type='text'>Evidence</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;So just a little bit ago I ran across 3 + pregnancy tests I had taken when I was pregnant with Clarence.  The first was "the one" that told us we were expecting.  The last 2 were taken in the few days following just to make sure I hadn't been dreaming.  I started to throw them away.  But I couldn't bring myself to do it.  They are evidence that he existed.  I can't part with them.  They will go into the memory box I plan on making.  Now I just need to remember to pick one up.  I have a feeling there won't be one perfect enough to hold anything of his though....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1888724479748278423-47665207031818378?l=lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/feeds/47665207031818378/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1888724479748278423&amp;postID=47665207031818378&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/47665207031818378'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/47665207031818378'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/2009/01/evidence.html' title='Evidence'/><author><name>Alisha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17213136633055248109</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/TSyKAj8R-KI/AAAAAAAAFbQ/55oE7yfUpjI/S220/me%2B1-10-11.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1888724479748278423.post-3850112282897357448</id><published>2009-01-28T22:38:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2010-06-01T22:10:55.183-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='grief'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Clarence'/><title type='text'>Broken</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;Why can't my body just work like it is supposed too?!  It won't even do the most basic of female things.  I hate being broken.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1888724479748278423-3850112282897357448?l=lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/feeds/3850112282897357448/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1888724479748278423&amp;postID=3850112282897357448&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/3850112282897357448'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/3850112282897357448'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/2009/01/broken.html' title='Broken'/><author><name>Alisha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17213136633055248109</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/TSyKAj8R-KI/AAAAAAAAFbQ/55oE7yfUpjI/S220/me%2B1-10-11.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1888724479748278423.post-4225345881252258753</id><published>2009-01-28T21:45:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2010-06-01T22:10:55.184-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='grief'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Clarence'/><title type='text'>Shame On Me</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;I can't believe it has been 2 months since Clarence was born to Heaven. It snowed a ton today. Someone told me that when it snowed it was the angel babies playing on the clouds in Heaven. Or something to that affect. It is a nice thought. What do our babies look like in Heaven? Do they look like they did on Earth? It is hard for me to picture him any way other than "sleeping". How sad that I will never see his smile. Or his eyes. I will never hear his cry or his laughter. I will never know what he looks like doing anything other than sleeping. And even then I don't truly know what that looks like either. Because if he had been sleeping his little chest would've been rising and falling. That's what a mother looks for when she watches her baby sleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel angry. I feel cheated. I feel sad. I feel .... numb mostly. The whole experience of being pregnant and giving birth to my dead son feels so surreal. Sometimes I have to remind myself that it happened to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I haven't pulled out his little gowns and hats to look at in awhile. They smell like him and the hospital. It is a smell I both adore and despise. His gowns have blood and fluid stains on them. So do his hats. Part of me wants to wash one set and save the other set just how it is in hope to keep his smell forever. But then I don't know which one to wash. The first set he was in that is the most soiled? Or the last set, that isn't nearly as cute. So I do nothing. They sit up in my room in a Ziploc bag and a box we got from the hospital. They sit along with all the other mementos from the hospital. I need to get a nice big box to put all of these mementos in and the little things that we had bought for him while I was pregnant. Funny how I conveniently forget to do that whenever I am out. Something else I keep "forgetting" to do is to look for an urn. I don't even know where you buy one. Can you look online? Do these things make me a terrible mother?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I miss my baby boy, even though I never really knew him. Every time I hear of someone that has children close together I get upset. Or if someone with a child around Kensi's age is pregnant, I am jealous. That is supposed to be me. My children were supposed to be born 20 months apart from each other. Instead my son only lived for 20 weeks inside my womb. I don't live a very structured life. We are not on a tight day to day schedule. Bedtime is about the only routine that we keep. I don't make many plans for the future. The one plan I did make, to have my children close in age, was taken away. I felt so blessed and so lucky to find out I was pregnant with Clarence after only 3 months of trying. Some women with PCOS try years. I knew how lucky I was. I feel like fate took one look at me and decided I didn't deserve to be so happy. Like it wanted to wipe that smug look off of my face as I made jokes about my husbands "super sperm". I feel so humbled by this whole experience. Knocked to the ground and kicked in the gut several times over. Like I am being taunted and laughed at. "Oh your life is finally going the way you have always dreamed? Oh you are finally to the part you have wished for since you were a little girl. The part where you get to have a family?" I feel like the rug was jerked from underneath me, all my dreams stolen. What did I do to deserve this? What did I do to deserve to have a dead baby? I loved that little guy. I wanted to keep him safe. I couldn't do that. I feel like my body has failed me. I failed him. And I don't know why. I will never know why. Why did my placenta not develop properly? Why? Why? Why? Shame on me for thinking I was invincible. Shame on me for thinking I deserved the happiness I had.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1888724479748278423-4225345881252258753?l=lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/feeds/4225345881252258753/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1888724479748278423&amp;postID=4225345881252258753&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/4225345881252258753'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/4225345881252258753'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/2009/01/shame-on-me.html' title='Shame On Me'/><author><name>Alisha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17213136633055248109</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/TSyKAj8R-KI/AAAAAAAAFbQ/55oE7yfUpjI/S220/me%2B1-10-11.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1888724479748278423.post-9113167254017698677</id><published>2009-01-27T15:48:00.014-05:00</published><updated>2010-06-01T22:10:55.184-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='healing after stillbirth'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='TTC'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='grief'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Clarence'/><title type='text'>The Courage To Heal</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;So my husband and I have decided to start trying to conceive again this month. A friend told me that a friend of a friend of a friend had mentioned to her something about hoping that I didn't become obsessed with TTC again, as she knew so many other women who had after having a loss. Apparently she thought this was sad or unhealthy. It was obvious to me that she was passing judgement. So, of course, I have been paranoid ever since about what one would think if/when they learned we were trying again so soon. What I have realized upon pondering this is that trying to have another baby is part of the healing process for me. And not just for me. For a lot of women that have experienced losses. It is in almost every book that I have read. It is "normal" (there is that word again), human and HEALTHY to have the desire to be pregnant again. Unless we decided not to have more children, the next phase of my healing can't come without TTC again. Pregnancy, as much as I have loved it in the past, has now become the enemy. One of my biggest fears. The biggest fear outside of losing my husband or children. In order to conquer that fear I need to face it head on. Don't get me wrong here. I am not delusional. Nowhere in my mind do I think, not even for a second, that if I have a successful term pregnancy with a healthy live baby that I am suddenly gonna be healed. I know that is not true. However, I am certain that it will be a fundamental part of the process. Conquering this fear and coming out OK on the other side with my dream in my arms, that will be the vessel that gets me to the "other side", to the next stage of my healing. And notice that I said "my healing". Because it is mine, not yours. Mine to figure out, not yours to judge. TTC again, wanting to expand our family and having the courage to take the plunge is one of the most crucial steps in this healing process for me. One that can't be skipped. One that can't just be put off because I am worried what others might think. I will not be ashamed. I will not hide it. Unfortunately, it took someone telling me how strong and courageous I was to try again for me to realize it. I didn't see it that way. I thought others would think I was weak. But what is weak is caring about what others think. Especially if they have never lost a child. So to that friend of a friend of a friend...I am gonna become obsessed with having another child. I want to expand my family. And anyone who really knows me, knows that I would be obsessed with TTC even without having lost Clarence. That is just me. When I do something, I do it full out. Shame on you for passing judgement on me!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1888724479748278423-9113167254017698677?l=lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/feeds/9113167254017698677/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1888724479748278423&amp;postID=9113167254017698677&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/9113167254017698677'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/9113167254017698677'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/2009/01/courage-to-heal.html' title='The Courage To Heal'/><author><name>Alisha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17213136633055248109</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/TSyKAj8R-KI/AAAAAAAAFbQ/55oE7yfUpjI/S220/me%2B1-10-11.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1888724479748278423.post-1975359321225187029</id><published>2009-01-25T00:29:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2010-06-01T22:10:55.185-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='grief'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Clarence'/><title type='text'>Do You Own These Shoes Too?  They Suck.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;"A Pair of Shoes"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I am wearing a pair of shoes.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;They are ugly shoes.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Uncomfortable shoes.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I hate my shoes.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Each day I wear them, and each day I wish I had another pair.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Some days my shoes hurt so bad that I do not think I can take another step.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Yet, I continue to wear them.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I get funny looks wearing these shoes.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;They are looks of sympathy.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I can tell in others eyes that they are glad they are my shoes and not theirs.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;They never talk about my shoes.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;To learn how awful my shoes are might make them uncomfortable.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;To truly understand these shoes you must walk in them.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;But, once you put them on, you can never take them off.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I now realize that I am not the only one who wears these shoes.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;There are many pairs in this world.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Some woman are like me and ache daily as they try and walk in them.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Some have learned how to walk in them so they don't hurt quite as much.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Some have worn the shoes so long that days will go by before they think about how much they hurt.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;No woman deserves to wear these shoes.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Yet, because of these shoes I am a stronger woman.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;These shoes have given me the strength to face anything.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;They have made me who I am.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I will forever walk in the shoes of a woman who has lost a child.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;~Author unknown~&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1888724479748278423-1975359321225187029?l=lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/feeds/1975359321225187029/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1888724479748278423&amp;postID=1975359321225187029&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/1975359321225187029'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/1975359321225187029'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/2009/01/shoes.html' title='Do You Own These Shoes Too?  They Suck.'/><author><name>Alisha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17213136633055248109</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/TSyKAj8R-KI/AAAAAAAAFbQ/55oE7yfUpjI/S220/me%2B1-10-11.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1888724479748278423.post-3924802669631445763</id><published>2009-01-22T20:11:00.009-05:00</published><updated>2010-06-01T22:10:55.185-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='grief'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Clarence'/><title type='text'>Is This The End, Or A New Beginning?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;I just haven't felt much like posting. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;IDK&lt;/span&gt; why b/c I am happy (or content at least) with the appointment we had on &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Tuesday&lt;/span&gt; to discuss the pathology report with the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Perinatologist&lt;/span&gt;. I just haven't felt like writing about it. Not even on SC or in my journal. I guess because it makes &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;everything&lt;/span&gt; so final? Like putting a period at the end of the sentence? Or finishing a chapter of a book? &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;IDK&lt;/span&gt;. I know the "book" will continue and this last chapter will always be with me. Clarence will always be with me ....but for some reason I have been hesitating to turn the page.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Doctor that I met with was wonderful. He is the partner of the guy that I saw while pregnant with Clarence.(Remember the one I never liked?) He was so quick to the point, no personality and not a conversationalist at all. He did nothing to calm my worries. Well his partner, Dr. M is the complete opposite. Like night and day. We first sat in his office and he wanted me to sit down and tell my version of things. To see where I was coming from and how I felt about things. He listened so intently. We even talked about &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;PCOS&lt;/span&gt; and my treatment for it. It just showed me that he was in no hurry and that we had his full attention for however long we needed it. He decided it would be good to run some tests to make sure I didn't have a clotting disorder or an auto immune disease. He ordered about 8 different tests and they seriously took like 12 vials of blood! He suspects all will come back normal b/c I have already had one normal healthy pregnancy that resulted in a live birth to a healthy child. That actually would be a great thing for the tests to come back normal, b/c then it is most likely a fluke and chances are it won't happen again. But he did tell me the things he was testing for were all things that we could do stuff about to prevent another loss. So after discussing that he stated that he thinks based on my description of the pregnancy, all the hemorrhages I had and my medical charts that the pregnancy was "doomed" from the beginning. Starting with the week 6 spotting. He thinks it was a problem with the placenta. For some reason it didn't &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;develop&lt;/span&gt; properly. And essentially he thinks Clarence "out grew" the placenta. He just got to be too big for the placenta to support him anymore b/c it wasn't properly developed. There wasn't enough blood and oxygen to circulate to him. And his sweet little body could survive no longer. Nothing that I did &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;would've&lt;/span&gt; caused it. It just happened. He took his time and answered all my questions. I didn't feel rushed or silly for anything I asked. He even said I could call or email him if I thought of any other questions after we left the office. He explained that the Velamentous Cord Insertion that they had suspected at my last ultra sound wasn't at all likely to be the cause of death. He said that they are rarely cause for concern and they &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;definitely&lt;/span&gt; don't cause complications like sudden death. So that is it. I feel better. I was so worried the appointment wouldn't go well and I would come home a mess. I do still want to ask if there is a way to make sure the placenta is developing correctly next time around. I may email him that question. Though, even if it wasn't developing properly I am not sure there is anything that could be done.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;From here we move forward. End the chapter and start a new one. I think we are ready. I know that another child could NEVER take Clarence's place. But I truly believe it will help in the healing process. Because life goes on...even when you want it to stand still. So I will hold Clarence in my heart. I will think of him everyday. I do already. How could I not?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1888724479748278423-3924802669631445763?l=lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/feeds/3924802669631445763/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1888724479748278423&amp;postID=3924802669631445763&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/3924802669631445763'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/3924802669631445763'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/2009/01/is-it-end-or-new-beginning.html' title='Is This The End, Or A New Beginning?'/><author><name>Alisha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17213136633055248109</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/TSyKAj8R-KI/AAAAAAAAFbQ/55oE7yfUpjI/S220/me%2B1-10-11.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1888724479748278423.post-5370563754040269781</id><published>2009-01-19T00:20:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2010-06-01T22:10:55.186-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='grief'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Clarence'/><title type='text'>Blessed</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;Someone made this for me and it is just so beautiful I wanted to share. It reminded me of how wonderful my life truly is. I am very blessed. (For those of you who don't know me, I have a step son, Brenden that is 9 years old, and a beautiful 17 month old daughter who is the light of my life!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://s238.photobucket.com/albums/ff151/lishbabe/soulcysters/?action=view&amp;amp;current=n1061880254_30296911_3344-1.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img alt="Photobucket" src="http://i238.photobucket.com/albums/ff151/lishbabe/soulcysters/n1061880254_30296911_3344-1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1888724479748278423-5370563754040269781?l=lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/feeds/5370563754040269781/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1888724479748278423&amp;postID=5370563754040269781&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/5370563754040269781'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/5370563754040269781'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/2009/01/blessed.html' title='Blessed'/><author><name>Alisha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17213136633055248109</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/TSyKAj8R-KI/AAAAAAAAFbQ/55oE7yfUpjI/S220/me%2B1-10-11.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i238.photobucket.com/albums/ff151/lishbabe/soulcysters/th_n1061880254_30296911_3344-1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1888724479748278423.post-7824935717922853259</id><published>2009-01-17T23:46:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2010-06-01T22:10:55.186-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='grief'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Clarence'/><title type='text'>A Righteous Kill</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;That is the movie that my husband and I were watching when I had my first &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;hemorrhage&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;. We were about half way through the movie. We rented it tonight and watched it. It was a really good movie. But in the back of my mind I kept trying to pin point exactly when I started bleeding. I have an idea, but couldn't remember exactly. Then as I was watching the rest of the movie I was thinking, this was playing while I was sitting in that ER waiting room. It was just weird.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Every once in awhile we will go somewhere I haven't been since I was pregnant. I always remember "the last time I was here I was pregnant". Just before Christmas we went to dinner @ a Japanese steak house. It was the same &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;restaurant&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; we went to for Chad's birthday. That day I had had my biggest &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;hemorrhage&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; yet. So of course when we went there around Christmas it was kinda hard. I couldn't stop thinking about how the last time I had been there my baby had been with me. To make matters worse we were seated at a table with 2 very pregnant women. They were sisters or sisters-in-law I think. And the entire time they talked about their pregnancies. Ultra Sounds, finding out the gender, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;yada&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;yada&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;yada&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;. Needless to say, I had to excuse myself to the restroom several times.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today we went to Chuck E Cheese and took &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Kensington&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;. This time I was able to think back and say the last time I was there, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;Kensington&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; was still in my belly. It was August 20, 2007. We had just had maternity and family pictures down @ Kiddie &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;Kandids&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;. I was 36w1d pregnant. We went to Chuck E Cheese to celebrate Brenden's birthday. Almost exactly 4days later I was holding my precious baby girl for the first time! That memory brought a smile to my face. It was nice to be able to associate the thought "the last time I was here" with something happy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It has been a very hard few days. I was already feeling a little blue, but I blamed that on AF. Then it was exacerbated last night by me finding out that my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;OB's&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; office had the pathology report for so long and did not call me. I can't let that go without saying something. So now I just have to figure out how I go about that. Something to worry about that I shouldn't have to. That and the looming &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;appt&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; we have this &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;Tuesday&lt;/span&gt; to discuss the pathology findings with the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;Perinatologist&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;. Which I am sure we will get no answers. So why bother going, right? Well I am hoping the doctor I sit with is empathetic and can at least offer us some possible scenarios of what &lt;strong&gt;may&lt;/strong&gt; have happened. And calm my fears and guilt that it wasn't something I did to cause his death. Ex: a med I took, the butter I ate, not eating enough.... I will be a nervous wreck come &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;Tuesday&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1888724479748278423-7824935717922853259?l=lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/feeds/7824935717922853259/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1888724479748278423&amp;postID=7824935717922853259&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/7824935717922853259'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/7824935717922853259'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/2009/01/righteous-kill.html' title='A Righteous Kill'/><author><name>Alisha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17213136633055248109</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/TSyKAj8R-KI/AAAAAAAAFbQ/55oE7yfUpjI/S220/me%2B1-10-11.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1888724479748278423.post-3022569754672511307</id><published>2009-01-16T22:18:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2010-06-01T22:10:55.187-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='grief'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Clarence'/><title type='text'>WTH?!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;I just looked at the pathology report from my placenta. I am preparing for our &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;appt&lt;/span&gt; with the specialist this coming &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Tuesday&lt;/span&gt; to go over it. I just realized it was &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;received&lt;/span&gt; by my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;OB's&lt;/span&gt; office on DECEMBER THE FOURTH!!!!! No one ever called me! I had to call the last week of December to get it. I can't believe it. On December the 4&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt; I had my f/u &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;appt&lt;/span&gt; at that same &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;OB's&lt;/span&gt; office. There she told me it could take up to 2 or 3 weeks and that if I hadn't heard from them by the New Year to call the office. Do they not realize how we agonized waiting for a report such as that?! What the HELL!? I am pissed. I am for sure changing &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;OB's&lt;/span&gt; now. The practice is too huge and you are just a number. I agonized about calling and waited 3 weeks for that report when it was sitting right there in their office. Made myself sick to my stomach with anticipation. Piss on them. I am gonna take this up with someone there. I don't know who, but someone is gonna hear about it!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1888724479748278423-3022569754672511307?l=lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/feeds/3022569754672511307/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1888724479748278423&amp;postID=3022569754672511307&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/3022569754672511307'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/3022569754672511307'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/2009/01/wth.html' title='WTH?!'/><author><name>Alisha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17213136633055248109</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/TSyKAj8R-KI/AAAAAAAAFbQ/55oE7yfUpjI/S220/me%2B1-10-11.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1888724479748278423.post-2636942690408114220</id><published>2009-01-15T13:18:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2010-06-01T22:10:55.188-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='grief'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Clarence'/><title type='text'>Normal</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;On my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Myspace&lt;/span&gt; page I recently had the status of "Trying to find a new normal". Some people may wonder, "what the heck is that supposed to mean?" Someone sent this to me. I think it explains it very well. I have deleted a few that I feel just don't apply to me. But most of it touched me very deeply.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;From the heart of a bereaved Mother... This is now what "normal" is... &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Normal is having tears waiting behind every smile when you realize someone important is missing from all the important events in your family's life. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Normal is not sleeping very well because a thousand what &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;if's&lt;/span&gt; &amp;amp; why didn't &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;I's&lt;/span&gt; go through your head constantly. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Normal is reliving that day continuously through your eyes and mind, holding your head to make it go away. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Normal is staring at every baby who looks like he is my baby's age. And then thinking of the age they would be now and not being able to imagine it. (This applies to pregnant women for me)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Normal is every happy event in my life always being backed up with sadness lurking close behind, because of the hole in my heart. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Normal is telling the story of your child's death as if it were an everyday, commonplace activity, and then seeing the horror in &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;someones&lt;/span&gt; eyes at how awful it sounds. And yet realizing it has become a part of my "normal". ( This one is so true and really surprised me when it first happened. I can't believe how calmly and without tears I can talk about it now. But inside it still hurts so bad. I am afraid people expect me to cry the whole time I talk about him. And then I worry that they don't understand when I don't.)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Normal is each year coming up with the difficult task of how to honor your child's memory and their birthday and survive these days. And trying to find the balloon or flag that fit's the occasion. Happy Birthday? Not really. (This applies to my looming due date and how I will handle the anniversary of his death and the Thanksgiving ,the day it started and Christmas holidays this year.)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Normal is having some people afraid to mention my babies or even ask how I am. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Normal is making sure that others remember them. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Normal is after the funeral is over everyone else goes on with their lives, but we continue to grieve our loss forever. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Normal is weeks, months, and years after the initial shock, the grieving gets worse sometimes, not better. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Normal is not listening to people compare anything in their life to this loss, unless they too have lost a child. NOTHING. Even if your child is in the remotest part of the earth away from you - it doesn't compare. Losing a parent is horrible, but losing your own child is unnatural. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Normal is sitting at the computer crying, sharing how you feel with chat buddies who have also lost a child. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Normal is feeling a common bond with friends on the computer in England, Australia, Canada, the Netherlands and all over the USA, but yet never having met any of them face to face. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Normal is a new friendship with another grieving mother, talking and crying together over our children and our new lives. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Normal is not listening to people make excuses for God. "God may have done this because..." I love God, I know that my baby is in heaven, but hearing people trying to think up excuses as to why healthy babies were taken from this earth is not appreciated and makes absolutely no sense to this grieving mother. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Normal is being too tired to care if you paid the bills, cleaned the house, did laundry or if there is any food. (But, thankfully this is greatly improving for me)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Normal is wondering this time whether you are going to say you have two children or one, because you will never see this person again and it is not worth explaining that my baby is in heaven. And yet when you say you have 1 child to avoid that problem, you feel horrible as if you have betrayed your baby. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Normal is asking God why he took your child's life instead of yours and asking if there even is a God. (The latter part of this is true for me. I am afraid to say a prayer right now. Is there anyone listening?)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Normal is knowing I will never get over this loss, in a day or a million years. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;And last of all, Normal is hiding all the things that have become "normal" for you to feel, so that everyone around you will think that you are "normal". &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;------ author unknown&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1888724479748278423-2636942690408114220?l=lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/feeds/2636942690408114220/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1888724479748278423&amp;postID=2636942690408114220&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/2636942690408114220'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/2636942690408114220'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/2009/01/normal.html' title='Normal'/><author><name>Alisha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17213136633055248109</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/TSyKAj8R-KI/AAAAAAAAFbQ/55oE7yfUpjI/S220/me%2B1-10-11.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1888724479748278423.post-8552759777414203466</id><published>2009-01-13T20:19:00.006-05:00</published><updated>2010-06-01T22:10:55.189-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='grief'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Clarence'/><title type='text'>Happy Birthday To Me</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;So today is my birthday. 33. Yikes! I got an early birthday present yesterday. One that most people wouldn't be that excited about. My favorite aunt came to visit me. In other words AF (Aunt Flow). I am excited about this because it means my body is doing a good job of healing after the stillbirth of Clarence and the D&amp;amp;C to remove the placenta. It also means that we are able to start &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;ttc&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; (trying to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;conceive&lt;/span&gt;) again. Which I am so ready to do. Right or wrong, just the idea of being pregnant by the time Clarence's due date comes up is so comforting. And I think it would really make it easier if I was pregnant for Thanksgiving, his birthday, and Christmas. I think if I am not...Well, honestly, I would be a total mess. I think about it &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;obsessively&lt;/span&gt; almost. If I got pregnant this month I would be due in Oct. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Hmmm&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;...we have too many October &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;bday's&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; in our family though. But then I could have a baby for the holidays next year, when Clarence &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;would've&lt;/span&gt; been here. And then I think, I have always wanted to be hugely pregnant for the holidays, so a January or Feb baby would be great. For that we'd have to get pregnant in April or May. See what I mean about thinking about this too much?! I need to just let nature take it's course. So anyhow, that is where my mind has been lately.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today was a great &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;bday&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;. I took &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;KK&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; to the library for &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;story time&lt;/span&gt; and she had a lot of fun. The lady reads &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;stories&lt;/span&gt; and also does songs with different props for the kids to use in between books. Today she did some felt board stories too. It is so neat to see her venture out on her own and not be shy. I love to just sit back and watch her take it all in. After returning from the library, she laid down for a nap. Mommy (that's me) got in her pj's and promptly made her way to the couch for some much needed R&amp;amp;R. Then off to dinner the 3 of us went to celebrate my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;bday&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;. We went to the Olive Garden. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Kensi&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; got the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;fettuccine&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;Alfredo&lt;/span&gt;...but she ate my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15"&gt;spaghetti&lt;/span&gt; instead. You can never predict a toddler I tell ya. Had we ordered her the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;spagetti&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; she would've wanted something else. Now that &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;Kensington&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; is tucked into bed, I am gonna end the night snuggled up on the couch with my DH (Dear husband) and watch some &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18"&gt;TV&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It just occurred to me that maybe I need to add an index for a list of abbreviations. That may help some of you along that aren't &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19"&gt;familiar&lt;/span&gt; with my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;SoulCyster's&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;ttc&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; lingo. I'll check into that.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1888724479748278423-8552759777414203466?l=lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/feeds/8552759777414203466/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1888724479748278423&amp;postID=8552759777414203466&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/8552759777414203466'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/8552759777414203466'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/2009/01/happy-birthday-to-me.html' title='Happy Birthday To Me'/><author><name>Alisha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17213136633055248109</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/TSyKAj8R-KI/AAAAAAAAFbQ/55oE7yfUpjI/S220/me%2B1-10-11.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1888724479748278423.post-7509581986368925776</id><published>2009-01-11T20:27:00.008-05:00</published><updated>2010-06-01T22:10:55.190-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='grief'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Clarence'/><title type='text'>The Most Perfect Day</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;I did get to have one perfect, blissful day in my pregnancy with Clarence. November the 10&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt;. It was a Monday and I had been doing strict bed rest for 2 weeks, hoping to resolve the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Subchorionic&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Hematoma&lt;/span&gt;. I had an appointment with my OB for a f/u. That day there was NO CLOT on the ultra sound!! I was so, so, so unbelievably happy. I allowed myself to go to Babies R Us and buy some things for my baby. It was so much fun since this time we knew what gender we were having. I picked out an adorable baby book, light blue with a fuzzy tan teddy bear on the cover. It is funny that I picked this one, because usually I go for the sports stuff for boys, or sailboats. I also got a frame to put an ultrasound picture in. Just like the one we had for &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Kensington&lt;/span&gt;, except in blue. This was fun! Last I picked out a bib with a cute dinosaur on it that said "I'm the little brother!" &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Not too long after bringing these treasures home I started writing in his baby book. I am glad I did, because I don't know that I would have the heart to start it now. For some reason it is easier to think of finishing his baby book now knowing it is already started. Otherwise I am not sure I could do it. So while I will only be able to fill his baby book in up to 5 months, I will be able to fill it with other things. Ultra sound pictures galore! We have a ton! 6 weeks, 8 weeks, 10 weeks, 12 weeks, 13 weeks, 13 weeks 5 days...you get the picture. And around 14 weeks pregnant I started taking belly shots. I took them through to week 18 I think. So I will have those to add. My one regret is that we didn't get a 20 week shot. For some reason 19 weeks came and went without us taking a picture. On Thanksgiving day we were going to do a belly shot. But then we all know what happened next. And while I won't be able to fill his baby book with cards of well wishes and congratulations from my baby shower and such...I do have a huge stack of lovely sympathy cards to add. It is amazing the out pouring of love we &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;recieved&lt;/span&gt; from people. Little gifts and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;momentos&lt;/span&gt; given, beautiful flowers. I made sure to take pictures of the flowers to add to his book as well.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;And while my dear Clarence was snuggled inside of me, he got to go with his mommy to see her childhood crushes in concert! New Kids on the Block! &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;lol&lt;/span&gt;! We traveled all the way to Cleveland. And he got to go with mommy and daddy to see the "So You Think You Can Dance" tour. I will make sure to add that in there too. Oh and he got to go to his daddy's &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;highschool&lt;/span&gt; reunion and his home town Apple festival.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;So that was my amazing, blissful day. And it actually carried on for about 2 weeks. Until I had another hemorrhage. I will always remember the feeling I had that day though. A worry free day, confident that we had made it through the storm and come out the other end stronger. Me and my baby boy were gonna be just fine. Little did I know God had other plans for my Clarence. It's one of those things you think will NEVER happen to you, ya know? Someone I "know of" from &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;SoulCysters&lt;/span&gt; lost her baby around the time I had my blissful day. I remember finding that out, that at 25 weeks (or so) her baby's heart stopped beating. I remember thinking "how awful" and "how does someone go through labor and give birth to their deceased child?" "How does someone survive that?" Again, little did I know....&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;But to end on a positive note. Remember the irony of me picking out that baby book with the teddy bear on it? Well shortly after Clarence was born, they brought him to us in a little basket. He was dressed in a tiny gown with a little white cap on. He had &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;snuggly&lt;/span&gt; blankets all around him...and a little tan teddy bear. I think God sent me to that baby book for a reason. Now where ever I see teddy bears I think of Clarence. But it is &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;ok&lt;/span&gt;. They are happy thoughts.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1888724479748278423-7509581986368925776?l=lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/feeds/7509581986368925776/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1888724479748278423&amp;postID=7509581986368925776&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/7509581986368925776'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/7509581986368925776'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/2009/01/most-perfect-day.html' title='The Most Perfect Day'/><author><name>Alisha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17213136633055248109</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/TSyKAj8R-KI/AAAAAAAAFbQ/55oE7yfUpjI/S220/me%2B1-10-11.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1888724479748278423.post-7462700779651388391</id><published>2009-01-04T12:45:00.016-05:00</published><updated>2010-06-01T22:10:55.190-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='grief'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Clarence'/><title type='text'>Another Rough End To The Weekend.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;I don't know why I get so sad when the weekend ends. All weekend long I complain about people staying with us&lt;span style="color:#ffff00;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;getting on my nerves and then when they leave I feel sad. Right now my emotions are so raw and so disproportionate to things. I feel like I am on a roller coaster that is out of control. That no one has ridden before and no one can tell my how to navigate it or take the control back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just want my life back so I can deal with the grief of losing my son and move on. I feel like a prepubescent teenager stuck in a woman's body..... I feel like a failure. I don't know how to just live life. I am always fretting about things I have no control over.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I miss my baby boy more than any words could ever express. I had problems with the pregnancy. A &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Subchorionic&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Hematoma&lt;/span&gt; was diagnosed around 8 weeks into the pregnancy. And while our little man was growing and thriving in there, the SCH was making me a mad women. Six different times I had hemorrhaging....six...different....times!!! Do you know what that does to a pregnant women. You are not supposed to bleed when you are pregnant! Let alone having it come out of you like someone released a dam. The doctors said nothing could be done to improve the situation. That as the baby got bigger he would be like a tourniquet to the bleed and it should all resolve. I decided that wasn't good enough and after finding an online support group decided bed rest and lots of water would be the key. And after 2 weeks of strict bed rest....the clot was gone!! However there was a little bit of bleeding noted by my cervix. Nothing to be concerned with though. So up and about I was. Never doing anything too strenuous. A week and a half or 2 weeks went by and then I had ANOTHER bleed. I couldn't catch a break. The baby was fine as usual, but the bleed remained and was a bit bigger this time. I tried to take it easy again. They said bed rest wouldn't make a difference, but here I had just come off of it after healing and look what happened. I had another SCH.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then came the follow up appointment with the Maternal/Fetal medicine doctor. Our little boy was doing beautifully. I was 20 weeks. The SCH was still there...not the best news. The tech spent FOREVER doing the u/s, trying to see the umbilical cord correctly. The baby was comfortable and wouldn't budge. Apparently he was using part of the umbilical cord as his pillow. They suspected that I had a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Velametous&lt;/span&gt; Cord insertion problem. Where the umbilical cord doesn't take root in the placenta, but in the membranes around it. This also leaves an area of the cord exposed, not covered with the Wharton's Jelly, and very vulnerable. This is not always a problem unless the exposed area runs low, across the mother's cervix. Then it presents a problem with labor starts and the water breaks, because the exposed cord is very fragile and could rupture, leaving the baby to bleed out in a matter of minutes. So the doctor told me that if that were the case they would schedule me for delivery by c section well before I would go into labor on my own. Pretty scary, huh? He wanted to see me back in a month to confirm their suspicions. In the meantime, no special orders. No bed rest or anything. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;WTF&lt;/span&gt;?? I couldn't understand that. And he never did say there was a risk other than going into labor on my own. I was really surprised.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So you can imagine my surprise when the very next day, Thanksgiving Day, after not being able to find his heartbeat on our home Doppler we learned he had passed. At the hospital poor Chad had to sit and watch the monitor and see before I did that his little heart wasn't beating. Then he had to watch me, as they turned the monitor my way and the doctor said "the reason you couldn't find his heartbeat with your Doppler is because his heart is not beating". I will never forget those words. Or the kind soft way she said them. It was all so surreal. I had to be induced to give birth. He was born the next morning, Nov. 28&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt; @ 5:24 am, 10.2 ounces and 10 inches long. He was PERFECT from head to toe. Perfect nose, nipples, arms, hands, legs and toes. He had the same nose as his brother and sister. We have so many mementos from that day. His little hat and gown, pictures, inked feet and hand prints and an impression of his feet in plaster.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel so empty without him. I feel so alone in my grief. No one wants to talk about it, including my husband, unless I bring it up. Everyone is afraid I am too fragile and will break if they say something or they will cause me more pain. The thing is them saying nothing is breaking me and hurting me more. It makes me feel like he is forgotten, as well as my pain. Maybe I am supposed to be "over it" by now in their eyes. But that will never be the case. It feels so cruel and unfair having him taken, so young and so innocent. And we may never have answers as to why. Just a bunch of speculation on what "maybe" happened. It helps to talk about it. Every bit of what happened it helps to talk about. So maybe this blog is the answer for me. Thank you Tracey for this suggestion. You are a wonderful friend!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1888724479748278423-7462700779651388391?l=lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/feeds/7462700779651388391/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1888724479748278423&amp;postID=7462700779651388391&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/7462700779651388391'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1888724479748278423/posts/default/7462700779651388391'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifewithoutclarence.blogspot.com/2009/01/another-rough-end-to-weekend.html' title='Another Rough End To The Weekend.'/><author><name>Alisha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17213136633055248109</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_J8-OmL04Mnc/TSyKAj8R-KI/AAAAAAAAFbQ/55oE7yfUpjI/S220/me%2B1-10-11.jpg'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry></feed>
