Friday, March 20, 2015

Enough

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. 

xoxo





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.