One Day At A Time

“How many children do you have (if any)?” I stared at the questionnaire as Nate wrote, “none.” We glanced sadly at each other before finishing the remainder of the form. How are we supposed to answer that? I had never realized how many times we are asked if we have children until the last month and a half. Just last week I had three people come into the office where I work and ask if I had kids. Each time I hesitated before saying, “no”. Guilt overwhelmed me as that single, awful word came out of my mouth. I think of my little boy and want to tell those who ask if I have any children about Hunter, but how do I talk about him without making them feel uncomfortable? If I told them, they would feel sorry for me and pity me. I don’t want to be pitied. I want to be able to talk about my son without making people uncomfortable. It is hard to know what to say to people in Nate’s and my situation, which is usually why I avoid answering “yes” to the question “do you have children?

            Losing Hunter has been the hardest thing that has ever happened to me. There are moments that I feel nothing but pain. It consumes me and cripples me. The only thing I can do is lie in bed and cry while holding the blanket that Hunter was wrapped in at the hospital. I want nothing more then to turn back the clock and go back. I don’t understand why this had to happen and it makes me angry and sad. My heart hurts and my arms ache from the emptiness. I want to hold him again and whisper how much I love him. I want to see his handsome little face and kiss his little hands and feet. I have already noticed that my memories with him are fading and becoming less clear. I wish I could somehow remember every little detail.              I think most parents who have lost a child fear that their child will be forgotten. I know this is one of my greatest fears. I want Hunter and our other angel baby to be known as a part of our family. I want our future children to know t

On July 1 st I sat anxiously staring at a pregnancy test. I was a day late, but I didn’t want to get my hopes up. The longer I stared at the test, the more my heart sank. Nothing was happening. I was about to throw it in the garbage when a faint line began to appear. I squinted my eyes and looked more closely. Was I imagining things or was there really a second blue line? I held it up closer to the light and sure enough, a second blue line was there. My breath caught in my throat. I was pregnant... I slowly walked out of the bathroom, still holding the test. I kept looking at it while I walked out to the living room. I put the test behind my back as I walked up to Nate. He looked up at me from his spot on the couch and smiled. I pulled the test from behind my back as a smile crept onto my face. “No way”, he said as he grabbed the test to look. He pulled me close as tears of joys rolled down my face. “We’re going to have a baby”, I whispered. Over the next several weeks

It has been three weeks since Hunter Keith Madsen was born. I miss and love him more with each passing day. I did not have the privilege of carrying Hunter full term and I’m sure that some may argue that means I cannot love him as much as a mother that carries her child full term. I cannot imagine that to be true. Yes, it is true that I did not spend the full forty weeks awaiting his arrival. I did not have his nursery fully prepared. I did not have a closet full of outfits for him, but from the moment I got a positive pregnancy test, I was in love. When the nurse placed him in my arms, I felt a new kind of love. It was stronger and purer then any love I had ever felt before. Words are incapable of describing the strength of the love I felt. I miss my little Hunter so much. I miss my growing belly and the occasional kick that let me know he was still in there fighting. There have been several times the past few weeks when I have thought I felt something like a small kick