Welcome… thanks for stopping by!

I bet you are either:

  1. Trying to conceive
  2. Experiencing or grieving a pregnancy loss
  3. Entering the phase of parenting after infertility/loss

Some days are harder than others. Often the light at the end of the tunnel seems unreachable.

But, I’m here to tell you: YOU CAN DO THIS.

The fact that you found my little corner of the world wide web proves to me that you WANT to move forward. We can’t predict what the outcome of our struggles will be, but I guarantee you are on the right path. You landed here which shows you are empowering yourself with information and connection.

Information will allow you to advocate for yourself and make informed choices. Connection will remind you that all those thoughts that run through your head, all those emotions that overwhelm you, and all of the challenges that lie ahead are COMMON (as much as we all wish they weren’t).

I’ve been there. I get it.

As you read my story, you will see that I made it through.

I’m beyond blessed to be a Momma to our beautiful Angel Emme, and my vivacious earthly son Wyatt. I believe there may be another soul (or two) waiting in the wings for the right opportunity to join us. But, much like you, I have NO CLUE what the next leg of my journey looks like.

I’m currently taking a hiatus from Awaiting Autumn.

Right now, I’m not awaiting anything.

Being a mother, a wife, a friend, an entrepreneur, and a volunteer in my local fertility community is where my focus is these days. My words are flowing, just not on these pages.

I’d glad you found me though. And I hope you leave with a lesson or two to comfort you.

Welcome to my story – a journey through unexplained infertility, ectopic pregnancy loss, and into motherhood.

To be continued… 

 

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Film & Photography Project: This is Miscarriage

This morning, my Dad called. He mentioned how it was my Uncle’s birthday.

I asked if he remembered what else today was. He claimed he couldn’t remember.

It was awkward until he finally caved and said,

I know this is the day you lost the baby. I didn’t want to bring it up and upset you.

 I told him that it NEVER upsets me to hear you mention my baby. It is a blessing to know that you remember her too.

And that is WHY I am so vocal about my loss.

My own family can’t even get how to deal with it. 

Two years ago today, we lost our first baby due to an ectopic pregnancy. ❤

My life will never be the same. There’s a ache and a longing in my heart, but I’ve transformed through my grief. I’ve found my voice and I’m passionate about helping other women through their struggle.

 This month, I am a part of a local film project called, “This is Miscarriage.” It’s based on a poem written by a woman named Laura after her 3rd loss. It features the stories of 10 women – including myself – who experienced pregnancy loss.

Even though each of our stories is unique, the emotions we’ve felt along the way are common.  There is a sense of understanding and compassion that is so strong among bereaved Mothers.

I’m proud to join hands within the baby loss community. These women are some of the the strongest I’ve ever met.

miscarriage-project-poster-2

Stay tuned… I’ll share the video once it goes live!  

A small gesture of compassion

I’m not going to deny it. I’ve had a rough ride with my Mom since my ectopic pregnancy.

I’ve never felt support. I’ve never felt that she “got it.”

She said things like, “It’s time for you to get over it.

Last week, I told her that I was participating in a local film project about miscarriage. She sounded surprised and a bit curious when she replied with, “Oh? Really?“.

Anyway, she just shared this on Facebook.

babiesgonetoosoon

Today is not a special day.

But…

It’s almost the anniversary of our loss.

It’s almost pregnancy and infant loss awareness month.

It’s almost time for the wave of light.

Maybe, just maybe… she’s been paying attention?

The why doesn’t really matter.

I’ll take the gesture as a positive sign.

It’s the first time my Mom has publicly acknowledged our loss and that’s a HUGE step forward. ❤

Do you see the real me?

In honour of Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Day on October 15, I’m dedicating this post to Share’s Walk of Remembrance and the Wave of Light in support of infertility and pregnancy loss and shattering the stigma.


You see me.

I’m at the park pushing my almost one year old son on the swing.

As he squeals in delight, my face lights up with a ginormous smile.

Pure joy. 

You see me.

I’m at the grocery store sporting my usual attire – a Mom bun and leggings.

I look frazzled as I scan back and forth between my grocery list and the aisle shelves while reminding my son over and over again to leave the food in the cart.

He sees a stuffed animal on display and sneakily snags it.

I finally notice his new furry friend has joined him in the cart. My son and I lock eyes and simultaneously burst out laughing.

Pure joy. 

You see me.

I’m at the neighbourhood leisure centre.

My son is taking swimming lessons. He’s a little fish who loves the water.

At the instructor’s request, I dunk him under and quickly bring him back up. As he rises, he takes a gasp of air and looks shocked. I giggle and tell him how proud I am of him. He shakes the water off and smiles back.

Pure joy. 

You see me.

I’m in the waiting room at the doctor’s office.

My son notices you across the room and waves.

You give him an oogley funny face that all little kids enjoy.

He laughs.

You smile at me and I smile back.

To the outside world, I look like a typical new mom – sometimes frantic, sometimes frazzled, but filled with so much happiness and love.

Inside, my heart often aches.

The doctor’s office is a place I don’t like to go.

It reminds me of 4 years of fertility testing and treatments.

It reminds me of negative pregnancy tests, positive pregnancy tests and low rising betas.

It reminds me of phrases I’ll never forget like, “I’m sorry, but you are on ectopic watch” and “Your tube has burst. We need to take you in for emergency surgery.”

Heartache and grief. 

What you don’t see is a little girl.

What you don’t hear are the thoughts that go through my head each time my son experiences a momentous “first” in his life…

Because I often wonder what her first smile, first laugh, first step would have been like.

I’ll always wonder.

What you don’t feel is the grief that still clouds my heart – especially in October and May of each year.

What you don’t feel is the immense love I had for her even if she was only here for a short time. She lived. She is still mine.

My daughter. My child. 

Loved and lost. 

Did you know I am a grieving mother? Did you realize my son is a little brother? Did you sense that my story is deeper than it seems?

1 in 4 women experience pregnancy loss.

1 in 4 women have a child they will never get to see grow up.

1 in 4 women are like me.


I would like to thank my friend Justine Froelker, author, advocate and blogger at Ever Upward for the opportunity to participate in the Footprints Blog Tour which runs until October 15.  Check out Elena’s post from yesterday and continue the tour with Erin tomorrow.

On October 15, post your Walk of Remembrance photos on social media using #ShareWalk2016. Light a candle at 7pm and join in the #WaveofLight for #pregnancyandinfantlossawareness.

We are in this together.

I see you warrior Momma. I know your pain. I know your joy. I know your journey. ❤

Where do all the Angel babies go?

This morning,  I listened to “Beam Me Up” by Pink and wondered to myself…

But where is up? Where do all the Angel babies go? What does this place look like?

I pictured a place like Neverland

Except no evil Pirates to be found

A place where fairies live

Where green leaves are lush

And fireflies light the night sky

Where sunsets glow ember

And rainbows never fade

Where flowers bloom all year round

A perfect temperature – never too warm, never too cold

Beautiful ponds filled with golden fish

Puffy white clouds

The bluest of skies

Where the wind whispers lullabies

Through fields of wildflowers

Vibrant, yet soft

Cozy and peaceful

Where happiness, love, joy are felt with intensity

It’s beautiful. It’s magical. It’s stunning.

Yes, that makes perfect sense.

That’s where our babies go when they aren’t with you or me. ❤

Dear Huggies

Today I received an email from you with the title: Are you ready for your little one’s big one?

I thought to myself that this marketing campaign is REALLY early. My son’s birthday is over 6 months away.

Then, it hit me.

You were referring to my dead daughter. My expected due date was May 24, 2015. Her 1st birthday could have been month from now, but instead we lost her much too soon.

At first, I was angry. This was just another example of how inconsiderate society is towards grieving mothers. Do you really expect a woman to update all of her marketing preferences after she’s lost a child?

I took a deep breath and thought to myself that maybe I shouldn’t be so upset?

Thank you Huggies for acknowledging our Angel’s upcoming special day.

My husband and I still recognize it even though no one else around us does. We don’t receive any cards, any phone calls or even any texts. A woman who experiences pregnancy loss may have only held their child in womb, but she will forever hold their memory in her heart. The world around her moves on, but she always remembers those significant dates. This year, you are probably are the only one who will remember – even if it was a mistake.

The thing is pregnancy loss affects 1 in 4 women. I’m sure I’m not the first who’s experienced such a “WHOOPS” on behalf of Huggies. If you’d like to work together to find a solution to this scenario, I’d be more than willing to help.

Lindsey

(Momma to Emme and Wyatt)

 

screenshot-link-huggies.com 2016-04-21 17-04-28

An unexpected grief explosion

On Friday night, I attended a Chakradance session for the heart chakra.

I didn’t think this one would hit me as hard as it did.

As we began the meditation, I saw an imagine of a woman suffocating her child and heard the message, “You didn’t kill your baby“.

*gasp*

I had been carrying a huge burden around without consciously realizing it.

The tears began to flow.

Her image is blurry in my mind. I  can’t feel her energy as strongly as I once did. I don’t hear her voice as often anymore.

I am afraid of losing her.

I heard, “You need to let her go. She will always be with you“.

Letting go doesn’t mean she’s gone.

An image appeared of her heart within Wyatt’s, within my own, within my husband’s…

She’s within us all.

Forgiving yourself is hard to do.

Letting go is even harder –  especially when it’s your child.

Grief catches you when you least expect it. And clearly for me, it’s a continuous process of unveiling, unravelling and releasing.

As I drove home, the song “Tupelo Honey” by Van Morrison came on the radio…

She’s as sweet as tupelo honey
She’s an angel of the first degree
She’s as sweet as tupelo honey
Just like the honey, baby, from the bee
She’s my baby, you know she’s alright…..”

I love you Emme ❤