HAPPY New Year

What began as the happiest year of our lives became the month from hell, followed by roller coaster months of depression, and now ends as the year we learned and loved more than any other.

A year ago I welcomed the New Year with one eye open, snuggled up in bed with Ty. I had fallen asleep during our Friends marathon hours before midnight, but Tyler had quietly kissed me awake and rubbed my little bump, "Happy New Year. Welcome to the best year of our lives." It was the perfect way to begin the most perfect year. At long last, we would finally have what we'd always wanted.

I never could have imagined that 2 weeks later we would find out that our little baby's heart had stopped beating, that the thing we loved most in the world was suddenly gone.

To say this year was hard would be an understatement. My process of miscarrying was awful, to say the least. My body just couldn't let go of that little miracle... maybe I just needed more time. After 7 tiring days of bleeding, contracting, and indescribable pain I finally landed in the ER, hemorrhaging. Exhausted, heartbroken and scared, I was taken in for my first surgery in my life.

The 6 weeks of physical recovery were followed by months of emotional recovery for both Tyler and I. We each had to deal in our own way. Eventually, Tyler had to admit that he was angry with God, and face Him at last to repair their relationship. Eventually, I had to admit that my depression was crippling me and seek the help of medication.

And then, as the dreaded Holidays neared, we looked at each other one night and, surprisingly, realized we were Happy. 

At long last, we are really Happy. We still don't have what we'd been hoping for. We have no evidence to give us hope that this next year will bring us anything different than the last 3. We do not have the baby we'd expected to have. We are still missing a piece from each of our hearts. But the fractures are healing and it doesn't hurt as much just to breathe. When we smile it it real, and when we laugh it is the beautiful sound I've missed so much. We are finally Happy. Happy together and happy with this life. Despite it all, this life of ours is ours. It is still good. And we are still madly in love. The trials that could have broken us strengthened us. We survived a year we didn't think we could. And we are Happy.

This is still a good life.

XO.

Holidays with Empty Arms

To all the Moms and Dads with empty arms this holiday,

First of all, I love you. Whether I know you or not, we are kindred spirits. I love you for your strength, and even for your weakness.

I have always loved the holiday season, and I still do...
but this year is definitely hard to enjoy.

This time last year we were sending Christmas cards to our closest friends and families announcing the coming of baby Boston. We received phone calls that were all shouts and sobs. We got tearful bear hugs and I got belly rubs. When I told my aunts, there was so much jumping and shouting house shaking that a ceramic plate fell off my Grandma's hutch and shattered Sorry Grandma! And a few days before Christmas I awoke to a swollen bump under my pajamas.

I never could have guessed I'd reach this Christmas with empty arms.

...But here we are, just the two of us, setting up our Christmas tree and hanging the ornament we made from our first ultrasound.

Isn't it just hard?! Still hard to believe your baby really isn't here? Harder to believe that you made it? I mean, really, surviving is pretty freaking hard.

Some days I still can't decide which is worse. Infertility or Miscarriage? They're both terrible, and together they're what nightmares are made of. But as much as losing Boston broke me, I still would choose carrying him for 13 weeks over never having him at all.

I don't know how to explain the wholeness you feel the moment you see that flicker and hear the rapid thud of your tiny little baby's heartbeat. I mean, infertility is it's own awful pain. It's like you feel like you're missing out on something, and you just... want it. But miscarriage is the gut-wrenching, soul-aching pain of having part of yourself ripped away. You were suddenly so whole, and then just as suddenly you are only part of who you were. Where once you were making life, you are now empty. And it hurts. It hurts like hell.

And all the while, the world doesn't stop. Life moves on with or without you. Everyone that was pregnant with you, had babies without you. Every "first" you looked forward to is had by others, and all you can do is watch and move along. But you have to keep moving and participating. Trust me, we tried sitting it out a few rounds but it didn't make it better. It only made us bitter.
And bitterness never was happiness.

So, we move forward. We keep them in our hearts where their memory can hold the broken pieces together. We keep them in our hearts that are slowly beginning to heal.

Know you aren't alone. Like I said, even if I don't know you, I love you. I understand you. I broke like you. I ache with you. I'll heal with you. And, more important than my love is God's love for you. Christ understands our pain and our aching. He bore our griefs. His love heals.

I offer a simple prayer for all of us, May God grant us peace, comfort, and the serenity to accept the things we cannot change. May He someday, somehow fill our empty arms.

Love & Merry Christmas to you all

Xo