Category Archives: survival

{Infertile Me} Grace

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Something told me to find my family before I attempted to transfer Embryo #3. I cannot explain it. Deep down my soul was telling me “find Grace, find your family, and go HOME.

In early September my Dad and I went home. Home to Crow Wing and the White Earth Reservation. There I touched the house my ancestors built and walked amongst their graves. I did what my Grandfather never did, I went home for him. My heart she wasn’t settled, she needed to find Grace. She needed to stand before the woman who never gave up on her children.

Find a grave. com is an amazing tool and it helped me immensely. Fate had a hand in this too. Someone had documented Riverside Cemetery in Seeley WI, Grace Geneviève Beaulieu Cox’s stone was amongst the photos. My Great Grandmother’s stone was staring back at me plain as day on my iPhone screen. When I looked it up I realized that I had driven right by her for years.

Hayward is Wisconsin’s vacation land and it’s a place I try to visit every year. The Main Street is lined with cute little shops and there are lots of restaurants serving down home north woods cooking. If you venture outside of Hayward you will see “canoe landing” signs dotted along the highways. The area is amazing for canoeing. Speaking of canoeing; I AJ canoed right by my Great Grandmother’s grave and didn’t know it. I have driven by Grace’s grave every fall on my way to Bayfield. She was there in Seeley, just waiting to be found. Waiting for us to stand before her and say her name.

She was lost, but now she’s found. My dad and I instantly spotted her grave when we pulled through the cemetery gates. My dad never got to meet her when she was alive. I watched as he laid the tobacco down and said “Grandma you’ve been found.” After Irene died I was allowed to go through their home and pick out items I wanted. Nestled in a corner covered in dust was a statue of an Indian woman with a baby on her back, I was drawn to this and put it in my box. It’s been sitting in my garage ever since and I had no plans to bring it inside. It came to me that the statue was meant for Grace. I held the statue steady as my dad squirted the glue and I stuck it to the concrete. My dad instructed me to push down and give it a little twist so it will stick. We gave Grace her heritage back.

After Grace’s children were taken she did what she had to do to survive. She got married and made a new life for herself all while still holding out hope that her children were alive. Grace reunited with my Grandfather, her son was lost, but now he’s found. I cannot imagine what that moment looked like, when he was taken he was around 5 years old and when he was found Clifford was a middle aged man. Grace was whole, her children were found. Seeing my Dad stand before Grace, his grandma was something I will always treasure. My Dad is now whole too. He got to touch the stones of his ancestors and lay tobacco down to acknowledge that because of their battles he exists.

And now I feel whole too. Whole because I stood before the grave of the strongest woman I never got to meet. The courage and determination she had was beyond measure. I relate to Grace; our lives are similar. Like her, I know what it’s like to have your life ripped to shreds. I know the strength it takes to build a new normal. To never give up fighting for your children. Dead or alive your children will always be yours and you need to fight for them.

Grace once was lost, but now she’s found and we are never letting go. My Dad and I decided that we are going to visit her grave often and I have faith that one day Embryo #3 will stand before her.

{Infertile Me} Emmett James 03/05/2018

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I have been trying to will the month of September to move slowly. My heart, she is not ready for the calendar to turn to the 23rd. She is not ready for that day to arrive for her womb is empty; Emmett left this world earlier than expected.

Right now Jay and I would most likely be holding Emmett in our arms and cooing over him as he looked up at us. Due dates are not concrete, we knew that I would deliver early via a planned c-section. Jay should be out in the parking lot making sure the car seat fits just right, while our mom’s are at our house making sure bottles are washed and the crib is ready. I should be posting photos of our sweet Emmett to Facebook as friends stop by to hold him. This time should be about our Emmett, a miracle that defied the odds. But it isn’t. The little embryo that could left this world all too soon.

Life she makes us strong before she gives us what we long for. Fate called Emmett home on 03/05/2018 at 11weeks 1 day, his heart it stopped at 10weeks 3 days. His story was done before the first words were written and our hearts are forever broken. Emmett was the child that we prayed for; the child that we so desperately wanted. He is our boy and we are his.

Emmett’s ultrasound photos sit in a book on Jay’s desk. In the beginning they made me sad, but now they are a reminder that he existed. That he was apart of this world and that he will forever be apart of our story. For 11weeks and 1 day he was our entire world and for that I am grateful. Our heats were filled with anticipation and awe because the little embryo that could was our baby and no one can ever take that from us. He was a 9.4 beta that turned into a heartbeat at 6weeks 1day. Even the fertility clinic was surprised by that.

When we found out that Emmett died I asked Jay if we could do a bucket list of things that we would have done had he lived. One of those items was a trip to the North Shore. On a beach just outside of Duluth we said goodbye to our son and threw two small stone turtles into the turbulent waters. The power of the lake washed over us and as tears flowed we said our goodbyes to the baby we never got to hold. I have faith that one day we will find Emmett’s turtles on the shore, the lake she will return him to us.

We chose to have Emmett James cremated and his ashes were spread in BabyLand at LakeWood Cemetery in Minneapolis. When I moved to Colfax Avenue in 2010 I had no idea that the cemetery just down the street would be the final resting place for two of my children. I walked by it and through it quite a bit. It’s a beautiful place and BabyLand has a view of Lake Calhoun a place that is near and dear to my heart. Emmett is not alone here, Baby E’s cremains we’re also laid to rest in BabyLand. I cannot bring myself to visit BabyLand it’s to painful right now but one day I will have the courage to go and put tobacco down for my sons.

The memory of my children is alive and well in our home. We have 3 Jizo statues one for each of my sons. Red for Lucia; Yellow for Baby E; and Purple for Emmett. A sign in our hallway reads “because someone we love is in heaven we have a little bit of heaven in our home.” My Dad is working on a memorial garden at the cabin with three dogwood bushes, a plant that is sacred to the Ojibway. Lucia, Baby E, and Emmett will always matter, our babies they will always be.

Emmett was proof that against all odds miracles do happen. I have no doubt that all three of my son’s will be watching over Embryo #3 for they want him/her to live the life that they never got to see.

{Infertile Me} She was lost; and Now I’m found

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It’s been a stressful past few weeks. I found myself in a place I never thought I would be in. I’ve called more fertility clinics than I’d care to admit. All of the clinics in MN will not take our embryo. Between you and me; I feel like Dr. B put the word out that I am a terrible patient. Several of the clinics said it’s a liability after they found out who I was. After the last clinic said no I felt defeated. I was ready to throw in the towel and face a childless life head on.

Yet something in me was tugging away. Something in me told me to pick up the pieces and continue the fight. Geneva is a name that I carry. I carry my Great Grandmother’s name as my middle name. Now she was a warrior. Geneva’s children were taken from her during the relocation and assimilation period. That woman, that strong woman never gave up on finding her children. Even when authorities told her that they had died in transport, she never gave up hope. Geneva picked up the pieces of her shattered life and never stopped searching for the missing pieces. Geneva lived his life knowing that pieces of her were scattered and she rode the wind until they were found.

Geneva was reunited with my Grandfather Clifford. Life came full circle. June was found too, along with her other son. This woman, this patient woman was finally whole. I thought to myself “Geneva didn’t get you this far for you to give up. She fought like hell for her children and her battle paid off; she died whole.”

I need to honor this woman’s legacy of determination and grit. Knowing she walked this road before me and that I would not be walking this road alone I turned to Wisconsin. Wisconsin is in my blood and is my second home. My mom, she is from Wisconsin and Geneva is buried outside of Hayward in a sleepy little cemetery. My roots run deep in Wisconsin, so it’s the perfect place to bring our embryo. I called a couple clinics in Wisconsin and they will take Embryo #3! I got ghosted by one doctor in Johnson Creek, which is ok. My gut is leading us to Green Bay. With a little luck and a lot of faith Green Bay will be where Embryo #3 is transferred back to me. Our little embryo, this little fighter of ours will be made in Wisconsin and with a little luck born in Minnesota.

Call me crazy but, I deeply believe that Geneva is leading the way that somehow someway she is going to make this work for us. She’s been in this fight, she brought me this far and now it’s up to me to bring it home. Her blood, her fight runs through me and I know IVF got this.

{Road Trip} Traveling with Littles

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Every time I told Sophia “Papa and auntie are going on a trip,” she would ask me “Auntie when are you going to take me? I am more fun than Papa!?” I knew in my heart she felt left out and that she needed to experience an Auntie led road trip. Duluth is one of my favorite places to visit, it is the gateway to the north shore after all. And the north shore has a special spot in my heart. One because I love it and two, because it was my home away from home for four years. I went to college across the bay from Duluth at the University of Wisconsin Superior and I had the time of my life.

Enough about my love of the north shore, let’s get down to business. Friday night proved to be an awful traffic night. A major crash on HWY 61 backed up the road for what seemed like miles. With snacks in hand we powered through and slowly crept along. When seeing the state of the cars involved I said a silent prayer and hoped that at least one person walked away from it. Jack & Sophia just saw the fire trucks and police cars, which was good because I didn’t want to explain that sometimes cars don’t make it home. About an hour into the drive I learned that Sophia has to pee a lot, so she got cut off from liquids and we made it all the way to Hinkley before she needed to go again.

We rolled into Duluth around 10:30PM checked into our hotel and immediately went to bed. Well those under the age of 7 went straight to bed. I showered and went over my plan for Saturday with my mom. It got the Nana stamp of approval. We woke up around 7:30AM and were headed out the door by 8AM. Jack was super excited to start his adventure and Sophia was still a little groggy but forged along side of us. Breakfast, did I mention I love breakfast? We went to Uncle Loui’s Diner and it did not disappoint. Did I mention that I love Diners?

Uncle Loui’s has your traditional diner fair. I ordered the tailgater, my mom the country fried steak, pancakes for Sophia, and strawberry stuffed French toast for Jack. Jack didn’t know what to think of his French toast and Sophia immediately eyed it and whined that she didn’t have it too. We explained that she chose pancakes and that is her breakfast and Jack’s is Jack’s. Jack sat next to me happily munching away asking me “Auntie what’s next, what’s next!?”

Next was Canal Park. We were running ahead of schedule and had sometime to burn before we needed to be at the train station. Jack climbed on everything he could and demanded that we take his picture. We of course obliged. Our arrival couldn’t have been more perfect, I heard the familiar alarm and directed their attention to the lift bridge. The bridge was lifting up to let a large laker through, which if you are not familiar is a large ore boat. Jack was intrigued by the large ship and sat on the canal wall waving until it passed him by. The crew on the ship waved back in his direction and he was beaming from ear to ear.

Sophia didn’t really care much for the ship, she was instead trying to find a way to climb down to a tiny strip of beach. I advised her numerous times “if you were meant to go down there, there would be a path. There is no path so it’s not meant for us to climb down there.” She gave me this look and begrudgingly stopped asking about it. Sophia was amused with the seagulls and curious about the lighthouse. We walked around the park until it was time to head to the train.

Jack happily played at the train table while I waited in line to pick up our tickets. With tickets in hand I showed them to Jack in which he squealed and shouted “TRAIN” he squealed again and let out a choo choo! He was one incredibly excited little. I let Sophia and Jack peek into the gift shop before boarding the train. Each of them picked out a little something and ran over to the boarding line. I chose the short one hour ride and it was just long enough to hold their attention. If you have little ones I recommend the Lake front express ride, which as you guessed it goes along the Lake front past the Cogdon estate and returns to the station. After our ride was over we made our way up the north shore.

I mentioned that I love the north shore right!? Because it literally is God’s country and to me it’s special. Getting to show Sophia and Jack why I loved it so much was part of our adventure. A trip isn’t complete unless candy is involved. We pulled off at the Great Lakes Candy Company in Knife River. It is a cute little shop filled to the brim with delicious hand made confections. I can of course only attest to the white Chocolate confections. Which are delicious by the way. Sophia and Jack both got a bag of candy fruit slices and happily paid for their treat with their own money.

The Candy company had a sweet little sitting area nestled amongst the trees and a bear trail for the kiddos. The bear trail is adorable and includes a candy kitchen play house and bears nestled along the path. Sophia and Jack loved every bit of it and asked if they could come back again. Candy, is always a hit!

Just up the road from the Candy Kitchen is Tom’s Logging Camp. I’ve driven by it for years but never ventured in. The cost of admission is $5.00 for adults and $4.00 for kids 6-12. You do not have to do the museum, you can stroll through the gift shop aka trading post or grab a sandwich at the restaurant across the parking lot. I chose to do the museum. The sweet woman at the counter advised me that we needed quarters to buy feed for the animals and that the baby goat was not stuck. She also advised the kids to look for the red horseshoes and to tell her how many we found to get a treat. With quarters in hand we followed the path exploring the buildings and looking for horseshoes. The kids loved feeding the animals and looking for the horseshoes. We found 7 total and with that they earned a sucker.

With suckers and souvenirs in hand we hit the road again. We stopped for lunch in Two Harbors to avoid the rain and continued our drive to the black beach in silver bay. As I watched the kids play in the sand it hit me “there should be four kids playing on the beach and I should be 7 months pregnant.” Sophia and Jack have no idea that they were cheated out of a lifetime with their cousins. Sophia has no idea that she is the second grandchild and Jack has no idea that he is the third. Moments like this break my heart, yet I know that my babies are together in heaven watching over them. Their cousins they will always be. As I wiped a few tears away I looked up to see Sophia & Jack giggling happily and waving their shovels back at me. Those two were having the best time on the beach.

It was getting late and I wanted to make good on my promise to Sophia, so we packed up and headed to the car. I promised Sophia that I would take her to a waterfall, Gooseberry Falls to be exact. As a child I loved coming to the falls and climbing around on the rocks under my parents not so watchful eye. Jack is to little to navigate the slippery rocks of the falls, he stayed back with Nana and watched from the viewing area. Sophia grabbed my hand and looked up at me beaming “Auntie! This is so cool,” as we skipped over streams of water. She kept telling me “Auntie! There is a way to the edge.” I loving explained “you are a klutz like your mother, the edge is not meant for you.” She groaned and asked if we could go closer to the upper falls. Which I obliged and Jack squealed as we came into view. It was starting to get dark, so Sophia and I made our way back to Nana and Jack.

Once back in Duluth we stopped at Grandma’s for dinner. As we waited for our table I kept Sophia and Jack amused by winning them rubber ducks from the crane game. Soon our buzzer went off and it was time for us to eat. Jack & Sophia munched happily on Mac & Cheese while Nana and I discussed our plan for Sunday. The Prius decided it would be fun to make a weird noise and we promised their Daddy that we’d be back by 5, so we decided to abandon the boat trip. We would head out after breakfast. After dinner we walked around Canal Park for a bit. The bridge is lit up at night and the kids loved being out after dark. Sophia proclaimed “vacation means staying up late,” with a giggle.”

After breakfast I had one more adventure up my sleeve. Jay Cook State Park. The swing bridge to be exact. Sophia happily darted across the bridge while Jack cautiously clung to my side. The movement of the bridge scared him, yet he was brave and made it across. On the way back over he paused to look through the bridge and shouted “Auntie! Water fall,” with a smile.

Soon it was time to get back in the car and head home. Jack slept the entire way back to Red Wing, while Sophia mumbled about being stuck in traffic and asking when she could go on vacation again. I told her “Next summer Sophia” she grinned up at the rear view mirror as she twirled her coin purse in her hands.

Thirty years from now Sophia & Jack will remember this weekend and will look back on the adventures they had. As their Auntie I get to provide experiences for them and in turn make memories that will last them a lifetime. This life is about living outside of the box and creating memories that are yours and yours alone.

{Emmett} Walk Boldly with Answers

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Over the past couple of months I have been checking the boxes in preparation for our upcoming transfer. I saw the hematologist, she was very informative and shared that Lovenox does in deed cross the placenta. That information was both a blessing and a curse. A curse because it could mean that Emmett’s demise was due to Lovenox. We will of course never know for sure why Emmett died, everything is in theory.

On Tuesday I met with a new perinatologist and the first question she asked me was “why were you on 80 units a day?” I honestly didn’t know. I did what the previous doctor told me to do. Although I did question the 80 units, again I was told because of my history 80 was the dose I needed. Turns out AJ doesn’t need 80 units…….she only needs 40. 40 fucking units is all I need. 80 units was to high for someone with my history and my weight. An 80 unit dose is for someone who has a clotting disorder or a BMI of 50.

Two weeks before Emmett’s heart stopped I increased the dose to 80 units. Emmett most likely bled to death, his little body couldn’t handle the Lovenox. Only Emmett knows how he died. I only know that he was genetically perfect and there is no reason for his leaving. In this moment I wish I had fought harder to change the dose. Then again I went along with what the doctor said to do and in the end it didn’t save Emmett nor did it help me.

Am I angry!? Of course I am angry. I am angry that no one would listen to me. That the doctor didn’t take a moment to really look into my history to see what and why my blood clot happened. I am angry that she shoved me into a box and pounded me until I fit the mold. In my gut I knew 80 units was to high. I should have just nodded my head and continued on with 40 instead of 80 units. If I did, maybe Emmett would still be here and I’d be seven months pregnant. I cannot go backwards, I cannot weigh the what if’s, I can only go forward, forward with a broken heart.

My heart she is broken. Yet she is relieved that someone with MD behind their name finally listened to her. We have a plan, a very good plan and with a little luck we will bring a baby home. The new Lovenox dose is 40 units a day with no increase along with a side of prednisone, baby aspirin, and anti-biotics. With a little luck this protocol will be our ticket to a take home baby.

Emmett taught me to continue to advocate for myself and to fight for what my gut knows. Just because a doctor is a doctor doesn’t mean they know everything. I am a walking talking example of “fuck, we messed up her care!” I of all people know what it’s like to be discounted and unheard. I know what it’s like to hear the words “um Im sorry but your pulmonary embolism and stroke didn’t need to happen.” I know what it’s like to be misdiagnosed and have forged a path in the aftermath. And I will not be silent, I will walk boldly with answers and I am not going to dwell on what might have been, I can only carry hope for what could be.

{Hearts on 22} National Stroke Awareness Month

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On October 22, 2009 I almost died five days before my 27th Birthday. I found myself in the ER unable to breath with unbearable chest pain. A CT scan revealed a clot the size of a ten cent gum ball lodged in the valve that connects my left lung to my heart. My oxygen level was below 50%, my heart was in sinus tachycardia and I was fighting for my life. To make matters worse my blood pressure kept rising and suddenly I lost my words, the staff sprung into action, TPA was administered and my life was saved. I had survived a massive pulmonary embolism with infection and a stroke due to the third generation progesterone in my birth control, the Nuvaring.

At 26 Stroke wasn’t on my radar and until that day I had no clue what a pulmonary embolism was. Strokes happened to old people not young professionals. That day taught me that strokes can happen at any age and your risk is higher if you are taking hormonal contraceptives. My OBGYN never once mentioned that my birth control could possibly kill me, she just wrote the script, shoved it in my hand and went on her merry way.

I could have spent the past almost nine years in hiding. As in not telling a soul I had a stroke because well on the outside I look perfectly normal. I was lucky, I got the clot busters in time and I walked away unscathed. Many of my survivor counterparts are not so lucky, they have physical and mental impairments. Impairments that could have been prevented if they had received treatment in time. This haunts me, some days I wonder why I was the lucky one and on other days I say “why not me!?”

This life I lead is borrowed. I wish I could say it was perfect, but it’s not. I am living a perfectly imperfect life. This second chance is mine and mine alone to live. I made the choice to live my Stroke out loud. My story and willingness to fight this battle has landed me on billboards, fashion shows, tv commercials, news paper articles, magazine articles, and in DC. Oh the places your stroke will take you. Even I have to pause for a moment and think “holy shit AJ you’ve like made a difference!” A difference I have made, because what happened to me is 100% preventable.

That’s right what happened to me was 100% preventable. I had gone to the doctor a week prior with symptoms of a blood clot in my leg. The doctor told me to “drink more water and walk more.” One week later to the day I found myself in the ER fighting for my life. If only my doctor had listened to me. All the doctor had to do was order a d-dimer test. If that test had been ordered the doctor would have caught the blood clot before it found its way to my lung and brain. It’s been almost nine years and that still gets me the most, that this, pulmonary embolism and stroke of mine was 100% preventable.

{Infertile Me} I will always choose you

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Right now this loss doesn’t make sense. Going into this I knew I could walk away with empty arms. I pushed that risk down to the bottom and filled my heart with hope. Jay and I had won the battle, with a positive test in hand we beat infertility. My prayers had been answered and God spared us a miracle that cannot be replaced. Everything I went through no longer mattered when I saw the heart flicker. Week by week I got to see our beautiful baby grow on the ultrasound screen. Little ears, a tiny nose, and hands, were all there clear as day. The baby’s heart was strong and everything looked great. I was graduated from the fertility clinic to our Perinatal And OB doctors. We were having a baby and not just any baby, but a super fancy science baby.

At 10 weeks 3 days a quick peak ultrasound at the perinatal clinic told me that my baby was no longer alive. The baby’s heart went from 182 beats per minute to utter silence. This is the part of pregnancy that I hate. We have no idea what is going on inside our bodies. We have no idea of knowing whether or not our babies are thriving or gone. I woke up that morning happily pregnant, talking to my baby, and planning the nursery furniture, only to have the rug ripped out from under me. And I am so fucking tired of having that rug ripped out from under me.

Part of me was cautious, yet once I saw the flicker I was all in. This was our baby, our turn, our rainbow and I was filled with joy. I thought since I had paid my dues by giving my first born and 2nd baby back to God, he would for sure let us keep this one. Because come on God isn’t cruel. Right now I can tell you I am angry and hurt. Three pieces of my heart rest in heaven and that isn’t fair. This life is not fair. I will never understand why some babies get to live while others are called home.

If my babies had a choice, they would choose life and I would choose them over and over again. The pain of loosing a baby never goes away, you just learn how to live with it. My third loss isn’t easy, it hurts and it’s not fair. Yet it is our loss, our journey to walk and our cross to bare. Jay and I are working through it and together we are mourning our snow pea’s leaving. Snow Pea did not have a choice in this, if she did I am confident she would have chose us, just as we chose her.

{Infertile Me} Almost Home

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I was this (AJ shows you her fingers almost touching) close to motherhood on Monday. Like so close I could imagine meeting my take home baby in 40 weeks close. Monday wasn’t meant to be our day. Don’t worry our little embryos are nestled back into the freezer and we will see them again soon. Just getting them back to me was harder than the Doctor thought.

You see when AJ was made a joke was played on her, she has a very complicated anatomy. I will spare you the details. Coupled with a botched D&C that left her cervix looking like a war zone filled with scar tissue, false passages, and hope. Those two things make it impossible, like they tried for an hour to get through said cervix impossible. Again I am going to spare you the details, just know it was pretty darn painful and stressful.

So where do we go from here? To surgery of course. Surgery to hopefully open said pain in the ass cervix and for the doctor to literally draw themselves a map so they know how to get in. Is it a guarantee? Nope, nope it’s not. But right no it’s all we’ve got. If it cannot be surgically opened and mapped our last resort is a gestational carrier, in which we don’t have Kardashian money so that is out of the question. The doctors are hopeful that they will be able to get into the cervix.

Now I know you are wondering “WTF AJ why didn’t they figure this shit out before hand?!” Like I get you and yes that was my question too. Truth is they ignored me because a lot of women say “I have complicated anatomy” and “10 times out of 10 we get in. You are actually my first.” And mistakes were made too. Communications fell on deaf ears and the nurses didn’t follow through nor did the doctor follow up. I’m sure if they could go back they would do it differently. But we can’t do that, we can only go forward with what we know now.

A plan is in place and they are going to do everything in their power to ensure that our embryos are transferred back to me. Am I angry? Yes of course I am, but I cannot let the anger take over. Am I stressed? Yes, yes I am, but once we get going on the plan it will fade. Has my PTSD bubbled to the surface? Why yes, yes it has and thankfully with the help of my therapist we will get through it. Dealing with medical trauma is no joke. I am going forward with an open mind and hope in my heart. Our turn may be delayed but it is still on the horizon and for that I am grateful.

{Hearts On 22} Rally For Research

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Somewhere in this country a woman is experiencing the worst day of her life. She is in pain, she is scared, and she will never be the same. In the coming days, weeks, and months she will learn that her birth control was the cause of her worst day. That her birth control caused her stroke or heart attack or blood clot or pulmonary embolism. She knows it was her birth control because she survived. Many families never learn why their wife, mother, daughter, sister or friend suddenly died. They live their lives only knowing that she is simply gone.

Gone. If it were not for my fast acting care team, I would be resting in a little urn on a shelf. My mom literally came this close (shows fingers) to picking out my urn instead of my 27th Halloween themed birthday cake. I was lucky, I was the 1 out of 5 who survived a massive pulmonary embolism with infarction that lead to a stroke. Because of research I saw my 27th themed Halloween birthday cake, it had a jack o lantern on it and it was perfect. I survived my worst day possible.

I was weak, I felt cheated, and I was angry that my life was gone. I had to learn how to live in a new normal of Lovenox injections, INR draws, warfarin sodium, to many pills to count, doctors appointments and CT scans. I wasn't living the life of a 27 year old, I was living the life of someone much much older. Yet it was my life to live and I had one choice: "survive or give in." I chose to survive.

Survival is not perfect. This second chance I live is pretty fucking messy and hella awesome at the same time. I put on a red dress and never looked back. The American Heart Association gave me a platform to share my story, they put the voice back into the survivor and Now my story is saving lives. I meet women who come up to me and say I heard your story and I decided to talk to my doctor about my risks and what birth control is safe for me. That right there makes my little heart sing. I can't go back and change my story, but I can share mine to change someone else's story.

We know that my massive pulmonary embolism with infraction and stroke were caused by my hormonal contraceptive, but we don't know why. At the time I was healthy, I did not smoke, I wasn't over the age of 35, I wasn't over weight, yet it happened. Further testing showed that I was negative for Factor V along with a whole host of other genetic conditions that lead to clothing. I was genetically perfect, yet some how some way it happened to me.

If scientist can figure out why it happened to someone it shouldn't statistically happen to, we can stop it from happening in other women. In order to find that why, we need funds for research. The government is the largest financial contributor for medical research and if those funds get scraped my why goes out the window. The ability to save thousands upon thousands of lives goes up in smoke. You and I we can make a difference, reach out to your congressman & women and tell them that you support the funding of medical research. Come to the MN capital on Saturday @ 1:00PM central time and stand with us as we rally for medical research. Bring a poster, yell at the top of your lungs and make a difference, help us secure our healthy tomorrows.

Mostly let's face it, without research we are dead in the water, our doctors are only as good as the researchers who stand behind them and without them we have nothing.

{Baby E} My baby, you will always be 

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Two years ago today it was Mother’s Day and I found myself sitting on the bathroom floor starring at a plus sign in disbelief. For years I was told that getting pregnant would be a small feat and one I’d most likely never achieve. Yet there I was sitting on the brown tile floor starring down a test with a plus sign. In that moment the impossible became possible and I was going to be a mom again. 

Having lost a child before I was skeptical, nervous, and scared that something would go wrong again. I was excited, but not to excited. I didn’t want to get attached to this little one until I saw the flicker on the 6 week ultrasound. A flicker is all I needed to see to reassure that this one was real and that I was going to be a mom again. I counted down the days until our perinatal appointment. Jay was excited and nervous, he had started to look at baby gear online and we had picked out names. We were going to have a baby. 

All it took was one swoosh of an ultrasound wand to dash our hopes and dreams. An empty sac showed on the screen. I was 8 weeks and some odd days, we should have seen a yolk, a fetal pole, and that elusive flicker of a heart beat. Instead we saw a cold empty sac. We were quickly sent down the hall to meet with the doctor, she kept on saying “let’s give it another week.” I knew deep down that this baby wasn’t meant to be ours and I didn’t want to entertain another ultrasound. 

My gut was right. A few weeks later we had another ultrasound and just like before the sac was empty. A surgical consult was scheduled and a plan was made to ensure that the horror show of the 2010 D&C did not occur again. A girl’s uterus and cervix can only be punctured so many times. The procedure was completed on 07/07/2015 and the pathology reports revealed that the little empty sac was more than a sac. I had a partial molar pregnancy, our baby had to many chromosomes, two sperm fertilized one egg, and Baby E, just wasn’t meant to be ours. 

It’s been two years since I saw that plus sign, my rainbow it eludes me. I have tracked my cycles like a boss, peed on more sticks than I can count and have seen zero plus signs. In October I put my big girl pants on and sat down with a reproductive endocrinologist, secondary infertility is the label I received. She walked me through our options and explained which ones were safe for me. Its been a journey, we’ve had 3 failed medicated IUIs and now our only hope is mini-IVF. 

There are days where I want to throw in the towel and call it. But this tiny voice reminds me “you are already a mother to angels, you can do this one more time.” Fertility treatments are exhausting, you have ultrasounds, meds to take, IUIs to schedule, injections and so on. It’s literally a second job. For now we are taking a break and on the 22nd we have a consult with a new clinic and I am praying that they will 1. Approve me for mini-IVF and that 2. This will be my time to catch that rainbow. I have faith that my turn is coming, it’s just taking awhile for that darn bottle to point to me. One day, we will get our take home baby. 

In the mean time I rest easy knowing that my babies are together in heaven just like they would be on earth. Lucia went first and Baby E followed 5 years later. They will always be apart of me, they are the reason I walk this earth with a broken heart and they are my strength for a better day,  a day where I too will get a take home baby.