Yesterday was three weeks. Three weeks of knowing our baby didn’t make it past its ten week mark in my womb. Three weeks of not knowing what my future would hold. Three weeks of planning for a better future. Of hoping our baby knows how much we cared about it during its short time in my tummy. Three weeks of seeing more pregnancy announcements and genuinely being happy for the soon to be parents.

The three weeks have been chock full of sadness, happiness, hopefulness and hopelessness. Full of planning, making changes, researching and praying. Tons of praying. Praying for strength. Praying for faith.

I’ve come such a long way from who I was when I first found out. I’ve been surprised at how strong I truly am. I haven’t been dwelling on the tragedy. I haven’t been petty or attention-seeking. I have focused my energy into positivity. I’ve focused on Hudson and giving him an amazing first Easter that he will remember. He was only 4 months old when Easter hit last year so we didn’t make a huge hoorah about it. This year I hand painted his basket and got him a bunch of goodies to fill it with. I can’t wait to watch him hunt for eggs!

You learn a lot when you face something you’ve never faced before. You learn to truly appreciate the things you have a lot more. It’s easy and common for people to say they’re thankful, but to actually feel thankful is a new feeling altogether. Since becoming a mom, I’ve found that “love” has taken on a new meaning. I can be down in the dumps and feel like crap but the second I see Hudson I’m immediately better. He makes me laugh daily and makes me smile every time I think of him. I constantly find myself looking at his picture just because I miss him.

I’ve used this tragedy as a way to look at my life and the bigger picture. As a way to turn my thoughts around and not settle. I’m not settling for a mediocre, dead-end job. I won’t do it. I’m going back to school, earning a degree/certification and getting a job that I love and that provides me with what I need.

Not a day goes by that I don’t think about that day three weeks ago. When I hug my sweet Hudson, though, it makes the pain a little lighter.



One year. 

Two weeks ago today we found out our baby had no heartbeat. Tonight, we sat down and planned out our course of action as far as when we want to start trying for another baby. I initially wanted to start right away, but I finally devised a plan that we both agreed on. 

Tomorrow I go in for my post op appointment and will ask for some birth control pills to start after my next cycle. After my appointment I’ll go to CTAE and turn in my application, and if it’s accepted (fingers crossed!) I’ll start school in July. It’s a ten week course so I will graduate with my credentials in September. Once I secure a job, I’ll wait the 90 days it takes to get benefits and then we will stop the birth control and start trying for our next baby. 

I’m impatient. I’m still sad. I still want two kids close together. But this tragedy has opened my eyes to the fact that things happen. Not everything goes as planned. Life happens. This plan for the next year may not go as we hope, or it may even go better than we could imagine. Regardless, it’s important to set yourself up for the life you want. I want us to be ready for the next baby financially and mentally. 

My story matters

Have you ever attended an event that completely changed your outlook on life? Read a book that made you really think about yourself? Heard a song that resonated with you? Last night I attended an event called Becoming Me which was hosted by one of my friends from college. It was for women and the purpose is to lift women up and they did this by having a few share their stories.

The first story was from Katie Gilligan who I’ve seen on Instagram, etc and only knew as a gorgeous woman who owns an adorable boutique. It was easy for me to assume from her Instagram posts that she is “perfect”. She always looks put together, even with two kids. Last night she shared her story and it was honestly so eye opening. It was raw, honest and messy. She shared things you wouldn’t expect to hear from someone who seems so “perfect”. We all know there is no such thing as a perfect person but it’s easy to compare yourself to others and wonder what they’re doing right that you’re not. Her story really touched me and inspired me to share my story.

I learned from the event and the speakers that even when you don’t feel important, you are. Your story matters. MY story matters. I’ve been abused. I’ve been raped. I’ve felt unloved and looked for it in the wrong places. I’ve done drugs and drank alcohol trying to numb the pain. I’ve had an eating disorder for over 12 years. I’ve hated myself, blamed myself and wished I were someone else. After my miscarriage I have changed. I’ve grown. I don’t want to be the person I’ve been, I want to be better. Sharing my story is the first step in my journey and I can’t wait to see where it takes me.

Tonight I came across the two positive pregnancy tests that I took a couple months ago. I immediately started crying, but then I started thinking of how I felt when I took these and saw the results. It was 2 days before Valentine’s Day and I’d wanted to be pregnant for months to no avail. I remember how excited I felt. How happy I was bc this was what I wanted! I remember that after I’d let it somewhat sink in, the stress started coming in with it. I didn’t have insurance that covered maternity. Could we afford another baby? What if something went wrong? Would Hudson feel less loved with a sibling? The thoughts flooded my mind and led to even worse thoughts such as, “will this baby even know me since I have to rush back to work after I have it?” I beat myself up for not being better prepared for something that I’d wanted for so long. 

The weeks went by and we got closer and closer to my first prenatal appointment. The excitement grew bigger and the stress evened out some, but still lingered. As my tummy grew to accommodate the baby, the anticipation of that first ultrasound grew with it. My morning sickness had calmed down and all I could think about was the baby. 

We’d talked about names. The girl name picked out, the boy name still up in the air. We were both so excited. We couldn’t wait to have another little one to share our love with. 

It’s been 12 days since we found out we lost our baby. 12 days of crying. 12 days of wondering why. Why us? 12 days full of mixed emotions. Full of family. Full of awkward silences when people just don’t know what to say. 

I’ve smiled and then wondered if that’s wrong of me. But I know it’s okay. I know I’ll never get over this. But I will get through it. Because I know that it happened for a reason. The timing wasn’t right. I didn’t have any goals for myself as far as a career goes. Now I do. In July I will go to school for 10 weeks to become a CNA. 

I want to be pregnant again. I’ve researched it and everyone says something different as far as how long to wait after a miscarriage. I’m definitely not in any rush, but I do want to try again. Nothing will ever replace our angel baby. And I know that my next pregnancy will be full of fear. Full of sadness. Full of doubt. But nonetheless it will be full of love. We loved our little baby. And we still do. We always will. But it’s important to know that I can’t do anything to change what happened. And dwelling on it will only make me more miserable. 

February 11th, 2017 I got a positive on a pregnancy test and my life changed forever. march 22nd, 2017 we were told our baby’s heart was no longer beating and our lives changed forever.