Pregnancy Loss... My story

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 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.

Happy New Year!

Happy New Year! I appreciate the new year because it's always a time when I reflect on the past. The last year, previous years and the future yet to come. I can't get over how big the boys are, or how much Ellena is growing. I swear that girl says a new word or phrase daily. Today I was looking for the remote control and had her look underneath the sofa with me; we both spied it at the same time and when I pulled it out from it's hiding place, she exclaimed, "Got it!". It stopped me dead in my tracks. All I could do was sit there on my knees in awe at the wonder of her. Her other favorite phrase right now is, "I don't know." Where she'll shrug her shoulders and put her arms up in a questioning manner. I can't get over how cute she is.Michael began high school last year; although my husband Denniss and I have enjoyed watching him grow into this new season of his life we're also totally freaked out. I've always loved and embraced each new stage in my children's development, but honestly, these teen years are sort of freaking me out. I have never questioned whether I'm doing things right so much before. Meanwhile, Evan is in the last year of elementary school. This Fall he'll start middle school and just like that he'll be in a new stage of his childhood. Sometimes I feel as though my head is spinning because I constantly have to switch up my parenting method with each child, and sometimes, the switch doesn't happen as smoothly as I'd like. We'll get there and I'm sure once I feel like I have a handle on this parenting gig, something will change and I'll find myself right back to here. It isn't so much that I doubt my ability to effectively parent, or that I'm somehow totally screwing up my kids, it's more about making sure each child is getting what they need to thrive. Sometimes I feel like, I'm missing that mark; which is something I definitely want to work on this year.Most of all, I want my family to do more together. We fell out of the habit of having "family game nights" and the activities the boys used to love to do, they no longer have the same enthusiasm for. My goal this year is to tap into what they're growing personalities and interests enjoy and get involved. Find things they're interested in and turn them into family adventures. It's important we take full advantage of the time we've got with all five us here under one roof, because my husband could deploy at any moment really and I don't want to feel like we've wasted our time with the boys and Ellena.

Making Military Housing a Home: Holiday Edition Part 2

I'm back to share a bit more of my home - Ok.. actually I'm here to share a re-do. I moved my tree. Yes. I moved a fully decorated tree. It's much easier than it sounds. I simply slid it over a few feet no biggie. Especially since I've been known to do this before. The first year we were in Italy I moved my tree three times, I couldn't figure out where I wanted it, and seeing it in the spot was the best option for me. I also do this with furniture. I can visualize until I'm cross-eyed, but seeing the furniture in the room in the space is what I prefer. When you move as much as we do, sometimes furniture doesn't work exactly the way you thought it would, it's all part and parcel with making  military housing a home.

Anyway, in my last post I know I mentioned I wasn't exactly in lov with it being in the corner. So I moved it today. I like it much better centered in our living room, like an anchor or something. Plus, it gives my daughter even more tree to explore. So far she's broken 5 bulbs and I've had to redo the garland on the lower half at least as many times. It's cool. She likes Christmas and I am fully encouraging her to LOVE Christmas. As I type this she is currently napping on the floor by the tree. 

Seriously is there anything more magical than sleeping beneath a Christmas tree? I can't really think of anything. 

Here is my dining room table. I'd like to add some evergreen branches in the jug along side the cotton stems. These lanterns are pretty much on my table all year except for during the fall when they get changed out, but I like that they can be used for various seasons and holidays. 

This little tree is a fun tree. The colors I use in the dining area are shades of green, red and turqoise or blue. It all blends in nicely and looks cohesive. 

This is our advent wreath. It's super simple. It's not the traditional advent wreath you'll see in many Catholic homes who do a wreath. I don't have colored candles and there is no evergreen in it, but I like it and it works. It also stays out all winter long to help remind my family of Christ's light.  

As you enter my home this is directly in front of the front door. I really wish we had a bit more room as we don't have a mud room so things like coats and boots get stored beneath the table and behind the door on a hook.

When we go out for walks, my husband and boys will give me pine cones. These ones have were collected in Florida and Italy. 

This blue dresser is an antique I bought when we lived in Italy. I spruced it up and really have become attached to it. We recently moved it to the landing on our stairs, so I could place the tree in the corner. I may have moved the tree, but this dresser is staying where it is. I like it in this little nook. 

I have been on the hunt for several weeks for stockings that were simple and white. I had envisioned having each of our names embroidered on them. I couldn't really find anything I liked that didn't cost about $25 a piece. I happened upon these in Target and was immediately drawn to them because of their simplicity, and a sort of vintage feel to them. At $3 a piece, they were also a steal. I'm going to make some dough tags with either initials or everyone's name to hang by each stocking. I'll be sure to post a tutorial on what I end up making. 

That's it for now. Be on the look out in a few days where I'll share the holiday trees in our bedrooms. 

Making Military Housing a Home: Holiday Edition Part 1

I love Christmas! I LOVE decorating for Christmas. When you're in the military and move every so many years, making each new home yours can be a challenge. One I happily accept. I love to put our personal touches on each of the homes we live in; even if those touches need to be temporary. When it comes to holiday decorating I usually keep it minimal. I REALLY don't like moving this sort of stuff around - because honestly, we never know where we'll end up. Will the house be smaller, larger, have a garage? We can't say. Next we need to factor in damage. A lot of our belongings inevitably disappear between the packing up of our stuff and the unpacking, or are damaged with each move. It's frustrating, but we deal.

Over the years, I've learned I need to limit how much holiday decor I allow myself to have. What this means is decor for holidays other than Christmas get relegated to no more than two bins and Christmas gets four. That's it. The bulk of the ornaments on the trees were collected over the years at our various duty stations or can easily be replaced if I need to purge excess items in preparation for a big move.

The Friday after Thanksgiving I began decorating our home. My boys have never showed much interest in the tree. Even as babies or toddlers they left it alone. I can not say the same for Ellena. She has been all over this tree and took a keen interest in watching me decorate it. I can't tell you how many times I've caught her touching or pulling bulbs off. I love her curiosity, and the challenge she's given me to keep the lower half of our tree to the shatterproof decorations and bulbs. I think I may have FINALLY gotten my Christmas decorating partner. I'm looking forward to future Christmases where she and I will really decorate our home together.

I still want to tweak a few things but here are a few photos of what I've done in my living room so far. I love the small wreathes between each of the windows (we've four in our living room). This prooves decorating for the holidays needn't be over the top. Sometimes the simplest of touches, have the greatest impact. 

I picked up this countdown garland from Target this past weekend. My advent calendar got ruined in our last move, so last year I used store bought ones for my kids. When I spied this one I sort of fell in love. Apart from the candy, which my boys love to look for each day, my husband and I are writing little notes to our boys. These sort of traditions are so wonderful and I hope when they are older they'll want to continue them with their own families. 

I love these reindeer pillows. I bought them in Italy, but you can find similiar ones in many stores. I also love this one from Joss & Main. The black and white pillows I also added this week. I've wanted a black and white check or plaid pillows for these sofas since we moved into this home a year and a half ago, but I didn't want to spend a small fortune on them. I found these four pillows at Kirkland's and they were very affordable. Here is a comparable pillow from Walmart! 

Check back tomorrow, I'll share a bit more of my holiday decorating and how I make military housing a home. 

Baby's First Birthday Pictures

Ellena marked her first birthday last April, but in June we took our baby's first birthday pictures because the weather was finally warm enough to capture what I had envisioned. 

When we announced we'd be having a baby girl we went to Lake Barcis in Italy and posed on a dock there, so I was hoping to include similar elements in her first birthday pictures, with the idea to sort of recreate this photograph every year until she turns 18 (or for as long as she'll willingly cooperate ha, ha, ha!)

We took her to this gorgeous park we discovered aptly called Newport News Park,  located in Newport News, Virginia. It's a huge park with many things to do, and it happened to have a little bridge which was the perfect setting  for this shot. If you're ever in the Hampton Roads area of southern Virginia, do check out this park, for a nice day out.

I know I've said this before, but I still smile, when I use the phrase, "my daughter", in a sentence. It's so surreal, sometimes, because I really thought I was done having babies and I was so happy to be a "boy mom". My boys are such a joy, and they keep me on my toes, and have showed me sides to myself I don't think I would've discovered if I'd only had girls. However having a daughter after two boys is something of a wonder. We're all in love with her and totally captivated by her. 

I took photos of Ellena wearing a bow, and one of the birthday hats I made. You can read about her birthday hat in my post titled, How to Make a First Birthday Party Hat

I found the dress she wore in a consignment shop, here is a similar dress. I'm pretty sure it's a ballet dress. Under she wore a pair of ruffle bloomers and gold sandals. We accessorized her outfit with a pink bow and a giant balloon. 

Ellena's Simple First Birthday Celebration

My baby girl is a year old! I decided on a simple first birthday celebration for Ellena because she’ll be baptized this summer and we’ll have family and her daddy here to really celebrate in a much bigger way. Pope Francis says we should celebrate the day we're baptized like our birthdays and I love this idea and have begun to mark the days we were baptized in my own family. Though this celebration was a small and sweet much like our little girl; the simplicity of this first birthday celebration in no way mirrors the vast amount of joy and blessings we’ve felt since she’s joined our lives. In many ways I feel like I’ve blinked. With her father overseas this last year it’s also felt very long. It’s funny how time can feel that way isn’t it? She’s brought so much happiness into our lives, my only wish is that he would’ve been able to share in the many wonderful moment’s we’ve had with her in person. As hard as this year has been for all of us, I know it’s been doubly hard for him to have been away.  Thankfully, with God’s grace, he’ll be home soon making many wonderful memories.Yesterday Ellena and I spent a few hours visiting local bakeries in search of the perfect birthday cupcake. We brought home several for her brothers to sample and vote on the best. I placed them all on a pink cake stand to create her birthday "cake".Ellena's cupcake was a strawberry cake with strawberry buttercream. It was delicious! I'm glad I bought two in that flavor (just in case!).Though she didn't gobble it up as I expected her to. She sampled the frosting and kept making a few (oh so cute) faces. I think it was actually too sweet for her little taste buds. She hasn't had many overly sugary foods yet besides a taste of some ice cream and chocolate.I kept the decorations minimal for this simple first birthday celebration. The happy birthday banner, gifts, "one" cake sign, and her homemade party hat were it. So easy. Keeping the focus on how blessed we feel to have her here with us.Isn't this picture sweet. Ellena has some amazing big brothers. She's one lucky girl! They shower her with so much attention and affection, and often remark, how having a baby sister is so great. This really fills my heart with joy to know they love her so much.We all made wishes for her when we blew out her birthday candle. My biggest wish is that she grows up to be brave and kind. Brave because I hope she's unafraid to go after her dreams and the challenges that life will throw at her. Kind to always remember to treat everyone she encounters with respect, and dignity. To have humility and compassion for all.I still pinch myself sometimes. I never really felt like I was through having children, but we'd waited so long (nearly 9 years) before she came along, that I honestly thought this season of our lives was over. I'd already been blessed with two amazing and beautiful boys. To think that I now have a teenager, and pre-teen and a toddler still blows my mind, but it really is rather splendid. I'd have another if I could.You can see how I made Ellena's cute First Birthday Party Hat here.