I Can't Breathe

I can't breathe.

I'm faking my smile and happy mood so hard right now.

The wind was pulled from my sails.

My heart hurts.

The doctor said they can't help.

WHY?!

I asked her not to give up yet.

Can we just try a few more tests?

Can we see if I'm the exception to the rule?

Please don't give up.

Why does it feel like my heart is giving up?

I feel like I'm giving up.

This is incredibly unfair.

I'm not ready to let this dream go, but I feel like I have to at this point.

I don't want to hear my mother say, "I told you so."

I hate this so much.

All I want is to be a mom... grow a life... inspire a tiny human... make millions of memories.

I want Will to be a daddy. I want that more than anything.

Why can't this happen for us?

Do we not deserve it?

Angel Babies

Angel babies.The ones that leave us before they are born. The ones that leave a hole in your heart the size of Jupiter. The ones that you will never fully let go of. The ones that are the most special to you.

I have six angel babies. Five from me and one from another mother. This is the first time I've really talked about them. My heart still hurts for them.

My five angel babies left me very early into their lives... but I knew they were there. Is that weird to say? I prayed like I've never prayed before for them to stay and grow and let me be mama. God said no and took them home. Each time was special. I remember my period skipping, my hormones racing, my breasts being tender, the nausea, and the bleed when they left me. Five different times. Five different lives. Five times my world lifted. Five times my world plummeted in a solitary moment. Though each were emotionally painful, they offered hope to me that something inside of me was working. My heart was broken and filled with hope at the same time. It was very conflicting... was?... is very conflicting.

My sixth angel baby is Allister. We lost him in June 2019. He suffered a number of aneurysms

following a Stage 1 Norwood surgery to correct his hypo-plastic left heart syndrome. His birth mother was using drugs until she found out she was pregnant. She stopped. She was going to give him up in a closed/private adoption to us. He was going to be our son. He was born March 30th; 8 pounds, 8 ounces and 21 inches long. He was supposed to come out a bit cyanotic due to his heart condition not allowing proper blood flow, but he was bright red and ready to roar. He spiked a small fever the day before his surgery, so it was postponed. When he underwent his Norwood, he came out and all was good. Then it wasn't. The drug usage while he was in utero weakened the vessels in his brain which is what caused the aneurysms. This one hurt the most because it was the closest we had ever been to being parents.

This is the last picture I received of him. I still dream about him. I still think about him. I still miss him. Even though we never officially met, I still love him. I look forward to the day I get to meet him for real and hold him in my arms... because I carry him in my heart every day.





These two songs are what help me get through his loss.

Into the Light - In This Moment

Always/Goodnight - Scott Alan

I don't struggle every day with it, but it comes in waves. And it crashed into me the way a bullet hits a sandbag releasing each grain through a small, tortuous diameter. I know my time will come. I have to believe that. I have to believe that God has a plan and this pain is worth the reward.