Saturday, January 30, 2016

One Year: Thoughts on Loss & Healing

For one year, I’ve dreaded this day...

January 30th

The day I had walked into the doctor’s office for my last ultrasound, filled with hope and promises, only to be told my baby’s heart had stopped beating.

It’s a day that has haunted me & left me crying myself to sleep, praying to the God who I believed had forgotten me.

I wish I could say that within the past year God has restored my heart fully, but I cannot. 

I wish I could say that the sting becomes more bearable, but I struggle with that statement. Cause for me the pain is still deep...just less frequent.

I still ache, I still cry, and I still wonder what my baby would be like today.

I wish (oh, how I wish!) I could say I know the answers - the reasons why I had to go through what I did, but I can’t.

This is what I can say: 

I am a survivor. I lost my baby a year ago and it hurts like hell still....but I’m carrying on.

I am strong. I walked the road of grief alone, suffering the repercussions of marrying someone who had lied to me, pretending to be someone he was not....and yet, after divorce and loss, I’m still carrying on.

I am my own worst enemy. I faced many days in shock and self-hate, fighting the thoughts of not being good enough to be a mom and have someone that would truly love me...and I’m still learning how to forgive others and be kind to myself.

I am good at acting. I would put on a happy front many days when venturing out of my apartment, but then I would literally crumple to the floor in tears the moment I walked in the door.

I am fragile. Every baby shower invite, pregnancy announcement, and reference to birth and parenthood made me fall back down in tears.

I am broken. But so is everyone else. I couldn’t go to church for months. I hated seeing happy “whole” families. When I finally did go back, I couldn’t stop crying. I would hide in the back, arriving late and leaving early to avoid talking to anyone. I desperately wanted to be close to the God who I knew could heal my heart, but I didn’t want to be near all the people that looked like they had it all together. After quite some time, I found that everyone else is just as broken and their own ways.

I am human. I got angry with God so many times - ugly, bitter, angry - the kind you don’t tell people about. I yelled at Him too many times to count...and He still loves me just the same.

I am loved. Through the many hard days and nights, I have been surrounded by incredible friends and those that have loved on me.

This is what I learned: 

God is faithful. I learned that life goes on and we can too with the help of the Lord - even on the days when we feel like we can’t possible go one more step.

God is good. I learned that we might never understand the pain. We might never grasp why things have to happen the way they do ---> mainly why God allows certain things. But we have to remember no matter what the outcome, God is still God and He is still good.

God is always with us. I learned that even when we feel like our Father in Heaven has forgotten us, He has not.

I don’t have eloquent or wise words to end this post. All I can say is that whatever you may be going through today, friend, take heart. Know that God hasn’t forgotten you. We may feel so alone and broken, but He is still with us. We may feel like our world has ended and we can’t possibly take another breath, but.... we can...we really can.

And when we trust our Father God enough to step forward, to breathe again, and to lean on Him, we will find that He is right there to help us... He always was....He always is. <3

’til we meet again, 
~Patty xoxo

Thursday, September 3, 2015

9 Months

This morning the light softly entered my bedroom. I felt the pillows all around me - my little nest of comfort. I heard the birds chirping in beautiful harmony. It was a peaceful morning.

Then I was reminded. It’s September. A month that I had once been so excited for. A month that I couldn’t wait to come and now that it’s here.... I wish it would go back to where it came from.

I don’t want to be reminded of the joy that would have been entering my life if everything was different. I don’t want to remember the pain of knowing that those happy moments would never come. I don’t want to accept reality.

Can I slip back into my dreams? Can I hide until it’s all over so I don’t have to go through each layer of my grief again?

Why do I have to feel this pain again?

For a moment it feels like the day I got the news - no heartbeat anymore. Waves of tears rush over me and I can’t help but feel broken and alone.

I won’t ever see your face. I won’t ever know you or see you grow. I won’t ever be able to smell your little head like my sister did with her babies. “So sweet”, she would say. I won’t ever hear your first little sounds.

It’s hard to ignore these loud emotional voices screaming in my head, reminding me of everything that’s not going to come.

But then an overwhelming sense of calm washes over me. I am not broken or alone.

I am strong.

In this nine months you have taught me more about life and myself than I ever could have imagined, even though I never got to feel your kicks or watch you tumble around in my growing belly.

When you left me, you left me with sadness - yes. But you also left me with a new sense of myself. I learned to surrender. I learned to accept. I learned to lean on others. I learned to persevere. I learned to breathe.

Without you, I wouldn’t have found this personal power within me. Without you, I wouldn’t have learned to really embrace the moment - to accept the things I cannot change - and to find peace within when chaos tries to consume me.

So thank you, little Iron Pea, for touching me so much in ways I cannot measure or describe. You will always be mine and I am going to be okay. I am not going to crumble into a pile of dust because it’s September. I’m going to remember you and the gifts you have given me... and I’m going to be grateful for those sweet, brief moments of motherhood that you gave me.


Friday, March 20, 2015


I’m not a mother...

At least not here on this earth.

But I am enough.

I’ve never felt my baby kick or seen my own child’s eyes.

But I am enough.

I’ve never been blessed with the task of juggling kids and work.

But I am enough.

I’ve never gone through the miracle of giving birth. 

I’ve never had sleepless nights because of a gift from God crying out for me.

I’ve never had the blessing of being able to give nutrition to a baby from my own breast.

But I am enough.

My womb is empty.

No one calls me mommy.

But I am enough. 

Instead of stretch marks, I have surgery scars, from the many times this disease has been cut out and burned.

Instead of sleepless nights with a baby crying, I have sleepless nights with my own tears, crying out to my Father in Heaven.

Instead of days filled with giggles, tantrums, cleaning after littles, and snuggles, I have days filled with longing and loneliness.

I am not a mother...

At least not here on this earth.

I don’t know what it’s like to celebrate in my own child’s successes and see them overcome.

I don’t know what it’s like to watch my child grow, eyes wide with wonder and excitement.

I don’t know what it’s like to teach valuable lessons to a life that trusts me so greatly.

I have never experienced the life you know of as a mommy - the life that you may take for granted at times and not even realize it.

I don’t have the opportunity to complain about little lives in mine.

I don’t have the right to attend mommy events and bond over stories of the craziness of motherhood.

I don’t walk into baby clothing stores and ooh and ahh over the cuteness. In fact, I avoid those stores.

Yes, it’s true....

I cannot relate to you and the millions of others blessed with the experience of being a mom.

But I have experienced more with my empty arms then you may ever know. 

I am childless,

But I am enough.

To anyone else struggling with infertility and/or loss - 

YOU are enough too, my sweet friend. 

Don’t ever let anyone tell you different or make you feel less like a woman. 

You are loved.

You are worthy.

You are precious.

Saturday, March 14, 2015

The Aftermath

6 weeks...and 1 day. 

It doesn’t feel that long since going through that painful day of losing my baby, but at the same time it feels like eternity since I last felt that life within me. 

I have had many days when I didn’t get out of bed in those 6 weeks, but what got me moving again were my workouts. After 2.5 weeks of being down, I knew I had to get up and workout to feel better. 

I would convince myself to try, “just 30 minutes”. Then I’d slink out of bed with every ounce of energy I could find, attempting to get my newly shaped, hormonal body into a sports bra, pants, and a shirt. 

It is a tough stage physically, not just emotionally, when you lose a baby. My body had already adjusted to carrying life. My breasts had jumped to DD’s, making sports bras a painful, but much needed necessity all the time. My hips and tummy had become soft and rounded. 

It was extremely hard to train again. My heart rate would be crazy high as I would push my empty, but hormonal body to try to move. At times, I wanted to give up and crawl back into bed, but I managed to always get my 30 minutes in for those first 7-10 days. 

But then, things got harder. 

Life threw me another curve ball. I won’t share the details, but I got hit hard and knocked back down on my face. Devastated and shocked, I crawled back to the only place I knew I was safe - my bed. 

I tried to keep doing my workouts, but it was on and off. I wasn’t just grieving for my baby anymore. I was grieving a lot more. I reached out to people for help, specifically those in the church and a counseling center....

But I wasn’t given any help. To be completely honest, I was given more “words of advice” from well meaning people that hurt like hell than ever before. Things like, “you were too active”, “you should have had a higher body fat percentage”, and even “take responsibility for your own part in this”.  It has been over 3 weeks of trying to find a Christian counselor to help me deal with everything... I still have not seen someone. 

It shouldn’t be that hard to get help, y’all. It shouldn’t be that hard to receive a kind word either. It has made me wonder how many people have given up hope in the past because someone from the Christian community wouldn’t take time to help them or even just respond to them. It made me sad. 

Beyond the emotional hell and back to the physical: I got my first period since losing the baby and it was the most painful cycle I can remember going through. I bled very large amounts and could barely move. I don’t know if it was because of my body adjusting or the endometriosis or both. 

It was horrible pain and I would never wish it on anyone. 

As I got through it, I went back to teaching my fitness classes at the gym, which I love. As hard as it has been to overcome and adjust, I have been doing my best. I got back to eating right and drinking my dense nutrition smoothies to help my body heal and recover. With the right workouts and finally getting good nutrition again, my body is slowly changing and adapting back to the way it was pre-pregnancy. 

I rode my bike for the first time in almost 5 months. It was a slow 16mph for an hour, but I was beyond happy with getting back to cycling again. 

I attempted a few runs too. 2.5 miles, 1.5 miles, and a whopping 4.5 mile walk/jog. Woohoo! ;)

My breasts are back to my C cups. My tummy is not bloated anymore. I’m starting to feel my energy return. And the best thing has been my appetite. I’m hungry again. I want real food...and not just pie in bed. heh. 

The hardest thing now has been the sleep. Or rather lack of it. It just doesn’t happen. 

Every day is a battle and I have choice to fight or retreat. I’ll keep choosing to fight. I’ll keep getting up. The pain is still there and the shock of everything happening in life is still rattling me, but I’m holding to the hope that it gets better still. 

And I’m still pushing on, even when I don’t feel like it. 

Life goes on. 

Hold onto hope and keep fighting your battle. 

But remember to reach out to others - the lost, the broken, the empty, the lonely, and even the ones that appear to have it all together. 

We all need it. 


Tuesday, March 3, 2015

Awkward Prayers

You know those awkward prayers? The ones when you are alone, but not sure what to say, so instead you just end up crying, begging, pleading, and maybe even yelling out to God??

Yeah, those are all my prayers lately.

Most of the time it’s in my car.

I just drive around with no where to go, trying to escape how I feel, crying and yelling to God.

Sometimes it’s in the middle of the day when I try to get myself out of bed, up and out of the dark room, out from underneath the covers that I crawl into on a daily basis now. Other times these drives happen at 10 at night. I never have a destination to where I am going. There is no reason.

It’s just me. Driving. Crying. Attempting to tell God all the things on my heart and hear a reply.

During the quiet times, I just drive in a daze, not caring where I end up. Just hoping I get some kind of peace and comfort from the Lord. To be honest, I don’t feel Him answering when I am silent.

To be even more real, when I’m “praying”, I probably sound like a toddler, throwing a fit because I didn’t get my own way.

Except that I’m a mother, grieving the loss of my child; my baby.

I bet there are a lot of people who say I shouldn’t talk with God this way, but He knows me. He knows the things I’m trying to say and the pain I feel.

He would know if I was being fake in my prayers too.

He knows how I prayed for years to be a mother, praying for this disease to not get control of my body, to preserve my organs and my fertility. And how I have doubted it would ever truly happen.

He knows the questions that circle around in my head while I’m driving. Questions like, “Did I move too much when pregnant? Did I push too much? Did I stress too much? Is God mad at me? Did I get too emotional? Did I not deserve to be a mom?  Did I not talk to my baby enough? Did I not pray for my baby enough? Did I not try enough? Did I not have enough faith?...” It goes on and on and on...

He knows that every pregnancy announcement I hear leaves me crumbled in a heap, crying and begging for a way out of the pain, away from my empty, diseased womb.

He also knows all the things that I have no clue about - the things far beyond my understanding.

I may scream and yell and cry and beg, but ya know what?

God understands all the murmuring of pain echoing from my lips. When I cry myself to sleep, when this disease flares up, when my body fails me, and when nothing makes sense that comes out of my mouth...

God knows. 

Yes, my prayers are awkward and messy. They are not eloquent and pretty words of poetry.

Thankfully, the power of prayer is not in my words or how I deliver them, but in the One up above who hears me.