Motherhood

It’s wiping her tears. It’s kissing her boo-boos.
It’s sheets covered in vomit and a bottom covered in poo.
It’s sometimes frustrating and often exhausting.
It’s a freshly washed face covered with red frosting.
It’s repeating your words five times in a row.
It’s using a vacation day because of the snow.
It’s singing silly songs that you don’t even like.
It’s trips to the ER at quarter past midnight.
It’s learning to say “no” when it would be easier to say “yes”.
It’s being “okay” with your house looking a mess.
It’s counting to ten when you just want to scream.
It’s a “personal timeout” to let off some steam.
It’s embracing the stretch marks and your widening hips.
It’s squeezing and wiggling ‘til your jeans finally zip.
So if you’re wondering how come I’m not singing the blues.
It’s the HUGS and the KISSES and the “MOMMY, I LOVE YOU”s!

Not Okay...

At what point is it not okay to not be okay? When does the world expect you to stop crying, to stop hurting, to stop thinking and talking about it? As the days pass, the characters slip back into their daily routines and their memory of your tragedy becomes more and more dim. I suppose that’s just how it is. When it’s not your hurt, the impact doesn’t linger nearly as long. I wouldn’t expect anyone to feel the way I do. Why would they? They have their own daily struggles and personal heartbreaks that they are dealing with.

The difficulty of matching the words to the feelings makes it lonely, and when you top it all of with a thick layer of self-consciousness and insecurities, sometimes it’s hardly bearable. What would people think if they knew that despite my “faith” and my “hope”, that every day is still a struggle, that sometimes my smiles aren’t real, and that many times the words I write are for my own benefit and encouragement, not really anyone else’s?

I suppose with everything being somewhat “fresh” that most people can still excuse my sadness and lack of interest. But eventually they won’t and I’ll be expected to keep going, just like everybody else.

I don’t want to come across like I’m sad and depressed every minute of every day, but I would be lying if I said that a day went by that I was not sad and depressed for at least a few minutes. I guess having to face all of the potential medical obstacles this last week, resurrected a lot of the hurt and fear that I have tried to keep hidden these last few weeks.

So here is a small snapshot of one little piece of my heart. I have fumbled with my words and realize that they might not make much sense to anyone but me, but at least they are finally free. They are out there, and I’m not wasting my energy on trying to hold them back anymore.

I Will Carry You

There were photographs I wanted to take
Things I wanted to show you
Sing sweet lullabies, wipe your teary eyes
Who could love you like this?

 People say that I am brave but I'm not
Truth is I'm barely hanging on
But there's a greater story
Written long before me
Because He loves you like this

So I will carry you
While your heart beats here
Long beyond the empty cradle
Through the coming years
I will carry you
All my life
And I will praise the One Who's chosen me
To carry you

 Such a short time
Such a long road
All this madness
But I know
That the silence
Has brought me to His voice
And He says...

 I've shown her photographs of time beginning
Walked her through the parted seas
Angel lullabies, no more teary eyes
Who could love her like this?

 I will carry you
While your heart beats here
Long beyond the empty cradle
Through the coming years
I will carry you
All your life
And I will praise the One Who's chosen Me
To carry you



**Words written by a mother who carried her daughter to term knowing that her child would not survive outside of her womb.  Her daughter died 3 hours after she was born.  What an amazing testamony this woman had.

Our 1st Appointment

So we went to the fertility specialist today. He was really nice and very thorough. We sat and talked for nearly an hour about our personal medical histories, my family’s medical history, and all of the possible things that could have gone wrong with my lost pregnancies. He did an exam, which included an ultrasound of my reproductive organs. Everything from my exam looked perfect (except that he, like my regular OB, suggested I could lose a little weight). ((SIGH)) YES, I know…and I’m working on that!


At the end of the appointment, we were given the option to undergo more tests OR walk out of the office and go ahead and start trying to conceive again. I didn’t even blink when I said, I wanted any relevant test done. I want to be as informed as possible going into my next pregnancy. Given my history of losses, we were told that the possibility of me walking out without any testing and getting pregnant again and having another miscarriage AFTER a confirmed pregnancy were 40%!!! Even with everything APPEARING to be perfect, it was still 40%. That made both B and I very uncomfortable.

So the doctor gave us the list of tests that would be performed.

I have to go and get blood drawn. They will be checking for everything from clotting disorders to abnormal insulin levels and anything in between. Then, in a few weeks I will be going in for a “dye” test. They will literally inject a dye into my reproductive organs and make sure that there are no abnormalities or obstructions in my tubes (which might explain my ectopic pregnancy, and put me at a high risk of another ectopic in the future).

Now during the entire appointment my husband sat unassumingly, only speaking when spoken too. As far as he was concerned, he was there for moral support and nothing else. Needless to say he was a bit shocked and became extremely uncomfortable when the doctor handed him a little plastic cup and told him that he would be running tests on B’s “contributions” as well. To say my husband was caught off guard was quite the understatement.

It was all I could do to contain the giggles as he sat stiffly in his chair, nodding and listening to the doctor’s instructions. I have been poked and prodded and endured more embarrassing procedures than I can count. As small as this was, it felt good to know that he was going to have to experience just a small portion of what I have in the last few years.

The whole process of performing the tests and waiting for the results will take one to two months, which really works out well anyway, since my body needs at least that much time to recover from this last pregnancy. I’m not really sure what to expect, but I’m very excited that we are on our way to (hopefully) getting more information that will help us to bring that 40% down to a number that is a little less daunting.

Thank you to those of you who have showered us with prayers, love and support. We covet them more than you know.