Life change · Mom's Corner

I will ALWAYS wonder who you would have been

1 in 4 women suffer a pregnancy loss and I am the 1 in those 4.

Earlier this year I found out I was supposed to be a mom to another baby due on, or around, November 4th.

That baby didn’t make it to today, nor did it make it very far into the pregnancy to begin with. I never would have realized how that would make me feel until it happened to me. I have had two very healthy and successful pregnancies prior to that and it didn’t even think to wait until after the first trimester was over to announce it to family because the thought of losing this baby didn’t even cross my mind.

Until I went into my first appt and my doctor told me we should be able to see SOMETHING on the portable ultrasound monitor even after I mentioned slight bleeding. She then moved my ultrasound appt up to the very next day–to my surprise–to confirm what she didn’t see on the monitor.

So the next day I went downstairs to radiology and she tried seeing the baby from the outside… she then directed me to empty my bladder and she’d be right back. (And if you haven’t experienced this yourself, you’ve probably seen in movies that this isn’t a good sign). I went to the bathroom, peed, and heard a very audible sound hit the water in the toilet. I knew I didn’t have to do my duty… so I knew exactly what just happened.

I washed my hands, stood over the toilet, covered my face and I uncontrollably sobbed for a few minutes as I took in the realization that I won’t be meeting this baby in November. The ultrasound tech knocked on the door and asked if everything was okay and I told her I’d be out in a minute. As weird/gross as it sounds, I didn’t want to flush…

Did that mean I was flushing the baby down the toilet? Was the baby even in that mess? Maybe this is just something out of the norm happening and the baby is really okay! So I reluctantly flushed and walked into the room.

She could tell I was just bawling–there was no hiding it. So she proceeded with the endovaginal ultrasound and confirmed there was no longer a baby to be seen. I told her what just happened in the bathroom only minutes before and she apologized for my loss.

On my drive home and to my third day of work to a new job, I called my husband and I let it all out. I had a mini panic attack at the idea I probably just flushed our baby down the toilet like it was bodily waste. I also felt immense guilt. Was it something I did? Did I eat something I shouldn’t have? Was it the copious amounts of coffee I drank? Was it me stressing over maintaining a perfect figure? What on earth did I do wrong that took my body’s capabilities and turned them against me? I would have loved that baby more than my own life.

I think after having two kids already, my emotions were skyrocketed due to thinking if I had miscarried during either of my previous pregnancies I never would have been able to enjoy my girls like I do. What could this baby have been like? Would the baby have been the boy I was hoping for next? Or another girl we could have used our other girl name we chose for? Would this baby have finally looked like me?

So… Chances are very high that you know someone who has suffered a pregnancy loss that you know nothing about, because they either never made it far enough into the pregnancy to be comfortable to announce it or because almost as quickly as they found out the exciting news it was taken away just as such. It’s something that weighs heavily on many parents’ hearts. I know October was pregnancy and infant loss awareness month… but I wanted to wait and see how I’d feel about writing about this until the date came around when I should have been a mother to three beautiful babies. So here I am.

One day I will meet my baby beyond the pearly gates… until then I will remain eternally grateful for the two amazingly beautiful girls I have been blessed with.

Here’s to all the babies we never got to meet, or got to meet but will not get to watch grow up. Some babies were only made for heaven.

And to all the parents who have suffered the same… My heart goes out to you.

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Mom's Corner

Motherhood— Nature’s calling? Or straight up Nature?!

I see a crack of light and the silhouette it creates accentuating the beautiful gift God has provided me with– my oldest daughter… who creepily whispers my name early in the morning as she stands motionless in my doorway. OH. MY. GOSH. Why?! That’s right–school… and it’s picture day. That crack of light capturing her silhouette was my eyelids refusing to open as they were reacting to the bright light my daughter turned on.

I cross the rocky terrain that is my living room to reach my destination. The end is in sight (or the beginning, really, for that matter) and I can almost reach the coffee pot… I make it! But not unscathed by my surroundings as I stepped on a giant LEGO aka “breakfast” that my toddler “made” for me and put ever-so-sweetly in a bowl in my path to the kitchen.

I close my eyes for a [milli]second and listen to my surroundings. I take in the [not so] faint calls of the wild. The monkey’s howl, the lion’s roar, the cow’s moo, the cat’s meow, the sheep’s baaa, the frog’s “bibbit”, and the toddler’s cry! I hear the sounds of an endless flowing river that is Bubble Guppies and Paw Patrol babbling in the background… and I mean never ending and unfortunately somewhat catchy.

The coffee hits me at the same time as my hangry child’s stomach decides to scavenge for a ‘nack. So I plot my escape to the bathroom with a decoy of distraction with piranhas goldfish in a cup over by the couch and I make a break for it! But I am not fast enough. The toddler catches up with me as I’m trying to close the bathroom door and in fear of frightening the toddler and hurting her fingers I give in. She sits there feeding me piranhas goldfish as I do my business –she doesn’t take her eyes off of me.

My nose senses something’s gone awry and knows it’s time to capture the toddler and put her in a new net that catches her waste that is the diaper. But she knows what’s up. So I make my way into her room, grab my tools to clean a bottom and I see her. She lurks around the corner thinking I can’t see what she’s up to. So I back up out of her line of sight and I wait silently. I hear her steps as she creeps closer and out I pop with a playful roar and I tickle her to the ground. It’s all fun and games until she crocodile rolls away with remnants of poo on her rump. Not today, tiny human! Not today.

She’s fought long and hard and is ready to give in. But not before she pulls on my pant legs, plays with her food, pulls her sissy’s hair, fights with the floor, cries out for “douche“–which I translate as juice, colors on sissy’s homework, eats her prey dinner, gives me kisses, and says “nigh-night“.

Finally. Time for myself. I sit, close my eyes, and listen. No more roars, “bibbits”, or cries. No more rough, LEGO-breakfast terrain to trench through. No more secret passwords I mean…terrible, new-age math homework. No more toddler-chaperoned trips to the bathroom. No more hugs. No more “I love you mom“s. No more bodies in my arms to snuggle.

The day is done. My heart is full. And even with the chaos-clad days I have I still want to wake those sleeping beasts for just another kiss.

But I know what awaits tomorrow so for now I’ll take my rest.

So as the light closes on the horizon that are my eyelids– I sleep.

Life change

I don’t know where I’m going, but I’m on my way

My brain is like a train that is never on track. Like the person who works the railroad switch to engage the track to veer one way instead of the other decided to skip work and steer me in the wrong direction– everyday.

Like there’s a fork in the track (think of a real fork–a realistic one, one with 4 or 5 prongs–not like a fork in a road) and each car of the train decides to split apart and take its own path, yet the caboose remains at the fork unsure of which car to follow. All that, equals my brain.

Do I want to work full time? Do I want to be a stay at home mom? Do I like this job? Should I go back to serving? Work from home? Should I change my outfit for the 100th time? Hair up or down? It’s cold at work, jeans and a tank top or shorts and a hoodie? Am I raising my kids right? Or should I follow the books more? This never changes in my head. All I know is that there are two things I’m certain of:

  1. Once I make up my mind, it’s made up. (It’s the process of making it up part that gets me)
  2. I want to see more of my kids.
  • That’s it. My husband always refers to that scene in The Notebook where they’re arguing and he’s asking her what she wants and she argues back that it’s not that simple. Yeah, I’m Allie. In all things.
  • I get along pretty well with everyone in my life and generally with the people I surround myself with. The only person I can’t seem to agree with anything on is myself.

    I need to learn how to just do something if I want to do it. Yeah, I mean weigh out the pros and cons first, and make sure the cons don’t outweigh the pros and not vice versa. But not if the cons are mainly people who don’t support me, or people who tell me not to do something because it’s an unrealistic idea. Those people can go you-know-what themselves. And I need to remember to not be one of those people, myself.

    I need to do something that I want for a change. Not what I think other people will applaud me for doing, because I know for a fact that there are more people who wish you well to your face but are sticking around for “support” just to see if you fail.

    I wish so badly that people weren’t so ugly towards other people. It’s really not that hard to be kind.

    But there I go… being a hypocrite (again) because my biggest enemies are the voices in my head telling me that my dreams are unrealistic, even though I know how hard I would push myself if I would just follow-through with them. This is my last step.

    I am slowly breaking down that wall. I’m climbing up the shattered pieces that have come down and I’m using them as stepping stones to make my way up and over it.

    This brick represents all the “You-can’t-do-it’s“. Step.

    This brick represents the “Its-not-possibles“. Step again.

    This brick represents all the doubts in my mind that I couldn’t or shouldn’t ask for help. Another step.

    This brick represents the false idea that no one will support me. And another step.

    On that last brick of false ideas I stand and look over the wall. I can see the horizon of possibilities that looks back at me. And just like that horizon– they’re endless.

    I’m so close to being over the wall. So I look up at the brick that I know will fall, if only I can just shake the nerves, block out the voices, and pray to God for the courage.

    Just one more brick. Just one more step. Just one more “You can do it.”

    And I’m there.