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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The relay of bereaved motherhood 

I heard from an old hometown friend tonight. The last time we connected it was about cloth diapering just after my son was born. 

I always enjoy when someone reaches out after years of non-contact and you are able to bond over life experiences –  except for times like this. 

Tonight, her tone was rushed and anxious. She wondered if I knew how long it took to recover from a miscarriage. She had just experienced one at almost 6 weeks pregnant and wasn’t feeling normal. 

How do I explain to her that you will never feel normal again? 

How do I tell her that your womb will always seem dark and your heart will remain broken? 

She had noticed the posts I share on social media about infertility and loss. She wondered if I could recommend any resources that had helped me. 

Where do I even start? 

I linked her to Standing Still, Unspoken Grief and my personal fav, A Bed for My Heart. 

I told her to trust her intuition and speak to her doctor if she still isn’t feeling right. 

I let her know that the physical recovery would happen much quicker than the emotional recovery. 
Geez. How does one even find the words to describe lifelong loss? 

Finally, I told her that she could reach out at any time. I’m here if she wants to talk about it. 

Because really that’s what we all needed… 

Someone to listen. 

Someone to reassure us. 

Someone to remind us that we aren’t alone. 

I never wanted to become that someone, but I’ll carry the torch proudly and teach her what she needs to know for when it’s her turn to pass it along. ❤

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. ❤

Unpacking the box

My brother and his wife were blessed with a little girl yesterday! Yes, I said GIRL! They did not know what they were having prior to the delivery, but everyone assumed it was another boy. I am so excited for them. She’s so little and precious.

This morning my emotions hit me like a ton of bricks.

“What if we don’t ever get to have a girl?” 

“What if we don’t even get to have another child?” 

Infertility drains the hope from you. You remember how hard it was the first time, maybe even the second time. You dread what you may have to face to get a slight chance at another try.

You question if it’s worth it and if you are strong enough to go through it again. You get angry at your body. You wish it was easier.

Today, I felt the need to let go.

I unpacked the box of girl items I had bought for Emme. I want my niece Madelyn to have some of them. I set aside a blanket, booties, two hats, a few onesies and sleepers. While I did this, Wyatt was crawling around at my feet.  I gave him a set of pink and blue baby blocks to play with. He can have something from his sister’s box as well.

I’m beyond grateful for our son; for all my nieces and nephews. When I get upset after a new little person joins us, it is nothing personal with the family who has been blessed. I’m so happy for them.

What surfaces are the demons of infertility – my own longing, my own grief, my own fears. Sometimes they need to be tamed back. Today they needed to be felt and let free.

 

 

 

The unspoken feelings on Father’s Day

We’re in Ontario visiting my parents. I just listened to them go on and on about what gender the babies will be for my sister-in-law and my sister (because surprise! She’s almost 5 months pregnant but hasn’t officially told my brother or I).

Back in February, my parents had an intuitive reading done. This woman said they would have one more boy and one girl grandchild.

Finding out my sister is pregnant left me feeling gutted as my Dad keeps referencing this psychic prediction. Each time he does, it’s like the dagger of infertility digs a little deeper. He doesn’t get how painful it is to think what we might have to go through to try for another child and that we may never get the chance to have another.

If we can’t, I’ll need to process another round of failure and grief to find acceptance in our situation. Still, the uncertainty is scary.

I know that intuition can be off. This woman may not have seen what the future holds for my husband and I. Life is moldable. Energy changes each instant.

It doesn’t help that it’s Father’s Day. Any occasion associated with parenthood stirs up all the emotions inside me related to infertility and loss.

It doesn’t help that my Dad referenced my husband’s ”First Father’s Day”, forgetting about our Emme and the fact that Mike has been an amazing father to get our fur babies for years before that.

It doesn’t help that as my Dad went on and on, a close friend of mine who is living a child free life posted about their infertility struggles on Facebook. We get their pain.

So for today, I’m going to accept that they still don’t ”get it”.  I’m going to enjoy my last day at the beach by taking in the warm sun, feeling the cool breeze off the lake, and sending love and light to all the Fathers out there.

Whether you hold your children in your arms or only your heart, I see you. I honour you. I feel with you. ❤

Happy Father’s Day to my husband Michael. Wyatt, Emme and our brood of fur babies are so blessed to have you.

Finding connections when we least expect them

Besides mothering, what could we have in common?

She has 3 beautiful daughters each spaced 2 perfectly planned years apart. Clearly not infertile. 

I enjoyed her company though. We chatted about motherhood – breastfeeding, cosleeping, returning to work. I felt a sense of normalcy to finally be able to relate to an acquaintance on a level I never could have before.

Finally, I mentioned that Wyatt was an IVF baby.

She asked, “Is he your first?”

“No, we had a loss before him.”

“Me too. I lost my first baby too.”

And just like that, I realized my judgement was so wrong.

It’s the things you can’t see, the words often left unspoken, the pieces of the story that hurt when they are said out loud that bind us together.

I see you warrior Momma.

And thank you for sharing your truth with me. ❤

 

 

 

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. ❤