When you ask me, "How are You?"

Not a simple answer ---my head is usually bombarded with realistic feelings and thoughts, but I will most likely respond with, "doing ok." Not a lie, but a simple truth to "all the things" going on in my little world.

I've had to force myself to sit down and put the, "pen to the paper" as the saying would go. Writing has been really difficult for me lately. A head swirling with thoughts and emotions; it has been a challenge to articulate these feelings and put my thoughts together. I am not one to talk about personal feelings. Sharing this publicly is scary, but is also cathartic. So please be kind as I attempt to share what exactly has been going on in our little family over the last several weeks.

Focusing has been difficult, even as I sit here. I tend to suppress and minimize. I realize that life is hard and we all have our "stuff." I also realize that I am not alone in these feelings. It's this very fact that makes this so difficult for me to share. I never want to trigger or minimize another's story. I also think there are just some things in life that are far more common than we realize.

Some of you know our family's journey to our sweet four-year-old girl; a long, trying journey. However, if we would have stopped there, it would have been a beautiful end to the beginning. Yet, our yearning for more and the capacity to love more took over. It has been placed on our hearts that our family is not complete. So we did the most 'normal' thing a person could do; in June of 2020, the middle of a pandemic, we found we were pregnant. It was a couple of short weeks later when we discovered that the precious little life was not meant for this world. At that time, I suppressed the emotional pain and thought it was for the best; given our current status with the pandemic. Having a baby in the middle of a pandemic scared me.

This started the whirlwind of hormone dysregulation and thus began the process of learning to 'reset' my system. (See my previous post on listening to your body.)

Fast forward to May of 2021. We found ourselves on the downward side of a pandemic, with the hope of "normalcy." Business was booming, life was moving forward and we were excited. We found ourselves pregnant again. I described to a friend that, "two little pink lines" did not equate to "we're having a baby" for our family. Sharing that the feelings; "we might have a baby" was what we felt when we saw those little pink lines. After so many losses, you learned to be hopeful, but prepare for what you know best. Statistically speaking, for us, our likelihood of having a live birth was 11% at that point. Life was a whirlwind for that first month with many doctor appts, lab draws, and early ultrasound to rule out an ectopic pregnancy.

Skipping to the part where we went in for our second ultrasound; to hear the heartbeat. We experienced the devastating news on a monitor, in a small office. Surgery was inevitable to avoid infection. In the early morning light, we walked into a hospital with a baby and walked out with a teddy bear in his or her place. This is a pain that does not get easier with each loss. I would argue that it gets harder each time. With no known reasons, no answers, or explanation as to why this continues to happen, we are expected to move forward. I am left with emotional pain as well as physical pain.

We were flooded with love, kind words, gifts, cards, and food from friends and family. Something I noted as exceptional, as this was not the first time we left the hospital empty handed. I'm not sure why the difference, and it probably doesn't matter, but I was surprised.

If you sent any words of encouragement, cards, small token of gifts, food, etc. ---we THANK YOU from the bottom of our broken hearts. Knowing that we were being prayed for and loved during such a difficult time, helped. ---Which leads me to more thoughts on helping others grieve through miscarriages, but for another day.

Here we are, learning how to move forward, again. Recurrent losses feel like you're re-living the death of a loved one, over and over again. No closure, no end, and left feeling emotionally and physically empty. So here it is---a collection of thoughts that make some sense, hopefully.

Picking up the pieces is hard, but slowly, one by one, we do. Thinking about what's next for the future is too much right now. (Please don't ask). One day at a time is how we get by. If you come across me ranting, bitter, or sad; please just know that my body and mind are still healing and I will try to be self aware. Triggers and reminders are everywhere. They come in the mail with "balance due" medical bills, due dates--uncelebrated, teddy bears, hormone dysregulation, social media posts, and other random ways.

---Remember to be kind to all of those around you. We are all fighting a battle.