Pregnancy Loss... My story
A month ago, I almost died.The baby that had been growing within me did.
A month ago, I almost died. The baby growing within me did.
I was eleven weeks pregnant and had begun to bleed six days earlier. Because of COVID-19, like many others, I had to experience this visit without my support person. I feel a bit trite telling you how rough it was to experience this alone in an ER without my husband there, especially when so many people are literally dying alone... But it was rough on both of us.
I left my initial ER visit with a sliver of hope. The OBGYN on duty explained that sometimes a bit of bleeding doesn't always mean a loss. I was given an ultrasound, and they could see the baby there, but because of its gestational age, they couldn't pick up a heartbeat. This means I had to wait until Monday to have an internal ultrasound to determine if my baby's heart continued to beat. As it turned out, by Monday, it didn't. I was sent home to grieve and wait it out with instructions that if I began to bleed to the point where I filled up more than one pad in an hour or developed a fever, I was to come straight to the ER.
The week progressed as most weeks did. I kept home, worked, and let myself feel what I felt. This was my third miscarriage this year. The other two pregnancies ended as quickly as they began, and though I did feel their loss, all my hopes were on this one. This was to be my last shot at a fourth child. At 42, I figured it was now or never. As the eleventh week neared, I began to relax. The anxiety I'd felt whenever I had to use the restroom had eased, and I was starting to look forward to when we'd announce our pregnancy online. I'd had this entire image in my head, and it would be EPIC.
We never got there. That Saturday, I began to bleed.
I literally yelped from the shock of seeing the spot of blood on my panties. At that moment, even though I knew my heart didn't stop, it felt like it did. If I'm to be honest, I often feel like my heart is beating at half its usual rate.
Is this how a broken heart beats?
Six days after that initial spot, on Friday, 11 September, I woke to a gush of blood. With my three living children, when my water broke, it never gushed like it does in the movies. This was definitely a gush. The irony is not lost on me. I don't remember feeling panic; I only have a sense of understanding of how this was going to play out. It was early enough in the morning that my husband, who usually wakes first, was still asleep. I woke him and told him I needed to go to the ER. He helped me clean up and get dressed. As he quickly prepped our boys to watch our daughter, Ellena, I experienced another wave of blood. This time, it is much more significant. I went straight to the bathroom to try to clean myself up... My husband quickly got me another pair of pants, mopped up the blood that was on the floor, ordered the boys to NOT use that bathroom, and put me in the car.
I can recall my husband putting me into the car. I remember asking him to hurry. A few moments into the drive, I texted a coworker, explaining I would be out. After that, I remember thinking I couldn't hear well and my head feeling heavy. After that, things get fuzzy. My husband relates a story of my going into shock. As he tells it, I was unconscious, my lips were blue, and my body shook. He says he tried to keep my head upright and get me to wake up. He says I did wake eventually, much to his relief.
I can only imagine how terrifying this was for him. My next solid recollection is being in the ER and being short with the triage nurse and then apologizing to her for being rude. I was pretty scared by this point. Then things get fuzzy again. Next, I recall being surrounded by a crew of medical staff with their needles and cords and hearing something about my blood pressure being too low. I'm told it was WAY too low. I hemorrhaged. I ended that day in surgery. I'm told that the tissues from my pregnancy were normal. There is nothing that feels normal about this.
I'm still grieving the loss of a baby I'll never know.
Not in this lifetime, at least. I've spent the last month writing this post in my head. We never really speak about miscarriage. We never talk about how much it hurts, or how you feel like you failed, or like your body betrayed you. I'm not happy with the way these words formed. I imagine I'll come back and edit them. But I wanted to get this on the page now. I fear if I don't do it now, I may never. I'm honestly not even sure anyone will see this. This poor blog of mine has been so neglected. But here they are. My words about a story, I really wish it had gone another way. I am grieving. I know that much to be true. I think I may be depressed. Most of the time, I feel like I'm beneath a cloud. Some days, bright spots peak through. I'm holding tight to those moments. So tight my knuckles are white.
The Kitchen Is Closed + I stretch those poetic muscles...
The kitchen is where little fires are put out, and big ones can happen. It's where our lives get lived. Where little bits of our mothers get absorbed into ourselves when we're too busy to notice.
The other night, I said something my mother always said when I was growing up. "The kitchen is closed!" It was out of my mouth before I realized I was saying it. The kitchen is always such a big part of a home. It's where you gather around to share a meal. In the eleventh grade, you'll sit with your mom on the linoleum, share a pint of ice cream, and talk about a boy who broke your heart. It's where your little sister will choke on a Jolly Rancher one Halloween evening, giving you the chance to test out the Heimlich Maneuver you learned the summer before. It's where a single mom, totally exhausted and overworked, will dance with her children to Fleetwood Mac. It's where, after wiping down the counters and putting the dishes away, at 10 p.m. on a Wednesday evening, she'll turn off the lights and declare to everyone within earshot, "The kitchen is closed!" Which we all understood meant, "Don't mess it up!" It's where she'll rush out one morning, a patient on her mind, and it's where a fire will catch.
Little fires are put out in the kitchen, and big ones can happen. It's where our lives get lived. Where little bits of our mothers get absorbed into ourselves when we're too busy to notice. I'm not concerned I'm turning into my mother. That's not what this is about. She is in me as much as I ever was in her. We don't turn into our mothers after all, but we often take parts of them and make them our own.
My kitchen is always a mess these days. I'll wash up, and not five minutes later, one of the boys will have filled the sink with cups and missing spoons. As much as these little messes annoy me, it's where evidence of our living can be found. Like the messes, we make with flour and chocolate chips when we celebrate our wins or console our losses. Our daughter often brings her blocks into the kitchen and pours them onto the floor. She'll play at her father's feet as he cooks dinner, building towers to the clouds for her unicorns to climb down. His favorite podcast about aliens, space, or Big Foot will play as the sun fades, and I sip a glass of my favorite wine.
Over dinner, we'll discuss the highs and lows of our day. Sometimes, dinner rolls into a meltdown over math homework. It's where the kids will put the groceries or silverware away in all the wrong places. I'll search for a wooden spoon purchased in Greece and wonder how the sugar got in with the Tupperware. On a busy morning when we're all just a little bit grumpy, I'll discover someone (usually me) forgot to run the dishwasher, and we'll eat our toast on paper plates. My husband and I will sit at the kitchen table and discuss our future, break the news to our kids their dad is deploying, or tell them we'll be moving in the middle of the school year.
The kitchen is the first room we'll unpack in a new home and the last one we'll clean before we move out. In the kitchen, we'll shake our heads at our teenagers and laugh at a joke. It's where dreams are told and plans are made. It's where we'll wonder if we're doing this parenting thing all wrong and realize we survived our mothers' kitchens, and our kids will too.
In years to come, we'll see where they've made the bits of our kitchen their own. It is where I'll think about writing, and ideas will emerge over sudsy water. I'll run to write these words, remembering when I used to write poetry so much more often than the random haikus that have shown up here.
In the kitchen, I decided I wanted to begin exercising my poetic muscles again. And so here I am. Though I fear my muscles have atrophied, I'm flexing them here just the same because this is a reflection of a kitchen, and it is mine.
The Kitchen
On Saturday mornings the kitchen is always open. You make the eggs, I pour the coffee. "Use the small mug." you say "You never finish." I plant a kiss on your cheek, you love me despite my discarded, half-drunk, big mugs of coffee. On Saturday nights at half-past ten, after we've wiped down the counters, and put away the dinner dishes, I'll holler at the kids, "The kitchen is closed!" Just like my mom used to do. We'll go to bed, snuggled in between is a daughter turned-furnace. The floorboards in the hall creek two sons are on a recon mission for a lucky charm. One grabs the bowls, the other pours the milk. We don't say a word drowsy smiles on our faces. You take my hand in yours because in a house like ours the kitchen is where the love gets poured.
Toddler Room Refresh - Whimsical Bohemian Toddler Girls Bedroom
I refreshed Ellena's baby girl whimsical nursery into a toddler big girl room including transitioning Ellena's crib to a toddler bed. The end result was what I'm calling a Whimsical Bohemian Toddler Girls Bedroom.
This infant to toddler room refresh didn't have the effect I was hoping it might as she's still not sleeping much in her own bed. She's been co-sleeping with my husband and I and that's where she sleeps best... as for my husband and me, we can't say the same, with the little feet in our face or her warm body cocooned against ours. Eventually she'll be on her own at night, but for now, we're enjoying all her littleness.The biggest thing I switched up was her bed. We have the Jenny Lind crib. I bought the toddler rail to transition her crib to a toddler bed.Then I added the canopy. I vaciliated between a sheer canopy and a solid fabric one and eventually opted for the solid. I also went with white instead of pink just in case I eventually decide to change out the pink for a different color like grey or lavendar.
As far as the added decorations, I took some of the dream catchers and flower crowns I had made for her bohemian themed baptism luncheon and incorporated them into her room's decor. I hung the dreamcatchers on the walls. Initially I was going to hang twinkle lights on her canopy - I still might add them in, but for now, I took one of the flower crowns I had made and added it to the front of her canopy and then hung a dream catcher from the openining.
We don't have a playroom in this house - it's military housing so space is at a miniumum for us, so all of her toys and books are downstairs in the living room. I did bring up a few of her toys and books to try to entice her to actually want to spend time in this room.
Not much has changed with respct to her dresser. I was using her dresser as a changing table, but now she mostly gets changed on my bed or on the floor. The mobile I made for her nursery, now hangs above the dresser. I did adorn her wall unicorm with a flower crown.All in all it was a pretty simple refresh and I'm so happy with this Whimsical Bohemian Toddler Girls Bedroom.
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How do I have a fifteen-year-old son? & How to make a box cake taste like you made it from scratch.
Where has the time gone? It's so true what the say when you're the parent of really young children and you think you'll never sleep again.The adage goes something like, "The days and nights are long, but the years are short." Never have true words been spoken when it comes to raising children. Some days are so, so, so very long. Others are wonderful days spent making beautiful messes and chasing purple dragons. I've been writing about my son on this (or some version of it) blog since he was two or three. Now, granted, as he got older, and I got busier raising my other kids, and writing elsewhere, I haven't been as consistent with my blogging as I had been when I first began way back in... what was it..? Two-thousand and six. Yet, here I am, reflecting on the fact that my sweet baby boy is a young man and asking myself, how do I have a fifteen-year-old son?He's growing into himself more and more and is becoming quite the human being. I'm so proud to be his mom and I'm so looking forward to watching him go out and live his life all the while being terrified of him growing up even more quickly and getting to that part where he's off on his own. Anyway, before I get a little too purple in my prose here, I'm just going to share some photos from his birthday. 
We had a simple birthday celebration, at home with just us. He requested a red velvet cake (his favorite) and so I made one for him from "scratch", really I doctored up a box cake mix and it is fabulous. Read on and I'll share my tips for making a box cake taste like homemade or you got it from the absolute best bakery. The decorations are from Target. I have one of those helium tanks you can buy at the store. It's the best thing ever! I can have helium balloons whenever I want some! Balloons are like bubbles, they mean instant happiness to me.
So many candles. His cake was so bright!
To doctor up your box cake to make it taste like it is homemade from scratch or from the bakery...Substitute the water for milk. The oil for melted butter. Add in a box of instant pudding mix (I recommend the Godiva or Ghiradelli kind), bake as normal. The end result will be a dense, super moist and rich cake.
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Authentic Tres Leche Cake
This weekend my husband celebrated his birthday and I baked him a tres leches (three milks) cake which is one of his all-time favorites. I've tried several recipes and I've found this recipe most closely resembles an authentic Tres Leche Cake you'd enjoy for dessert in many Cuban restaurants in Miami (our home town). Even though Tres Leche is traditionally a Nicaraguan desert, many Cubans and other Hispanic or Latin American cuisines have adopted this delicious dessert and you can too!
While I was preparing this cake, I wasn't thinking about sharing the recipe here on my blog, so I have no photos of the prepping stages to share with you, as it was only after I received a few requests via an Instagram post about the cake I decided to share this recipe. I think the recipe is pretty easy to follow, it just has lots of steps. If you have any questions, please do not hesitate to reach out. This is a delicious cake, but it does require some patience to prepare.I rarely bake. I think the last time I baked anything besides chocolate chip cookies (using pre-made dough) was in June for Ellena's baptism. I do enjoy baking but really only bake when it's meant for someone I love. Since he's my absolute favorite person I was happy to make this for him.
INGREDIENTS:
Cake Batter:
2 cups cake flour2 teaspoons baking powder1/2 teaspoon salt6 large eggs, separated2 cups sugar2 teaspoons vanilla extract1/2 cup whole milk
Milk Syrup:
1 can sweetened condensed milk1 and 1/4 cups whole milk1 can evaporated milk3 tablespoons light rum
Frosting:
4 egg whites1/2 teaspoon cream of tartar1/2 cup water1 cup light corn syrup1 and 1/2 cups sugar
For the cake:
Preheat oven to 350°F. Grease and lightly flour a 9 x 13 baking dish and set aside. Sift flour, baking powder, and salt together. Separate the egg yolks from the whites into a medium-sized bowl. Then beat the whites until very foamy and frothy and aside. In a large mixing bowl, cream the sugar, egg yolks, and vanilla extract with an electric mixer. Continue mixing and slowly add the milk to the egg yolk mixture. Next add the flour mixture to the egg yolk mixture a little bit at a time, until the flour is incorporated and the batter is smooth. Finally, use a spatula to fold in the beaten egg whites until they are mixed.Pour batter into your baking dish. Bake for 35 to 45 minutes, or until a toothpick inserted into the middle comes out clean. Allow cake to cool on a wire rack for 20 minutes.
For the milk syrup:
Frosting
How to Take Your Own Family Portraits
If you're like us, you love a good family photo. Sure, your iPhone (or smartphone) can capture an outstanding photo, but sometimes, you want to use your actual camera. Over the years we've gotten taking our own family photographs down to a science, and in this post, I'll share with you how to take your own family portraits.
Before you have your camera in hand...
Figure out where you want to shoot. It can be as simple as your living room, or in a more scenic area. If you're going for an outdoor shot, remember to consider light. The best light isn't going to be at Noon, you'll want to shoot in the morning or late in the afternoon when the sun isn't super high in the sky. This is referred to as the "golden hour", it doesn't last an hour it can be a lot longer, but it's basically the first few hours after sunrise and before sunset. If you have to take photos when the sun is super high in the sky, try to position yourselves in such a way so as to lessen potential squinting. You can also take your family outside on overcast days but the light will be much more muted. You'll have to check your settings to ensure enough light is coming through. On the plus side, squinting will be a non-issue, as will sunlight creating weird shadows on your subjects. You also won't have to worry about changes in light through clouds or trees. You may find this post helpful when photographing on overcast days.If you've got children, don't expect them to stand perfectly still, to smile all the time or to even look at the camera. Instead, plan to take a ton of photos. Factoring in breaks and some fun treats to entice your kids is super helpful, because this is probably going to take a lot longer than you anticipated.
Relax. If you're relaxed, your kids are going to be too. TRUST ME. There have been instances where I or my husband would get super annoyed and stressed because our boys just wouldn't stand still. This never really resulted in great photos, so over the years we learned to just "go with it". That's not to say we never get annoyed when we're trying to get a good shot, but we've learned to anticipate this and work around it. My boys are 14 and ten, and they still have a hard time standing in place and not fooling around. In the next shot, they were all wiggly and my younger son Evan, was "joke kicking" as he said, his older brother. As the camera started to shoot I began to play along, I swung the baby in their direction and said 'Here comes photobomb Ellena!" The boys knew I was joking, but they got the idea and quickly stood still for the shot. The result was this fun photo of Ellena pretending to be a cannonball.
A few handy tools really help you take great family photos:
A tripod. My husband loves these things and owns several. His all-time favorite is a Manfrotto. Your tripod should hold your camera securely and be sturdy enough that a strong wind won't knock it over. I also require them to not weigh a ton, especially when we're traveling.A remote control. This isn't absolutely necessary, on this day we set the timer on our camera and had it set to take as many subsequent photos as it could and we hit the red button and ran. This works, but I much prefer to use a remote control. If your camera has wifi you can probably find an app to connect your smartphone too. I don't like these. I find them to be too slow. The remote controls we use are by Nikon and a generic brand for Nikon. They both work exactly the same in my opinion.An extra battery to three. Taking family photos can take much longer than you anticipate and I recommend taking a ton of pictures. No one is going to be behind the camera to see when the perfect time to push the shutter button is, so taking a lot of pictures is the best way to guarantee you'll have some good shots mixed in with a bunch of crappy ones.An extra memory card. Unless you're using a big memory card, have an extra one on hand... Just in case.
A few more helpful tips...
Don't be afraid, to "just be" while the camera is clicking. Be yourselves. Talk, joke, tickle each other, throw a ball into the air, whatever.We use a DSLR camera, but you can take great photos with a regular point and shoot. Either way, be sure to take some practice shots ahead of time to figure out what the focus will look like and to get the best possible framing of your picture.
Once you feel like you've gotten enough shots with the camera on your tripod. Take it off. Don't be afraid to hand the camera off to another family member. My kids have taken some really great shots. Set it up, teach them how to look in the viewfinder and frame the photo and let them get creative. You will be amazed at the wonderful magic that can happen. Like these great shots of my husband Dennis and me.
We thought my son had finished taking pictures so we gave ourselves a congratulatory kiss because this episode of family portraits was a success and we could then go get some ice cream! My son caught it on camera, how fun!I hope this helps you take some great family photos on your own. Also, if you've got some other tips to share, please share them in the comments.
Epiphany - Chalk House Blessing
Happy Epiphany! One of my goals for the new year was to grow spiritually. The other was to share more of how my family celbrates the liturgical calendar and how my husband and I help teach our children about our faith. If you don't know we're a Catholic family and today marks the twelveth day of Christmas and the arrival of the Maggi to the smallest and frailest of kings, Jesus. To mark this day, my kids received a few small gifts, to celebrate the arrival of Three Kings. We also blessed our home, which traditionally Catholics call an Epiphany - Chalk House Blessing.Yesterday we attended the vigil mass after a fun visit to a local park to spend some time with farm animals. I was hoping it would give my kids a sense of what it may have been like in the manger with a newborn and... cows. Not sure I succeeded, in that regard... I'll share pictures from our fun afternoon later in the week.We also blessed our home for the year with the following on the lintel of our front door 20 + C + M + B + 19This isn't algebra, it's a centuries-old Catholic tradition of blessing one's home. You don't see it too often here in the States, but in Europe, we saw it a lot. If you're a Catholic (heck even if you're not) I invite you to bless your home. It's a beautiful and simple way to invite Jesus into your home and ask him to bless your family and all who enter into it for the year.The numbers represent the year we're in 2019. The plus signs represent the Cross, and the letters: C, M, B, are to represent the traditional names of the Three Wise Men or Three Kings, Caspar, Melchior, and Balthazar. They also abbreviate the Latin words Christus mansionem benedicat, “May Christ bless the house.”Catholic's traditionally use chalk blessed at the vigil Mass, but if you don't have it, you can say a simple prayer over it. It need not be overly complicated, simplicity is probably best. This chalk blessing and prayer are what we used.
I'd also like to take this opportunity to thank you for visiitng my home on the Internet. I pray you will be blessed with an abundance of love and joy, this year and always.xo