Plan A: Vaginal delivery.

You know, like in the movies. I was going to have the “typical” vaginal birth that you see in the movies, that all my family and friends had. My water would break, Nick would drive us to the hospital, I’d be in active labor for a few hours and then push Delaney right out. I wanted to catch her or have Nick do it. He’d cut the cord and I’d get my hour of skin to skin. Everything was going to be perfect. (I was totally up to the idea of a water birth too!)

Plan B: Scheduled C-Section.

Okay, so my placenta was a complete joke. I learned at my 20 week anatomy scan that I had vasa previa, placenta previa and an additional posterior placenta lobe. Essentially, my placenta was fucked and Delaney would have to be born at 35 weeks via C-section in order for the placenta not to erupt and her bleed out. Well fuck. This isn’t what I wanted at all. I was horrified that Delaney was in danger and would have to be born early and I was selfishly grieving that I was missing out on a “normal” birthing experience. Everything that I wanted and planned for was totally out of the window.

Alright fine, time to regroup and make a new plan. I was seen by all 4 of the maternal-fetal medicine (MFM) doctors and they all knew my story. I would move into the hospital between 30-32 weeks to be monitored and one of these doctor would be delivering Delaney at 35 weeks. I was also told that for the rest of my pregnancy, I was on pelvic rest ..aka no sex. Really? How are you going to tell a pregnant woman with all these hormones that she can’t have sex for 15 weeks. But it posed a serious threat to the placenta, and to Delaney’s life. Getting this news sucked. It all sucked, but that was the new plan and I had to be okay with it.

Plan C: 12 Weeks of Tripler.

At 23 weeks I had a decently large bleed which ended up getting me admitted to the hospital, Room 6. Nick and I were terrified. We had all sorts of medical professionals coming into my room to explain all the things that were going to happen, because I was possibly going to have Delaney that night. We were getting told all sorts of information; how the c-section would be performed, whether they’d do a horizontal or vertical incision (for both the outer incision and on my uterus), if I needed a vertical incision then I’d only ever be able to give birth through c-section, and how I may end up losing my uterus if there was a significant amount of trauma. They prepped us for the possibility of a blood transfusions and even death. They ran down the list of all the medical ailments Delaney could face; cerebral palsy, chronic lung disease, blindness, deafness, kidney/liver/brain diseases, the list just went on and on. At one point when Nick was not in the room, the doctors told me that if Delaney was to be born that night at 23 weeks, she would have a 30% survival rate. Let that sink in. I was starting to fall under the impression that the doctors didn’t think Delaney’s quality of life was worth saving. But Nick and I made the decision to do anything that it took to save our baby girl.

Our next step was early intervention medication; corticosteroids, magnesium sulfate (with it came a catheter) and anti-contraction meds. The steroids were to help Dee’s lungs mature. I got two lovely shots in the butt 24 hours apart that burned for a solid 10 minutes. It sucked but it was bearable. The magnesium is a whole other story. The nurse administering it to me was very upfront, “It’s going to be miserable for the first half hour, then after that it will just suck.” And she was right. Within minutes of the magnesium entering my veins, my body was on fire. It felt like someone had just dipped my body into acid. I was instantly sweating and could no longer think straight, I was just so consumed in heat. They put an ice pack on my forehead, my neck and on my arm where the IV was. I also had a fan on high blowing right at me, still I was on fire. Eventually the misery wore off and then it only sucked. By that point, Nick was able to make me laugh, and things were getting better. I was then given the anti-contraction medications to help give the first two meds their time to kick in and keep Delaney inside me for as long as possible. No complaints on those.  

 I stayed in the windowless Room 6 for three days and was monitored, and things started to look better. On the 3^rd night, everything was looking good and I was going to be transferred to the mommy recovery unit …until I went to the bathroom and again, had another bleed. Imminently I called for my nurse. The nurse Jess who I had gotten close to responded, coming into my room with a wheelchair to transfer me downstairs. She saw me standing in the bathroom doorway, hysterically crying, and helped me to my bed. She called for help and started to prep my belly for surgery (she told me she was doing all the prep to jinx us; it was her form of good luck). In the midst of all the crazy, Jess helped me calmly notify Nick that he needed to get to the hospital as quickly and safely as possible. Because again, Delaney might be coming, but I was waiting for him to arrive to tell him that. I remember the nurses trying to get my legs up in the stirrups for an exam, but I just couldn’t stop shaking. I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t think straight. Fear had just completely taken over. After being examined, the bleeding had calmed down and I was then transferred to the L&D room closest to the OR, Room 11. It was somewhere around here that I was told by the MFM that I would be staying in Tripler, on L&D, in Room 11, closest to the OR, until Delaney was born at 35 weeks ..if we made it that far.

What. The. Fuck.

Um, hi …THAT’S TWELVE WEEKS!!!!!!!

It took time, of course, but okay fine. 12 weeks of Tripler it is. This is where it is safest for Delaney, this is where its safest for me. At least I was now in a room with windows and had developed great relationships with a handful of the nurses. It was going to suck but it wasn’t the end of the world. In the long run, it was going to be worth it. So there you go, our new plans was to stay in Tripler until Delaney was born.

Just kidding.

After 6 days of living the hospital life and Nick buying and bringing things into my room to make it feel more “at home,” I was notified that I was allowed to go home.

Lolololololol WHAT?!?

That was probably one of the biggest and most confusing curveball of my life.

Plan D: House Arrest

Okay so now I can go home BUT ..there’s always a but.

But:

• I couldn’t leave a 10-mile radius of Tripler (in the event that I started to bleed they needed to know I’d be close enough that I could get to the hospital quickly).
• I couldn’t lift anything heavier that 10lbs. Lifting anything too heavy could cause me to bleed.
• I was still on pelvic rest (because having sex would cause me to bleed and well you get it at this point).
• With any sign or symptom that wasn’t normal, I had to immediately come back to Tripler.
• If I continually had issues, I would mostly likely be admitted before the 30-32 weeks.

Okay, I can work with that. It took away a ton of my freedom, I felt useless around the house and it made making plans with friends a real pain in the ass, but we made it work. This is what was going to keep Delaney safe, so that’s what I had to do.

Fast forward to 28 weeks and I find myself back in Tripler, admitted for another week due to, yet again, another bleed (back in Room 11, closest to the OR). Here comes round two of magnesium, steroids, a catheter and anti-contraction meds. I’ll admit, I don’t remember much of this week in the hospital, but the magnesium was definitely worse the second time around. Hot, hot, fucking hot. Fans, ice packs and Nicks humor helped me through it.

Eventually I was transferred downstairs to the mommy recovery unit to be monitored and this is where Nick and I spent New Years Eve. After a week I was cleared to go home under all the same rules as last time. Once again, it was heavily stressed that if I continue to have these bleeds or other issues, I would likely be admitted to stay before 32 weeks.

*I’d like to add here that not long ago I looked at my online patient portal and between 20 weeks, when you’re sent straight to L&D for any issues, and 31 weeks, when I would end up having Delaney, I was seen 12 times.

• November 14^th 10:47 pm
• November 21^st 5:23 am -first time being admitted
• December 6^th 8:45 pm
• December 17^th 4:51 pm
• December 21^st 8:11 pm
• December 27^th 8:09 pm
• December 28^th 9:51 am
• December 29^th 5:39 am
• December 30^th 6:30 am -second time being admitted
• January 4^th 7:05 am
• January 11^th 1:28 pm
• January 18^th 6:23 pm – Delaney’s birthday

So its safe to say the doctors trusted me that if I had any issues, they knew I’d come in.

At this point, around January 11^th I realized I was skating thin ice and needed to keep my shit together or else I would be in the hospital for my mom, sister and Zelda’s visit for my baby shower on the 18^th. Totally selfish of me, I know, but I just didn’t want to spend that time in the hospital, so I tried my best not to think about anything going wrong and I just tried to relax.

On Wednesday the 15^th, I got out of bed in the morning and had some fluid run down my leg. In my head I thought, “I wonder if this is what it’s like to have your water break” but I chalked it up to gross pregnancy bodily fluid things happening and continued on with my day.

Mom, Claire and Zelda arrived on the 16^th and we spent the 17^th prepping for the baby shower. I swore I had a UTI, I knew something just didn’t feel right. I tried my best to ignore it, knowing that if I went into the hospital again, they would for sure early admit me since I was 31 weeks. I was not going to spend my baby shower in a hospital room (I know, a selfish decision).

Finally, January 18^th we had my baby shower at home. It was a beautiful day and we received so many lovely gifts. I had such a great time chatting with friends and was just so consumed in the love. But I spent a lot of the time sitting on my kitchen chair and was just wildly uncomfortable. When everyone left, I laid on my couch for a while and tried to just relax my body. I hadn’t been feeling Delaney move much and I was still experiencing some pain from what I thought was a UTI. Finally, after an hour or two of laying around, I told Nick we needed to get me checked out in the hospital.

I told mom and Claire that I would probably be there for a few hours, get some antibiotics and come home. Ha!

Plan E: 31&4

Nick and I got to the hospital and did the same routine; I gave a urine sample, went into exam room 1 and undress from the waist down. Monitors were put on my belly to monitor Dee’s heartrate and my contractions and my urine came back negative for any infections. The doctor told me that I was fine, and I had nothing to worry about. She asked if I wanted her to do a quick exam to ease my mind and I told her yes, just so I could know for sure that me and Delaney were okay. I mean, I was already undressed anyway.

She did the exam, took a swab, and looked at it in the microscope in the room. She spent a really long time examining it. She mentioned something about fluid, then left to discuss it with another doctor. Next thing I know, 4 doctors are in the room looking at the microscope and debating on what to do. From what I gathered, it kind of looked positive for amniotic fluid, but not completely. They did a repeat test and left the room. It was becoming all to real, I told Nick that if it was positive, we’d be having Delaney in 24 hours. We both began to panic, and I couldn’t stop shaking.

Every time I had Nick take me into the hospital, I felt crazy. I felt stupid for always being nervous that something was wrong. I felt like the staff thought I was insane, I felt like everyone thought I was over dramatic and worried too much.

Now I really had something to worry about. Two doctors came back in and confirmed that the sample was positive for amniotic fluid. My amniotic sac was ruptured (which definitely happened on the 15th) and Delaney was coming that night via emergency C-section. I burst into tears. My entire body was shaking, and I couldn’t make it stop. I was only 31 weeks and 4 days pregnant. It was way too early to have Delaney. This is not okay. She was going to be so small. After trying to convince me that it was going to be okay, Nick stepped out to call his dad and I called my mom. All I could think about was how small Delaney was going to be and I couldn’t stop crying.

I was quickly admitted and brought back into Room 6, where it all began, to be prepped for surgery. None of the MFM’s were there, none of the nurses I had grown close to were there. Everything we had planned for, the doctor to deliver, the nurses to be in the OR, it was all out the window. Again.

Doctors came in and gave us the run down again of what could happen to me and prepared us for any medical ailments Delaney could face, because this time, she was absolutely coming. While we’re getting told all this information, meeting all the different staff (NICU staff, anesthesiologist, nurses, etc.), and signing all the necessary paperwork, I’m getting my last round of magnesium. Again, burning hot lava coursing through my veins and I’m expected to focus on everything being thrown at me.

Here we are, Nick and I alone in the L&D room, preparing to become parents in the matter of minutes. Despite how terrified I was, and I’m sure how terrified Nick was, he still had me cracking up. I remain thankful every day that I am who he chose to spend the rest of his life with.

Eventually, it was time to bring me into the OR. Nick had to wait until things began before he was allowed in with me. I was naked, freezing cold and alone in this all white room. I knew this day was coming, I had known about it for 11 weeks now, but in no way was I prepared to have this surgery. The drugs set in and I could barely remember going from my bed to the OR table.

I could feel tugging and pressure on my belly and all I remember was me trying to lift my legs up in the air, but nothing happening. Soon Nick was allowed in and I remember him holding my hand. “Okay dad,” said my anesthesiologist, “stand up and take a look, your baby is coming out now!”

I felt all the tugs and movements when they started to remove Delaney from my body. Then this insane whooshing feeling happened and she was out. I didn’t get to hold her, I don’t think I even got to take a quick look at her. Delaney was born at 10:42 pm. The NICU staff immediately began to work on her as my team continued with my surgery. I remember telling Nick to go be with our daughter, that I was okay.

Before they left the room, the doctors and nurses angled the isolette so I could finally look at my baby. I don’t remember this, but there is a picture of it happening. Right after, Nick and Delaney’s team took her down to the NICU. Again, I was alone.

Once my surgery was over I was brought into a room on the L&D floor to recover. After some time, Nick and Delaney’s doctor came to talk to me and tell me what great health she was in. I even got to see pictures that Nick took of her in the OR and in her NICU room.

Soon enough I was getting transferred down to the mommy recovery unit. As they were bringing me down, Twinkle Twinkle Little Star plated over the PA system. I asked if that was for me and they said yes. This song haunted me. I heard it when I was in the hospital confirming my miscarriage, when I was in the OR getting my D&C and when I followed up with the therapist though the OB clinic. They play that song every time a baby was born, but it was never for me. Except now. Now it was finally my turn. I just had my baby, she was healthy and they played Twinkle Twinkle Little Star to let the hospital know that Delaney had been born. And I cried such happy tears.

When I had gotten to my new room, I was still heavily drugged up and couldn’t remember much. It was late and I was tired. I still had the catheter in from surgery and nurses were coming in what felt like every 20 minutes to check on me. In the morning, my nurse asked me how I felt. I responded by asking her when could I go to the NICU to see Delaney. She told me that I had to get the catheter out first, but she had an hour-long class to teach and I had to wait. It was agonizing. My baby was in the hospital, in a room in her isolette, without me being there for her. I didn’t care that I was still recovering, I needed to be with my baby.

The wait for my nurse to come back felt like a lifetime. Nick was with me by the time she returned to take out my catheter, which I reminded her that she needed to do ASAP. She told me that if I could walk from my bed to the bathroom and back twice, that I could go see Delaney. Getting up was brutal and I walked at a glaciers pace, but after more than 12 hours of Delaney being born, I was finally given the green light to go meet her. 

Nick wheeled me to the NICU and finally I was able to see my girl.

3lbs, 8oz’s. She was so small.

Everything that we had planned for, everything that I advocated for weeks for, all the heartache and all the love, all the painful medications, all the nausea, heartburn and back pain, laid right there in front of me, in this tiny little 3lb, 8oz body. And she was perfect.

We couldn’t hold her, shit we really weren’t even supposed to touch her much, but I needed to. I needed to feel my daughter and know that she was real. That this rollercoaster of a pregnancy was worth it because now I could touch my baby and I knew she was safe.

In 31 weeks and 4 days, my body grew Delaney. It was a really long and emotionally difficult 31 weeks and 4 days, but the three of us survived it.

Now, here we are at 31 week and 4 days old. Delaney is so strong and healthy, no medical ailments in sight. She is the happiest little girl that I know and is always smiling. She can hold her toys, she loves to happy scream, she’s more vocal than me (impossible, I know), she loves to eat, she’s sitting up on her own and is trying to crawl. Delaney amazes Nick and I every single day and we just fall more and more in love with her.

When I think about those 31 week and 4 days, I think how it was worth it. Everything, it was all worth it. And I would do it a million times over for her.

I wrote this for a friend months ago when I learned that she had miscarried. The pain was still so fresh for me and I wanted to help any way I could. Out of respect to her, I waited until she was ready for me to post this.

Since then, I’ve had a handful of other friends lose a pregnancy. It blows my mind how common it is for these young, healthy women to lose a baby. I just don’t get it.

So here it is, this is my personal survival guide of pregnancy loss.

Of my entire blog, this is what I am most proud of. This is what I want to do, help others feel less alone. When I miscarried, I never felt more alone in my life. I felt like no one understood my suffering. So here is my hand, extended to whoever needs it. You’re not alone in this, I’m right here if you need me. Always.

________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Lean on me

When you’re not strong,
And I’ll be your friend.
I’ll help you carry on.

Mother fucking god dammit, why?!

A close friend of mine just told me that she lost her first pregnancy. She went for her first ultrasound, expecting to see her beautiful baby and instead they gave her the worst news an expecting mother could hear. She miscarried. God fucking dammit.

Reading that message, I sat on my kitchen floor saying “No! Oh god no, no, no.” And I cried, a lot. I cried for my friend, I cried for her husband, I cried for their baby, and I cried for mine.

I know this feeling all too well. I know what it’s like to see that positive test, to start talking names, to start making all these big plans. And I know what it’s like to have that completely ripped away from you.

Worst of all, I know what it’s like to try to be consoled by someone who really loves you and cares about you, but they are pregnant, and you just want nothing to do with them.

I know I need to respect her space. I reached out once I saw the news and told her I am here, day or night, and will help any way I can. I know that that’s all I can do for now. I just want to throw my arms around her and never let go, but I can’t. I want to tell her everything I did, things that helped me, but I don’t want to be pushy. Yes, I’ve been through it, recently too, but I’m no expert. And I understand that what worked for me won’t necessarily work for her. But if you’re reading this, I hope this helps…

• Hate me. Hate our friends, or anyone in your life, who is pregnant or recently had a baby. If you’re angry, if you’re feeling the awful envy that miscarriage leaves you with, then feel it. It’s okay, I promise. You are 100% totally and completely allowed to hate us all. Feel every single feeling that comes your way, it’s all part of the process, no matter how ugly, because your feelings are valid. I was miserably angry, envious, and sad. I felt so insanely alone like no one understood me. I was confused, I felt betrayed by my body, and I felt like I let down my baby and Nick. There’s a lot of shitty feelings that come along with losing a pregnancy. You don’t necessarily have to feel all of these and you may feel other things too. But the point is, this is normal. It’s okay to feel this way, it doesn’t make you a bad person. It makes you a grieving mother.
• Talk about it. To your husband, to your mom, to your best friend, to a therapist, to your journal or keyboard, to your dog. Whoever, in whatever form. But let it out, all of it. Even the real ugly of it. Getting it out will help so much.
• Be as open or closed off as YOU feel necessary. No one is entitled to an explanation. You don’t owe anyone a text or phone call back. So many people love you and their hearts hurt for you and your husband, and that is kind, but it’s also overwhelming talking about it and explaining how you’re feeling over and over again. If some texts/calls fall through the cracks, it’s okay. Do as much or as little as you can handle. Make a blog about it or never tell a soul about it or do something in between. In time, you’ll find the way you’re meant to grieve, and it will be what is right for you.
• Eat. Please, even if it’s just crackers and water. You still need to take care of yourself.
• Don’t forget about your husband. He’s going through this too, he’s feeling this loss too. You’ll see that everyone is asking the two of you how YOU are doing, but not many people ask how he is. Yes, your body is physically going through this, but both of your hearts suffered the same loss. Make sure he knows that he is allowed to feel hurt, to feel anger, to cry, to talk about it. He needs to channel his emotions too. He needs someone in his corner checking on him too. I reached out to my brother in law for this. I told him that Nick was closing himself off from me and I just needed to know that someone was asking him how he was, that it wasn’t just about me. Your husband will want to make sure that you are okay. He may put on a tough face and cry in the shower. But he’ll appreciate knowing that you and others acknowledge his loss too.
• Join a Facebook group. Warning -it can be brutal and depressing. In these groups people post pictures of their lost pregnancies/babies. Now I’m sure some of you reading this just made a face, like why on Earth would someone post a picture of their blood clots or their 16-week-old baby?! ..because that is their baby.Plain and simple. That is the only picture they’ll ever have of their baby. So please, be respectful. That part of these groups can be really hard, but no one is going to understand you like these women will. No one is going to know how to comfort you like them, because they all just lost their babies too. There’s no judgement, you can just lay all your feelings out there and these women will console you. Seriously, it helps. And when you’re ready to move on and leave these groups, do it.
• Find an outlet. If a Facebook group just isn’t your thing, find a different outlet. Journal it out, find a book on miscarriage and make notes on the pages. Or it doesn’t even need to be related to the miscarriage at all! Find a new trilogy to read and keep your mind busy! Pick up a new hobby, learn to knit. Do something to fill the day and channel your emotions into.
• Unfollow people on social media. Now more than ever, you’re going to notice that everyone is pregnant. Or everyone just had a baby. Scrolling Facebook and Instagram is going to be gut-wrenching. So unfollow people, delete them as friends for the time being. Do what you have to to protect yourself, they’ll understand. And if they don’t, then fuck ‘em. You need to look out for you.
• Know that people are stupid, they’re going to say the wrong thing. “All my pregnancies were healthy, I never had a miscarriage..” Well fucking good for you, must be nice. Now this person didn’t say this to me to be malicious, and I knew that, they just didn’t know how to relate to me. But it didn’t make it hurt any less. People who haven’t been through it personally just don’t understand how crippling it feels. Some people don’t even recognize that losing a pregnancy means losing a baby. Like I said, people are stupid. I hope you don’t encounter this one, and I am seriously so sorry if you do. Try to just brush it off, some people can’t be educated, and I hope that this never affects their imminent life because clearly they’re not resilient.
• Check out for a little while. Take some time off from work, both of you. It’s okay to just spend the day in bed or binge watch Netflix on the couch. Mentally checking out and not thinking is helpful too. Give your head and your heart a break. So you didn’t brush your teeth today, so you’ve been wearing the same pajamas for three days straight. So you ate a chocolate bar for breakfast and cereal for dinner. So what?! You’re not depressed, you’re grieving. It’s okay to have these days, so have them.
• Understand that it’s okay to feel happiness again. This is something I struggled with at first. How could I laugh? How could I enjoy things when something so horrible happened? How could I smile for a picture, how could I enjoy having sex again? ..I’m not going to lie, it’s not always easy, but it’s important. You lost something so precious, and it fucking hurts, I know. But life continues and you need to continue too. Your baby wants to see you happy. And it’s going to help laughing with your husband again. One day, one of you guys is might do something that will make the other laugh and you’ll laugh uncontrollably at that silly thing, and then that laughing will turn into crying and that crying will stop being a laughing cry and it will be a sad cry. That’s okay, it happens. Ride it out, let that cry out. You needed it. Other days, you may just go out to dinner, or to a movie, or just do something nice together and you’ll look at him and smile. You’ll be happy because you have each other, your best friend. Enjoy that happiness.
• Know that you ARE a mother. This was another hard one for me too. What defines a mother? Physically holding and tending to that baby? No. We didn’t get that chance, and it is so fucking unfair. But our bodies still built a home for the babies us and our husbands created. To say you aren’t a mother is to say that that beautiful baby didn’t exist. Well it sure did. It doesn’t matter how far along you were, you had a baby growing inside of you. You created life. You loved that baby from the first time you thought you could be pregnant, to when you saw that positive test, to today and every day onward. Nothing and no one can take that from you. So embrace it, if you chose to. But at the end of the day, you are a mother.
• Don’t be afraid to try again when you’re ready. Also, don’t feel pressure to start trying sooner then you’re ready. Nick and I had the discussion of trying again about 2-3 weeks after I had my D&C. We both agreed we weren’t ready to just jump back into trying and wanted to wait until I was in the right head space, not breaking down crying on the bathroom floor at 3AM. We lost our baby in April, I got my first period in May, and we conceived again in June.  Now this may seem really fast, I mean typing out the timeline I agree it was fast, but it felt right for us. It also came with a lot of discussion ..of me desperately wanting to be pregnant again and us both being ready to create a family. But doctors will ask you if you’re using contraception and family and friends will ask if you’re trying again. Sometimes it feels like you should be trying again. Or you see everyone on social media is pregnant and you feel that pressure to try again. But just know that it will happen again for you when it is supposed to, when you, your husband, and your body are ready for it. And when you get there, it’s going to be scary as all hell. That too is normal. But I’ll be there for you when you cross that bridge.
• Most importantly, grieve how it feels right to you. Take all of this with a grain of salt. Like I said, I am no expert. These are things that helped me. These are things that gave me comfort, that helped me grieve. Some of them may be helpful for you too and others may be useless, that’s okay. Like I said before, you’ll find your own way. I made a shadow box and used the positive test that I kept, moccasins that I bought and a sonogram picture I had, even though the baby wasn’t alive in that picture. I typed all my feelings out onto the computer and eventually made a blog. I confided in a few close people and shut out a ton of others. I protected myself in ways I thought necessary. Then I became really open about what I had just been through. That’s what worked for me. There is no right or wrong way to grieve. Understand that. You can do as little or as much as your heart feels necessary. Just give it time and it will come to you.

Please, just know that I love you. So many people love you. And we are all here for you. You will NEVER be a bother. If you need someone, let them know. Use and abuse it. The people who love you will always be there for you, no matter what. So lean on us to get through it.

 I hope that somehow I have helped.

We all need somebody to lean on.

So here we are. One year ago, I found out I miscarried my first pregnancy. One year ago, I had my first baby removed and taken from me.

One year has passed.

With my life being the comical joke that it is, I currently have my period for the first time since June 2019, right before Delaney was conceived. Maybe that doesn’t seem significant, but one year ago I was bleeding because my body was beginning to reject the failed pregnancy.

Blood has been a serious PTSD trigger for me. I bled with my first pregnancy because that baby died. I bled multiple times with Delaney, with the risk to her life being incredibly real. I have been conditioned to know that blood is a very bad thing and I need to be seen by a doctor immediately.

Postpartum, I bled after my C-section, naturally. It was hard and confusing for me to see blood. I had to remind myself that it was okay, that Delaney was safe in the NICU. Now 3 months postpartum, I have my menstrual cycle again and it’s just in time for the anniversary of losing my first baby. Everything in my bones tells me to take a pregnancy test to see if I’m miscarrying. That perhaps I got pregnant in between Delaney being born and getting the IUD. That’s how fucked my head is.

But what if I am miscarrying? Would I really want to know? In no way, shape, or form am I ready to be pregnant again any time soon. I’m still trying to wrap my head around the fact that I have Delaney here. But if I did happen to get pregnant, I, of course, would love that baby with every part of me. And with this period, I feel like I’m grieving what might have been. Honestly, I don’t think I could handle knowing if that was true.

One year later and I’m still fucked up from this.

With every day that passes, I feel the memory of the baby slipping a little more. I am so consumed in my new life as a mother to Dee that I don’t have time to think about that baby. And when I do, I think that if I were to have had that baby then I wouldn’t have had Dee. That hurts. That hurts to type, to admit.

I am a firm believer that things happen for a reason. Nick and I have talked so many times about the matter and came up with the reason for our miscarriage. We believe that my body was not ready to carry a baby, it wasn’t where it needed to be. That first pregnancy, that first baby, got my body in the state that it needed to be in to carry Delaney successfully (as successful as a 31-week pregnancy can be). So I thank that baby for what it did for me and what it gave me. And I tell Delaney about her sibling all the time.

I have so much to be thankful for. I have a perfectly healthy baby girl who I fall more in love with every day. She is amazing in every way and I love watching her grow and begin to understand the world around her. I have an incredible and supportive husband who is the world’s most amazing and loving father. I have such wonderful family and friends who always stick close to my side. I am thankful.

But I am still sad. I am still mourning the loss of the baby. I still think about the baby and I still love the baby. What’s changed in one year is that I no longer care what anyone thinks about it. What they think about me.

When I was pregnant with Dee, I was asked repeatedly if she was my first. My answer was always, “second pregnancy, first baby.” The looks I’d receive always varied and I’d have to explain that I had miscarried. But I always acknowledged that baby. And I always will.

It was real, it was mine and Nick’s first possibility of being parents. I won’t ever let anyone take that away from us.

________________________________________________________________________________________________________

In one year, I learned anger. I learned guilt, paranoia, fear, and envy. I learned communication, trust, and understanding. I learned appreciation, patience, and gratitude. I learned heartache and I learned true love.

2019 was the absolute worst year of my life. But it also was one of the best.

I grew so much as an individual. I grew as a wife and a mother. I learned things about myself that I didn’t know existed. I learned how to put myself out there; in my writing, by making new friends and being a shoulder to lean on for friends going through a miscarriage too.

I have my children to thank for that.

Like I said, I have so much to be thankful for.

________________________________________________________________________________________________________

I started this blog to channel my emotions because I had no one to relate to. Quickly it turned into my therapy. Then I got pregnant with Delaney. Before I knew it, I was too consumed in making sure that she was safe that I didn’t have the time to dedicate to this blog. Now Dee is here, and I don’t have the time or energy to dedicate to this blog. Maybe one day I’ll fill in the gaps I left.

But one year has come and gone. What I can truly say is, I used to be whole. Then I broke. I have been broken many times. With each time I’m put back together, the picture changes. This by far is my favorite picture.

I am thankful. 

Now forgive me with my timelines being a bit all over the place …not writing for some time certainly messed up the order of things.

With October being pregnancy and infant loss awareness month and the due date of our first baby approaching, Nick and I decided we were going to do something to honor our first baby.

Surprisingly, there were quite a few events going on around us. What made me really happy was that it was Nick who found the event and shared it with me. As always, knowing he still grieved our first baby made me feel less alone and more of a team.

We chose to go to a remembrance walk and butterfly release event. It was the second time this event was held, and it was truly a beautiful experience. Nick and I had absolutely no idea what to expect but we figured we’d give it a try.

It was located right on the water at Magic Island and it was such a gorgeous area. Walking up to sign in, I took in all the people there and I was happily surprised. I saw families, husbands, children, and other pregnant bellies. People were there with homemade shirts and pictures of their lost babies. Now seeing those shirts and pictures obviously didn’t make me happy, but seeing the support systems and acknowledgment of those losses did. I felt like we really belonged to this community.

The event started with the women who organized it sharing their stories and it was truly heartbreaking. Even though Nick and I went through our own loss and experienced it differently, we were still about to relate to these other families.

Next was the butterfly release. The butterflies were used to symbolized healing and letting go of your pain. And it did. There was something so beautiful about standing under this giant tree and watching all our butterflies fly around. It made me feel hopeful in a way.

Then we walked over to the water, said some words in the silence of our minds and tossed flower petals into the ocean. Again, this was another way of releasing that build up pain and sadness.

Finally, we went for a walk as a group around the marked track.

Nick and I didn’t really mingle with anymore, we were more there for ourselves, but being in the middle of a large group of people who knew our pain was comforting.

It felt necessary to do something to honor our first baby, especially with all the attention this new pregnancy was getting now that we finally went public. As always, I wanted to make sure no one forgot about our first pregnancy, but it was also important to me that Nick and I could still grieve when we felt we needed to and this was a part of that.

There was also something special about being pregnant and having this new baby with us at the event. Without a doubt, this baby is going to know that it had an older sibling and it’s special to me that she was able to be there for an event that honored her sibling. I also decided that I would wear this black and white striped shirt to the event which is symbolic to me and this first pregnancy. In that shirt, I told my best friend Katie I was pregnant and sent a picture to Claire and our mom of my little bloated belly. Now I was pregnant with mine and Nicks’s second baby wearing the same shirt and it felt kind of full circle to me.

Overall, the day was very emotional but very sweet and again it was something that brought Nick and me closer together. It also made me a little less nervous knowing the first baby’s due date was around the corner because I knew I had Nick to help get me through it.

Grieving while growing a different baby is not easy. It comes with a whole heap of emotions, especially guilt, but it certainly was something I am really thankful Nick and I chose to do together.

So, I haven’t been as active with my blog for quite some time. Now it’s not to say that I am over my miscarriage and have moved on. Not even close. I have spent the last 20 weeks being terrified.

I used my blog as a way to cope with getting out my depression, my anger, my disappointment, my opinions ..my feelings. And it was okay because it was public knowledge that I had miscarried. But then I got pregnant again and I was horrified to lose this baby, I was too scared to tell anyone. I was dreading the pain of another loss. So, Nick and I agreed to keep it to ourselves for almost the entire first trimester. And it was hard.

Now if you know me, you know I can’t keep a secret to save my life. If someone confides in me, well, of course, I’m not going to break your trust, but something like our announcement pictures ..they were supposed to be this big secret, from everyone. My best friend and mom saw them almost immediately because I was too excited. I can’t even surprise Nick without giving him little hints here and there before I go and ruin the whole thing. Secrets just aren’t for me. But when it came to this pregancy, I knew both Nick and I were not ready to share the news yet.

The pain of losing a pregnancy and the terror of possibility of losing a current pregnancy are quite different. I’ve been scared shitless almost every single day. Scared that the baby’s heart has stopped beating, scared the baby stopped growing, scared I did something to harm the baby, just always scared. 

My exact words on a Facebook support group for new mothers-

July 20, 2019

“I have been laying in bed for hours, wide awake, just thinking about all the ways I’ve probably lost my baby by now.

I’m 6 weeks pregnant now and had a miscarriage in April. Clearly, I know being worried and stressed isn’t good for this baby but literally I can’t do anything to help that.

I’ve been getting bloodwork and my HCG has been increasing really well but when we went in for an ultrasound (at 5 weeks) there wasn’t a heartbeat yet ..that terrified me. The OB said it’s okay, it’s still early but I can’t move past that.

Then I just started this new job and it’s wayyyyy more physically demanding than I was told. I work at a nursing home and we’re rearranging heavy furniture 4-5 times a day. We have to stack chairs all the time and I’ve hit my stomach with them trying to stack them.

Then I think about my cats who literally just stand right on my pelvic area and have all their bodyweight right there or the time I leaned across my island in the kitchen and my pelvic area hit across the counter.

I’m just so terrified to lose another baby and I’m worried about every little thing I do. Tuesday is my birthday and really all I want is to just go to the doctors and see my baby’s heartbeat. That’s is.”

Completely. Fucking. Terrified. 

So to backtrack a bit, after getting the positive test, we went to the OB clinic to get an ultrasound and there was an empty sac, no heartbeat. That was the scariest shit of my life. Another lifeless baby inside of me, at least that’s what I thought. Turns out I wasn’t as far along as the app on my phone had said.

Then the Wednesday after my birthday we rushed into SDEC because I was spotting and I was sure we had lost this baby too. Turns out bleeding after intercourse is a thing. The OB did a follow-up ultrasound from the last one, and there was baby. With every flicker on that screen, I could breathe again. There was a heartbeat. Baby was growing. “We haven’t lost you yet,” I thought.

I went home from that appointment thinking I would be fine ..just to soon realize I was going to overthink literally every little single thing I did, thinking that it would cause me to miscarry again.

I know losing our first pregnancy wasn’t my fault, and I don’t blame myself anymore. But I was clueless. I never even thought about the possibility of miscarriage. I was just pregnant with a baby, I would deliver in November and all was well. I was completely ignorant. With this second pregnancy, I am hyperaware.

The fear eats you alive. It took over me, worse than the anger and jealousy of coping through my miscarriage. Nights were the worst. Nick would be sound asleep next to me and I’d lie in bed worrying if the baby was okay, begging not to lose it and desperately wandering when my next ultrasound would be.

And you can’t forget going to the bathroom. In my first pregnancy, going to pee was just that, plain and simple. Then one day I went to pee, wiped and saw blood. With this pregnancy, I kid you not, every.single.time. I go pee, I would wipe and check for blood. Hell, I’m currently 20 weeks writing this, and I still check most times. (Now 30 weeks posting this and STILL doing this, but for other reasons we’ll get into). I think I just needed to brace myself for the worst instead of being caught off guard again.

By 12 weeks, I purchased an at-home doppler to hear the heartbeat. This wasn’t Nicks favorite idea, as I am not a trained professional and if one day I tried but couldn’t hear the heartbeat, he knew it would send me into a total and complete panic. But we bought it anyway, because the sense of security after a great doctors visit usually wore off by an hour or two and I’d go back to worrying that I wouldn’t be seen again for x amount of weeks and I could lose the baby by then. Healthy, right?

Finding the heartbeat for the first time took about 15 minutes of struggling. Then I learned that babes liked to hang around my left lower abdominal area. I promised Nick and my sister Claire that I would only use the doppler once a month, just for reassurance. Well ..I lied.

I ended up using that sucker at least twice a week. Now that I am 20 weeks and kicks are starting to get stronger, I am beginning to retire the doppler but it’s still nice to hear the heartbeat here and there.

But I can’t even say for a single second that I regret buying it. At multiple appointments either the assistant was having trouble finding the heartbeat and I would point them in the right direction of where babes liked to hangout or the OB was too lazy to try for longer than 45 seconds and just stopped. Where the fuck is the comfort in that when the professionals can’t do it right?! The only reason I didn’t panic was because I had just heard the heartbeat on my own doppler the day before or mere hours before that appointment.

But it still didn’t stop me from asking my belly almost daily, “Are you in there?”, “Are you okay?”

Like I said, it’s been terrifying.

When the second trimester rolled around and all my awful symptoms of constant nausea, headaches, lack of energy, etc., wore off ..that was it. I knew for sure that now I had lost the baby, because I didn’t “feel pregnant.” My appetite has been pretty nonexistent for the first half of my pregnancy, causing me to only gain about 7 pounds since conceiving, and although my belly did bloat, it still wasn’t enough to make me feel pregnant. I heard that the second trimester was going to be the easiest (and seriously, so far it has been!), but I didn’t realize that everything would just melt away instantly like that. Again, this is when my doppler could provide me the only reassurance I would accept.

Now every time my baby squirms or kicks, I know she’s there. This time I didn’t cry when I first saw her at our 20-week anatomy scan and I think it’s because I can feel her more and more. She is finally able to give me the reassurance I have been dying for and I have my sanity back ..for the most part.

I still worry that something can go wrong or that I’m not giving her what she needs and I don’t think those worries are ever really going to go away. But with each kick to the ribs or jolt to my belly, I know she’s still there and I can breathe again.

Very excited to announce this is my first blog written on our new desktop!! Tuts went out to buy it today and it’s quite fitting, an exciting purchase for my exciting news I’m going to share!

Today was part one of our genetic testing. Now we don’t have any real need for genetic testing, neither of us has a family history of any genetic disorders but we figured it couldn’t hurt. It also came with an ultrasound sooooo I wasn’t about to turn down the possibility of seeing the baby!

I am 13+2 today and have to go back for part 2 of the genetic testing at 16 weeks so we won’t have the results for some time, which is a bummer and will probably feel like forever. But today we did get to see a lot of the baby and it was just simply amazing.

So, like I said, along with bloodwork, we had an ultrasound today to measure a part of the baby’s head/neck (I believe it was the lymph node area closer to the neck but don’t quote me on that). But along with that, we got to see all of the baby!! This was the most we have ever seen of babes and it goes without saying that I cried like a little bitch.

We saw the full picture of babes all curled up, sucking away on its thumb and it was just the sweetest thing. Then we were zooming into the arms, legs, and chest. We saw the baby’s brain, kidneys and heart and even all the blood flow from the heart and placenta. Seeing the heart and even the umbilical cord pumping away was simply wild and more reassuring then I could ever explain. It still totally and completely amazes me how the human bodies come together to create another human and then a woman goes on to grow that human inside of her. Honestly, I am honored to be able to experience this.

The ultrasound tech was trying really hard to get a full crown to rump picture, but babes, much like momma, was being quite stubborn and was refusing to turn onto its back. While we waited for the baby to move, we just watched as it went from curled up to stretched out, sucking its thumb and wiping its face and just moving all around. And we were in awe. 

A REAL HUMAN BABY IN MOVING AROUND IN ME. HOW TOTALLY INSANE IS THAT?!?!?!

I think it finally fully hit me and Nick, like this is real. There is actually a baby inside of me and come 7 months that baby will be here for us to hold. It just blows my mind.

But just seeing the baby today, seeing it wiggle around and knowing (from what I can tell) it’s growing the way it’s supposed to was simply magical. We were totally robbed of this at our 12-week appointment and the today’s tech was just so sweet, explaining everything to us of what we were looking at as she went along …because there as totally a point I thought we were still looking at babes head but it was actually the stomach lmao.

Regardless of how these results come out, after seeing the baby move around today, Nick and I just fell more deeply in love with this baby and nothing will change that. We are more excited now then we have been before. Here’s to getting some baby shopping done in the near future 😊

A few people have asked me what happened to my blog. Between our two computers, I have about 4 or 5 posts that are done or needed some editing and they just never made it up.

Honestly looking back at what I have written and my mindset at 13, 15 and 20 weeks ..I didn’t even know what I was in for.

So what happened? Well, a lot.

First off, this blog started as my therapy for dealing with the loss of mine and Nicks’s first pregnancy. It was my only healthy way of coping. As time went on and I got further into this current pregnancy, I was less focused on coping our loss and more stressed about not losing this baby. And a part of me was terrified to get attached, to write about anything and sometimes to even acknowledge this pregnancy.

I used the fuck out of Facebook support groups, had strangers convincing me that my fears were normal, and my baby was more than likely perfectly safe and fine in my growing belly. I also spent a lot of time with Nick going to the Same Day Evaluation Clinic (SDEC) to make sure baby was still okay.

Overall, it has been emotionally exhausting. And it still is.

But after physically going through it all, writing about it wasn’t what I felt like I needed and if I wasn’t personally benefiting from writing then what was I gaining? At the same time, this blog was written focused on miscarriage and I didn’t and still don’t want it to morph into something 100% pregnancy based. Finding that connection was also hard for me.

So I took a long and much needed break to focus on me and baby and now, we’re back.

I’m going to do my best to pick up where I left off and try to put together the pieces.

Thanks for showing me patience and sticking with me. Now, please enjoy the multiple uploads coming your way.

So, I’m not pregnant and I swore off taking tests. Fine.

It’s Thursday now, July 4th. Four days from the last time I took a test.

Still. No. Period.

Something has got to be up. It has to. I mean, I’m still not having any symptoms, no crazy, extreme tiredness like last time, no breast tenderness. Just a lack of a period, that’s it really.

We’re heading up to Schofield to see the fireworks display with Brittany, her family and some friends but I’m feeling off. My stomach is in a bit of a knot and I just want to curl into a ball of blankets on the couch and blow off fireworks altogether. Nick isn’t protesting the idea, if I’m not feeling good then we’ll just stay in.

I’m lying on the couch watching TV while Nick’s playing video games but I can’t seem to shake this feeling. This stupid gut feeling that just won’t go away. I really don’t want to bring it up again, but something in me is telling me to just say it. Before I can even finish contemplating it in my head, my mouth just blurts out, “Something is telling me to just take a test again.” God fucking dammit Ellen. Give this boy a break. Give yourself a break. You just had a miscarriage. You had a weird last period. So it’s late, your body hasn’t regulated yet. Enough already.

But it was too late, I already said it.

I looked over at Nick. I could tell this just wasn’t what he wanted to hear, we’ve both been through so much emotionally and this was just going to upset us all over again. I was still trying to processing how I felt about it, but there was this voice in my head that just wouldn’t shut up.

“Alright, so just take a test then” Nick responded.

I went to the fridge, grabbed a Gatorade and chugged it down. I decided on taking the last blue dye test I had left, so that way if it was a waste of a test, at least it wasn’t a “good” test wasted.

I went to the bathroom, took my 4th test and sat there staring.

“NICK!!!!!!!!!!”

I walked over to Nick, almost in a trance. There is was, two lines. A positive.

I looked over at Nick, “It’s positive! But it’s still faint. And it’s the shitty blue test.”

“So, what does that mean?” Nick asked. I responded,“I don’t know. I’m going to take my last First Response and see what that says.”

I chugged down some water, grabbed the last test I had and for the 5th time, peed on the stick.

Two lines.

I showed it to Nick and I sobbed. We are pregnant again. Really, truly pregnant.

A wave of emotions came over me:

Happiness, of course, we’re going to have a baby!

Fear, what if we lose this baby too.

Guilt, but what about the last baby.

Heartache, the last time I was pregnant was supposed to be the baby we had.

More guilt, stop downplaying this baby that you have now.

Confusion, am I supposed to feel this way?

Excitement, WE’RE PREGNANT!!!

It was a punch to the heart, in both a good and bad way.

Nick hugged me and we looked at each other “We’re going to have a baby” he said. I have no idea how to prepare for this. The first pregnancy after a miscarriage. We are now entering foreign territory. But Nick is in this with me, and I know we can make it through this.

So I texted Brit, “We’re still coming, I’ll see you in a bit” ..I mean, I’m only experiencing some mild nausea from the pregnancy 😀

For now, this will be mine and Nick’s little secret.

Three failed tests. Monday, Friday, Sunday. All negative.

Fuck.

____________________________________________________________

Are we trying? Yes and no I guess. We lost our baby towards the end of April and weren’t allowed to have sex until the second(ish) week of May. But conceiving again was the last thing on our minds. And then somewhere that changed. I want a baby, Nick wants a baby. We want to make a family and to be happy. I wasn’t looking at my ovulation days and studying calendars, it was more of once my period ended, we kind of just went for it and figured lets see what happens. ____________________________________________________________

Do I have symptoms, yes and no. I mean, my period is late. Three days late. No period symptoms besides some acne which is new for me. Pregnancy symptoms though – spurts of exhaustion and nausea but that could also be accredited to my tardy period too.

I decided to take a test Monday to soften the blow of my period coming. I knew it was too soon to tell if I was pregnant but I did it anyway. I used a First Response, pink dye. Negative.

Friday my period hadn’t started and I was curious. With no cramps or anything, I decided to take another test. I sat and waited to see how many lines would show up. One. Negative. I threw it right in the trash.

An hour later, I went back into that bathroom to look at it again. “Nick, come here please!” I yelled in a hurried voice. “Do you see anything?” Nick held the test up to the light, “Ehh, I kinda see what you’re talking about.”

There was the faintest line possible. And I know what people say, a faint line is still a line. But really, I felt in my heart I wasn’t pregnant. Or that if I was, it wouldn’t stick. This test, I should add, was a Clear Blue, blue ink.

I decided to reach out to the “Trying to conceive after a miscarriage” Facebook support page. When I had rechecked that test today, two days after taking it, the line was still faint but more visible. Is that a thing?! Can the test show a clearer sign after a day or two?! I have seen people post about “evaporation lines” on the page too …is that what was going on? So I posted a picture of the test and reached out to these women to get their opinions.

What is really disappointing is that these women all know how it feels to lose a pregnancy/baby and most likely to have a negative result before. And some of them were blunt as fuck.

“This looks negative to me. Sorry.”

“Invalid, evap at that point…”

“Invalid, doesn’t count.”

Yes, I did put myself out there and turned to Facebook to ask a question but sheesh, a bit harsh

to me. Especially when I’m already feeling disappointed with a negative. Some people were quite nice though, and helpful too. Apparently, blue ink dyes are less reliable and tend to have “evaporation lines” more frequently. Evaporation lines, to my understanding, are a false positive. I was also told that the first urine of the day would be the most accurate.

So that’s that. Nick and I went food shopping today (Sunday) and bought another pack of First Response with pink dye. We decided I would wait until Monday morning when Nick got up for work to take the test. So, we carried on with our day and food shopping. As we walked the aisles, all my energy drained from me. Like I physically could not stop yawning and every cell in my entire body just desired my bed. I grabbed a french vanilla coffee hoping that would help to kick this sudden wave of exhaustion.

Driving home from the grocery store, all I thought about was how many hours were left until I could take this test. Was Monday the right idea? Do I really have it in me to wait? When we got home, it was seriously the only thing I could think about. We put away the groceries and I sat on the couch contemplating my options. Finally, I said to Nick that maybe waiting for Monday wasn’t the best idea.

“What if it’s negative, then you go to work upset and I’m stuck at home upset. At least if that’s the outcome, we can support each other now if I take it today.”

At the end of the day, Nick wants to make me happy. I know he would have preferred me to wait but I couldn’t contain myself. So, he told me to do whatever I felt I needed to. I opened the new box, grabbed a test and went to the bathroom.

Negative.

Stone cold negative.

I was not pregnant.

There. Fine, that’s my answer then. It’s done, that’s that. Three negatives, it’s pretty clear that I wasn’t going to get the answer I wanted. I knew deep down I wasn’t pregnant, I just hoped that if I wished hard enough, it would come true. But that never seems to work.

“The world is not a wish-granting factory” -The Fault In Our Stars

No one warns you about this part. The obsession of test taking after losing a baby and hoping you may be pregnant again. Something just takes over you, it consumes you, it’s all that you can think about.

One thing I didn’t really take into consideration was Nick, how this was all affecting him. When it came to the miscarriage, I completely had his back. But now, with all this, all I thought about was myself. I wanted to know why my period was late, I couldn’t wait a week, even a full day to take a test. And I didn’t really seem to think how this was emotionally taking a toll on him. And that sucks.

So it’s over. I am done taking tests, I am done trying to convince my body that I’m pregnant and I am done crushing myself and Nick with every new negative.

We always have next month, right?

Sisters … we love each other, we fight, we make up, we fight again, we don’t talk, then we make up. But always, no matter what happens, no matter who said what, we love each other. 

Claire is my big sister, she is three years older than me. Claire is the middle child and I am the baby, we play the roles quite well. I am “the angel,” “mom’s favorite.” I got away with more than my brother and sister combined and there was always a touch of resentment from my siblings for that. Claire, on the other hand, had “middle child syndrome.” There were times when she felt misunderstood and that more often than not, mom took my side when she and I fought. Maybe that was true. 

And boy did we fight. Like damn cats and dogs. Claire was my big sister and I idolized her, I wanted to do what she did. She loved Egypt so I wanted to move to Egypt. She did Irish step dancing and dance class at Dance Odyssey, so I did too. She had a friend over and I wanted to hang out with them. She was friends with cute boys and I wanted to date them. But I was the annoying, copycat little sister. 

As we got older, the fights changed. They hurt more and lasted longer. At one point, I thought I lost my sister for good. Then she got pregnant. How on Earth could I keep this fight up and not know my niece?! Zelda was innocent in all this, she never fought with me, she didn’t do a thing. Hell she wasn’t even born yet. She is innocent.

It wasn’t overnight, but Claire and I worked through our problems. We learned in the long run, it’s best to acknowledge that we hurt each other, genuinely apologize and keep the past in the past. What happened, happened. We couldn’t take it back. We instead, chose to learn from it and do better now. If someone gets hurt, we calmly talk about it and explain our hurt rather then exploding about it. Yesterday is gone, but we still have today and tomorrow. 

Through my miscarriage, Claire has done so much for me. There were people who listened, Katie and Brittany. There were people who held me while I cried, Nick. There were people who said what I wanted to hear, Mom. And there were are people who said what I needed to hear, Claire. 

Claire is very much like me, she doesn’t sugarcoat things, she tells you like it is. She has been upfront and honest with me, she tells me what I need to hear. 

She has been patient and understanding, calm and loving and certainly protective. 

She lets me get out my fears of future pregnancies and although it may not be what I want to hear, she reminds me that the fear a mother has for their baby never ends. It’s a scary world. Terrible things happen. Those fears don’t go away once you make it through a pregnancy. New ones develop along the way, too. But Claire reminds me that that shouldn’t stop me from finding happiness in another pregnancy.

And what about the baby I lost? The thought of getting pregnant again seems like forgetting that I was pregnant before. “Impossible,” Claire tells me. She reminds me of all the ways Nick and I and our family and friends honor our lost baby. She tells me how she talks to Zelda about her cousin in Heaven and that when Nick and I have a baby, we’ll do the same. 

I have fears. HUGE fears. But instead of telling me “Everything is going to be okay,” Claire tells me that this is what being a mother is all about. Fearing for your child because you love them and want to protect them. But it is the most rewarding thing in this world to be a mother.  

From this, mine and Claire’s relationship has metamorphosed into something we’ve never known before. Who knew it would take us becoming mothers to be able to see eye to eye. To understand each other better. But I am so thankful we have been able to reach our common ground. To be there for each other, in times of happiness and sadness. Without anger, without judgment, just love. 

I’m sure in the future we’ll have disagreements again, it’s what sisters do. But we are more prepared to handle them now. And we see the bigger picture. Life is incomplete without family, life is incomplete without my sister. 

I am unbelievably thankful to Zelda for helping me and my sister come back to each other. And I am so thankful that my sister and I were able to look past our hurt and I am a part of Zelda’s life. 

I admit, sometimes it’s rough. I see all the exciting things Claire gets to do with Zee, I see all the love Claire has for her and I’m envious. I want to know how that feels. I want to feel that with my own baby. But I know that one day, I’ll get that experience. For now, I find happiness in seeing pictures of Claire and Zelda out for a walk, watching a video of Zelda making silly faces and Facetimes of Zee trying to eat the phone. 

I haven’t even met her yet and my heart explodes with the amount of love I have for my niece. 

Claire and Zelda are coming to visit Nick and me, a huge thank you to our mother who was able to plan this trip last minute, and I cannot even put into words how much it means to me that I get to see my sister and meet little Zelda bean while she’s still a baby. I’ll be counting down the days until I pick them up at the airport in August! 

At the end of the day, we have learned that what is most important is to have family in our lives. They are the ones who will be there for you, day in and day out. They will always love you. And I will always love my sister. 

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Claire and Zelda’s trip couldn’t have been any better, it was just too perfect for words. We chased the sunrise, took trips to the beach and went to the Dole plantation for little Zelda bean to have her pineapple whip. 

Zelda 100% has Nick and I totally and completely wrapped around her little finger. 

Spending this time with Zelda and Claire was more than I imagined it to be and I remain incredibly thankful for them in mine and Nick’s lives. 

*safe to say Ziggy was a bit obsessed with Zelda, he loved keeping a close eye on her.