Goodbye, Sweet Jazzy

I said goodbye to my sweet Jazzy on October 2nd and there's been a gaping hole in my heart ever since then.  There will always be a spot for Jazzy reserved in my heart.  

She was a rescue dog.  Yes, Adam and I adopted her from a little shelter in the middle of Kansas, but Jazzy is the one who truly rescued me.  I was still drowning in the sorrow of losing my first baby and the infertility that came afterwards when Jazzy entered our lives.  Adam and I both desperately wanted a baby, but a human baby wasn't yet in the cards for us.  So Jazzy became our baby.  

While I don't quite understand why things work out the way they do, I do believe there's something bigger than us.  The universe somehow brought Jazzy into our lives.  I knew she was meant to be ours when I saw her picture online.  Adam wasn't convinced until we visited her in person.  As soon as we arrived at the shelter "just to look" at her, she trotted right up to Adam and gave him a big ol' kiss.  Needless to say, we brought her home with us.  

And she was perfect for us.  She was just what I needed.  Looking back, I was severely depressed and really should have gotten some professional therapy.  But my therapy came in the form of Jazzy.  I started taking her for daily walks, which meant exercise for me.  She kept me company during a very lonely time.  She helped me to focus on the joys in my life instead of just the pain.  She helped me to welcome hope back into my life.  I just cannot fully express what she did for me.  She somehow knew when I needed extra snuggles or when I needed some comic relief.  Staring into her soulful little eyes helped me heal.  

Jazzy was such a good girl.  She was eager to learn new tricks and to please us.  She took it upon herself to be our guard dog and protector.  She rarely barked, but did alert us if someone she wasn't familiar with came to our door or if another dog dared to come too close to us.  She adored walks and her excitement for them was contagious.  She was happy to walk around our neighborhood and loved the new smells trails offered her.  

While Jazzy wasn't particularly close with Archer and Lyla, she knew her job was to protect them and she took it very seriously.  She always greeted us when we came home from somewhere and wouldn't head back to her perch on the back of the couch until both kids were in the house.  She put up with their incessant noise and activity in exchange for treats and bits of dropped food.  She never showed any jealousy towards the kids, despite them taking over most of our attention.  She was just as content to get a quick head scratch in passing.    

She was such a good girl.  The best girl.  

Less than a year ago, Jazzy was diagnosed with congestive heart failure.  She had always had a pretty prominent heart murmur, so we knew that congestive heart failure might be in her future.  We started her on medications and she responded really well to them for quite awhile.  Eventually, she maxed out on her medications and we knew it was time to start making plans so that her final days could be as comfortable as possible.  I read a lot about how to determine when the time was right to help your pet end their life.  Of course it's a gray area and ultimately you know your own pet best, but I read many accounts of people wishing they had made the decision earlier to eliminate suffering.  Armed with that knowledge, we were able to make the difficult decision before Jazzy had to suffer for very long.

Adam came across an organization called Lap of Love.  Lap of Love is a network of veterinarians all across the United States who offer in-home end-of-life care for pets.  Once we knew it was time to end Jazzy's suffering, we contacted our local Lap of Love branch.  Every person we spoke with was so thoughtful and helped us feel like we were making the right decision.  The veterinarian who came to our home was so incredibly kind.  I hope no one needs this service any time soon, but keep this organization in the back of your mind.  Allowing Jazzy to pass peacefully in her own home where she felt most comfortable felt like such a gift for her and for us. 

We made sure to give her the best day before her appointment.  We took her to a trail, brought her dog bed outside in the driveway so she could enjoy the fresh air and got her a puppy scoop from our local ice cream shop.  After a bittersweet final walk around our neighborhood, it was time for the veterinarian to arrive.  Dr. Emily was so sweet to Jazzy and brought her lots of treats to enjoy.  I wasn't really sure what to expect, but the whole experience was very calm and peaceful.  Adam wrote and read Jazzy a letter which had all of us (Dr. Emily included) in tears.  As sad as it was, there sure was a lot of love in the room. 

Here's Adam's sweet letter: 

Dear Jazzy,  

When Sara and I left our house on December 13, 2014, with the intention of “just looking” I had no  idea I’d be finding my very best friend. The moment we saw one another, you trotted across that dog  haired matted couch we sat on at the shelter and gave me a nice kiss right on the face. I knew Sara was  hooked from that moment (I was too), my only reservations were how much hair you left all over me  after sitting in my lap for such a short time (you were just nervous).  

We’re so glad you took a chance on us; we are so lucky to have spent the last nearly 7 years of our lives  with you. You helped us both out of the darkness of unexpectedly losing our first unborn daughter. And  later the unexpected death of our friend Tim. You were there to graciously greet your newborn brother and sister four years ago, even if it meant stepping out of the primary spotlight. Please know that you’ll  always be our first baby.  

We will miss your unconditional love and affection. Your excitement of when one of us has come home  from the office or even a short errand. We will miss your excitement every time we pull your leash  down for your next adventure. I will miss our late-night outings and runs. I will miss walking and  running you while pushing your siblings in every kind of buggy imaginable the last 4 years, no matter  how tricky that might be. I will miss your unwavering interest in the outdoor hikes we’ve taken around  here. Thank you for exploring with us. I will miss you snuggling with Sara and I and despite your size  somehow taking over the queen size bed.  

There’s so much more we wish we had time to do and so much I regret not finding time to do so. But I  realize that no one can divide their time enough, you just do the best you can. The regret / guilt we might feel just means we care for you so much.  

You’ve done so much to help heal, serve and protect this family. You’ve given so much to everyone  you’ve known (even cleaning up a dead mouse in my Dad’s basement yesterday). As gut-wrenching as it  may be, it’s time for us to return the favor and help you along as peacefully as we can.  

We love you so much and if there is a heaven, I know you’ll be there waiting for us. So, till we meet again my friend.  

Love you always and forever,  

Adam and Sara

I miss Jazzy so much.  Our house feels so empty without her presence.  She wove herself so tightly into our lives and there are so many times I find myself still thinking about her.  I miss her little snores that would wake me up in the middle of the night and the way she would scoot her little body right next to mine in bed.  (The bed Adam and I said she would never sleep in.)  I miss the way she always seemed to know when I took out a pair of socks from my drawer and thought it was time for a walk.  I miss her laying in the sunshine in our yard.  I miss her toenails prancing along our floors.  I miss her crunching her dog food.  I miss her excitement when I opened up the bag of her favorite treat.  I miss her warm greetings whenever I came home.  I miss her rolling around on her back when she thought she needed some attention.  I miss her help in cleaning up all the crumbs under our kitchen table.  

I know eventually thinking about Jazzy will bring smiles instead of tears.  I am so lucky to have had her in my life.  Goodbye, Sweet Jazzy.  

My Old Self Would Hate Me Now

As I was pushing Lyla and Archer around Target in one of those giant carts the other day, it dawned on me that I've become the person I used to hate.  When I was struggling with infertility, I couldn't stand to see moms pushing their kids around Target.  Or at the grocery store or walking around the neighborhood or...you get the idea.  It just hurt so freaking much to see other people with what I wanted most but couldn't have.

Don't even get me started with Facebook.  I felt like literally every single one of my friends were announcing their pregnancies or sharing baby pictures.  I had to unfollow friend after friend just so I wouldn't get depressed each time I logged on.

And I didn't want to feel that way.  I didn't want to be feeling jealousy.  I wanted to be happy for my friends and those nice moms at Target.  I just wasn't in a place where I could do that.

But now I'm that lady at Target and that friend on Facebook.  I'm the one unintentionally making other people upset.  And I hate that!  I want to give all those people struggling with infertility a big hug and tell them not to lose hope!  I know that I've inadvertently hurt other people who are struggling with infertility just by being in the same checkout lane at the store or by posting a picture of my babies on Facebook.

Infertility is something that sticks with you.  I still remember how sharp that pain can be.  Being on the other side, being an infertility survivor and IVF success story does take away most of that pain, but I sure remember how it felt.  I'll never forget how much it hurt to lose our first baby, how hard we tried to get pregnant again, and how long it took us to end up with Archer and Lyla.

So I am sorry.  I am sorry to those women who are still working towards becoming moms.  I am sorry the mere presence of me and my babies makes you depressed or angry or jealous.  It's okay if you want to punch me in the face.  It's okay if you walk away without returning my smile.  It's okay if you unfollow me on Facebook.  It's okay to feel what you are feeling.  And I sincerely hope that one day soon you'll get to be the kind of person you one day hated too.

NIAW

This week marks National Infertility Awareness Week.  Even though I am happily pregnant with twins, all the feelings that surround infertility are still very clear in my mind.  Having lived with infertility for so many years, it's hard to shake those feelings.  

Despite my gigantic belly, there are moments when I forget that I am pregnant.  When I see a pregnancy announcement on Facebook, I still get that gut-wrenching jealous reaction until I remember that I am lucky enough to be pregnant too.  It's weird.  I thought that would all go away as soon as we got a positive pregnancy test.  But it's still ingrained in me.

Losing my baby and the infertility that came afterwards broke me.  It's been the most difficult thing I've had to deal with in my life.  It manages to surround your every thought and takes control of your life.  I know I was depressed.  I know I wasn't the best wife or daughter or friend or co-worker during those years. I avoided spending time with the people I loved because they were pregnant or had kids.  I couldn't go to baby showers.  I avoided happy hours, work parties and going to Target during the day.  It was all just too hard.   

And it affects the other people in your life too.  Adam was deeply affected by it as well.  I thank my lucky stars that our marriage was strong enough to survive infertility; some aren't.  I can't begin to tell you how incredibly fortunate I feel to have Adam as my husband.  He had an idea of what I was feeling (though I think it's different for women and men) and cut me lots of slack.  He knew when to hug me and when to let me be by myself and when to get mad and when to try to make a joke.  One of my favorite moments was when someone was telling us that someone was pregnant with twins.  Adam's response was, "Well, are they giving one away?  If not, I'm not sure why you're telling us this."  I just love him so very much.   

I know it was hard for my mom too.  It hurt her to hear about other people getting to have grandchildren. It was hard for our friends and family who didn't know what to say to us or how to treat us.       

My heart goes out to all the people who continue to struggle with infertility.  1 in 8 couples struggle to build a family.*  That is a lot of people and it's so not fair.  It's such a difficult thing to struggle with and it's not something that people can fully understand if they haven't lived that struggle.

My hope for those struggling is that they don't give up.  I hope they can pick themselves up and find a way to continue toward their goal.  It's hard and it sucks and it's not fair.  I'm pulling for you and am here for anyone who might need a shoulder to cry on or a person to vent to or a cheerleader.

Source

I promise you're not alone. 

Here are some posts about infertility that you might find helpful:
Things to Consider When Visiting an Infertility Specialist 
Advice to Infertile Couples
It's Okay... 
What Not To Say To Someone Who's Lost a Baby 

*According to infertilityawareness.org  

The Holidays Are Hard

I am one of those people who always loved holidays.  I loved holidays of all kind and couldn't wait until the next one came around.  But ever since Adam and I lost our baby, many of the holidays have become bittersweet.

I found out I was pregnant on Valentine's Day in 2012.  I was so excited to tell Adam about it!  I wrapped up the positive pregnancy test in a little gift bag and gave it to him right before we went out to eat.  Now every year that Valentine's Day rolls around, both Adam and I are reminded of the fact that we never got to meet our baby.  While we try to focus on our love for each other on Valentine's Day, we can't help but feel sadness about losing our baby.  

Our due date was close to Halloween.  So now Halloween serves as yet another reminder that we lost our baby.  It doesn't help that Halloween is all about cute kids dressing up.  Adam always comes home bummed on the day in October when his work hosts all the employees' kids for trick or treating around the office.  

Christmas is rough, too.  It seems that one family member or another is always pregnant or recently had a baby.  Seeing all our cousins around our age with their growing families at family gatherings is just plain hard.  It's not that we're not happy for them or that we don't wish them all the absolute best in life.  They simply serve as reminders that we don't have the one thing we want more than anything.  

It makes it more difficult because we feel pressure to feel happy about the holidays and family gatherings. Sometimes I feel like I should have won an Oscar by now for some of the acting I have had to do.  

And after feeling sorry for ourselves, it inevitably leads to guilt.  We have so many things in our lives to be thankful for: each other, our health, our jobs, our home, our sweet Jazzy and the list goes on.  We feel guilty that we can't seem to focus on all those wonderful parts of our lives.  

But you know what?  All those feelings are normal.  Even though it feels like we're alone in feeling them sometimes, I know there are other people who feel the exact same way.  My goal in writing this post is not to be a Debbie Downer or take away anyone's holiday cheer.  I simply want to shed some light on the topic and let anyone struggling know they are not the only ones.

I wish those struggling with infertility this holiday season loads of hope!  Hope for getting through the low points of the season.  Hope for reaching out and asking for help if you need it.  And hope for happier holidays in the future.  

Pittsburgh!

I recently had the honor of serving as a bridesmaid in my dear friend Kelsey's wedding.  She got hitched in Pittsburgh, so Adam and I decided to make a mini-vacation out of our trip.  

We had been to Pittsburgh a few years ago to visit my friend.  It was actually right after we lost our baby. While the last thing I wanted to do was travel during that time, I'm so happy we decided to go.  Being around my sweet friend helped me in more ways than she'll ever know.

Luckily, this trip was filled with far more happiness.  My friend got married at the National Aviary.  It was such a unique venue!  There is a gorgeous garden on the grounds, which was where the ceremony took place.  

  

And all of the exhibits were open during the reception, which added to the fun.  Who doesn't want to visit penguins during a wedding reception?  (On a side note, I think Adam and I might have had one too many Rose-Marry-Me cocktails.)

In addition to participating in all the wedding festivities, we also managed to enjoy lots of delicious food around Pittsburgh.  My favorite meal was our donut breakfast from Peace, Love & Little Donuts.  They were downright delightful!  

Craft beers are a big deal in Pittsburgh.  While I'm not a beer fan, Adam was more than happy to try out some craft beers.  We enjoyed Penn Brewery so much that we went back a second time.  Adam also tried out some beer from Hofbrauhaus Pittsburgh and reported it to be tasty.  The atmosphere was fun and included a live accordionist.

Adam discovered a cute little coffee shop located near the place we were staying.  He enjoyed the coffee while I enjoyed some iced tea.  It was located in an old building that had lots of charm.      

      

I promise we did more than just drink.  We ate a lot too.  :)  We stopped by Proper Brick Oven & Tap Room to enjoy some brick oven pizza.  We went with a prosciutto and asparagus pizza, which was super delicious.

We didn't want to go hungry, so we also made sure to try out a couple ice cream joints.  Millie's Homemade Ice Cream was our first stop.  It was good, but didn't hit the top of our favorite ice cream ever list. 

While we were standing in line for Millie's, Adam asked someone if the ice cream was worth standing in line for.  They said it was good, but that we should try out Antney's Ice Cream if we really wanted to be wowed.  It happened to be located on our way to the airport, so we stopped by on our way out of town. Boy, was I happy we did!  It was delicious!   

To work off some of the delicious food and beverages we consumed, we decided to hit up Kennywood. Kennywood is an amusement park, which was tons of fun!  There were quite a few roller coasters, two of which were built in the 1920s and still operate today!  I must admit, I was a bit nervous getting on the roller coasters after reading the placards stating when they were built.  Luckily, they lasted another day and provided Adam and I lots of fun.  We had big smiles plastered on our faces all day long.  

We also hit up the Phipps Conservatory and Botanical Garden.  I loved this place!  

The plants and flowers were gorgeous!  There were different rooms with different themes and climates. I highly recommend this place if you love gardens or flowers.  

One of my favorite parts was the butterfly garden.  There were hundreds of butterflies fluttering around! I pretty much felt like a Disney princess.

Adam and I had a wonderful time in Pittsburgh!  It's definitely worth a visit if you've never been before!  

The Importance of Reaching Out

Over these past few weeks, I have been blown away by the kindness my friends and even complete strangers have offered me.  After getting a second opinion from Dr. Brabec, it seems like IVF will most likely be the direction Adam and I have to take if we want to have our own biological children.  I'm not throwing the hope that we could randomly get pregnant on our own out the door, but I'm trying to also be realistic about our chances.  

In an effort to get more information on the whole IVF process, I decided to reach out to others.  I asked if there were any of my friends on Facebook who went through IVF and would be willing to share their experiences with me.  I was overwhelmed with the kind responses I received.  

People so generously came forward to talk to me and offer up their stories.  I even had a friend connect me with someone who was a complete stranger to me.  I met up with her at a coffee shop and was so thankful for her willingness to share.  We were complete strangers, yet having both been through fertility struggles, it seemed as if we shared some connection.  

All of these people's kindness reminded me of how important it is to reach out to people.  It doesn't matter the situation, people need each other.  I've been the recipient of others reaching out to me, I hope that I can reach out to others, as well.  

My Support Group Experience

After attending the Kansas City Infertility Awareness Conference, I decided to go to their monthly support meeting.  I had contacted the group leader prior to the meeting.  She gave me a head's up on the format of the meeting, so I had an idea of what to expect.  

There were about fifteen or so people in attendance.  Most were women, but there were a few husbands and other family members.  Everyone got a chance to share their story, their concerns, their fears and their hopes.  It was heartbreaking.  To hear one sad story after another was incredibly emotional.  I was very glad I had put a pack of tissues in my purse!  

If nothing else, it was nice to know that I wasn't alone.  Other people have dealt with loss and infertility. Other people have felt the anger, fear, embarrassment, sadness and utter despair that I have felt.  

I had concerns prior to going.  I feel like I am in a good place in dealing with the loss of my baby and my infertility struggles.  I worried that hearing everyone's sad stories would suck me back into my grief and depression.  I didn't want to lose the peace and hope that I have in my heart.  

I will say it was hard to talk about my story and share with others.  And it did bring up some of those old feelings.  But I am glad that I went.  I'm not sure that I will go every month or even if I will go again. However, it is nice to know that it's available.

I think it is so important to have supportive people in your life if you are dealing with loss or infertility.  It doesn't matter what form that support comes in, whether it is a support group, a friend, a therapist, an online forum, a family member or someone else who has dealt with those issues.  I know that I have greatly benefited from the many people who have shared their time with me.  If you are struggling and need some support, check out the Kansas City Infertility Awareness website for more information about their support group. 

Source

Happy Mother's Day

Happy Mother's Day...

...to my beautiful mom.  She is the best woman I know and everything that's good in me came from her.  (I love you bunches!)  

...to all the moms who are lucky and blessed enough to get to hold their babies.  

...to all the moms who never had the chance to hold their babies or aren't able to now. 

...to all the moms who are waiting for their babies to come into their lives.  

...to all the moms whose babies are dogs or cats.

Let all the moms out there know they are loved today!

Kansas City Infertility Awareness Conference

This past weekend I attended the 6th Annual Family Building Conference put on by Kansas City Infertility Awareness.  I must admit I was pleasantly surprised.  

While I've been very open with dealing with the loss of my baby and my ensuing infertility struggles on this blog, I haven't really sought out any therapy or support groups.  Adam and I saw a grief counselor that specialized in infant loss and miscarriages right after we lost our baby.  Neither one of us really connected with the counselor.  Or perhaps it was too soon after losing our baby and we were not in the right frame of mind to talk about what had happened.  So, after two visits, we decided not to go back.  And the thought of attending a support group didn't really appeal to either of us.  We were both a bit guarded and talking in front of a group of people about this horrible thing that happened to us didn't sound pleasant.  

I eventually opened up to family members and friends.  I can't begin to describe how much this has helped me heal.  I truly appreciate all the wonderful people in my life who have talked with me, cried with me and hoped with me.  

About a month ago, one of my co-workers told me about the conference.  Her niece is one of the board members.  Having talked about my infertility struggles with my co-worker, she shared about the conference.  At first, I thought it wasn't for me.  But I decided to give it a try.  I figured if it wasn't for me, I could always just leave.  

I talked Adam into going with me.  I know it was definitely going outside of his box.  But he sucked it up and was kind enough to come along with me.  

I wasn't really sure what to expect, but I am so very glad that I attended!  If nothing else, I feel a little less alone now.  I heard from many different women who have walked in my footsteps and felt all that I'm feeling now.  I also gained some new insight into IVF and adoption after attending breakout sessions on those topics.  

I left feeling more informed about family building options.  I was grateful to all the women who shared their stories.  And I gained some more hope for my future.  I'm even planning on attending the next monthly support meeting.  I'm very excited to see what I will gain from the support group.  

Source

Thank you to Kansas City Infertility Awareness for putting together such an inspiring, informative conference!  

2 Years, 1 Month and 2 Days

It's been 2 years, 1 month and 2 days since we lost our baby.  

Even though 2 years, 1 month and 2 days have gone by, I still think about her all the time.  It's hard not to think of her with all the everyday reminders.  I think about her every time I go to our backyard, where we sprinkled her ashes.  I think about her every time I walk past the empty nursery in our house.  And while I don't burst into tears each time I think about her like I used to, she's still very much a part of my life.

Every once in awhile, I will go into our empty nursery.  I pull out the sonogram pictures from the drawer they are buried in and look at my sweet girl.  I re-read all the thoughtful cards that people sent to us.  

There is so much love in those cards.  And the emails and Facebook messages and texts and phone calls we received.  I always knew people cared about me, but I don't think I really understood how much I was loved until we lost our baby.  It's incredibly overwhelming, in a very sweet way.    

It's a weird to think that so much time has passed.  In a lot of ways, it feels like just yesterday I was sitting on our couch with no clue how to pick up the pieces.  But then I think about how far I've come.  It's been a long road with lots of anger and sadness, but also lots of love and growth.  I feel like I'm a stronger person now, more equipped to handle life.  I'm better able to respond to other people who are going through sad times.  

I also feel like I'm finally at a place in my life where I can move forward.  It's taken two years to get there, but I'm so glad to finally be there.  It's not that I've moved on from my baby, I've just come to accept it as a part of my life.  She'll always be a part of my life and there will still be times that I cry about her.  But I'm doing a better job of looking forward rather than looking backwards.  

I am feeling hope more than ever.  While the acupuncture treatments haven't done the trick just yet, I really feel like a healthy pregnancy is in my near future.  I'm very happy to have more hope in my life.        

It's Inevitable

After I lost my baby, I thought it would be nice of the world if everyone could just hold off on getting pregnant until I had a healthy baby in my arms.  That did not happen.  Inevitably, the world kept on turning and people kept on having babies.  I've had family members, friends, co-workers and gobs of Facebook friends get pregnant and have babies.  I'm not going to lie, it sucks when I hear about it.  

I usually have to pretend to be happy for whoever gets to make their big announcement.  A lot of times it makes me cry.  Not happy tears, but big, fat depressed tears.  I almost always think, "Why do they get to have a baby and not me?"  This does me no good to think these thoughts, but I can't help it.  

It makes me mad that I can't share in their joy.  I unfollow my friends on Facebook after I see a pregnancy announcement, because it's just too hard to have to look at their baby bumps.  I don't go to baby showers.  I try to exit conversations about pregnancy and babies.  While all this avoidance might not be the healthiest, it works for me.

I know one day I'll be able to attend a baby shower and join in on a conversation about pregnancy.  That day's not today and that's okay.  

I also know everyone has a sore spot, something they avoid because it hurts. This new-found realization has affected how I talk to people.  I'm more thoughtful about how my conversations might affect people.  I really think before I say things aloud to people or ask them questions.  The last thing I would ever want to do is blindly cause anyone any pain.  While I'm not happy that I had to learn this lesson by losing my baby, it's a lesson I'm glad I learned.    

Just When You Think...

One of the difficult things about losing a baby is having to say out loud that you have lost your baby.  Not only do you have to lose your baby, but you have to repeatedly tell people about it.  

When Adam and I lost our baby, we tried to email, text and Facebook message all the people who knew we had been pregnant.  It's so incredibly difficult to have to speak the words, "We lost our baby."  Using technology to our advantage helped reduce the number of times we had to utter those difficult words.  Our parents were also kind enough to pass along the sad news to family and friends so we wouldn't have to do so ourselves.

However, it was impossible to make sure everyone knew.  It was inevitable that we would run into people who would ask us how our baby was doing.  

I remember being asked how old our baby was at Adam's holiday work party. I just took a gulp of my wine and let Adam take that one.  His response was to tell his coworker that he must have been thinking of someone else.  We didn't have a baby.  

It's always hard to know exactly what to say.  Sometimes you just want to avoid the situation and don't want the pity people are bound to give you.  But sometimes you feel the need to tell the truth about the situation.  Some of the best advice I got from a grief counselor was to have a line ready in case someone asked about our baby.  And to practice saying it out loud.  I've had to say my line out loud to people more than I would have cared to, but having practiced it before being face to face with someone certainly made it easier.

This reminds me of the book An Exact Replica of a Figment of My Imagination by Elizabeth McCracken. (By the way, her book is truly beautiful and I would highly recommend it to anyone who has lost a baby.)  She lost a baby and I remember a part in her book where she said she wished she could hand out business cards with the news of her baby's death on it.  That way she wouldn't have to say it out loud.

I haven't had to speak my sad story out loud very often lately.  However, just when you think you have told everyone who needs to know, someone surprises you.  As a secretary at my school, I am in charge of enrolling new students.  I re-enrolled one of my former students the other day.  The mom asked me how old my baby was now and I had to bring back my line.  Time doesn't really make it any easier to say out loud.  It still makes my heart stop to have to say that my baby died out loud.  But it's good to have that line in the back of my head, just in case I need it.  
  

Fake It Til You Make It

There have certainly been some trying times for me over the past 2 years.  I have been upset, frustrated, depressed and unhappy at one point or another. It's really easy to get stuck in those feelings and stay there.  However, that's no way to live.

Sometimes you have to push yourself beyond those feelings.  It's not easy and sometimes it doesn't work.  One thing that does work surprisingly well is to fake it til you make it.  

Well before I was ready to move past the loss of my baby, I decided to fake it. I convinced myself that it was time to move forward and not spend my days thinking about my baby.  So, I started my job as a secretary as a way to distract myself from my thoughts.  Doing so required me to smile even when I didn't feel like smiling.  I had to act pleasant and like I had my shit together even though I felt like I was falling apart on the inside.  It turned out to be easier than I thought.

Acting like I was okay somehow tricked my mind into thinking I was okay. That first day as a secretary was hard.  It happened to be the due date for my baby, which didn't make anything easier.  But I pushed through.  I faked my way through the day and ended up okay at the end of the day.  

I am not suggesting that you ignore your grief and pretend that it's not there. You definitely need to feel and live your grief.  But sometimes you have to say enough is enough and start moving forward.  

I try to be positive in my daily life.  I try to smile.  I try to appreciate kindness and generosity when I see it.  I try to be okay with losing my baby.  I try to be okay with having fertility issues.  I don't always succeed.  During those days when I struggle, I just fake it.  I put on a smile and look for the silver linings.

      

Source

    

My Mantra

If you would have asked me if I had a mantra a few years ago, I would have said, "No, because that sort of thing is weird."  Well, I'm weird now.  I have a mantra:

The best is yet to come. 

After I had lost my baby, my mother-in-law Janet shared the idea of having a mantra or personal saying with me.  She told me that her mantra is "all is well."  It made a lot of sense to me at the time and I'm very thankful she shared this idea with me.  So I scoured quotes on Pinterest and came across "the best is yet to come."  It spoke to me and said "make me your mantra" and so I did.  I come back to my mantra on hard days and it helps renew my hope.  Plus, it brings me to a more positive frame of mind.
      

I tell myself that "the best is yet to come" when I am especially frustrated about not being able to get pregnant again.  I even have a little framed version of my mantra on my desk at work.  I think about all the wonderful, exciting things I have to look forward to when I do eventually have a healthy baby.  

Surprisingly, getting the chance to spend time with babies and toddlers helps me look forward to all the fun I'll get to have one day.  It's almost like seeing my mantra in real life.  I got to meet up with my friend Sara and her adorable one year old.  I loved getting to make silly faces and see his sweet smile.  I also got to meet up with my friend Emily's two year old this past weekend. There's nothing like talking with a two year old to brighten your day.  I'm thankful to my friends for sharing their kiddos with me.  I don't think they even realize how much joy and hope it brings me.   

One thing that's helped me heal is planning things to look forward to.  They way I see it, it's always nice to have something to look forward to.  Whether it's something fun I have planned for the upcoming weekend, my family vacation to Gulf Shores this summer or the thought of having a baby, it's nice to envision these things in my future.  When you plan fun things in your future, then the best is yet to come.      

"What Do You Do?"

I hate this question almost as much as I hate, "Do you have any kids?"  Here's why: 

When I was a mere 5 years old, I knew what I wanted to be when I grew up.  I was going to be a teacher.  I turned my basement into my classroom.  I created binders full of curriculum.  My teachers would give me the extra worksheets because they knew I liked to play school.  I bribed my poor brother into being my student for hours on end.  

I went to Mizzou and got my degree in elementary education.  My first job was teaching 3rd grade in Fulton, MO.  I loved every second of it, even the challenging moments.  I felt like I was doing what I was supposed to be doing.  When I met Adam, I followed him to Kansas City and got a job teaching 4th grade in Grain Valley.  I loved that, too.  

When I found out I was pregnant, Adam and I decided I would take a break from teaching to be a stay at home mom.  I felt as though I was meant to be a stay at home mom, just like I was meant to be a teacher.  So, I submitted my letter of resignation and completed my 5th year of teaching.  It was bittersweet.  I knew I would miss my "kids" and helping them grow as learners and people.  But I knew my next job as a stay at home mom would be even more important and rewarding.  

Then I lost my baby.  

I was completely and utterly lost.  When I finally surfaced from the depths of my grief, I realized that in addition to losing my baby, I also lost my job.  I didn't realize that so much of my identity was wrapped up around being a teacher.  A job did open up and my principal was kind enough to offer it to me.  But I was still so consumed with grieving the loss of my baby that I couldn't even consider going back into the classroom that fall.  

That summer was awful.  All I did was think about my baby.  I stayed home all day by myself.  If I did work up enough strength to go to the grocery store or Target, I felt like there was a pregnant lady or baby in every aisle I walked down.

Eventually I realized that I would not get on with my life by sitting at home by myself.  My friend Jill realized this, too.  She told me about a job that came up in the middle school she taught at and I took it.  I am now a registrar/counseling secretary.  

I am still adjusting to this new title and not being a teacher.  I feel a bit silly and embarrassed when I tell people I'm a secretary.  Especially people who knew I was a teacher before.  Let me say, I have the utmost respect for secretaries, especially since becoming one.  They truly do make schools run smoothly and take care of everyone in the building.  And no one has ever spoken down to me or made me feel like being a secretary isn't a noble profession.  

I just am not okay calling myself a secretary.  I have a master's degree in education and I don't feel like I'm using it.  I don't feel like I am living up to my potential or doing what I'm supposed to be doing.  I don't want people to think I was fired from my teaching job or that I quit because it was too much.  I also feel bad about my paycheck shrinking considerably.  Adam takes very good care of me emotionally and financially, but I wish that I could contribute more income towards our household.  Again, Adam has never made me feel like I am not contributing.  But I know these are all issues I have within myself, not issues anyone else has placed on me.  

I am trying to make the most of my job.  It's by no means what I plan to do for the rest of my life and knowing it is temporary helps.  I like being able to support other teachers and students.  I like the flexibility it offers and I still get my summers off. :)   

Hopefully one of these days I won't cringe when I get asked, "what do you do?"  I hope that one day soon I'll be able to answer with, "I'm a stay at home mom."    

It's Okay...

Anyone who has dealt with infertility or losing a baby has dealt with all kinds of feelings. You feel anger, hope, sadness, grief, unfairness, confusion and so on.  And it's okay to feel all of those things.  I have given myself permission to feel all of those things.  

When one of my dear friends posted on Facebook that she was pregnant, I had a complete meltdown.  I was a hysterical, sobbing heap on my bathroom floor.  And I felt horrible for responding that way.  I was so mad at myself that I couldn't be happy for my friend that I love.  It was perfectly okay that I responded that way.  It's okay to be pissed off when you see pregnancy announcements on Facebook.  It doesn't make you a bad person and it doesn't mean you don't love your friends.  

I remember one particular trip to Target after I had just lost my baby.  I saw a lady there who had two toddlers in a cart.  They were being fussy and the lady blew up.  She yelled at them and I remember stopping and staring.  Having spent 7 years working in schools, I know how kids can test your patience.  But in that moment, I was so angry with her.  I wanted to tell her that she needed to appreciate every crabby minute she got to spend with her kids.  And it was okay that I felt that way.  Though, I don't think it would have been okay for me to actually tell her those things.  

There was a time Adam and I went to Home Depot.  We walked by a couple who had 2 little boys and one very clearly on the way.  Without really thinking, I told Adam that I hoped she was having another boy.  It was snarky of me and I didn't really mean it, but it was okay that I said it.  It's not like I said it to the couple.  It was my way of coping and it did make Adam smile.

My point in sharing these moments, moments that I am not proud to admit to, is to let others who are feeling these things know that it's okay.  It doesn't make you a bad person. It just makes you someone who is learning to cope with a sad situation.    



  

A Different Person

Since losing my baby girl I am different person.  I didn't plan to be different; it's just a natural reaction to going through something tragic.  I'm sure all people who live through tragedy change in some way.  You can't help but be different and have a different outlook on life.  I am angry about some of the changes in me, but thankful for some of the others changes.  

I lived a very charmed life up until losing my baby.  I am beyond blessed to have had a happy, perfect childhood.  My high school and college years were filled with close friends and fun.  I worked hard and enjoyed my life just out of college as an elementary school teacher.  I was fortunate to meet Adam and live our little married life together.  The only loss I had experienced was the death of my great-grandma who had lived a full life by the time she passed away.  I didn't really understand what it meant to lose someone close to me. 

My world was rocked when I lost my baby girl.  I was feeling so many new, horrible feelings I had never felt before in my life.  I was depressed, devastated, and quite honestly, unsure of how I was supposed to move forward.  

I am no longer the happy-go-lucky girl I used to be.  And I am so angry about this.  I miss that girl.  I miss being happy and content with my life.  I miss believing that good things will happen to good people and bad things will happen to bad people.  

It also angers me that my whole life is now so focused on both grieving the loss of my baby and trying to get pregnant again.  There's not a day, not an hour, that goes by where I don't think about my baby or the future babies I hope to have one day.  I look back at pictures of Adam and I on dates and vacations and am so jealous of the carefree versions of ourselves.  

However, it's my nature to try to find the silver linings in even the darkest of moments.  There are pieces of the new me that I am grateful to have found.  And lessons I have learned along the way.  I don't believe the reason I lost my baby was to teach me these lessons or change me into the person I am now.  They are just my way of trying to get something meaningful out of a horrible situation.  

I am not nearly as particular and anal as I used to be.  Anyone who knows me, knows I like things to be just so.  Don't get me wrong, I still like things to be in order and organized, but I'm able to move on and continue with my day if things aren't they way I want them.  I used to make my bed everyday, wash every dish as soon as it was dirty, not let the dirty laundry pile up and stay awake at night thinking about the things I didn't get crossed off my to do list for the day.  Now, those things don't bother me like they used to.  My bed didn't get made today and there is a heap of laundry that needs to be done.  And I'm okay with that.  

I also really, truly enjoy all the small moments.  I cherish spending time with my family and friends more than I did before.  I try to find joy in little things; a beautiful sunset, a snuggle with Jazzy and Adam on the couch, a cute set of note cards I found in the clearance aisle at Target.  This also means I cry a lot more.  I've been known to cry at a particularly sweet commercial or two.  

Well...that was a lot.  I know I'm not the only one dealing with grief and I'm sure many people can relate.  I know life will continue to get easier and I will be able to continue healing.  That's definitely something I'm hopeful about.  

There Needs To Be a Filter...

If I were a technology genius, I would create some sort of filter for people who are struggling with infertility or the loss of a baby.  In my dream world, your doctor would alert the powers that be to install this filter on your computer.  It would filter out the following:

1.  Any sort of pregnancy announcement on Facebook.

While I'm always happy for any friends that are lucky enough to get pregnant, I don't want to hear them complaining about how they are suffering from heartburn as a result of pregnancy.  I know that I could simply not look on Facebook, but then I wouldn't know what was going on in the world.  

2.  Ads for diapers, strollers, etc.  

I do not need these items.  Constantly reminding me I don't need these items is not fun.  

3.  Any and all emails offering free baby things.

Thanks for telling me about the free baby sling I could get after paying for shipping and handling.  Thanks for not unsubscribing my email address, even though I have done so multiple times.  

4.  Anything baby-related on Pinterest.

I adore Pinterest, being the craft/diy/recipe junkie that I am, but seeing all those cute nursery decor ideas are like little stabs in my heart every time I see them.  Again, I know I could simply ignore Pinterest, but then Adam would starve because I wouldn't know what to cook him for dinner.  

5.  All the pregnancy and baby announcements on the magazine covers in the checkout aisle of the grocery store.  

I realize half of what's in the magazines aren't true, but even when magazines are lying they make me feel bad.  

And since I'm in my dream world, it would also:

1.  Shield me from seeing babies on especially rough days.  Most days I'm just fine seeing and even holding babies.  But every once in awhile, I have a bad day and want to avoid babies at all costs.  I would be able to go to Target and Hobby Lobby without seeing hoards of babies and pregnant ladies.  

2.  Stop Enfamil from sending me samples of formula.  

When I made my first purchase at Motherhood Maternity, I signed up for some kind of mailing/emailing list.  Along with a ridiculous amount of emails, I also got stuff in the mail.  I remember the first Enfamil sample I got.  I was all excited to find a box in my mailbox because who doesn't love receiving packages in the mail?  Then I opened it and found formula samples.  I burst into tears right there in front of the mailbox.  Hopefully my neighbors didn't see me bawling like a lunatic.  I promptly threw away the samples, even though I probably could have given them to someone or donated them.  It just felt better to slam the trash can lid over them.  

3.  Somehow stop people from talking about pregnancy and babies when I get close to them.

Again, most of the time I can handle conversations about pregnancy and babies, but sometimes I can't.  And in those moments, I would love if these conversations could magically change topic when I'm around on a bad day.  

If only I were a tech-savvy magician...

What Not To Say To Someone Who's Lost a Baby

When I lost our baby girl, I was overwhelmed with the love and kindness my family, friends, co-workers, and acquaintances shared with me.  In the midst of such an awful time, it blew me away to know that so many people cared about me.  I received lots of emails, cards, phone calls, texts, Facebook messages and more.  I know that every sentiment people shared with me was from the bottom of their hearts.  

However, some of the things people said really, really hurt.  I know that was far from their intention and if they could take back any pain they caused, they would in a heartbeat.  But some of the comments felt like a kick in the uterus.  

Here are some things NOT to say to someone who's lost a baby:

1.  "God has a plan for you." 

Well, if that's the case, God's an asshole.  I have a hard time thinking the God I believe in wanted my baby to die or needed another angel or whatever.  Perhaps some people can take comfort in God in times like these, but I wasn't one of those people.  It was such a confusing, emotional time and hearing comments like that did not help.       

2.  "Don't worry, you'll have another baby."  

I didn't want another baby, I wanted my baby.  Hearing people say comments like this made me mad.  Did they expect me to just cast my little girl aside and move on?  Not a day goes by that I don't think about her.  Sure, having another baby in the future will help ease some pain, but I will always think of my first baby.  She's not someone that can or ever will be replaced.  

3.  "My aunt/sister/friend lost a baby, but they went on to have more kids."

I was never really sure how I was supposed to respond to these types of comments.  I know the intent is to show me that other people have been through it and come out okay on the flip side.  But I was mad when people would tell me about their aunt/sister/friend.  I didn't want to have to muster up compassion for these random people I didn't know.  And telling me that they went on to have more children made me hate these random people even more.  Well, good for them, but I'm still here mourning the loss of my baby.  I'm still childless here.  
       
Some people magically knew the right thing to say to me.  I'll never forget these kind words and they stick with me to this day.  

1. "There are no words, just hugs."

I appreciated the fact that this person didn't try to make me feel better.  They simply acknowledged my pain and didn't pretend to know what I was feeling.  

2. "I love you."

This seems so simple, but it spoke volumes to me.  Just knowing people were keeping me in their thoughts helped.  

3.  "How are you doing?"

It's always hard to know whether people want to talk about a tragedy in their life.  By asking how I was doing, people gave me the option to either say, "I'm doing okay," and move on.  Or they gave me the floor to go more in depth about what was going on in my mind.  I appreciated people taking the time to check in on me.  

4. "It just really sucks."

One of my friends who had been through 2 miscarriages herself said this to me.  It was perfect.  It was exactly how I felt and coming from someone who knew what I was feeling made it more meaningful.  

Of course not everyone's the same.  Some of the things I recommend not saying might bring others comfort, while some of the things that felt right to me might piss off some people.  I guess my message is just to think really hard about how people might receive what you say.  Don't try to say something that will take away their pain.  There's nothing you will be able to say that will take that pain away.  Just recognize their pain and share your love and support.