It's hard.

I don't even know what to say but that it's hard.

It's hard to be hopeful and realistic at the same time.

It's hard to expect the best, but know that the worst happens.

It's hard to plant flowers at your son's grave on your way to the OB appointment for his brother.

It's hard to think about whether you should plan a birthday party or a baby shower in the same month.

It's hard to want both and neither at the same time.

It's hard to take pictures of one son's nursery as you know you are about to dismantle it for another son.

It's hard to extend grace to those you love when you feel so justified in your anger with them--and the hormones DO NOT HELP.

It's hard to balance the desire to do everything and nothing at the same time.

It's hard to justify doing a ton of stuff because it's been neglected and not doing anything because your most important job is taking care of you and the baby.

It's hard to sweep the pieces of your broken heart up every morning as you simultaneously feel them just burst with love over every sweet little wake-up kick and jab.

It's hard for things to be so normal and so surreal.

It's hard. I saw Dr. Shonekan yesterday and just about cried the whole visit. She said she thought of me the other day as she knew we were getting closer to Matthew's birthday and imagined it must be hard. It is. And she was the one who reminded me that as if we don't have enough to deal with, hormones only make it worse.

These days are hard. Conflicting, guilt-ridden, exhausting (because as much as I really am filled with such joy over Luke, every day is a purposeful determination to ACCEPT that joy I am given. Make no doubt that it is God-given, but we have to ACCEPT it and that takes purpose and determination and choice) and hard.

Just hard.