Drink in the richness of the whole, beautiful world that exists beyond the obvious. Marvel each and every day at the magnificence of life.

     This miscarriage was probably the most traumatic thing I've encountered since the death of the girls. Both emotionally and physically. I'm trying to figure out a way to say my feelings without going into too much detail. So forgive me if I say too much. It's hard to describe feelings without sort of painting a picture. This is kind of my place to let my feelings out.

      After we found out there was no longer a heartbeat I knew what my decision would be. In all my other miscarriages we always decided to go home and allow things to happen naturally. I'm too scared of having a d and c and don't want to take any pills to force things to happen. I'm not comfortable with either of those. Thankfully (and I say that because there really is no other word to use) my body seems to be able to do that ok. I'm rather angry that it seems my body has no trouble going through a miscarriage. It seems so much easier for my body to handle that, than it is to handle a pregnancy.

      So we went home and waited for nature to take it's course. I took two days off of work because I just didn't want to deal with the public. The next day after my doctor's appointment, I felt the contractions start. I stood in the bathroom hunched over the sink breathing through each one. The contractions are painful and I was so physically and emotionally drained. My husband was at work and I knew how this would go so I didn't feel the need to bother him. Unless there was an emergency. My best friend had messaged me to see how I was doing and I texted her through the contractions. I didn't know I needed someone until I was already talking to her. Just someone to be with me to keep my mind from going insane. I believe it was 4 hours on and off of contractions. I thought everything was over, the contractions stopped and I was able to lay down. That was on Friday the 19th. I returned to work on Monday and felt physically ok. Still upset and devastated over the whole thing. Monday passed and then Tuesday. Tuesday, out of nowhere I lost the baby. I was completely stunned. I thought it happened Friday. I'm really trying not to go into too much detail here but I know what my eyes witnessed.  It was both traumatizing and an eye opener.

I'm sharing this with you because there is something I want women to know. Through the tears and almost hyperventilating, all my emotions and devastation aside....I viewed something some people don't see. I think the world forgets or takes for granted how absolutely wonderful and beautiful it is that our bodies create humans. That from the moment of conception things happen so quickly, cells multiple, a heart develops and their little bodies form so quickly. How beautiful and what an honor it is to be able to carry a child. A child you created. For some, almost effortlessly. I want women to realize how amazing that is. I know it's normal to not think about it, it just happens. You get pregnant and without even thinking of how it really happens or what happens, a baby will most likely be born somewhere between 9 and 10 months later. 

I don't know what the future holds for us. If life was perfect we'd have 2 little girls or 7 children. We don't and I don't know that we'll ever have any children. I just know my heart aches so bad right now for the baby that should have been. And what a gift it is to be breathing. I was formed inside my mother's womb. I see my mother in a different light as well as all women. What an amazing thing our bodies do. I think pregnant women should celebrate and really feel what they are going through and feel accomplished that their bodies can do this. Seriously, what an amazing thing! To have the ability to grow another human and give birth. I wish with all my heart that I could do it, normally without any issues. I would give anything to do so. 

I'm still grieving and learning once again how to push forward. We've never had a miscarriage like this one. To see it on the ultrasound with a tiny flicker of a heartbeat and the next time it's not there. It doesn't help that something was wrong with baby and the little one just couldn't grow any further. You still had all the hopes and dreams for them, for the due date and time of year when things would be happening. It still hurts. It's still another little one that we had to let go. I had no idea it would be this painful.  So once again we try to find little things to look forward to (though nothing really does the trick) and you find yourself letting tears fall through out the week. When you allow the pain to soak in. I really thought this was it. Yet again, it's too good to be true.

 I know so many want me to be positive, to think "well at least I can get pregnant" but that isn't enough. Getting pregnant isn't enough, only when having a full term baby is the end result. Getting pregnant and losing them, is nothing to be positive about. I may not suffer from the infertility that once plagued us years ago, but we're still struggling to bring a baby home. And then you speak to your husband and you both realize your life is crap because no one would look at the two of you and say "I'd like their life" Not a chance. And though that's not what life is about, you do realize how shitty yours is. When no one else would want to walk in your shoes. And at this point, nothing will fix the past. Even a new baby won't replace what you've lost. You will always hurt, there will always be babies missing from family photos and events that happen in your life. There will always be two girls that my husband will never walk down the aisle, and I'll never help them get ready for school dances.  Sometimes I do wish for a do over on life. To start from the beginning and hope for a different outcome. All I can do is hope there are enough good days ahead to help us pull through. Maybe someday there will be enough good days to make this life really worth it. 

I'm trying hard to find something positive to hold on to but it truly isn't easy. I've never wanted or struggled for something so badly in my life. My only goal when I was younger was to be a mother. It really shouldn't be as hard as it feels like it is. So those of you that are fortunate enough to have your babies, look at them and marvel at what an accomplishment they are. It truly is amazing what a women's body can do. You should feel so proud. And even if they aren't your bio children, marvel in the fact that you are raising an amazing child that probably wouldn't have such a wonderful life if it wasn't for you. Mothers should be celebrated (and daddies too) You are lucky

It is not light that we need, but fire; it is not the gentle shower, but thunder. We need the storm, the whirlwind, and the earthquake.

(Wednesday April 17th 2013)

As soon as the rain started my mind didn't even have a moment to think. I grabbed my keys, jumped in my jeep and drove to the nearest open field. I've been so numb the last couple of days, I think I needed to stand in the rain to feel alive. Or maybe I was hoping I'd get hit by lightening. Either way, I wasn't thinking I just acted. You can judge and think to yourself  "oh that girl, she needs some mental help" Think what you will but you have not walked a second in my shoes. I choose to do what I do to survive and if you choose to judge me, that's on you.

It felt good to just stand in the rain, feel the cold drops hit me in the face and just cry. I haven't felt this numb in a while. It's an odd feeling to know your heart is pumping, your blood is flowing but you feel completely dead. To have hope taken from you and your husband for the 7th time. To get kicked in the gut and your future ripped from your hands, yet again.You get angry, really angry. It doesn't matter that it wasn't your fault or that baby just couldn't develop any more and apparently hearing that it can and would happen to anyone is supposed to help you....It doesn't. You feel broken and you wonder why life is so unbelievably unfair to you and your husband. 

Today is a terrible day. Knowing you'll lose the baby you are carrying inside you, while having to take someone's order for a baby shower cake at work. It takes everything you have to hold it together. When all you want to do it throw stuff across the room and run home. To know that at the ultrasound you have scheduled tomorrow, the tiny flicker you saw last time will no longer be beating and you'll see nothing moving on the screen. To be asked early that morning if you're pregnant yet and you muster up a smile and say "nope, not yet" When you just want to cry and say "I'm am, but not for long."  To pack away the maternity clothes you bought because you were already starting to grow out of your normal clothes. You knew you would, who wouldn't after getting pregnant for the 7th time. Then you realize you knew all along it was too good to be true, you guys aren't that lucky. For it to happen first cycle after surgery, for your hcg betas to rise correctly and you both were so excited. You couldn't wait to tell people because you thought it would be your turn, finally.... but you couldn't because you always lose them. Life isn't nice to us, we should have known better. Even though we do, it still hurts like hell and you know someone out there knows you'd fail at it again. Or at least expected you to.

And you know for the next few months you'll watch those that were due around you, grow big and you wish you were with them. You'll watch them have their babies and know yours would have been around that size. We're used to that, that's just what our life is. Full of visual reminders of the ages of all the children that should have been but never will be. Forgive me if I can't show up to your baby shower, I'm sorry I have to be selfish. I will never be strong enough to do so.

I've worked so hard for this, I do every thing right. I research about how to raise a healthy child, what you should and shouldn't do during pregnancy. I'd gladly show my butt cheek to the nurse to receive my 17p shot every week, the bi weekly cervical checks, travel to Chicago get an operation for the tac, take my baby aspirin, my folate, stay away from caffeine, don't touch cleaners at work, make sure not to lift heavy buckets, take vitamin c and e to hopefully strengthen my water bag because I fear it breaking and a million other things. I'd do all that again without a second thought but I'll never get to. My heart doesn't think it can try again. I don't think I can put my husband through this again. Watch his face light up when I surprise him with the announcement and then eventually the light fades and you hear what he had to deal with at work. And he couldn't handle it. You feel silly to ever think things would be ok. You did everything the way you were "supposed" to. You got married, bought a house and tried to have babies. Been married for 8 years and tried  a year after you were married. You watch everyone else get married and have babies and you're trying hard. Doing all you can, working so hard at it and each time you fail. It really beats a person down. 

Then you have to tell your mom. You know she'll be hurt, and you're afraid she expected it too. You'll wonder if anyone will ever think you can do it. Then she tells you "I'm your Mom, don't tell me not to worry about you.  I love you with all my heart, and I don't know how you do it. You've certainly inherited your grandmother's quiet strength. You don't even know you have it." You certainly feel anything but strong. You feel like you've let her down. You can't give her any living grandchildren. You've only given your parents and your inlaws heartache. Then your husband has to call his mother. She already made blankets and bought baby clothes. She's done it for you a few times before. You fear she'll give up on you too. That she expected loss as well, because that's all I've given her. You feel like a complete failure. 

And then you talk with your husband. Neither of you can do this again. You figure you'll just go through life like a zombie waiting until you pass away yourself. Or do you keep trying and killing yourself over and over in hopes that one of these times it will happen. But how many times will it take? He tells you he can't stand to see you poked a prodded.  Can't stand to see you get your hcg levels checked every 48hrs and then you both wait by the phone for the nurse to tell you if they've doubled. Can't watch you jump on the ultrasound table again and hold your breath until something shows on the screen. Then you are either happy or let down, most likely let down. Then you're pissed because you don't understand why it's so difficult for you. You feel terrible for your husband because you wish he married someone else, he wouldn't know this pain and he would most likely have children by now. He's a great dad and he deserves to parent children, he'd be damn good at it. He'd cherish things most people probably take for granted and he'd appreciate the cries because it means they're alive. 

You're stuck. You don't know what to think. You know your mind will do what it has to, to protect you. It's amazing what the brain does to move you through grief. You'll be numb and then eventually the waves of grief and sadness, jealousy etc will come. But your mind will only allow so much at one time. You'll crack once in a while. You'll yell at your husband for something that doesn't matter just because you want to yell. You'll throw the phone or throw something outside. You'll stop cleaning your house. Maybe you'll quit giving a crap about how you look, because it takes too much effort to put makeup on and curl your hair. Your brain can only do so much at once. 

I imagine by now, you realize we're miscarrying another child. One that was supposed to make their debut in November this year. It was too good to be true. Getting pregnant for the first time naturally, no fertility meds..nothing. Just a surprise, first cycle after tac. Everything looked ok for a little while and then you're excitement was taken away and you had to wait in limbo for news. So please, I ask that I no longer have to hear "are you pregnant yet." We're telling you of the miscarriage so you hopefully understand how painful it is to hear those words. I truly appreciate where they come from, I know it's from excitement and support. I really do know that. But right now it hurts too much to be asked that. We're not sure if we'll try again. It's too hard to think about that right now. I don't want you to offer me your children, or talk to me about adoption or other options. I know it's really just because you care and you want us happy but my heart can't deal with that at the same time. Please don't tell me how you think this is a part of god's plan. This loss has nothing to do with the tac, it was before the 2nd trimester, nothing to do with my past or any problems I had, nothing to do with how healthy or unhealthy you think I am. Apparently baby just couldn't continue to grow and develop. I guess it can and does happen to anyone. It doesn't mean I'm broken, though I absolutely feel that way. Doesn't have a single thing to do with any of my past or history. I feel the need to point that out because I know that's the first thing people think. Or you'll think for some reason the tac failed. The tac has nothing to do with 1st trimester losses.

 I love you all for being my cheerleaders and for constantly holding me up when I couldn't do it myself. I've secretly kept all your motivational words that you've messaged me in the past or posted on fb. I look at them when I need a lift. When you feel like a failure and you read a message where someone compares you to a phoenix or tells you they know how you feel. The one that tells you they know defeat isn't in your vocabulary. You read them and you wonder if they know the same women you do. You do not feel like the girl they are talking about. You just hope you can get there again someday. Hope is a powerful thing and when you no longer have it, there isn't anything worth living for. I have never struggled this much for something in my life. Never fought so hard for something and It feels extremely unreachable. 

You take one day at a time, sometimes one minute at a time. Pick yourself up off the living room floor. Change your wet, rainy clothes and drink a mountain dew because that's your form of self destruction. Then sleep because you know tomorrow will be difficult when you see the empty ultrasound screen and know that once again your hopes and dreams will leave with the baby you had inside. 

To have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness or in health, to love and to cherish 'till death do us part.

      I've had so much on my mind lately that I'm not sure where to start. Today as I'm sitting home alone (I enjoy my time to just think) I realize how amazing my husband is. I'm not lucky in many parts of life but in the husband department, I am. 

I'm glad that at 16 years old I set my eyes on him at my first job and didn't give up until he said he'd hang out with me. He made me work hard for that ;) Trips back and forth from his house to mine and the long distance phone bills (I'm sure my mother remembers those!) We were young and in love. Life was perfect. After a year of dating I got a promise ring and another year later he proposed. We set a date and a year and a half later we were married. A couple months in, we decided to start trying for a baby because I was told at 16 I'd never be able to have children without having IVF. We never expected to get pregnant, but we did first try and that was Ms. Emerson. He never missed a doctors appointment and was by my side through it all. Those moments in the hospital it showed me what a wonderful man I married. He wouldn't leave the side of my hospital bed, not even to go to the cafeteria and eat. He emptied the portable toilet by the side of my bed, changed the little bed pad thingy and held my hand, day in and day out. He arranged to be off of work to stay by my side. We were prepared for a long stay in the hospital. That week was traumatizing but the wonderful man that I married never left my side. And when we arrived home from the hospital, he answered calls and dealt with visitors. He handled it all as I sat in terrible shock and grieved. He did all this while he was grieving as well. 

He went to follow up appointments with me. Questioned every doctor and we held on to hope. He would listen to me cry and hold me. Through all the early miscarriages (4 of those total) all the negative pregnancy tests, baby shower invites in the mail, pregnancy announcements from others when we so desperately wanted it for ourselves. He stayed. When I just wanted to make him a daddy and there were times when I wish he had married someone else, so he could have skipped all of this traumatic heartache. When I felt like I ruined his life because of my broken body. He put up with all of it. When the grief was so thick that we both couldn't function and life got rough, he stayed. He did all he could to help me stay pregnant. He's an amazing husband and an even better father. I imagine a lot of men wouldn't stick around. 7 years of the same heartache, waiting for heartbeats on ultrasounds, standing outside the bathroom door asking if I'm bleeding because he's so scared we'll lose another, negative pregnancy tests and holding our breath for the bi-weekly cervical length scans with Evelie. I know what it all feels like and I can't believe he never left me. He's still here. Through the whirlwind of the last year, calling Dr. Haney having our phone consultation with him. Derrick asked him so many questions. When I had all mine answered, he still stayed on the phone and made sure Haney answered all of his. Listening to me cry when insurance denied me, then getting different insurance and watching me stress out about getting my surgery approved. And finally traveling with me to Chicago and being a great husband and taking care of me during recovery. Hope is a powerful thing. He is the only person in the world that knows what this journey feels like. He's the only person that I can say "this is how I feel" and he understands it. Sometimes things are hard, we've been through a lot. And I forget how amazing he is and how lucky I am. When he could have easily walked away when this all got too hard, he didn't. He stayed and here we are. I'm proud of how far we've come. I had someone once tell me that we'll be together when our children grow up and move out, because we worked together before we had them. We'll know how to stay together when they're gone. I think the world of him and need to remember to let him know that more often. 

I can't explain to you in words how much I love this man and am thankful things fell into place at the young age of 16. Almost 13 years together. Lots of heartache, 2 beautiful girls that we had to let go, 4 early miscarriages that we never had the chance to meet and endless heartache and just a bit of hope to keep us going. There isn't anything in the world we want more than to raise children and we'll give up anything to do so. I am lucky to have a man by my side that will stand in this storm with me. I can't wait for the day I get to see him holding our child and smiling instead of crying. Until then I need to learn to cherish him and appreciate him more. He's one of a kind. Again, I don't feel like a lucky person at all but I'm extremely lucky to have him. 

Derrick, I don't know what the future holds and I'm sorry the past has been so painful. Thank you for loving me for better or worse, in sickness and in health and taking care of me at my worst. Staying by my side and not leaving when things got hard. I don't tell you enough what you mean to me. I love you with all my heart. I hope in the future we finally achieve the goal we've both worked so hard for.