{Hearts on 22} National Stroke Awareness Month

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.

{Life Lessons} Photo of Happiness

Out of all the photos we took in Nebraska Jay loved one the most. To me it was unflattering, I was in the process of deleting it from my phone when Jay said “no that is my favorite photo, it’s so genuine.” You can imagine the look I gave him, I immediately pointed out my double chin and how this photo made my look heavy. He told me I was beautiful (he’s a smart man) and that he loved this photo because it shows pure happiness.

I let this photo sit on my phone. From time to time I’d go to it and just look at it. After awhile I stopped focusing on my chubby chin (thank you lymph node and saliva gland removal) and noticed how happy I was in this moment. Sure I was suffering from terrible period cramps (a reminder that I was no longer pregnant), but this photo doesn’t show that, it shows a woman living in the moment, smiling at who knows what. Oh smiling because she was about to burst into a full laugh because Jay was playing photographer.

These are the moments we live for. Moments of pure joy amongst the mundane. These moments chase away the darkness and bring in the light. Our smiles no matter how chubby the chin chases away the darkness and brings light into our hearts. This photo doesn’t show a woman with a broken heart struggling to bring home a child of her own. This photo doesn’t show a woman who has three babies in heaven, it is proof that Love and Joy always prevail. That I have a choice, a choice to grieve or grieve while living the best life I possibly can.

I will never get over the death of my babies, those little ones will always be a part of me. Just as I am a part of them. I live this life for Lucia, Baby E, and Emmet. My boys are the reason behind my strength, my faith, my joy, and my eternal happiness. I chose happy because I know that is what my sons want for me, a lifetime of happiness.

{Infertile Me} Emmet James

As the blizzard poured down around me I looked out the window and remembered that the doctor said Snow Pea’s results would be in on Friday. Friday went without word, so I logged in to my online chart, “1 new message” it said. I held my breath, my heart raced, I knew what the message was. It was the answer, the answer that Jay and I had been waiting for. It took a while for the words to sink in, “normal (46 chromosomes) XY.”

In the moment I couldn’t remember if XY was a boy or girl, Dr. Google told me XY = boy. Jay and I had a perfectly normal boy. Snow Pea was a boy. There is no how behind the why, and the why has yet to be answered. It’s a blessing and a curse. My baby, our baby was a healthy little boy whose heart just stopped. The placenta was perfect and Jay & I are genetically normal, it doesn’t add up, but in the end we still had to give a healthy baby back to God.

Emmet James was called home before his feet even touched this earth. Emmet James was born sleeping on March 5, 2018. This little boy was loved beyond measure, deeply wanted, and is desperately missed. Emmet was courageous, he was the little beta that could, he proved that low betas can grow into healthy heart beats. I carried his little heart for 11 weeks 1 day. He was ours and we were his. Emmet James, my baby you will always be.

Emmet James is my second and Jay’s first son. A son that we had to give back before our hearts were ready. I have to believe that Emmet found his siblings in heaven. That Lucia was waiting for him with Baby E at his side, welcoming Emmet to the other side of the rainbow. I am a little jealous because Lucia and Baby E got to meet Emmet before we did.

Emmet James was cheated out of a lifetime. He will never get to go finishing with his Papa and he will never get to play tic tac toe with his Nana. Emmet will never get to take a plane to California to visit his Nana and Papa, Jay’s parents they got cheated too. I will never get to teach him how to ride a bike, tie his shoes, or take him on a road trip. Jay will never get to teach Emmet about World of Warcraft, computers, and Back to the Future. Yes, Emmet’s name comes from Back to the Future, Doctor Emmet Brown. Emmet deserved a life time, to feel the grass on his feet, to laugh, and to love beyond measure. His life was cut far to short and we sent him off with more love than one soul could ever handle. Our baby, he will always be. Emmet James you dear, will always be ours.

{Infertile Me} I will always choose you

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} “IVF Got This”

A couple days ago I stood in front of the fridge looking for available magnets to pin up Christmas cards. I knew on the side four magnets held our “operation embryo” calendar. September is when we started this journey. It seems like a life time ago where we spent part of our mornings carefully mixing injections and trying to find the least bruised spot on my belly. Five times. For a week I was getting five different shots a day. Three in the morning and two at night. Every prick was in hope that my follicles were growing strong eggs that would turn into our embryos.

IVF is not for everyone. It’s overwhelming and there are to many variables to count. It’s stressful. It’s painful. It’s emotional and though the bruises will fade your body will never really be the same. Fear sits with hope as you struggle to come to terms with all available outcomes. I was afraid that I wouldn’t get any or many eggs. They don’t really tell you how many eggs you have while you are stiming. They just cheerfully say “everything looks good.” I told myself “if we get five eggs I will be happy.” Anything more than five would just be a blessing.

Fifteen follicles lead to eight mature eggs. Eight. We got eight, eight incredible and non-edible eggs. Seven of the eight fertilized and three of the seven made it to blast. We have three embryos waiting for us and my heart is full. The big three leads to a new set of fears. What if they don’t take? How many should we put back? Oh god what if we put two in and get four? These questions seep in at night and I am reminded to follow my heart. Because of my age and the fact I am only doing this once we are transferring two back to me.

Two. December wasn’t meant to be our month. My anatomy proved to challenging for a proper transfer so our embryos were lulled back into a frozen state. It should be noted that the doctor almost put the big two in the wrong place. Thank God the embryologist checked the catheter and saw that we had hitch hikers. Otherwise the big two wouldn’t have had a proper chance at taking hold and growing into our baby(ies). That part scared me and the clinic has reassured me over and over again the big two are frozen with their sibling, embryo #3. No one was lost, my embryos are safe and sound.

January. January is a month of what could have been. Baby E was due in January, a winter baby you were meant to be. But Baby E was never meant to be ours and we are left with a lifetime of wonder. As the snow softly falls and temperatures drop I will be prepping my body for the big two. The big two who will lead to our take home baby(ies).

If you would have asked me three years ago “AJ would you do IVF?” I would have most likely said no. I didn’t think I was strong enough to go through it nor did I think I truly deserved a real chance at motherhood. Some days survivor’s guilt gets the better of me. Both of my children were unplanned, yet they were very much wanted. Our road to parenthood compared to others is very short. Some women try for years and spend thousands of dollars trying for a baby with no luck. Those women are the true warriors for they never give up instead they search for the next thing that will increase their chances at motherhood.

IVF, its a game really. IVF is about stacking the deck and letting God take care of the rest. Our deck is stacked. I grow a beautiful lining, my hormone levels are on point and our embryos are both 5ABs, which translate to “science did everything it could and now it’s up to fate.” Fate and I have a love hate relationship. Without her I am nothing and with her I am everything. She has left me broken, yet she healed me within the same breath. I pray with all of my heart that Fate evens the score, that some how some way the universe will let us be parents to a take home baby(ies).

IVF got this! Faith, Science, and love will get me through the next phase. Our turn, our rainbow, our take home baby(ies) is just one embryo transfer away and Fate will lead us every step of the way.

{Lucia & Baby E} Christmas #7 without you

This time of year makes me both happy and sad. Happy because I get to spend time with family and friends. Plus hello I love Christmas lights and all things to do with Christmas including Movies and cookies. Now that I have a niece and nephew Christmas is even more fun because I get to experience it through the eyes of children.

Jack is two and he is adorable. He tells me “Auntie I miss you so much” and holds on tight and then asks for another Christmas cookie. On Thanks giving day I took him shopping for Christmas gifts. I watched him as we carefully walked through Walmart looking for the perfect gift for mama and nana. He thought both of them would like Thomas the train because well he is obsessed with Thomas. We settled on something that wasn’t train related and he very happily dropped them into the cart. In that moment he was having fun and didn’t realize that I was teaching him the lesson of giving. It’s better to give than receive.

Sophia is five. She lets me know she is actually 5 and 3/4 as her birthday is in January. She artfully and patiently decorated Christmas cookies while we tell her not to lick them or her hands. Because no one wants to eat grubby cookies. She twirls in the kitchen while reading off her Christmas list. Which by the way is very short. Making sure that Auntie knows what emojis are. These are moments we’ll never get back and I will cherish them for a a million years plus one day.

In these moments my heart yearns for Lucia and Baby E. Lucia would be 7 and Baby E would be almost two this year. Both of them would have eyes filled with wonder and hearts filled with love as they anticipated Santa’s arrival. I can’t help but wonder what Lucia would have on his Christmas list. Would it be filled out with requests for Ninja turtles, dinosaurs, trucks or trains? Or maybe he’d be like his dad and ask for Star Wars, video games, and Superman. Only God knows what’s on Lucia’s list and his earthly mother will always wonder what he would like. Baby E would be easy, I’d just load him or her up with fisher price little people toys, a trike or even a ride on dinosaur. Baby E’s likes and dislikes are only known to God and that is alright with me.

Lucia has been gone for seven years, will 7.5 years to be exact. Seven years does not heal the heart, it just grows to make more room for love. Baby E was never meant to be ours, our little one has been gone for 2.5 years and he/she is proof that a woman can walk this earth with a twice broken heart. I miss my children every single day and especially at Christmas. Yet I am comforted by the fact that they get to spend each Christmas with each other and our Heavenly Father. I have to believe that Christmas in heaven is incredible for children.

Because God needed my children more than I did I will never get to decorate the tree with them. A stocking with their name on it will never grace our mantel. I will never get to load them in the car to go look at Christmas lights on the way to visit the mall Santa. But mostly I will never get to wrap a present for Lucia or Baby E. My children have given me a gift that cannot be wrapped. They taught me the meaning of love, strength and faith. It takes a lot to walk this earth with two piece of your heart in heaven. I am still a mother and my babies they will always be.

Sophia and Jack are too little to know that Auntie has babies in heaven. They just know that I am Auntie and that Auntie loves them without question. Christmas is magical. I like to believe that on Christmas Eve the veil is lifted and our babies and loved ones get to spend it with us. So leave an empty seat at your table, a special ornament on the tree and mostly talk about your loved ones as they will always be apart of your lives. Your loved ones they will always be.

To my fellow STILL and pregnancy loss mamas: “I see you. You are loved. You are strong and you my dear are fucking brave. You’ve got this. Your baby(s) matter and as long as you say their name they will never truly be gone.”

{Go Red} My Father will always be why 


In February we focus on women’s hearts. But this month isn’t just for me, it’s for my Daddy too. 

15 years ago I was in college in Ladysmith WI, I called home to talk to my Dad. My sister answered, she said “he’s sleeping.” I pleaded with her to wake him up so I could talk to him. She was persistent and uttered “Dad isn’t here, he’s in the hospital.” My heart sank and I hung up.

When I finally go through to my mom she told me it didn’t look good. His heart was sick. I took to my knees and prayed with every fiber I had. I asked God to spare my father’s life. At 19 I couldn’t imagine a world without my father. I needed him at my side to tell me that this to shall pass. My rock was fading and all we could do was fucking pray and wait.

When my dad arrived at Mayo he had a survival score of “zero.” His heart was beating so fast it just fluttered in his chest. Congestive Heart Failure and aortic fibrillation was to blame. The doctors prepared my Mama for the worst. She lied like all mothers do and told us he was going to be alright. I was a mess and couldn’t think straight in class. My body was in Wisconsin but my heart was in Minnesota. 

Two weeks later that zero walked out of the front doors of Saint Mary’s and he never looked back. Today February marks his 15th survuvior anniversary. With every beat of his heart he steals time from the sandman and keeps death at bay. We know each day isn’t spoken for and that only the good lord knows if we will see the next sunrise. He lives with faith in his heart and appreciates every second of his borrowed time. 

Borrowed years are a gift. My father has lived to see his daughter graduate from college, he was the proudest father in the arena. He walked his daughters down the isle and held me as I cried into his should on the day I found out my son had died. He’s picked up the pieces after our divorces and was the glue that our hearts needed. He stood by my side as I fought for my life and put his arm around me when we found out that I inherited his heart. I’ve watched him hold his second and third born grandchild for the very first time while morning his first. He is the ultimate road trip companion and dinner buddy. As long as a ride is involved he’s game. 

Borrowed time is all but rosy. My father looked on as doctors fought to save my life. Blood clots are no joke and strokes they are even worse. He taught me how to inject myself with blood thinners, “make sure you clean the area real good” he said. Little by Little I got stronger and I never looked back. My dad’s face lit up when he saw me on a billboard and in a TV commercial promoting heart health. He tearfully watched the video of my speech in DC, his surviving heart was so very proud. Those teary eyes looked on as I strutted down the runway and shared my story at the fashion show. All because his heart, it saved mine. 

My father’s heart saved mine. If it weren’t for his broken heart I never would have gotten involved with the American Heart Association.  If I hadn’t gotten involved I would never have learned that women have different symptoms than men and that cardiac events can happen at any age. In one moment I became the very surivivor I advocated for and I’ve never looked back. 

Because of my father I am alive today. Because he lived, his heart saved mine. Because of his heart and the research they are conducting my future looks fucking bright. I’ve followed in my father’s footsteps, he was 50 when his heart gave out, I am 34 and I am not afraid to tread down his path. For I know having high levels of C-reactive protein is no longer a death sentence, it allows us to go boldly into the night and wakeup to a beautiful painted sunrise. 

{Go Red} For Women’s Health 

The  Go Red campaign focuses on women’s heart health which is the number one killer of women. I suffered a stroke, a stroke that came after my pulmonary embolism was discovered. Sure a blood clot is not a cardiac event, but it still is an event. An event that only 1 out of 5 survive.

If you ask me those odds are shitty. Fuck only one out of five people who have a P.E. will survive. That statistic is one I cannot escape and it haunts me to this day. I am the ONE out of FIVE. I’ve lived seven borrowed years on this earth and I’ve done my best to make every second count. I cannot undo the events of October 2009, I can only move past them. 

Five days before my 27th birthday I drove myself to the ER. My chest felt like it was being split open and I could barely breathe. I collapsed as soon as I got inside and woke up to a nurse telling me “well you are not having a heart attack and you can either help me take your clothes off or I can cut them off.” I opted to help. I was confused and gasping for air. Every breath I took ripped through my body. I’ve never been in labor but I imagine the pain I was feeling is on that level. The ER doctor told me that my oxygen level was below 50% and he was leaning towards an infection in my lungs. He was going to run some tests. As he headed toward the door he stopped and asked “are you on a birth control?” 

I uttered yes and he explained about the d-dimer test and that it checked for possible blood clots. He was certain it wasn’t that, he just wanted to check to be sure. The lab came in and took my blood. It would be a bit before the results came back. As I was being taken to x-ray the Doctor stopped us and stated “put her back in her room she doesn’t need an x-ray.” I thought this meant it wasn’t serious and I was on my way home. He calmly explained “the d-dimer came back positive. We need to do a CT scan to look at your chest to check for any blood clots. The contrast dye if you are allergic to it it could kill you. But it’s your best option.” 

I looked at him and said “I might die either way right?” And signed my name to the consent form. The Radiology Tech said it would take about an hour for the results to come back. I waited and listened to the clock tick the minutes away. Thirty minutes went by, I heard a phone ring and the doors voice in the hall. I only made out “shit! You have to be kidding me!” Followed by a page for extra staff to the ER. Then I heard foot steps, lots of them running towards my little room. The doctor popped in and explained “you have a pulmonary embolis.” I stared at him blankly and he explained “you have a blood clot the size of a ten cent gumball blocking the valve from your left lung to your heart. Blood and oxygen can’t get through.” 

Those words were a lot to process. In that moment I did not fully comprehend the shit I was in and how bad it was. He explained I needed blood thinners and that I would be in the hospital for a while. He stepped out for a moment to put in RX orders. And that is when I lost my words. My body felt strange, it felt like I was sinking and I couldn’t get my words out. The heart monitor started beeping and everyone was frantically moving around. My blood pressure was well above 200 and I was fading. Clot busters, TPA to be exact were ordered and given, my stroke was stopped right in it’s tracks and my life was spared. I live with the knowledge that I almost died 5 days before my birthday.

I became accustomed to my new life. A life of blood thinners, scans, diet change, and never ending doctors appointments. I was angry and bitter. I wanted to put a why behind the how. I wanted to know why this happened to me and how I could prevent others from enduring my fate. To this day the answer is still hard to swallow. 

Truth: my pulmonary embolism and stroke were 100% preventable. The blood clot was caused by the progesterone in the Nuvaring, my birth control. One week before this occurred I had my annual check up and I told my doctor that I was feeling unusually tired, had redness and warmth on my upper leg. She ignored my symptoms and told me “oh just go home drink some water and walk more.” Since she didn’t think anything of it, I didn’t either. Boy was I wrong. I now know I had all of the classic signs of a potential blood clot and that a simple d-dimer test could have caught the clot before it reached my lung and brain. My whole ordeal could have been prevented if only my doctor had truly listened to me that day. 

I go Red for women’s health. All of us need to realize that we know our bodies better than anyone. We know when something isn’t right and we need to listen to our guts. It’s time we put our health first and push for the answers that we need. Our symptoms are and will always be different from men, because hello we are not men. It breaks my heart to know that young women are often dismissed. We shouldn’t be, blood clots, heart disease and stroke do not know age and they can occur at anytime. Love yourself! Make a doctors appointment and make sure you are being heard. If one doctor won’t listen keep on pressing until you find someone who does. You only have one life, one heart, and you deserve the very best. 

Don’t be like AJ, she didn’t push for answers and almost died 5 days before her 27th birthday. 

{Go Red} A Chance at Motherhood is Why I Go Red 

Looking up at my children. The blue balloon is in honor of Lucia and the purple balloon is for Baby E. My babies they will always be

I am the mother of two babies. My babies do not walk this earth, instead they paint the colors of the sunrise. Lucia would be 7 years old and Baby E would have just turned one. I would have my hands full. My arms are not filled with children, instead they are filled with hope. When you are the mother of angles a part of your broken heart lies in heaven. It’s a hard job and it’s one you don’t get to choose, it chooses you instead. 

I didn’t choose to have a pulmonary embolism or a stroke, it chose me and I’ve never looked back. 6 months after it chose me I found out I was pregnant. Like really pregnant, whoops “I was pregnant and I didn’t know it.” I lovingly called the baby little bear. It was a boy, a boy who died quietly in my womb. He was safe, he was loved, he will always be my first. Lucia, my baby you will always be. 

After a baby dies you have this strong desire to get pregnant again. To rewrite history and prove to yourself that you can carry a baby to term. To prove that God found you worthy of motherhood. But what happens when you are told “it’s not wise for someone with your history to get pregnant……” You get angry, you cry, and then you slowly come to terms with it. You pray that science will catch up with you and that this cruel joke will be over and you will have your rainbow.

Five years after my stroke my rainbow came. Again doctors said “you will be high risk. We need to watch you closely, blah, blah, and blah.” We got excited, that excitement just like before dwindled when an empty sac appeared. Our baby, my rainbow was not meant to be mine. Baby E wasn’t meant to be ours. My rainbow slipped through my fingers and renewed my desire for motherhood. Baby E, my baby you will always be. 

Babies are always at the back of my mind. I have names picked out and plans laid out. Jay and I tried for a year with no luck. Who knew a rainbow was so hard to catch. So I started down the path of fertility screening. I am now on a first name basis with the ultrasound wand, needles, and x-ray machine. I am fertile like myrtle who lives down the lane, yet my body can’t get intune. They say the nuvaring is most likely to blame, but we will never know for sure. In the past I was told “fertility meds are not for you.” Which makes sense since it’s recommended that I never use birthcontrol again. Hello blood clot creating hormones! Until now……….Science! 

Science! Finally caught up with me. Medical research is a beautiful thing and now I can has a baby too! In October we tried a combo of Femera and Ovidrel with no luck. In February we are going to the next level, Femera and ovidrel with IUI. I can has an IUI too! Motherhood was a thing I could never touch, it eluded me and now I have her in my crosshairs. Because of medical research it’s within my reach.

My pregnancy (when it happens) will be different too. Back in the day doctors believed in large doses and starting lovenox early. Today we will still be starting as soon as I get a plus sign, but the dose will grow along with my pregnancy. We will start with a shit ton of monitoring and a small dose of lovenox until we build up to the higher dose when I am 7 months along (that’s if my body needs it). There is still a chance that our baby could be born lovenox dependent and that I could have a clot, but for me the risk is worth the reward. 

Because of research and medical technology I will be able to have a healthy pregnancy too. Not all survivors get a chance at motherhood. In a lot of cases the risk is far greater than the reward. My heart breaks for them. I know the ache they feel and I know what it’s like to look up and wonder “why me?” All it takes is one look at a baby bump to make you feel less than. The baby isle and shower invites are a reminder of your inability to have children. They are a reminder of what was taken from you. We did not choose this road, the road chose us and we have to walk it until our time runs out. 

I once belonged to that club, then I got lucky. Science and technology caught up with me. Because of research Femera was found to aide in ovulation by decreasing the estrogen levels without increasing progesterone. The Progesterone in the nuvaring is what caused my blood clot. The likelihood of a blood clot event on Femera is low and I don’t know about you but, I like low. I am a survivor, a survivor who is standing on the cusp of motherhood. 

In my heart I know that this time I will bring a baby home. Heaven has two pieces of my heart and it’s time for a third to live on this earth. One thing I am certain about is that the doctors will learn from my fertility treatments and pregnancy and that information will help other women like me bring home a healthy baby. That right there makes all of this worth it. 

I go Red for the survivors who will never get to be mothers. 

{Christmas} With Angels 

Christmas has and will always be my favorite time of year. There is magic in the air and in your heart you know anything is possible. People are kinder to one another and for a little while all is right. 

In the stillness my mind drifts to the land of wonder, the place where what ifs live out there days. My tree is decorated, presents are underneith, and the villagers are content on the mantel. Yet between all the lights and sparkles, an emptiness remains. If you look closely at my tree you will find two ornaments,  “sleep in heavenly peace” for the babies I didn’t get to keep. 

If all were right in this world I would have a six year old son eagerly awaiting Santa’s visit and decorating cookies with his cousins. And an almost one year old baby should be sleeping in my arms. Jay and I would be hanging “baby’s first Christmas on the tree” and Lucia would be hanging up his 2016 ornament. Instead I am doing my best to deter Dexter and Stiffy from destroying our tree and wrapping presents for children who are not mine. Children put the magic into Christmas, their eyes are filled with wonder and hope. Children are the reason for the season. 

I believe in protecting children from death. Sophia has no idea that Lucia came before her. In her little mind she is eagerly awaiting for me to have a baby so she can help. Jack doesn’t know that he should be 6 months older than Baby E, right now he is busy chasing Cully. When motherhood slipped through my fingers I became the best Auntie possible. At Christmas I go over board. Their every whim is answered, presents are piled high and cookies are aboundant. For I want them to enjoy the season that my children  never got to see. 

My children are celebrating with their heavenly host. I’d like to believe that all the children are the reason behind the brightness of the Christmas Star. That somehow the veil gets lifted on Christmas and they are allowed to sit in the empty seats at our tables to be with the ones they love. 

My christmas whish is that one day we will have a “baby’s first Christmas” ornament to put on our tree right next to the “sleep in heavenly peace” ornaments,  and that our home will be filled with child like wonder at Christmas. Until that day comes I will leave an empty seat so that I can spend Christmas with my angel babies.