Shockwave

When terror hits, when unexpected fear and terror and sadness come over you and rock your world. It is a shockwave. An unexplainable, undefinable heart break. 

That’s the only way to explain this. As the words fell from her mouth and onto my ears; you could hear it. You could FEEL it. It’s like someone reached down my throat, tore my heart in pieces and took my whole body with them. Shaken. I cannot believe it. It’s been 3 weeks and still, it is unreal. “He. Is. Gone.” I’ll never forget those words. The moments immediately following were a shaky, Rocky blur. From the floor of my workplace to my car to the hospital entrance - it felt like a lifetime. And then. “Visitor Room 35”. That’s what it said on the name tag they gave to us. The most uncomfortable looking young girl urged us on as we went to the room, not certain what to expect, how to feel. Then we rounded the corner - and that was it. The hoard of people hanging outside a sliding door, tear stained cheeks, makeup running, eyes puffy and red. This is it. This is where it ends. Watching my mom from down the hallway see me and Jordan as we walked toward the room, was the worst part of this. I mean, there are a lot of “worst” parts of this particular day but this one, this was the first one. The strongest woman I know, a woman of great faith, who serves God unfailingly - shattered. Broken in an unimaginable way, confusion - heartbreak - fear. All of these things written on her face. 

There it was. 

The aftershock. 

Each wave more terrifying and gut wrenching than the one before it. 

And then we were closer, my nephew, his mother, friends, family. Everyone outside. The only thing left was to open the sliding glass door. So, we did.

Here it is, wave number 2. I realize not many people have been through this and so the context of our time in this room may seem hard to grasp and I cannot put into words the atmosphere, and to be honest I’m not quite sure that if I could, I would. But let’s settle on it being the hardest and worst thing I’ve ever done. Opening those sliding doors it’s as though they ripped my heart from inside me all over again . Heart wrenching. Earth shattering. Terrifying. 

And then I saw Amanda. Shockwave number 3. Realizing now that this particular experience has so many different views, so many people who could tell this story in their own way. My thoughts were on my brother, yes. But in the same breath I was breaking with Amanda as a wife. Because I know this role. I live it. I can’t imagine a world where I see what she saw, where I experience what she went through. I am strong, but I cannot live my life without my husband by my side. But here she is, being everything for everyone. Letting people have what they need and get what they want - honoring Steven at every turn. Being his wife. There aren’t many people I try to model my life after but Amanda Rose Burroughs is one of the top in my heart. Steven and Amanda’s marriage has always been a standard for my husband and me, and it always will be. Their relationship was a force. Largely because those are two of the most loving people on the planet.

Growing up, our family has experienced loss, we’ve felt pain. We’ve remained a family through the best and worst of circumstances, i am so fortunate to have 2 brothers without whom i could not be the person I am. When my dad passed away in 2013, a memory that has always stood out to me is the time my brothers’ and I took right after his passing. In the days leading up to this we had time to prepare our thoughts and feelings, but there’s nothing that quite readies you for loss. The three of us and Amanda headed out for the field on our parents property and I remember crying and then Steven said, “Stop, right here. This is the spot. If you’re sad, let it out.” And we stood there, quiet. Nothing happening but a few sniffles. Steve put his arm around both Rob and me and said “Parents die. If we have nothing else, we’ll always have each other and the three of us can make it through anything. We can do this together.” And he meant it. I think we all get so caught up in our every day lives that we forget to make time for the things that truly matter to us, we have a terrible tendency to default to the mindset of “theres always tomorrow.” But how not true is that. Things change. Instantly. And then tomorrow never comes. 

Still, even though I know in my heart it will - I am not convinced this will ever get easier. Or, more correctly - I don’t WANT things to get easier. I don’t want to live in a world where I don’t hear my brother play guitar every time I visit his house. I don’t want to take part in activities I know he’d enjoy because; he made every lame party cool, he made every non-exciting event a party. He CREATED memories. He EMBODIED life. He had no fear, not for me- not for his Little Sis. 

It’s been 3 weeks and I still feel like I am riding a shockwave that is bound to crash at any time. Sometimes, I feel like life has gone on. And other times I feel so much sadness I can hardly breathe. This earthquake has shaken me to the core. It is not fair. I am not sure how to make it compute. I feel like at every turn there is a memory or story. This man was truly my hero. He was the greatest big brother, the best friend. Many times after my dad passed we would sing this song that Steven would ALWAYS dedicate to my dad and the lyrics go something like this; 

“There goes my hero

Watch him as he goes

There goes my hero

He's ordinary

Kudos, my hero, leavin' all the mess

You know my hero, the one that's on

There goes my hero

Watch him as he goes

There goes my hero

He's ordinary

There goes my hero

Watch him as he goes

There goes my hero”

(My Hero - Foo Fighters)

He sang this song in tribute to my dad. But I have always sang these lyrics with him in mind. He was my hero. And I will miss him for the rest of my life. 

💔 

-Aggie 

Round 1 begins

“3 Rounds of 5 days worth of pills, taken once a day- ovulation should be achieved 5 days following the last pill in each round. If pregnancy is not achieved after the end of the 3rd round at or around 90 days from beginning of first round of Clomid , further testing will occur.”

These are the words printed in bold on my Drs letterhead stuffed neatly into my notebook. I had never been more confused or exhilarated in all my life. Basically, this is the beginning step toward fertility, a step frequently used when trying to conceive. CCRM, a leading institute in fertility science in the United States, states that the successful ovulation rate for Clomid is 80%, While the successful conception rate is a mere 40%. So all in all, although this is the right first step, it may not be a successful one. And that is SCARY. 

My appointment was at the beginning of July but as life would have it, things got busy, work was insane, my mental health was not in a space to endure the emotional toll this drug can have and we had to wait for a menstruatal cycle in order to begin anyway. So we put it off. The first day was to be August 12th and well, that didn’t happen *cue menstruatal cycle weirdness*. I wish I could explain this in a way you can understand but I can’t. (How annoying is that? I know. I’m sorry.) So here we are, the first week of September and I am on day 3 of the meds.  Let me spotlight some of the more fun side effects of trying to be a baby mama via fertility drugs for you:

• headaches
• nausea 
• vomiting 
• blurred/impaired vision 
• UNEXPLAINABLE EMOTIONAL ACTIVITY 
• depression 
• hot flashes
• chronic fatigue 
• mood swings 
• breast tenderness
• shortness of breath
• and regular pelvic pain

This is just a short list of SOME of the side effects listed (I must admit, I read them off in the same manner they do on TV commercials, where they rattle them off like the fine print of a contract which always ends with “contact your doctor today if you are having any of these symstoms.”)

And in 3 days I have a pretty good grasp on which of these side effects I am going to regularly experience

 *cue the regular mood swings and otherwise unexplainable emotional activity, with just a pinch of the worlds worst hot flashes mixed in for an extra spicy jolt of fun!*

Last night was the worst, it was the first time I felt so hot I couldn’t breathe and because I couldn’t breath from being so hot I started panicking and because I started panicking I was in tears crying for someone to help me. The night time is the worst because I am alone. My dear sweet perfect husband is at work third shift and I am in bed, tossing and turning and thinking about everything there is to think about while sweating and crying because what if this doesn’t work? What if I’ve tried and cried and endured all of this and nothing happens? 

Whoo-ee I. AM. A. MESS.

But then I sleep, for hours and hours and hours and I never feel rested or whole again.

We are halfway through cycle 1 of Clomid and I will have a follow up drs appointment in 15 days to measure the strides and re-evaluate the situation. In this appointment, Dr decides if another round of Clomid be necessary or if there is a next step of action required to achieve pregnancy...

So for today, I am going to sleep. And eat junk and hug my husband and feel all of the things I don’t want to feel. I am going to spend my introverted times in my quiet home recouping so that I can be a productive member at work and in life.. 

Until next time..

❤️

Pregnancy Not Viable

Test Results - “Pregnancy not viable.”

Three words. Just three simple words. And my world had fallen apart. Just as quickly as it came together, just as fast as the joy and hope filled my body while I took those 4 pregnancy test, it was gone. It was gone and there I was, alone again..

Misscarriage is such a taboo thing. It seems no matter how many statistics we read about 1 in 4 or the common thread that connects women-we still won’t talk about it. We’re still shamed into believing we’re alone and no one else in the world has ever felt this way. Somehow we still end up blaming ourselves. And no matter how supportive those around us are, we never quite feel understood. 

That’s where I was.

This is where I am. 

Feeling upset that these things are not happening no matter how hard we try, feeling angry at people who are just standing with their arms open waiting for me to be willing to let them lift me up while I crumble into pieces. And somehow I am still standing here, in crutches, with bruises, isolated and alone. Feeling betrayed and humiliated and alone and so so broken. 

 In all of this, one thing is certain, Jordan David has been my rock. The solid foundation for me. The one thing staying true and certain- breathing life and affirmations into me when he didn’t even know it. There are times that I haven’t wanted to be alive, haven’t crawled out of bed, feeling like the biggest failure of a wife, and there he was. Steady. Strong. Loyal. The truth of how fortunate I am to have this man is not lost on me.

 However, I’m not sure I’ll ever feel any different,  or better. 

But this is my call. These are my wounds. And this is our journey, through the winding road of life. 

So I stand here, determined to not feel shamed, to feel all of the very real, raw, terrible feelings that are inside of me and to be open about what we go through as we develop our action plan to bring love into this world as parents. 

The first step, fertility drugs. 3 rounds. 15 days spanned over 90.

Life hurts. loss hurts. 

But I am not alone. I am not alone. Read that again. YOU are not alone. 

If no one else, I am here. I am crying, I am broken, I am wounded. 

But I am here for a purpose. I will carry the story of our baby girl(s) in my heart for as long as I live. 

I hope you will follow my journey. The journey of beginning our family. The journey of the highs and lows of surrendering my body to science in an effort to bring a baby into the world. The journey of being a wife, and the desire to by a mother. 

I love you guys. And I am EXCITED to have a space to share my opinions and to document this journey to look back on.

❤️

An Open Letter to Our Daughter

An Open Letter to Our Daughter:

For the past 8 and a half weeks I have been formulating this letter, both in my mind and on paper because, there is so much that I want you to know. I do not know who you will be yet, but I am so unbelievably excited to know you. My heart already feels like it does. So, in this letter- I just want you to see where you came from and what we are most excited about in getting to meet you. You are our redemption love story. 

Your daddy is the most amazing person I have ever met. We met in high school and, as I’m sure we will share many times, we weren’t exactly- friends. I have known your dad for 10 years but lately, I feel like I am just meeting him all over again. And boy, is that fun! We took our time getting to know each other - we hung out as friends, I moved away, we dated. And I fell in love, 4,000 from home I fell in love with a boy i had known forever. When i came home and your Papa died, your daddy is the only thing that held me together most days. Getting married to him was the easiest decision I’ve ever had to make. And if I could do it all over again, I would. It was always supposed to be us.

Your daddy is silly - I hope you get that from him. He feels things in the biggest ways possible. We are very similar in that way. As I’m sure you will be too. 

We are a family of bleeding hearts. We are sensitive. We are joyful. We are dramatic. We are intensely passionate. Sometimes those qualities come to a head in a negative light but we never stop fighting. 

I almost did, once. I almost gave everything up for the potential of a different life. A simpler one, because you see, getting married at 19 was not easy. Growing up married was. Not. Easy. And there was a time when I wondered just exactly what I was fighting for? What was the reason for all of this? And it took me a while. A dark, deep, intense while to realize what it was. Because although I tried to run from it, and force it out, I could never deny just how much your Daddy loved me. He would do anything for me. He never gave up on me. 

I hope you find that, and baby girl, when you do. Do. Not. Let. Go. 

Fight. 

Fight with everything you have for exactly who and what you want. But don’t ever let your own insecurity and growth process ruin another human being. 

I hope you see the love we have for you and each other every single day. You won’t get to experience the love your Papa had for me and would undoubtedly have had for you but trust me, I am a better woman today because of the Man and Woman that raised me. And I promise you that Your dad and I will raise you just the same. 

You will be strong. You will be fearless. You will be kind. You will be humble. You will move any mountain you want to. And I will be right behind you, pushing that mountain top too. 

You can be anything. 

We already love you so much. 

❤️

-Your Mommy. 

Who Am I?

Who am I? 

Who am I?

The age old question every persons asks about themselves. The question which has so many variable answers it seems to be possibly the most vague question to ever be asked.
Who am I?
The way everyone seems to have to answer this question is dependent upon certain events in their lives, family members, and titles they may have.
Daughter. Wife. Mother. CEO. Business owner. Student. Musician. Redhead. Left handed.
A whole host of adjectives and nouns to describe a person.
But WHO am I?
I could give you the most simple answers about myself, listing accomplishments and accolades, job titles and family names I carry, but who I really am lies deep within me-my character and personality, the things that no one sees, THAT is who I am.
I am afraid, I am anxious, I am kindness, I am love, I am a mask of heartfelt emotions just waiting to be let out, I am passion.
That is who I really I am.
Those are the things that make me who I am today, not my flawed DNA, not my series of successes or failures.
But my will power-my ability to get up every morning, look at myself in the mirror and know that I am someone worth being here.
I have had a plan for my life since I was 12 years old; school, career, family, kids, everything I thought was most important in my life- the things that truly mattered, I knew that I had to have those things to make me a person, to give me identity.
Until they didn't anymore- until one day I woke up and realized that what really mattered was who I was without those things because in time, those things will go away. The only measure of myself as a person was the stuff inside me, the real stuff, the stuff nobody likes to think about or talk about. People are so wrapped up in doing whatever they can to look okay on the the outside, like their lives are figured out, like they've got it all together without a care in the world and on the inside they don't know who they are. They've never met that person. The person that lives inside of them.
And I didn't like that person. That person to me, was broken, was ugly and fearful and WEAK. I am not weak. I have been taught my whole life to be strong, to take the days as they come and that weakness is not an option, yet here I am; stuck looking at a person I knew that I knew very well, and that person was me. And she was weak.
So I spent all my time and my energy strengthening that weak individual, giving her power, making her deal with her anxiety and fear. But also teaching her to be kind, to love unapologetically, to see the best in people, even when the worst is the only part that's showing.

And here I am, successful, passionate, driven toward goals-not because those things somehow give me an identity but because I know WHO I AM and I love every part of that so on this journey, as I continue to chase my dreams and passions- I will never lose the truth of who I am.  And I will be happy, and nothing can ever take that away from me. 

Open Letter to Dad

Dear Dad,
I sat down today and the only person I wanted to talk with was you.  I have missed you.  Your smile, your laugh,  your jokes. Even though I am well into my 20s,  married,  with a full time job,  sometimes a girl just needs her Dad.  And no one else will do.  What would you say to me?  Every once in a while, I sit down with a piece of paper and write out 5 things I would say, to you,  just so that for a second I can pretend like we are still together.  I can pretend like I will finish my work,  jump in my car,  and pull into the driveway and there you'll be,  mowing the lawn, listening to your electric blue iPod. You'll shut off the lawn mower,  and come over to me and ask me about my day-but not before you finish singing out loud (way TOO loud)  the last verse of whatever Alan Jackson song you were just listening to.  And I'll tell you about those five things I wrote down. You'll endure five way too long winded stories as you pour yourself a glass of iced tea and you'll listen.  You'll listen and never complain. You were so good at that. Maybe that's where my love for telling a long story comes from,  because I always new that no matter what,  you would listen until I was all the way finished. Lately,  I have found myself really dwelling on what your advice for my life would be,  and I realized now that I never got a chance to thank you. To thank you for always giving me an audience, for always encouraging me but for also never allowing me to believe that I was better than anyone else. Thank you for teaching me how to appreciate people and my experiences and my background. I owe everything to you.  And I'm sorry, for never telling you that while you were here.  And I miss you. Every year,  I here people tell me that it is going to get easier but to me it is seeming like with each passing year,  it is getting harder to get you out of my head,  everywhere I look I remember a story or a conversation,  I hold onto a memory. And each year it gets harder to grasp that those memories are all I have left. 
With all the love in the world,  from me to you.  
Love,  
Your Little Girl.  💙

Mother(hood) May I

Mother(hood) May I..? 

Of all the things I thought I'd be: a teacher, a photographer,  a business woman,  a singer, an event planner,  a world traveller, a mother was always at the top of my list. Now I know,  some of you more seasoned people in my life are going to tell me that it is much too early on in my life to make claims with such finality and such negativity. "You've got so much more life to live. " "Maybe it just isn't your time. " "Everything happens for a reason,  it will happen someday" Maybe those things are true but I just can't help the weighty feeling of emptiness in my heart and soul.
I watch people everyday living the life I wish I had,  I like pictures and videos on facebook and I entertain jokes about why my husband and I haven't started our own family yet and each of those jokes pierces a deep hole right into the most hurtful and vulnerable places in my heart. Nothing aches more in me than my own desire to be a mother- to bear my own children and to be the one who brings them into this world.  To be the one who suffers from morning sickness, blows up like a balloon hippo and tosses and turns all night long for months on end,  and who eventually spend 20+ hours in the most painful and beautiful experience bringing life to the most precious thing on the planet.
Maybe it is a vanity thing.  To want a child so much that you have forgotten who you are and questioned your worth. So much that you are literally self-conscious about your worth as a woman. I have never been more self conscious in all my life.  Not when I was a chubby 3rd grader with a butch haircut,  or a frizzy-haired middle schooled with braces, not when I flew off to a country with no one I knew. Not ever. 
But now,  I find myself struggling daily with my worth as a human,  a woman,  and mostly as a wife. Does my husband still love me-even though I know my deep desire for a child is reciprocated 10 fold in him? Would his family like me more if I could give them a grandchild or make them aunts/uncles?
I.  AM. STRUGGLING. Who am I?  
I have held my weeping husband through the loss of our first baby and I continue to hold him as many of our family and friends celebrate the joy of the births of their children.  Don't be mistaken,  we are happy for them. And we love our nieces and nephew but we are broken,  scarred by loss of not only one but two babies. Struggling with the realization that the celebration that we are taking part of may very well never be in our future. And these hearts-our hearts-full of so much love may never get the opportunity to love a baby more than we love ourselves. 

So this is where I am, where we are.  And this is where the blog comes from.  Name and all.  Daily,  I have to compartmentalize my thoughts and feelings to make everyone around me more comfortable and this is where I have decided to let it all out.  In order to keep my life living in the light of positive energy.  

Thanks for joining me.