The beauty in the pain

Every pregnancy is different. Every loss is different. Every experience is different.

Some people plan a pregnancy, others are surprised. Some people have healthy babies, some don’t. Some women started to bleed and find out that their baby is passing, others have to schedule the surgery or take the pills. Everything is different, everyone’s experiences are different.

One thing though, we can all empathize with a woman, a family, who lost a baby.

I would like to give a special nod to Ashley. She is an incredible photographer, beautifully capturing amazing memories of weddings, maternity, lifestyle shoots, and so much more.

I saw a post of hers on a Facebook support group I had joined and was completely taken back by how she took such a horrible thing and made it beautiful.

Ashley took 19 women, all who have experienced a loss of a baby, and allowed them to tell their stories. She gave these women an opportunity to tell their experience, share their baby’s names, gain closure, raise awareness and so much more.

This. This is everything I want and am trying to do.

Unfortunately, I am unable to provide a direct link to so this photo shoot but I did receive her permission to share her work. I am going to attach some of the photos that really stuck out to me but please take a minute to check out Ashley’s photo shoot she did with these amazing, courageous women. You can trace her entire photo
shoot by going to her Facebook page and scrolling to her post from October 14, 2018. The way she captured the raw emotion, the truth, the pain and just the overall experiences these women went through, well it was just too beautiful not to share.

For more information on Ashley, you can find her on Facebook as Paige Photography or reach her by Gmail: paigephotographywv@gmail.com or go to her website paigephotographywv.com/

Hiatus

Being that my last post was in late June and it is now mid-August, I think it’s fair to say I have taken a small break. There have been plenty of topics I thought I could write about, and I wanted to write about but the connection just wasn’t there.

Then yesterday I had a really lovely conversation with such an amazing family member of mine and they let me know what my writing meant to them. Not that they are going through exactly what I have, but just that they admired how open and honest I have been about my emotions and experiences. My writing touched them. And it rooted me back to why I continued writing, to help others while helping myself. I’d like to quickly thank them for reminding me of that.

Sincerely, thank you.

I think it is fair to say that when it comes to my miscarriage, I am in the acceptance stage of grief. That does not, by any means, mean that I have forgotten about the baby Nick and I lost, that I don’t think about her or even still cry about her. I still do all of that. But I am not as devastated, not as shattered. I have begun to pick up my pieces and I am putting them back together. There are most certainly still hard days. And on those days, I lean on Nick, my family, and friends, and I make it through.

There are times that my baby is brought up and I can easily say “I had a miscarriage” or “I was pregnant but lost that baby” and it isn’t traumatizing to say. And quite honestly I thank this blog for that. Writing about it and opening up about it has taken away that initial sting, that shock from it. I can say it, still feeling hurt but not totally lose my shit. And then there are other days when I think “If I were still pregnant with that baby I would be X weeks along. I would know the gender. I would be showing. I would have started to buy clothes and pick out furniture, etc.” and it’s devastating. It all comes in waves. I suppose it always will.

But today, I am okay. I miss her, I always will, but I am okay. And I remain thankful that I got to carry her and be her mom for those 10 short weeks. That baby made me a mom. I was somebody’s mother. I still can’t quite wrap my head around that but yeah. And one day in the future, I will be a mom again. I stay looking forward to it.

For now, I will do my best to continue writing and posting as feelings and topics come to me, hoping to inspire, connect and relate to others.

I’m back.

Therapy, validation, understanding.

So why am I writing a blog? What is so special about me and my life and my miscarriage that it requires attention? Why can’t I just be like any other woman who had a miscarriage and move on? Three reasons: therapy, validation, and understanding.

Therapy

This is my therapy. I am absolutely that person that gets all flustered when I verbally try to explain myself, my ideas, my train of thought and my way of thinking. Things make perfect sense in my head but when I try to put it into words, it just doesn’t come out right. For some reason, when I get my fingers on a keyboard, things just naturally pour out of me. I don’t have to think, I don’t have to feel. The world around me kind of just goes fuzzy and I immerse myself into a topic. My hands type things I didn’t even know I was feeling or thinking at the time. It’s like I am under hypnosis and things come out without my control. And I love it because it sheds a light of clarity for me. It helps me understand myself and my actions so much better. When I reread what I have typed I usually have that aha moment of “Holy shit, that’s why I did xy&z the other night for no reason!” There was a reason, a deeper reason and rethinking and typing about it helps me to navigate and work through it. There are also times that I am so stuck in my head that I don’t want to try to explain it to other people because I don’t know how to make it make sense to someone who hasn’t been in my shoes. I felt this way after Stephen died too. I just didn’t want to put in the effort of having to try and make it make sense to someone else, so instead, I isolated myself and my feelings and rotted in my own head. And it was really hard and very miserable. I got deeply depressed, I had awful feelings and it was ugly. So now instead of trying to make someone understand, I type. I get my feelings out, I post them and let people read them. And if they don’t understand or can’t relate, that’s okay because, at the end of the day, I feel better. Above all other reasons, if this only helps myself, I am happy. This is my way of giving me back to myself. This is my therapy.

2) Validation

This was a hope that’s slowly becoming a reality. I felt so confused because I had all these emotions and I was feeling them all at the same time. I loved people but hated them. I want to have another baby but am terrified at the thought. I’m fine one minute and a hysterical mess the next. I am hypocritical and I pick unnecessary fights and I didn’t know where to turn to. With this blog, I want to share what I am experiencing so that another person in my shoes can use this as a tool. They can read this, see that I was going through the same things they are and they can feel validated. They aren’t crazy, overdramatic, being silly or ridiculous, and most importantly, their loss isn’t minimized because their baby wasn’t born, was only X amount of weeks developed or because they lost their baby X amount of years ago and are only opening up about it now. I want every person who ever felt this pain to feel validated. To know that we are all in the same boat. We may be riding the waves differently, but we’re in the same boat nonetheless and we have every right to feel the way we do. That the sadness, the depression, the anger, the pure rage, the laziness, the disconnect, the confusion and the feeling of betrayal …well, it’s normal. And it’s okay. We all go through this and it’s perfectly okay.

Nothing is wrong with you. This wasn’t your fault. And all your feelings, are valid.

3) Understanding

This was something that truly I never anticipated but am amazed at. Some people simply don’t get it, to no fault of their own, but they just haven’t been through the heartbreak of a loss. And I am happy as hell for them because this really is just horrible. But for those who haven’t been through it, this is also a tool for them to help them understand. Again, this wasn’t what I had anticipated. This blog started selfishly to be about me and my hurt, then it progressed to helping others who have been/are going through it. But since posting, I have been receiving such kind words from family and friends who haven’t experienced miscarriage or the loss of a child in general and have been told that my writing has helped them to understand. The fact that my blog is able to help others understand the mindset of someone going through this, it can help them to understand that sometimes it isn’t always about knowing what to say but just to listen, to follow the lead of the person who’s hurting, to understand maybe they don’t like the term “rainbow baby,” or being more aware of not asking pressuring questions like “When are you going to start trying again?” that’s huge. We’ve all fallen victim to saying the wrong thing, with no intention of being malicious, but to the person we said it to, it wasn’t taken well. I admit I’ve given out complete unsolicited advice to new moms I know without them asking. Granted I am trying to relate and give them the advice I was told by my sister or close friend, but that can still come off as me saying “You’re not doing it right,” whether I meant to or not. So knowing that people have read my blog and understand there are just some things to be aware of that you should or shouldn’t say or do, that they can use my experiences as a tool, I think that’s amazing and I’m happy to help!

All in all, this blog started as an idea. Writing the “We were expecting. We weren’t expecting this” story was how it all started and it was insanely therapeutic. I shared it with three friends first, then my mother, sister and husband and now I’ve put it out there for anyone to read. And it seems to be making a difference. That’s all I want to do, make some sort of difference. I want to help others, and myself, to achieve therapy, validation, and understanding. And I’m excited to see where this blog continues to take me. I want to take a minute to thank you for giving me your time and reading this, it really means a lot to me. I hope you stick around for the ride.

Damned if you do, damned if you don’t.

I’m hot and I’m cold, all the damn time. We can all be a bit of a hypocrite now and then, but I’m telling you, this miscarriage has really brought it out in me so much more.

I really hate that people feel the need to walk on eggshells around me because I’m the one who lost a baby. It can be pretty obvious that people don’t know what to say to me or how to say it, all because I had a miscarriage. I can still talk to you about you and your baby or baby related topics. Yes, I lost my baby but I can still engage in a normal conversation. Just talk to me like I’m a regular person, please.

At the same time, why don’t people ask how I’m doing anymore or send me a random message/text telling me they love me or they’re just thinking about me? Am I old new already? And is it seriously so hard to think about me when you’re posting someone’s gender reveal on your social media?! At least have the decency to block me from being able to view the post. Do you not realize that I lost a baby and I am hurting like all the damn time?!

Completely hypocritical. I know. But that’s how I feel.

I want to be able to engage in normal conversations, to talk about babies and baby stuff. But I still want my feelings to be cared about and protected. One day I may feel great and can participate in a baby conversation or see a commercial for diapers on the TV and not totally lose my shit. Other days, a pregnant woman walking past me at the store can totally set me off and ruin the rest of my day.

I get bummed out thinking everyone’s already forgotten that they were supposed to be a grandparent/aunt/uncle/cousin/whatever. I feel like my baby is old news, that shes fading away and will be forgotten about. I hate that.

But I also don’t want to be reminded of it on the daily, especially when I’m having a productive day and don’t want my sad feelings dragging me down.

I think a good rule of thumb is to follow my lead on it. If I bring it up, then it’s cool to talk about but if I’m shying away from the conversation then it’s too much. But isn’t that asking a lot from people? Especially the ones I don’t see often or only communicate to through phone?

It really is a damned if you do, damned if you don’t kind of situation. And I remind myself to be patient in times of hurt or frustration, but I’m only human and sometimes my emotions get the better of me.

I guess the purpose of this post is to ask others to be patient with me too. Not that they haven’t been. It’s been two months to the day of my D&C and I’m still trying to wrap my head around this all. That I was pregnant and now I’m not.

Time has helped to make it easier, I don’t spend my entire day crying anymore. But there are times I space out and think, “Holy shit, I was actually pregnant,” or “Why did this have to happen to us?! Why couldn’t we have just had a normal, healthy pregnancy??”

Patience. I just have to remember to be patient and ask that others continue to be patient with me.

Rainbows are beautiful, in the sky

I get it, rainbows are the beauty after the storm. The healthy baby after the loss of another. But respectfully, it’s not for me.

I’m not at all trying to disrespect those who use the term or find comfort in it. More power to you. I do think the meaning is actually quite beautiful.

But if you ask me, rainbows are meant for the sky …not my uterus.

I remember when my cousins had their first son not too long after my brother died. They said they wanted to name him Stephen, after my brother. Although this was such a heartwarming and touching sentiment to him, the idea was declined. It was declined, not because it would be too hard or emotional, but because the family wanted that baby to grow up with his own identity, his own legacy.

I feel like labeling my next pregnancy rainbow baby would be similar. I don’t want my next baby to grow up with a weight on their shoulders like they’re living for two. That they have to make it up to me that I lost the baby right before I got pregnant with them.

After my dad died when I was eight, I immediately put this pressure on myself that only grew. It grew when my siblings and mom got into a fight, it grew when I knew my mom couldn’t afford something, it grew when I saw my mom cry and it especially grew when my brother died.

I didn’t get into trouble, I didn’t sneak out or break curfew, I stayed away from drugs. I more often than not listened to my mom and didn’t break the rules. As I got older I dedicated myself to my grades. I bought Christmas presents I couldn’t afford and threw love in my moms face every chance I could.

Now it’s not to say those are all necessarily bad things or that I “missed out.” Not at all. And never will I blame this on my mom. I did this. I unnecessarily assigned myself this weight on my shoulders to be as perfect as I could. I wanted to be a good student and a perfect daughter to make my moms day easier. She’d been through enough and if me not fighting with her could save her some grief, then that’s what I’d do. But in doing this, I put too much pressure on myself. Those normal mother-daughter arguments that happen, I took way too much to heart. Disappointing my mother would eat me alive, because then I knew I caused her hurt. I caused her pain or suffering when it’s my job to take that all away.

Except it wasn’t.

I know what it’s like to grow up at a young age and feel weighed down and overwhelmed by all that pressure. Because of that, I will not assign my baby the title of “rainbow baby.”

A lot of people, from strangers to close family and friends, have told me that I will get my rainbow. And that’s okay. If someone says that to me, I’ll brush it off and thank them. I won’t get into why I am choosing not to define my next baby with that title. To me, it’s not worth something getting stressed over.

What they don’t realize though, when some of these people say, “I know you’re hurting now but you will get your rainbow,” makes it seem like this next pregnancy will be a solution. A way to fix my hurt.

I don’t want to have a baby to fill the void of my loss. It’s funny really, I used to say that I want to be pregnant because I wanted the belly. I am fascinated with pregnancy, how from an egg and sperm the female body creates a human. I am in awe of the growing process, feeling the baby move or hiccup. That’s what I wanted, to experience that.

What I want now is to make a family. I want to create a life with Nick. I want to still feel that baby growing inside me, but also to watch it grow up in life. I want to see who it looks like, who it acts like. I want to see and hear all the funny things it does and says. I want to see all that it’s capable of, the things it’s going to learn to do and how it’s going to make this world a more enjoyable place to be a part of. I want to create a life and grow a family with Nick, not fill a void.

Plain and simple, my next baby will be just that, my next baby. Just as someone with a living child has a next baby.

I guess you can say that, technically speaking, I am a rainbow baby. My mom miscarried before me and then I came along. But that term wasn’t around almost 28 years ago and I was allowed to grow up as just a next baby. I didn’t have, as I see it, that pressure that I was the solution to her loss, the fill to her void.

The birth of my next baby won’t be affiliated with the miscarriage of my first baby. My next baby will just be my next baby. Its own person with its own life to live, for no one except themselves.

I want this baby to grow up and do whatever it is that makes them happy. I don’t want this baby to feel like it has to prove anything to me and Nick, that it has to make up in any way that we lost a baby before them. My hope for this next baby, when it chooses to come along, it that it is healthy and happy. I want to give this baby every opportunity I can and fill it with love, just as mine and Nicks six parents did for us.

Here’s a beautiful Hawaiian rainbow to wrap this one up.

fuck a fake smile

I can’t fake another smile

I can’t fake like I’m alright

And I won’t say I’m feeling fine

After what I been through, I can’t lie

-Ariana Grande said it best.

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I have been struggling with this post. I struggle because it’s not nice, it comes from a place of hurt. The things we think in our heads are okay. The things we say to a trusted person in confidence is okay. But when you put something out there, it’s out there for good.

I never want to take away from anyone’s news, anyone’s excitement. Ever. You are pregnant or you just had a baby – well congratulations are in order because that is fantastic.

I never want to spoil the best time in someone’s life. As I hope when the tables turn and I find myself newly pregnant, no one tries to spoil my happiness.

The intent of this post is absolutely not to hurt or offend anyone, at all. And truly I am sorry if it does.

The legit intent is to relate to those going through this.

I can’t tell you how many women post on the support groups I follow “I am surrounded by pregnancy/babies.” And to feel this way after your baby has just died, it’s exhausting. I feel this way. It’s constricting, suffocating. You feel like you can’t breathe, like the walls are closing in on you. You feel insane amounts of pressure to try and try and try again to get pregnant, even if you aren’t ready.

You want to crawl in a hole and stay there until you’ve cried every tear your body can produce. You want to delete all your social media accounts because you simply cannot handle one more pregnancy announcement. But you can’t do that because your support group pages are what gets you through the day.

In all, it’s rough. It’s really fucking rough.

So with that, I am posting this to relate to those that have gone through this. Miscarriage, infancy loss, or just another negative pregnancy test after trying so hard. To validate their feelings, my feelings. But I do not wish to be rude, disrespectful or hurtful to those in my life. If you choose to read this, please, take this with a grain of salt. It was written when I was angry and in an ugly place.

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Can everyone just stop?! Stop getting pregnant, stop posting announcements and stop throwing it in my face ..just until I’m okay again. Until I’m pregnant again?! Just stop. Please.

Obviously these are unrealistic expectations. Life doesn’t stop because I got dealt the shit deck.

Lately, I’ve been okay. I’ve been able to see girls maternity shoots that I went to high school with and it doesn’t send me face deep into a box of tissues. I’ve been okay. But not this time.

Maybe it was because I was already reading Nicks book he bought about becoming a dad. I wanted to read what he had, see the advice he was getting. Maybe that just set the tone. But while I was reading, I got news of another pregnancy this week and I broke.

Truly, I am happy for her. Of course I am. But for some reason, right now I just can’t handle the news.

It was ugly. I completely lost my shit. It was afternoon for me, Nick was at work and it was nighttime for Mom and Claire in England and Ireland. I called them anyway but no answer.

So instead I got into the shower. I sat under the hot water and cried, hard. I wanted to throw shit, hit shit, break shit. I settled for punching the tub until my hand was killing me. Productive, right?

I cried and cried for my baby. For what would have been my life. It was my turn, my opportunities. My facebook announcement. My family that was supposed to grow.

Now let’s not be dramatic…

But I’m surrounded by pregnancy and babies. Literally, surrounded.

I know 13 women currently pregnant, 7 of them being close family/friends and in my everyday life. The other 5 are facebook friends. I know 12 people whos babies are under one year old. Of the 12, I personally know and adore 3 of those babies. These are just the pregnancies/babies I know of, let’s see what June brings us…

But seriously, CAN EVERYONE JUST WAIT A FUCKING MINUTE TO GET PREGNANT?!?!

It’s not really asking that much, is it?

Well yeah, of course it is Ellen. People can’t just put their lives on hold because you lost your baby. People can’t plan their lives around your hurt feelings.

But god wouldn’t it be awesome if that were the case. Logging on to Facebook or Instagram and not seeing babies and bellies every other post.

Jealous. I am totally and completely jealous. And confused. I’m seriously confused. Why did this have to happen to me? When am I going to be ready to try again?

I want to be pregnant right now. This very instant. I want a baby growing in my belly. I should be about 15 weeks now? I want that baby still in me, still healthy. But that’s not the case.

It sucks. It really fucking sucks. And it gets harder to fake a smile, fake that I’m okay, fake that I’m excited for someone who has everything I don’t. This should be me. It was supposed to be me. It was my turn and it was stolen from me. And now everyone else seems to have it.

What the fuck am I supposed to do now? How am I supposed to get through this? What do I do to make it better? Someone, please answer these questions because I’m fucking lost, and everything hurts. Make it stop. Make them stop. Everyone please, just stop. Just until I’m okay again. Please.

Fuck a fake smile.

period.

It’s so final. It’s so permanent. Period.

Periods suck. They are painful, but now they completely redefine pain.

I haven’t experienced this yet but I am completely terrified and dreading it: the first period after trying.

When Nick and I decided we were going to try, we got pregnant instantly ..like in a matter of two weeks. After we lost the baby, it took about 5 weeks for my period to come back. And that was a sad thing but a good thing. Nick kept stressing to me that we need to know my body is healing. That it’s returning back to its “normal” self. So the first period was a good sign.

The period after trying though, that’s going to suck. It’s a slap in the face: you’re not pregnant. You already lost one baby, you had hopes that you created a second. Nope, you’re wrong. Period.

I am terrified. I am terrified to try and get discouraged month after month. I am terrified to take tests and see negatives. I am a very impatient person. If my period was a minute late I thought I was pregnant. When I actually was pregnant, I already knew it in my head. Things were weird. I was overly tired, I was always nauseous, my boobs were killing me. Even then, I couldn’t wait a day past being late. I needed to know right away.

I’ve only had one menstrual cycle since losing our baby and it was a weird one. TMI – I usually have a light cycle but this one was almost barely anything and lasted twice as long. Odd, it was just odd. Since I’ve only had one cycle, I know it hasn’t normalized yet and that can take some time. I’m afraid that when we are trying again, my period will still be out of wack and I’ll think I might possibly be pregnant because I’m late, just to find out I’m late because I haven’t regulated yet.

I am terrified of feeling discouraged. I am terrified. Period.

my favorite things…

Poke and sushi,

Spicy tunas my favorite.

Coronas and champagne,

Best believe I will savor it.

Enjoying it all because attached are no strings

These are a few of my favorite things

Alright, that was weak but you get my point.

Making lemonade out of lemons, I decided I would spend this time not pregnant to enjoy the non-pregnancy safe things. Or just the things I didn’t realize that come with pregnancy. And so it goes:

Poke – thank you to all the fish gods for poke. It’s a game changer.
Sushi – different than poke, still delicious.
Deli meat – okay so I was never crazy about cold cut sandwiches until I was pregnant and couldn’t just have a cold cut sandwich. Screw having to heat it up. And then more specifically:
Salami and prosciutto – I mean duh. Clearly, these aren’t the most healthy of options, but they are the most delicious.
Alcohol – of course. And in all forms. Champagne is my favorite. I don’t know who I think I am, some bougie bitch, but champagne always makes me happy. Then there’s your glass of riesling or cabernet sauvignon. A cold IPA or just your classic corona with lime. I enjoy it all.
Not having to pack emergency snacks – who knew the life or death possibilities of being out an hour longer than expected and truly understanding the meaning of hangry. I would cut a bitch for a cracker when I was pregnant and didn’t pack snacks.
Hot baths – surprisingly I haven’t taken a bath since being pregnant, but it is still nice to know I don’t have to stress over the water temperature.
No nausea – I didn’t have any morning sickness while pregnant (fingers crossed next time around is the same) but I would experience waves of nausea. It’s safe to say I don’t miss it.
Paddleboarding – maybe it’s just falling down in general but I would have never gone paddleboarding because it wasn’t safe with all the falling down that would happen. Nick and I did this about 2ish weeks ago and it was a blast!
Hikes – so like above, I couldn’t do things where I had a good chance of falling. The hikes we do are usually some degree of challenging and it wouldn’t be safe in my eyes to do them pregnant. Then there’s the whole getting exhausted very easily that made most hikes out of the question while pregnant -at least in the first trimester.
Food trucks -so this one may seem silly, but you never really know how things are cooked in a food truck. Okay, you don’t know how things are really cooked unless you are cooking them but for some reason, food trucks can seem a bit sketchy to me. Hawaii is filled with food trucks and now I get to explore and not worry much about how “safe” it is.
Cat litter – okay so this isn’t a favorite per se but it sure makes my husband happy that he’s not the only one cleaning up after the cats.
Working out – this is something Nick and I have been doing together. I can join him in the morning at the gym and not have to google if everything I do is safe or not. I can just go, pick things up and put them down, then go home exhausted but feeling good.
Cheese – having to look and see if the cheese I bought was pasteurized or not wasn’t the end of the world but it was something I wouldn’t always remember to do. It was after making a stuffed shell dinner with Brit and sticking it in the oven that I realized I never checked to see if the ricotta cheese was pasturized or not. Now I can just enjoy my cheese carelessly.
Raw food in general – I already touched on fish but what about steak. I can order my steak medium rare, I can enjoy a medium cooked burger. I don’t have to settle for my protein 100% cooked and I love it.
Medicine! – okay so when I was pregnant, I was worried about taking tylenol too much. I just didn’t want to be putting medication into my system that the baby didn’t need to be exposed to. Now if I have a headache that won’t go away or a sore back, I can carelessly pop a 600mg ibuprofen and feel better soon.
Caffeine – I’m not a big soda drinker and I don’t like coffee but I do enjoy a latte or caramel macchiato here and there. I don’t have them often but again, I can enjoy them carelessly when the craving hits.
Home repairs – now I’m not jumping for joy with this but it is something that has to get done. With the wonderful moving company ruining our kitchen table, Nick and I have decided it’s time to give it a makeover. I can now assist with the painting instead of leaving it all up to Nick to get done.
Sleep – in any position! Not having to feel uncomfortable laying on my belly or sore boobs. How about just not having sore boobs in general?! It’s a glorious feeling!!
Not having to moisturize – okay so I know moisturizing is important and it helps with healthy skin, blah blah blah. But let’s be real, it’s a pain in the ass. Thanks to Katie, I upgraded to a wet skin moisturizer that you can use in the shower to make things a bit easier but still, I would moisturize my belly, sides, butt and boobs when I got out of the shower. Now it’s just when I remember to or am in the mood to. Much easier this way than making it a daily chore.

I’m sure there’s a whole bunch more that I can’t think of off the top of my head but this gets the point across. Lemonade out of lemons!

With this all being said, I will have no problem giving all these up to carry a sweet baby in me again. When the time is right, of course.

Until then, poke and champagne it is for me!

swim.

You gotta swim

Swim for your life

Swim for the music

That saves you

When you’re not so sure you’ll survive

…

I swim to brighter days

Despite the absence of sun

Choking on salt water

I’m not giving in

You gotta swim

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Just home from the Andrew McMahon in the Wilderness show in Honolulu. It was the most emotional musical experience I have had in a while. His songs hit me in ways they never have before.

When I listen to music, I hear the lyrics. I understand the meaning in the ways that I decipher them, rather than just singing along. I hear the rhythm, I listen to the different instruments and I find how these songs apply to my current life.

Andrews songs get me, mostly his Jacks Mannequin albums. He sings about love, relationships, health, life turning points. But tonight I related his songs to my new current life: wanting to build a family, miscarriage, and love.

Rainy Girl, Cecilia and the Satellite, Swim and No Man is an Island.

Rainy Girl and Cecilia and the Satellite -both songs are about his daughter. Before performing, he would explain the meaning to some of the songs and he just gushed about his daughter and how his entire life changed for the better because of her. This is something I cannot wait for Nick and I to know. That pure, unconditional love that makes you smile ear to ear when you tell strangers about how cool your child is. The kind of love that makes you want to be a better person, strive to do your best in life to give your child everything they deserve. The kind of love that makes you fight to give them all the opportunities you didn’t have. I cannot wait to listen to these songs one day with my baby in my arms and just take it all in and truly understand their meaning.

Swim – Swim is about the struggles life throws at us. Andrew is a cancer survivor, he knows struggles. Although I haven’t struggled with my health in the degrees he has, I have had my own case of struggles. This miscarriage being one of them. But as shown at the beginning of my post, he states you have to swim despite the absence of sun. Meaning that even though the happy ending, the silver lining, the “worthwhile” is not in sight, you need to fight for it. You can’t give up on it. Because it’s close, it’s coming, you just have to keep strong, keep fighting, hold on a bit longer, swim. We’re not pregnant yet, but it’s coming. Soon.

No Man is an Island – now this was the highlight of my year. This song means so much to me, more then I can explain. Nick sent this song to me as we were coming back to one another, as we were making our lives together worth it. This would be the song I walked down the aisle to. As we drove to the show tonight, I imagined myself telling Andrew McMahon what this song means to us. What his music means to us. How the name of our future daughter is straight out of one of his songs.

During a lull in the show as he chatted with us, the crowd started to shout out song requests. I requested this song. Instantly he started playing the beginning of the song and talked to Nick and me as I told him that this was the song I walked down the aisle to. And I cried. The entire song. A very friendly guy sitting behind us shared the video he took of this encounter. I am so grateful to have this.

These four songs – to me, about the love for children, the life struggles and the love we are so blessed to have in our lives ..well it made tonight unforgettable and I am beyond words grateful. I am grateful to Teddy for sending me this video, I am grateful to Nicola for buying us these tickets. I am grateful for Andrew McMahon for sharing his musical talents. I am just grateful.

Today was a good day.

*just a little something to show even more what an amazing guy he is. And yes, I totally freaked out that he actually responded to me 😊

Validated.

Am I crazy?!

Somedays I really feel like I’m being overdramatic. I feel like I’m one of those people I make fun of –the generation with feelings. (Not saying having or expressing feelings is a bad thing but doesn’t it seem like people feel the need to feel some type of way over every.little.thing?!)

I feel stupid. I feel like this blog is stupid. I had a miscarriage. So what? Hundreds, thousands, MILLIONS of women have had them. Some even had multiple. I am not the first and I won’t be the last. So why on Earth am I so hyper-focused on it? I should just move on, shouldn’t I?

Then last night after dinner, my husband was cleaning up the kitchen, I grabbed my Corona and the laptop and came outside to type. After a few minutes, Nick came to sit with me and asked if he could show me a song. I saved what I wrote, closed the computer and gave my full attention to what my husband wanted to share with me.

And I cried.

Nick is able to focus his pain in productive ways, like work and college classes and exercise. And I am trying to follow his lead (well of course, you’re reading my way of being productive in grief). But sharing this song did two things for me;

It showed me that although we don’t always talk about it, Nick is grieving. He may not have insane emotional breakdowns on the bathroom floor in the middle of the night (guilty as charged), but he is grieving. He’s doing it in his own way and that is 100% okay.

I am not crazy. I am not stupid. My feelings are valid.

Now no matter how much my husband, my mother, my sister, my friends or a therapist tell me I am not crazy, I am not stupid, I am not overreacting, I will still feel like I am time to time. We as humans like to second guess ourselves and we are our own worst critics. Makes sense that I pick myself apart about the way I grieve.

But this band, I grew up listening to them. Ocean Avenue was the song of the summer back in middle school. And now my husband is playing me a song about how 10 years ago when the singer was 22, his girlfriend had a miscarriage. He is now 32, his baby would have been 10 years old and he is still grieving. 10 years later, it still hurts. He thinks about what their lives would have been like. Sharing his love for Star Wars and listening to his child brag to their friends that he’s a cool dad. He is still grieving. I am not crazy, I am not stupid.

I needed this. My husband didn’t know how badly I needed this. It’s scary to think that 10 years down the line I will still be feeling this hurt, but it’s so helpful right now to know that grieving this loss is absolutely okay, and normal, and I am not crazy, I am not stupid.

A song validated me.

When I am sad, when I am crying, when I am explaining how I feel, when I am completely losing my shit, all I need is to be validated. I need to be told its okay to be feeling the way that I am.

I mean, isn’t that what we need anyway? To be heard? To be listened to? And to be told, “You have every right to feel that that way?” Sometimes you just need to hear, “Yes. This sucks. Today sucks, right now sucks, this whole situation sucks. But we have tomorrow and we can make tomorrow better.”

Let’s validate each other. Who knew it had so much power? I didn’t before but I sure as shit do now.

I don’t know who needs to hear this but, whatever you are going through – it sucks. I am sorry you have to deal with this. You are 100% allowed to feel this way. Whether you are mad, sad, envious, exhausted, annoyed, outraged, confused, or even happy, excited, cheerful, content …if you’re a mixture of these or you’re feeling something I didn’t mention, it is okay to be feeling this way. Take it in, understand why you are feeling this way and know no matter how alone you feel, we are here for you. There are people who love you, care about you and they are here. Maybe you think they won’t understand, maybe they won’t. Maybe you think they don’t want to be bothered, if they love you, you could never bother them. But people are here to listen. Talk about it. Let someone in, it helps. And however you are feeling, it is okay to feel that way. In time, it will get better. It’s going to be okay. But most of all, your feelings are valid.