Uncategorized – Hot mess wrapped up in a mom bun

Grace Marie

Published on August 21, 2019August 21, 2019 by Shan

I woke up Friday the 17th after a long night of little sleep. I was feeling pretty uncomfortable at this point (read, past your due date and ready for you to join us) so I made sure to take a nice long hot shower and took my time getting ready for the day. I had a few errands I needed to run that morning, including picking up cigars for daddy, your uncles and your papa to celebrate your arrival. You loved it when I ate bagels so I stopped by Noah’s bagels for a late breakfast snack. Then went home to get daddy for our appointment.

*This is how many pillows I slept with at night during pregnancy!*

There was a little bit of time before my NST appointment so your daddy and I laid in bed and chatted about how we were experiencing our last days as just the two of us. How one of these drives would be our last time leaving the house as just us, and we’d come home with you in tow. Just in case, we loaded a bag into the car and headed off to our appointment.

After getting hooked up to everything they confirmed you were still head down, “really low” and looking good. My BP had been giving us a lot of trouble the entire pregnancy but it was REALLY high, even for me. So we did the normal song and dance trying to see if we could get it to cooperate. It didn’t. Due to my readings they called over to Labor and Delivery. The midwife who was on (Deb) wanted me to come over to be monitored for a while. I went and started the process all over again. My BP was still high but then started to go down a little. I sent a text to your Nana and Papa to let them know that it was looking better and I would probably be getting discharged soon (I had checked in with them over at the appointment so they were waiting to hear an update). Just as I sent the message the doctors came in and explained that I wasn’t going home, in fact I had just earned myself an induction. My BP was too high, there was protein in my urine, the swelling was beyond out of control and they felt it was time.

As soon as I let it sink in I got nervous. This was it – you were coming! I naively tried to see if I could run home to do a few things, pack some more things I needed and then come back, the doctor just looked at me. “No, we need to start this now.” They wouldn’t even let me go back to the car to get the couple of things I had packed. While they administered my first round of misoprostol daddy moved the car and brought up the bag. They moved me into our room (#206) right outside the nurses station. After my first cervical check we found out I was closed, tight. Not what you want to hear when you’re starting an induction. I called Nana and Papa back and let them know that we were staying. We called Auntie + Pap to let them know as well. They started an IV, which was difficult due to the swelling so after multiple tries it ended up being on my left wrist (OUCH) and got everything sorted. Because of the medication they were using I was stuck in bed for an hour while they monitored our vitals. I sent daddy home to get the things we still needed and grab some lunch. When he came back Pap came with him to help bring up the stuff and visit for a bit. We told him we would call when things picked up. I was finally able to get up and walk around a bit. I found my favorite thing to do was to sit on my birthing ball where I had all but lived on at home during the end of pregnancy. I would alternate between walking and the ball until I had to get back in bed for more monitoring (this happened every time I received a dose of miso). Deb came by and told me her shift was over, and since she wasn’t working again until Sunday she probably wouldn’t see me! I mean, obviously I would have had the baby before then. She wished me luck and handed me off to the midwife on. Uncle Mikey came by and walked the halls with me for a long time just trying to get something going. Lap after lap after lap, we walked. Then he grabbed our house key and left to go stay with Pickle. We kept walking, monitoring, birthing ball, then walking more. I was so proud of myself because I wasn’t being one of “those” impatient first time moms. I thought I would just take it easy and even rest that night. . .

*These were some of the last bump photos I got before induction.*

Nana and Papa stopped by around 10pm. I was in bed doing some more monitoring when they came by, so Nana went to the nurses station to give them some Rice Krispy treats she had made for them (take care of those nurses!). Papa told us about a new house he had bought and turned into an office. After a short visit they left and back we went to walking the halls. Around midnight I received another dose of miso and we decided we should just get some rest. It didn’t last long. Around 2:45am on Saturday morning the contractions were about 3 minutes apart and I was feeling them enough to where I couldn’t get comfortable. We started Pitocin. I had your daddy using tennis balls on my back and was using all kinds of hot rice socks trying to work through the contractions. I was checked early in the morning and I was 1cm dilated. Not what you want to hear when you’re experiencing Pitocin contractions 2-3 min apart and you’d started this process the day before. I felt so defeated that I wasn’t further along. I wasn’t coping at all. After trying Fentanyl with no success and struggling to get a break the nurses told me they’d be willing to get me an early epidural.

Hallelujah! I finally got some relief and was able to rest. Around 3pm (SAT) they checked me again to see how my body was progressing and I was still 1cm (90% effaced/-1 station) so we moved on to a cervical bulb hoping that would help me dilate. If it worked it would fall out, and if after 12 hours it didn’t they would remove it. At this point my epidural was still working well enough to where I could sleep. Granny, Papa, Auntie, Uncle Mikey, Nana and Papa visited throughout the afternoon. We chatted, laughed and had such a nice time together. Daddy and Papa went and grabbed dinner at some point so daddy could get out of the hospital for a bit. I had been on pitocin from the wee hours of the morning but was doing fine with my epidural. The nurses kept upping my levels of pitocin and eventually reached a max dosage. They turned off the pitcoin for awhile before starting all over again. I remember that day being nice and even fun. I was mentally doing fine with the fact that I was heading into day 3 and still hadn’t delivered. I called LouLa around 1am to chat because I couldn’t sleep and I knew she would be up at that time. I needed some form of a distraction from how uncomfortable I was. 3AM (SUN) came and the bulb hadn’t fallen out so it was removed. They checked to see what 24 hours of pit + the bulb had done and I was at a grand 2.5cm/fully effaced and -3 station. Not my favorite update, but at least I was finally past a one. Around 4:45am my water broke. We were all excited thinking we were FINALLY getting this party started! I called your Nana and Papa to let them know that things were finally moving and that they could come whenever. At 8:05am the rest of my water broke and it was EVERYWHERE. Your daddy could tell you, it was just like in the movies. As soon as that happened the pressure/pain changed, and unfortunately my epidural had worn off and wasn’t working very well.

After working all day Saturday the epidural was no longer working and even a bolus didn’t help. Labor was intense, and I was going in and out of sleep in between contractions. I would wake up to them coming on and it was pretty much the worst thing ever. There were some issues that arose including a fever and needing oxygen. I didn’t want anyone touching me at all. Every time someone touched me or knocked against the bed it pulled me away from concentrating and attempting to deal with the contraction I was experiencing. I wanted it quiet. I was being loud enough for everyone on the floor and couldn’t even focus enough to answer questions anyone was asking. We kicked Papa out of the room because I was overheating and needed to get rid of the blankets and eventually my gown (gasp! laboring patients might labor naked!) which was hilarious timing as it was shift change and the nurses came in to give report LOL

At 2pm I was F I N A L L Y completely dilated! I labored down for an hour. Then it was time to push. Guess who was back on shift at this point?! Deb. At this point I was exhausted and so done. Push after push after push and you weren’t ready. Daddy, Deb and Nana all stayed with me, encouraging and supporting me. I remember when I could hear the tone in daddys voice change. I knew that he meant it when he said, “You’re almost there!!!” They could see your hair and it was time. I gave it my all and after just shy of two hours of pushing and days of waiting you were born.

You had your umbilical cord wrapped around your neck 2x as well as around your arm. You weren’t breathing so they took you away from me before I could even look at you, count your toes or tell you I was your Mama. I sent Daddy to stand next to you while the nurses helped you out. While Deb helped me they helped you. I asked daddy to tell me something, anything because the quiet was driving me crazy. The first thing he said was “He looks like Michael. . .” and I’m not sure if it was the funny way he said it or if I was just crazy at that point but I laughed. After that you let out a beautiful loud wail. When you were stable the nurses handed you to me and finally I got to see your beautiful, perfect little face. I loved you before I even knew you, Grace Marie. You were everything I had been waiting for and more.

It was a traumatic experience for me and it’s taken me until your fifth birthday to finally get this out. It’s funny how now the whole experience is a foggy and distant memory, but certain things like waking up to contractions, or that intense right hip pain I get in transition stick out. Because of certain complications during labor we both had to stay in the hospital for a few days. Family and friends came to visit and meet you. We had the best post care and the sweetest nurses ever. I can’t remember life before you and I am so grateful you chose me to be your mama.

I love you baby girl.

Lets talk about it

Published on August 1, 2019August 1, 2019 by Shan

Can we take a break from cute babies, drool worthy food, gym selfies, perfectly decorated homes, the trendiest “it” item, duck lips etc to talk about something S U P E R important to me, maybe even you or someone that you love?

Postpartum. Maybe you have been there. Maybe someone close to you has. We don’t talk about it. Sure, in passing we joke about how we look like a raccoon. Queue jokes about the bags under our eyes. How the midnight hour looks a lot different than it did in our twenties. #allthecoffee and wine memes are life to us. BUT. Can we, just for a minute strip all that down and put it to the side? Can we go to our postpartum journey, whether you’re there right now, just got out of it, it’s ahead in the distance or it’s been so long you’re like, “posta huh?”

Can we talk about the weird things we obsess on? The delusional conversations where someone has to repeat the same thing 10x because we just can’t focus. The unexplained anger. Anger towards some of the closest people to us. The resentment and bitterness. The tears. Don’t even get me started about the tears . . . or do. Because we SHOULD be talking about the tears.

The mesh underwear is lovely and all and it’s cute to joke about it but what happens AFTER the mesh panties? That’s what I want to talk about, because we don’t talk about it enough. Why don’t we talk about how some nights you stay up all night and can’t sleep? Sometimes you find yourself doing something that resembles a hyena – where you find yourself crying and laughing at the same time? I was just talking with a fellow mama who said she didn’t even know it was possible to cry and laugh at the same time. But it is. Let’s talk about how sometimes you don’t shower, eat or do anything that resembles normal self care. Does this sound familiar? Did you know it’s possible to want something so so bad and still be incredibly sad after you have it? To feel so isolated. Lonely. To feel like you’ve lost all control. To feel worthless. Is this striking a chord at all?

Then there’s the anxiety. I had heard of PPD (post-partum-depression) but I hadn’t heard of PPA (post-partum-anxiety). Or maybe I had heard of it? Maybe some sweet mama I knew had it but I just wasn’t looking or paying enough attention to see it. If there was such a mama, I’m here to say I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t see what you were going through. I now understand. After I had my second daughter Nora I had postpartum anxiety, bad. Like “almost pulled over on the side of the freeway, called my husband to leave work and save us because I couldn’t drive my babies to a play date” bad. Like heard things that made me swear someone was trying to break into my house, every.single.night.bad. Thinking they were coming to kill us all bad. Fully understanding the phrase “paralyzed with fear” bad. Be SO angry and resentful, and while it felt justified somewhere in the back of my head I knew it wasn’t rational at all. After suffering daily for 2+ years with it I started trying to find resolve. Sometimes I hid it well. Some people had no idea, still have no idea. Others I couldn’t hide it from. One time a girlfriend was at my house in the evening when my husband was out of town and we lost power. I lost it. There was no hiding it then. We still talk about it and honestly, even then I’m not sure she could understand the full feeling. How that night I had 911 on my phone dialed, ready to call just in case.

I could tell you so many stories of how debilitating having PPA was. How it affected me every single day, for years. I could feel it happening and I knew that it wasn’t normal, but somewhere in my brain I rationalized it. After over a year of living with this I had an “enough” moment. A moment where I knew it wasn’t fair to my husband, my kids and mostly myself to live like this. I placed a call in to see someone. PPA changed me. It changed friendships. It changed my work presence. It changed my marriage. Recently my husband and I were talking about how it was after Nora was born. We talked about how reactive I was, to everything. Including his breathing. That’s right. One time I lost it on him, so angry, because of how he was breathing. Y’all, this is not normal. This is not necessary. This is not how it’s supposed to be. It doesn’t have to feel so crushing.

I’m happy to say I’ve worked my way out of that part of my life and after everything we went through prior to getting pregnant with cricket I made sure to have a very real and honest discussion with my midwife about how I was feeling. How I felt like the health system fails mamas with their ridiculous questionnaires full of “are you tired” type of questions. Am I tired? Why yes I am. I’m exhausted. I haven’t slept in months. That’s a fact. That also doesn’t mean something isn’t wrong. It doesn’t mean something is either. We need to do more. No one should have to feel like they just need to suffer through.

I started writing this in my head well before we had our little cricket girl, because I remember promising to myself that I wouldn’t go through it again without seeking help sooner. I figured the first step to that was writing about it. Then I thought about how many people would read this and think differently of me. Maybe they’d think, “that explains a lot . . .” I felt a lot of shame and embarrassment. There were some serious rough moments that happened in those years. Then I thought of myself 3 years ago, in the t h i c k of it. I thought of how much I needed someone who really understood. Someone who got it because they’d been there. So, putting aside how exposed this felt I decided to write about it. I am here to talk about it. Let’s talk about the tears. Lets talk about those ridiculous, but completely real fears. Let’s talk about how hard it is to force ourselves out of the house when we just want to stay home. Lets talk about how we drift apart from those we love and feel like we are looking in on and old life we don’t belong to anymore. Lets talk about postpartum.

Trying not to hope

Published on May 15, 2019 by Shan

As she pulled up the ultrasound her face immediately went from smiling to confused. I felt my stomach drop. She made a noncommittal, “huh” and said nothing else. After trying for what felt like forever she suggested I go to the bathroom. I had gone right before I had been shown to my room but didn’t argue. In the bathroom the dialogue in my head went back and forth like a ping pong ball between “Chill out. Do not go worse case scenario” to “Except that’s where we’ve been the last three times in a row. You knew this was going to happen. . .”

Back on the table and let’s give it another try.

Still no baby. She started to scan around and explain what was what and where the baby would normally be. I wasn’t really listening because I was trying to remind myself to breathe. In and out. Just breathe. She looked at me confused. . . “So your levels have been good?” Yes. “You’ve seen the baby before?” Yes. Every single week. For 10 weeks. I KNOW there’s been a baby in there. . .

Backing up to the beginning of those 10 weeks. I remember testing before what would have marked me at 4 weeks. I had a feeling and test after test I found out it was the right feeling. I wish I could tell you there was joy. Happy tears. Excited running out to my husband. Rushing over to share the news with my mom. Instead it was all fear. Terrifying fear of how was I going to make it through this loss if it happened again. Fear of loss. Fear of the pain.

My OB was amazing and we had chatted about a plan for our next pregnancy. Right away I started going in for testing. Followed up with scans. Then again on repeat every week. My arms were so bruised from going to the lab. My girls had worked the phlebotomist so they knew exactly how to get stickers, windmills and more. They didn’t know we were pregnant just thought it was normal for mommy to go get “pinches” because I couldn’t bring myself to find a sitter that many times a week, couldn’t talk about it with anyone.

In the beginning my numbers were iffy but it was early so we just kept to course. After a handful of weeks everything was looking promising, but still no relief from worrying, worrying that every day was going to be the day that I’d start miscarrying.

I remember at one point my doctor looked at me sympathetically and said, “Talk to me about what you’re feeling. You don’t seem happy.”

I told him I had just been here too many times. I couldn’t allow myself to feel safe. I had to protect myself from the future pain that could come. Protect my kids from having to watch mommy fall apart (all over again).

We were assigned to a genetic specialist to run all sorts of labs and tests trying to gain answers, get ahead of anything. Ironically we found out my doc and specialist were a married couple. We were well taken care of. There was a plan. We didn’t find out much but were able to cross things off our list of concerns. Continuing to go in week after week. Scan after scan. “Pinch” after “pinch” just waiting and trying not to hope too hard. I never thought I’d obsess over toilet paper as much as I did those first few months.

In my second trimester my doctor was more then happy to hand me over to my midwife. It was my first appointment with her since I had Nora. I can’t begin to explain how much I absolutely love her or how miraculous it felt that I could have her for care again.

You see, when I had my daughter she told me she was retiring in 3 years. I remember thinking, no problem. We’ll totally bust out another baby by then! My last miscarriage would have been due in her last month of work. Adding another disappointment and let down.

I truly believe it was Gods work at hand that she decided to stay on a little bit longer. I was sitting there telling her all this when she told me we could just start with the ultrasound because she understood that was nerve wracking enough for me.

As she pulled up the ultrasound her face immediately went from smiling to confused. I felt my stomach drop. . . .

After explaining to her that I had seen my healthy, heart beating growing baby for 10 weeks straight she tried again after having me go to the bathroom, elbow deep & with some uncomfortable (still cramping like crazy at the time) firm hand movements over my uterus out of nowhere. . . There was my healthy baby with a beating heart.

I prayed so hard for you to just keep growing.

This was the first time I cried happy relief tears in 10 weeks. I cried hard enough to make the whole Kardashian family proud. It was ugly. It was loud. It was a raw, hold your breath, shake like crazy sobbing. She let me have a minute. . . Five or so is more like it. I let it all hang out.

Thank you Jesus my baby was still ok.

There’s no real words to describe what that first trimester was like. What the following 5 weeks or so were like. It feels unfair that the joy of the beginning was taken by the fear of familiarity with loss. That I spent the first 20 weeks trying so hard to control my emotions, be safe with my hope. Not let the fear eat at me.

Motherhood has changed me in so many ways in the past 5 years. Our journey to this point changed what I always envisioned pregnancy to be like.

We wanted to be the ones to tell our girls and on our own terms. I needed to be in a place where I felt ready for them to know. Where I could talk about it and be excited. So we waited. We told them on Christmas morning and they were so excited. Their excitement has only grown as they’ve asked all the questions, and I mean A L L the questions. They have all kinds of ideas and suggestions from where the baby will ride in the car to who gets to help bathe the baby.

“Nor you gotta hold the baby like this . . .”
We shared this photo and our news with our family and friends with this photo.

I’m now close to the “any day now. . . “ stage with my EDD creeping up out of nowhere. I’ve been meaning to blog about the start of this pregnancy for quite some time but in the beginning I couldn’t. There was too much anxiety and fear. So much worry. Couple that with this pregnancy being a little on the tough side & being a mama of two busy little girls. You could say it got away from me.

I still wanted to share for all my fellow mamas out there who aren’t feeling like rejoicing just yet. Who hold their breath every time they wipe, afraid of what might be. Who can’t bring themselves to pinterest all the cute ways to announce their pregnancy. That want so badly to have someone to talk to but won’t let themselves.

I’m here. You’re not alone. One day at a time.

First item I received for this rainbow babe.
onsie from *The Painted Crane*

Shan

Suffering in Silence

Published on October 15, 2018October 15, 2018 by Shan

I’ve been asking around and talking with friends about starting one of these mom blogs for a while now. Depending on who you talk to some of my closest friends might even say its been years. The whole thing has been overwhelming and quite frankly terrifying to me so I have always put it off. . . thought to myself, I”ll add it to my to do list for next week.”

Until today.

Today is the day that I get over the fear of failure, because I have a greater fear than being another mom blog fail. A fear that someone out there is going through loss on their own, feeling like no one gets it. No one understands. Maybe it’s you, reading this right now. Maybe it’s the mom you saw at drop off today. The lady you saw at Target. Maybe your friend. Unfortunately so many women know the pain of this loss.

The first baby we lost was hard. My whole life all I ever wanted to be was a Mama. I didn’t even call my OB at first because I had heard the stories, and what could they do anyway with it being so early on. I remember looking at my husband with tears in my eyes and saying I thought I was losing the baby. I hadn’t even told my own Mama yet. In case somehow we were still pregnant I was told to come in for an appointment. After confirming that it was a loss we were told, “Good news. . . at least you know you can get pregnant. You’re welcome to try again right away.”

Let’s just get something straight. Being able to get pregnant and and lose the baby isn’t good news. . . at least not from where I was sitting, in a gown, bleeding and cramping. How about we stop trying to downplay someones loss. We just let it be what it is.

I immediately conceived that next cycle. I remember when the spotting began I crawled onto the floor of my shower sobbing because I was sure I was losing this baby too. My husband came into the bathroom and sat on the floor with our iPad reading about pregnancy, and how protected the baby was, and that spotting could be normal during some pregnancies. After going to the doctor they informed us everything was just as it was supposed to be and the baby was fine. That August we welcomed our baby girl, Grace.

Fast forward about 6 months or so down the road and we were pregnant again. Same as last time I spotted throughout most of my pregnancy and it was terrifying. Luckily for us it was not another loss. We welcomed Nora into our family at the end of the year.

I know what you’re thinking. . . ok so you had one loss and then you were able to carry two healthy girls just fine. The End.

But its not the end. We wanted one more baby. A lot of people might not get this (and that’s ok) but our family just didn’t feel complete. So when I saw those two pink lines on the stick I couldn’t help but imagine our entire lives as a family of 5. What the holidays would now be like. How we would figure out three car seats in my current car. We’d finally have to move like we had been talking about. What my girls would think of their newest sibling. How would I handle being a mom to three babies… as I type this someone hangs on my leg needing something from me while the other is off into some type of mischief. So when I started bleeding and realized I was losing this baby I was devastated….how, how was I losing another baby? I mean, I had these two precious girls. I had a loss already. I didn’t even think it was an option. I was so naively confident that that was all behind me.

This loss felt so much bigger than the loss I had already experienced. I am not sure if maybe the one from a few years prior had just faded or if this one was different because I didn’t remember sitting on the ground sobbing for days on end, week after week. I would look at my girls and feel it like a huge wave. Guilt. Guilt that I was failing them as a Mama by being completely useless, by laying around and crying so much in front of them…unable to get out to the park, go to a play date, or even take them on a walk. Guilt that this loss was so crushing when I had two kids already (since I am touching on this guilt let’s all understand it isn’t necessary or appropriate to make a Mama feel like she isn’t allowed pain from not being able to have more children. Pain is pain. Instead of comparing it how about we just support it.) Guilt that for some reason I was so into this pregnancy that I wasn’t even thinking of how I hadn’t made it through that first trimester into the “safe” zone. Then I would look at them, my two babies, and feel happiness. Grateful for their existence in so many ways, and how in their sweet little innocence, they were able to give me the love and comfort I needed. Being able to hold and snuggle and think of all the wonderful times and memories we had because of these two sweet babies. . . but then that reminded me of what I was missing. It was bittersweet knowing what wouldn’t be and what was. Now this time I KNEW just exactly what I was missing out on. Maybe that’s the difference I felt, loosing a pregnancy after having my girls. I knew the joy of having a baby, of holding them for the first time, watching them grow and change. I knew what I was missing.

Not too long after we were pregnant again and instantly lost another baby. This loss was quick. Almost like it didn’t happen. . . but it did. It hurt and it made me confused. . . what was happening?

A while later we found out we were pregnant again. This time I told myself I was prepared. I was going to try and keep any dreams, hopes, nursery thoughts, future family plans at bay as much as possible…but a few times I slipped and I imagined Christmas morning with our brand new baby, Nora finally getting that little brother or sister she wanted, being due on the same day as one of my girlfriends. . . sometimes you let yourself dream about the baby, hoping that this one will stick. . .

When the painful cramping started I panicked. I had been waiting for it. . . I spoke with the on call OB and explained everything going on as well as my past and after we spoke at length (super appropriate for in the middle of home depot, but hey. . . real life) we agreed, if only for answers and my sanity, that I should schedule an appointment and go in. I remember my heart pounding as they started the ultrasound. My body was shaking, full of emotions too big to be contained. Then that sweet sweet baby appeared, heart beating and all. Queue the insane silent, holding your breath sobbing. The kind doctor thought I was confused and started to reassure me the baby was good. . . then I heard it. That amazing, strong and steady heartbeat. I asked her if she could just let it be for a minute so I could listen. I left that appointment feeling better. Between that ultrasound and my blood work, everything was perfect and on track. . . until it wasn’t.

I was on the phone as I pulled into my driveway a while past that day and I had just told my friend. It was a quick happy tearful. . .”love you, bye” and I went in to drop my purse on the counter and head to the bathroom. My husband had just been called into work so he left as I arrived. I told him I would check in later because my bladder was going to burst. I was still in the habit of looking when I wiped – as my girlfriend calls it, “the over wipers club” and there was blood. Again and again, and a lot. . . I knew it wasn’t good. I called my husband sobbing and when I could finally talk clear enough for him to understand I told him our baby was gone. I knew it. He was hopeful. So sweetly hopeful. I knew you didn’t pass clots like I was and still have a healthy baby, heart beating inside.

I’ll save you the terrible ER visit and appointments that followed this horrendous night because this was by far my most painful and worst physical loss.

So here we stand. Two wonderful, beautiful children that we have been blessed with and a lot of heartache for those babies we’ll never get to hold.

1 in 4 women miscarry. Think about that the next time you’re surrounded by a group of women. Think about that the next time you question someone one why they don’t have any kids. Think about it when you’re probing into why they aren’t having more kids.

For some strange and dumb reason talking about miscarriage is taboo. Unspoken. Best to remain private. We are even encouraged not to tell anyone for up to 13 weeks into our pregnancy, because “you might lose it and then what. I’ll tell you what….you sit there, imagining this little life growing inside you. You cut back on the caffeine you want so bad. You skip a girls night out for drinks making some lame excuse, and you try to hide the terrible morning sickness you’ve been dealing with. Push through the exhaustion. Avoid sitting next to that one coworker with the bad breath. You do all this and then sometimes you lose that baby. Now what? Now you have to try and pretend like everything is ok. You can’t talk about it because you didn’t tell anyone. You can’t lean on people for support because no one knows. Maybe you try telling a few people….its an awkward and exhausting conversation to have. Peoples reactions to the I was pregnant and now I’m not conversation can be odd, rude and hurtful. The rest of the world just keeps on going and you have to try and keep up.

I am here to say you don’t have to be quite about it. Some one around you has been there and can relate. Some one around you is suffering in silence, maybe even the person right next to you. I wrote a post that vaguely touched on miscarriage a while back as I had just lost my last baby days before a due date would come and go without a baby that I had been pregnant with. I received so many messages and comments from all kinds of women who resonated with my pain and while all our stories were different it was comforting to be able to have a safe place to just be real and honest with those that get it.

That safe place exists here. If you ever needs someone to talk to. To share fears with. To share that pain with. Always know you have a place with me <3

Thank you for taking time to read our story that we try to have faith is far from over.

Shan