Being thankful doesn’t mean I’m happy

But I am. Currently. So, before my body goes and confirms that I am in fact not pregnant this month and throws me into a temporary depression, I want to take a minute (or a few) to express how much I have to be grateful for. I will continue to be thankful, even through any sadness I may yet encounter. First know in life, I have been dealt a raw deal, many times. I was in an abusive marriage. I am clinically depressed. I struggled with self-injury. I have a laundry list of health issues. I was left by my fiancée months before our wedding, without warning. I have lost two babies and am waiting impatiently for my third pregnancy. I pray to God it ends with a healthy baby in my arms. You know what? Actually looking back at this hand in life that I feel I have unfortunately been dealt, it doesn’t seem so bad at all. I have a wealth of blessings that far out weigh the badness that has happened.

I believe that everything happens for a reason. I believe in God and that all things happen for good for those who believe in him. Not one of the issues I have listed above do I regret. Not one of those things can I not find the silver lining.

I was in an abusive marriage: because of this I joined the military. The military has given me adventure, friendship, education, health benefits, and life experience.

I am clinically depressed: I suffered a long time in silence before I was diagnosed and treated. This goes along with the self-injury issue. I have spent many hours in utter heartbreak and emotional struggles before I was prescribed meds and a therapist. I take away a sense of empathy. I feel that I have been given a better understanding of peoples emotions. I am willing to put my story out there in an attempt to let others know they are not alone. If my pain helps even one person,  I think it’s worth it.

My health issues: they range from hip problems to allergies to migraines to sleep issues to asthma etc. This one is a little harder to find the silver lining, but it could be worse.  I have all of my own parts and pieces. I am able to walk, see, touch, and take care of myself. I am able to experience life.

My fiancée left me: but I ended up with a man that couldn’t have been more perfect for me had I created him myself. Chris has been my rock. My source of laughter and joy. My cheerleader. My lover. My best friend.

I have lost two babies: without my love and eventually grief that came from Jordan and Mason, Lotus Be Infertility and Miscarriage Awareness Foundation would have never came about. Yes, it did also involve the loss of Kristen’s son at the same time. I feel if it had only been one of us- we wouldn’t have this same drive and passion for spreading the word on infertility and miscarriage and giving women hope and a place to share their stories.

There is a silver lining in all the bad I have experienced, but I said there is even more that I am grateful for. I have a full time job. I have a roof over my head. My bills are paid. I have a supportive and loving family and friends. I am co-owner of a wonderful company. I have gotten to travel. I have Chris’s two daughters that I love as if they were my own. I am alive. I am well. I have so many things that others would die to have. I have freedom of speech and religion. I have the right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. I do not want for anything, except a child. I may not have it all, but I have so much. I am blessed; I am thankful, and at this moment, before my body betrays me again, I am happy.


Baby dust and other crazy ideas

If you read Candi’s last post, you saw the term “baby dust.”  I felt the need to expand on baby dust and explain what it is.

First, no, it is in fact NOT dust made from babies of any kind.  To normal people, that seems like a horrible thing to even say or write but if it passed through my mind I can guarantee it has crossed someone elses mind.  Baby dust is a term of sort made up by the TTC (trying to conceive) community to show support and positive thoughts.  It’s like saying “I’m sending you good thoughts” or something to that effect.  I realized that many people don’t know this term when I said to my sister-in-law I had a great idea about making a tangible baby dust item for our website to sell for fundraising.  After I was so excited about the idea she told me she had no clue what I was talking about.  I became frustrated because I thought it was a common term because I hear it and use it often.  Obviously to a person that doesn’t troll forums about infertility and making babies and being pregnant and so forth, it sounds like the insanity has finally set in.  To me, the person saying I am crazy happens to be crazy.

So, the term “baby dust” is easy to understand.  Candi and I decided we needed tangible baby dust so we can send a physical representation of good thoughts to people…when they pay for it.  We have possibly the cutest bottles of “baby dust” ever to grace the earth.  I am personally excited about them because they were one of my good ideas.  Of course, Candi took the idea and made them happen and made them absolutely adorable which I think she does to make me crazy.  I try a craft and it sucks.  She tries and she’s freakin’ Martha Stewart.


Since we now have “baby dust” on hand, I have constant thoughts of bathing in it.  I often consider dumping it in my bed and sleeping in it.  None of these options have been proven to work so, since I am not a trend starter, I will wait for someone else to let me know how it works for them.

I hope this helps people unfamiliar with this idea grasp that most women who are trying to get pregnant are nuts.  I am the first to admit I am a basket case.  When your life goes from normal day-to-day happenings to constant charting, endless doctors appointments, shots of chemicals you would never consider putting in your body…unless it was to have that smooshed up wrinkly baby, and so many other things I will explain later…you become insane.   I have said before I feel like a walking science experiment.  I just add baby dust to the mix to make myself feel like I have magic dust in my possession and when I tell my doctor my list of medications for the 400th time on Friday, I think I’ll add that just to confuse him.  It seems like the proper thing to do.

Your time will come… and many other annoying phrases

As a member of the “angel baby club” or the “my body hates me and I can’t get pregnant club”, you hear many different words of “encouragement” from well meaning friends, family members, and neighbors down the street. I say encouragement loosely because the advice that comes from those that love us sometimes hurts instead of helps. The list is long. And crazy. I’ll throw out only 10 of my favorites that I’ve heard along my journey and I’ll include my internal thoughts. Feel free to comment with your additions. Again, we are giving you the inside scoop on our lovely, messed up, fantastical lives.

1) “Your time will come” Are you a fortune teller? Can you promise me my time will come? Because if you can promise me that, you will ease a lot of my fears.

2) “You’re still young” Relative to my life expectancy, I am still young. In fertility years, I’ve been trying/wanting to get pregnant for 10. I got married at 18 with the idea of being a young mother, just as my mother was. To have longer to love my children, but also be able to kick them out and travel the world. I am since divorced (and very thankful. It was an abuse situation.) and am still waiting for my precious babies. You can also factor in my mom had a hysterectomy at 29. I’m 28. This scares me to death.

3) “God didn’t want you to have that baby/You don’t deserve it” (In response to my first loss) This is absolutely ridiculous and you sir, should be ashamed of yourself. My God wants me to have tons of babies, it just hasn’t happened yet. He knows that I will make a kick-ass momma someday and is waiting until a child comes along that can handle my awesomeness.

4) “Trying is the fun part!” No. No it’s not. I don’t know what is “fun” about your whole life being broken up into 28-32 day chunks that are then divided into the first 2 weeks and the 2nd 2 weeks. Peeing on a stick for 1/3 of those days either on an OPK (ovulation predictor kit) or a pregnancy test is not fun. The dreaded “two-week wait” is not fun. Getting your hopes up about every twinge and pain you feel hoping that you may be pregnant this month and then BAM! You’re not. In Kristen’s case, the “fun” part is going to the doctor to be turkey basted while being shot up with needles and meds that make her crazy…

5) “Just relax” I can’t. I have never wanted anything more in my entire life than to be a mother. Would you “just relax” if you were trying to get a new job, a promotion, or that new house? Nope. You’d do whatever was in your power to control the situation and get things to go your way.

6) “You want kids? Have mine!” You don’t realize how often I’ve thought about coming to your house with adoption papers or even kidnapping your child. *Please note I would never kidnap a child. Technically, you told me I could have it anyways…*

7) When asked what Kristen’s annoying phrases she’s heard are, she said, “My baby died.” To that I say Kristen, stfu. My babies died and I can say it if I want to. Your opinion is no longer valid and I will be sole author of this blog. 🙂

8) “It was meant to be” I am a firm believer that everything happens for a reason, but I also know that does nothing to take away my pain. Maybe my babies would have been born sick or something horrible, but we have no idea what would have been. We only know what is and that we have no babies, empty wombs, and broken hearts.

9) “You aren’t a real mom” Say that to my face. I became a mom when I first saw that plus sign. I have always been a mom in my heart. That is what I was born to be. I was pregnant. Twice. I grieved over the loss of my child. Twice. I grieved over what should have been. Twice. My body remained pregnant after the loss of my children. A miscarriage is a slow process. You may lose your baby, but your body may take a while to realize it. With my first loss, my body got rid of the tissue on its own, but I still produced milk for a day. That was really weird. With my second loss, I had to have a D&C (dilation and curettage). It took about 1.5 months for my body to be without the H Cg hormone. My body thought I was pregnant for a month and a half after my baby was gone. I am a freaking mother.

10) And the final one for today, “At least you know you can get pregnant” I absolutely am able to get pregnant, but what is the point in being pregnant if I can’t carry my baby to term, or at least until the point of viability? I could get pregnant 100 times, but if I don’t have a child to show for it, I’d rather have never been pregnant in the first place. *I mean future children. I do NOT want to ever be without my two babies, Jordan and Mason. They are forever a part of me and my life. I would just rather never have to experience that loss again.

In other news, (relating to 4 and 5 if not others) month 4, day 15 since the loss of Mason, I finally have a line on an OPK. It’s not positive, but it’s getting there. That’s correct, it took 4 months and 15 days to have even a glimmer of hope at getting pregnant. My body is finally deciding it might want to start trying for another baby. Stupid body, it’s about time you’re ready!! I’ve been waiting…

Baby dust and only encouraging words to all. ❤