The Lost Blog Posts and An Explanation

Andrew and I have thought a great deal about adding the following posts to our blog.  And we are finally ready.

We imagine that we don't have many people who read our blog at this point since we have seemingly dropped off the face of the blog world in 2013.  I was still blogging all this time.  And excited to share our news.  Until the curve ball was thrown.

We hope that as cherished friends and family members, you will feel the same excitement that we began with on our journey but also understand the times that we felt we had to shut everything and everyone out and heal together as a couple.

We hope that these posts remain only on this blog as we do not want to make any announcements on Facebook, Instagram, etc.

We love you all and thank you for your love and support!

******And just to be absolutely clear, WE ARE NO LONGER EXPECTING at this time.*********

NEW YEAR'S RESOLUTION

It all started as our New Year’s resolution for 2013.  Andrew and I decided it was time to give the ol’ parenthood experience a try of our own.  So we set a goal to start trying for a baby at the start of the new year.

We almost outed ourselves.  We went to a New Year’s Eve party at the Rothfels and right as we walked in the door, they were playing a game.  Jake announced, “If your New Year’s goal is ‘to get knocked up’ then you are playing in the next round.”  Andrew and I looked at each other as if to ask, “How did they know?!”  But we shrugged our shoulders and started to make our way through the crowd to compete in the game until we realized that Jake was pulling resolutions that everyone had written down out of a hat and another couple was stepping forward.  Phew!  That would have been embarrassing to explain!

We were pretty excited about it.  So excited that when we had dinner at Zupas with the Silvas on New Year’s Day, we couldn’t help but tell them that we were officially trying.  I mean, we HAD to tell SOMEONE.  Who can keep news like that to themselves?

It just so happens that for the first and probably only time in my life, I fulfilled my lofty New Year’s resolution (TMI) about as quickly as I ever had.  Or anyone possible can for that matter.

SMELLS (Ugh!)
 
Disclaimer: I love my husband and I cherish my patients.  They DO NOT have bad breath.  At all.  Well…the patients I mentioned in this post don’t.

Wednesday, January 2, I had Andrew come in so that I could clean his teeth.  One of the perks of being married to a hygienist is free dental.  Most people wouldn’t agree that that is a perk, but I think so. 

So I cleaned his teeth.  He has amazing teeth.  Gums are super healthy.  This guy has better dental health than me, I swear!  He did have a chipped filling that Dr. Rogers found and then promptly had to give me a hard time for overlooking it.  I think I was just talking away to Andrew that I wasn’t paying attention the way I would normally.

Fast forward to Friday night.  Andrew is talking to me as we are out and about and THE GUY’S BREATH IS GAGGING ME.  I’m sorry to say it, but it’s true.  And I was so confused.  Andrew has never had morning breath before (unlike yours truly who rocks the dragon breath).  I know that he brushes and flosses religiously because we do it together every morning and night.  There is no way that he could have bad breath, but somehow he does, and it is about to make me throw up every time he turns to talk to me.

I was so embarrassed for Andrew.  All weekend I was plying him with gum.  And I knew I had to tell him but I was mortified.  So I waited another week and the following weekend, I finally told him.  He was (naturally) SO EMBARRASSED.  Like heartbreakingly so.  But I gently and lovingly told him that as hard as it was for me to tell him and as hard as it was for him to hear it, that I would want him to do the same for me.

Awkward.

Andrew quadrupled his brushing and flossing and started using Listerine before he would talk to me or kiss me.  And it kinda helped.  A little.

Until my patients started putting me over the edge. 

EVERYONE had bad breath to me and I was cleaning teeth like a fanatic!  Not only was their breath killing me, but everyone would come get in my chair and it was, “Ugh, smells like waffles!” or “Blech, someone made a McDonald’s run for lunch.”  I was dying.

One Thursday, I saw the sweetest patient right before lunch and I thought, “Okay, this is it.  Her breath is literally going to make me throw up.”  I was dry heaving in my mask.  I was fighting it.  I was GOING TO PUKE!  I prayed and prayed that God would help me make it through that 50 minute appointment so I didn’t embarrass that kind woman by throwing up.  Miraculously, I made it through. 

After she left, I talked to Dr. Huntington and Michelle, our receptionist, and asked them if her breath had bothered them as well.  Nope.  They hadn’t noticed a thing.  I was baffled.

Then I became suspicious.

Extremely suspicious.

Better yet.  I became panicked.

TELLING TIME

4:00 PM became a dreaded time for me every day.  Because it was precisely at 4:00 on the dot (I kid you not!) that the nausea would hit.  I could tell time by it.  Sunday through Saturday at 4:00 and I was sick.  Sick, sick, sick. 

Thankfully, Family Legacy Dental closes at 4:00 (we are spoiled!) and so I was usually done for the day when it would hit.  But it would hit like clockwork.  And so I would just go home and lie down in the bedroom and wait a couple hours until it was a more acceptable time to put on my pajamas and go to bed.  Because 8:30 seemed a more reasonable bedtime than 4:30.

Unfortunately, my 4:00 nausea only lasted about three weeks or so.  I say “unfortunately” because it was at that point that that feeling of queasiness became a constant in my day.  I no longer had “evening sickness.”  I had “all day sickness.”  Blech.   

FATIGUE

Too tired to write this post.

Too tired to even think about this.

Too tired to do anything.

Too tired all the time.

(You know you are too tired when even sitting and watching TV seems like too much effort.)

TEARS, TEARS, AND MORE TEARS

Anyone who knows me, knows that I am a crier.  Big time.  Remember Math homework in High School, Dad?  I am a crier.

But who cries at a BYU basketball game?  (Bless your tender, sweet heart, I am not pointing fingers, Katherine!)

On January 16, Andrew and I went to the BYU vs. Saint Mary’s game.  As we were taking our seats and the big team introduction is starting before the game begins, I start tearing up.  Like big tears welling up in my eyes and threatening to spill over.  And then they announce my favorite player, Brandon Davies.  He’s a senior.  I will miss seeing him play so much!  And the tears just pour out.

But tell me…doesn’t this intro make you FEEL SOMETHING?

JANUARY 18, 2013

In the previous two weeks, Andrew had half jokingly (but becoming increasingly more serious) made references to my being pregnant.  I really didn’t believe him and chalked it all up to PMS.

A few things happened on January 17 that got me thinking about taking a pregnancy test.  The symptoms I was experiencing started to become a consistent pattern in my daily life.  But I didn’t want to take a test too soon.

That night, we watched “Raising Arizona” and laughed about the ridiculous and criminal parenting of Nicholas Cage and Holly Hunter (who knows, maybe one day we will want to hold up a convenience store to pay for diapers, too!)  But in my mind, I secretly resolved to take a pregnancy test the next morning.

Naturally I couldn’t sleep that night.

I looked at my phone at 4:52 AM and decided to just get it over with. 

I grabbed a marker from the kitchen because I wanted to write Andrew a note on the mirror IF I was pregnant.  I took the pregnancy test, wiped it down, and set it on a paper towel on the counter so that I could wash my hands.   I thought, I just won’t look at it for 10 minutes since I don’t know how long it takes to get an answer and I don’t want to look too quickly.  But as I was washing my hands, I glanced over at that test to see the words PREGNANT staring up at me.

I started shaking.

I dried my hands and took the marker to write a note to Andrew on our bathroom mirror with an arrow pointing down to the positive pregnancy test on the counter.  I decided I wanted him to be as surprised (and shell-shocked) as I was so I would wait until he woke up to tell him.  My hands trembled as I wrote the note.  I put the marker away and crawled back into bed.

I looked at my phone.  4:54 AM.  My life had just completely changed in two minutes.

I laid there for the next several hours and thought about a lot of things.  Sure, I thought about waking Andrew up to tell him.  But the guy isn’t much of a morning person so if I woke him up too early, chances are he wouldn’t know what I was talking about and forget what I said by the time he actually got up in the morning.  So I just waited.

A little after 9:00, Andrew began stirring.  He didn’t have work that day because Dr. Loehner was out of town for a conference.  I was so excited for Andrew to find out!  He finally got up to go to the bathroom and I just lay in bed smiling to myself and waiting for his discovery.  He got into the bathroom and was still for a few seconds while I knew he was reading (and processing) my note on the mirror.

He stumbled back into the bedroom in utter disbelief.  I hadn’t told him I was taking a test.  Prior to this, HE had been suspicious but *I* was in complete denial.  It really came out of left field for him.  Poor guy.  I really surprised him.

But as it sank in for both of us and we began to wrap our minds around what this all means, we became humbled at what a blessing it was to get pregnant so quickly and to be honored with a sweet new life in our home.

Here is a little video we made right after I told Andrew:

GAG ME WITH A SPOON!

I don’t know if I can even write this post.

I’m just going to have to breeze through it because this is a symptom I cannot linger on.  Yuck.

First, I noticed that I became really picky.  Food I usually like no longer appealed to me.  I never could make up my mind what I wanted to make for dinner because NOTHING sounded good.

Then I stopped eating leftovers.  I usually love leftovers.  But I was beginning to let them sit in the fridge until I just had to throw them away.  One lunchtime, I was trying to eat leftover squash.  The night before, I had decided to make something new and so I baked up a yummy, brown sugar-y, buttered butternut squash.  But the next day, one spoonful and I was heaving over the trash can.  Bye, bye, Squash.

And then there were the Valentine’s Day Monster-ish Cookies.  SHUDDER.  I am gagging as I write this.  I made a double batch of scrumptious monster cookies.  I posted the recipe to my blog.  I bragged about them on Instagram and Facebook.  I divided them into plates and had a list of 10 people to drop them off to.  I set aside extras for the McQuarrie’s Cookie Fest that Sunday night.  I ate three cookies myself throughout the course of the day.

I NEVER WANT TO SEE THEM AGAIN.  Never.  The sight and smell of the cookies sent me reeling.  I took some to Church to pass out and I didn’t make it past sacrament meeting before I had to go home and lie down and get those cookies away from me.  I made Andrew take them (and leave them) at Cookie Fest.  Then he took the rest to work the next day so I never had to look at them again.

A few days later, Kelani was asking me about the recipe because I hadn’t posted it on my blog correctly and every text message from her sent me to the trash can in dry heaves.  Ha ha!  (I hope you had better luck than I did, KK, and I’m sorry I wasn’t any help!!!)

Needless to say, I don’t do any baking anymore.  I hardly even cook.  Andrew always runs any meal plans by me for approval (he’s terrific) and we’ve been eating out a little more because I will have sudden cravings for Cubby’s or Smoking Apple or something.

But mostly food just really gags me right now.

(Here's a photo and text I sent to Andrew one night as I was trying to figure out what to make for dinner:)

INSOMNIA

I am not a really good sleeper.  I never have been and it looks like I never will be—even when taken to the brink of utter exhaustion. 

I don’t fall asleep quickly at night.  I don’t stay asleep throughout the night.  And I definitely don’t sleep when I am away from home.  I have tried many, many remedies for my insomnia but in recent years, I have started to use OTC sleep aids to help me out a few times a week.  Regardless of any of this, I can usually count on one week of the month where there is nothing I can do and I just don’t sleep.  Period.  But it’s just one week of the month so I can get through it.

I should mention that I stopped taking OTC sleep aids before Andrew and I were going to try to get pregnant because I didn’t want to be ingesting anything that could be potentially harmful.

I was expecting to have a sleepless week the first full week of January.  That’s just how it goes.  But my sleeplessness extended into the next week.  Sometimes that happens as well but it’s definitely not a picnic for me.  And then it seemed that my body gave up sleep altogether.

Each night, I would fall asleep between 12:00-1:00.  Within an hour or two, I was wide awake and essentially “done” for that night.  I really don’t know how I functioned.  Sometimes I would get a stretch of three or—if I was really lucky—three and a half hours (bonus!).  Sometimes I would fall back asleep around 6:00 only to be awakened a short time later by my alarm (ugh!).  But I wasn’t sleeping and it was rough.  It didn’t get any better.  Week after week after week went by. 

Andrew and I tried everything we could think of to help me sleep at night but nothing was working and I became more and more frazzled and emotional about my lack of rest.

I imagine that my sleeplessness has always and especially now has something to do with hormonal fluctuations.  Oh and the anxiety of an expectant mother.  No one told me what a constant worry pregnancy could be!  Guess we are just gearing up for those sleepless nights of new parenthood!

FEBRUARY 25, 2013

It had been an unsettling week and a half as far as my pregnancy went.

I wasn’t so sick all of the time.  I was happy to be “outgrowing” that symptom because I was done with it. 

But I also missed it.  I told Andrew, “I kind of wish that I felt sick again because that made me feel pregnant.”  A silly offhand remark but it was true.

I just didn’t feel pregnant.

The same day on my pregnancy app--ironic

Sunday, February 24, was our one-year anniversary and we decided to go out of town for that weekend.  Andrew booked a room at the Zermatt in Midway and we planned to leave Friday morning. 

Thursday night I started spotting.  Just a tiny, tiny, tiny bit.  But it panicked me.  I immediately put my feet up and confined myself to bedrest the rest of the evening.  I tend to overreact.  Andrew gave me a Priesthood blessing and felt really good about everything.  Emotionally, I was beside myself.

This entire two months I have been so worried that something would go wrong.  I have had blessings from Andrew and we pray every night in private and as a couple for the health of our baby.

Friday morning.  Still spotting.  Just the teensiest, tiniest bit.  Andrew finally convinced me to call our doctor.  We had set up an appointment with Dr. McCarter’s office at Orem Community Health Clinic for March 15.  We talked to the nurse and she seemed to think everything was fine.  We felt reassured for the most part but there was still a nagging feeling in the back of my mind.

We had a great anniversary get away.  It was wonderfully relaxing.  But there was just a bit of a cloud hanging over it.

Since I was still spotting on Monday, I decided to call Dr. McCarter’s office and get in whenever I could.  They had a lunchtime appointment that I was able to take.  Andrew met me there and we got started on a normal prenatal exam.  Dr. McCarter talked to us and explained that spotting is normal.  He wasn’t too concerned and therefore Andrew wasn’t either.

He decided to start with the ultrasound just to put our minds at ease.  I was so scared.  I was just really, really scared.  I felt like this was the moment that was going to confirm my worst fears.  Andrew held my hand tightly and we began.

Right away the baby came up on the computer screen and I made an audible gasp.  It was incredible to see that little life!  Silence from Dr. McCarter.  I squeezed Andrew’s hand and he squeezed mine.  The silence extended for quite a long time as Dr. McCarter looked and looked at our baby from all angles.  I asked about the yolk sac just to get him to say something to me.  He answered briefly but kept focusing on the screen.

I have been using this awesome pregnancy phone app called Health & Parenting Pregnancy (what a weird British title).  I estimated that I was one day shy of being 10 weeks along.  Our baby looked more like the 8 week photo they have on the app.

Dr. McCarter finally spoke, “What we have here is a missed miscarriage.”  That was all I needed to hear. 

There was more he said—a lot to reassure us and me—and then he gave us some privacy.

He measured the baby at about 7 weeks 4 days.  For the past two weeks I haven’t “been actively pregnant” anymore hence the lack of symptoms.  

 The office was incredibly kind.  Dr. McCarter outlined a game plan for us to try again and was really hopeful that we could have a baby as soon as the beginning of next year.  Everyone was wonderful.  They didn’t even charge us for the appointment.

It’s hard to be at the end of this pregnancy.  All of our hopes and dreams and excitement kind of just left us for a while.  We were thankful we hadn’t told anyone about the pregnancy so we didn’t have a lot of explaining to do.

One night I was lying in bed and I turned to ask Andrew where he thought our baby’s spirit would end up.  Would the baby be given another body for mortality?  Would we be able to have that baby with us in the eternities?  I know there is no official Church doctrine on this subject, but what did he feel would happen?

I think my question caught him off-guard.  He said he really didn’t know.

Right at that moment, I knew my answer.  That baby was a treasured part of our lives for 10 weeks (7 ½ weeks?).  That baby was real to us.  And just like that baby was real to us, he (I always thought it was a boy) is real to our Heavenly Father.  Our Father in Heaven knows ALL of us.  Our time in mortality is but the blink of an eye to One who is eternal whether it be 10 weeks of gestation or 110 years of mortal life.  And He counts us all the same.

Our baby is HIS and our baby is OURS.  Perhaps our baby was so needed in heaven at this time that he could only spare 10 weeks to experience mortal life before he returned to all that he was called in heaven to do.  But we will know that baby again.  I know this because God is just and merciful and most of all, He is a parent, too.

WAITING FOR THE END

For me, the worst part of my “missed miscarriage” (to use Dr. McCarter’s term) was waiting to miscarry.  We just didn’t know when it was going to happen.  I was just waiting and waiting and waiting to start over.  It was mentally exhausting.  I just needed to be done with pregnancy so I could have that emotional and physical release.  So that I could LET GO of it all.

By the next week, I was becoming an emotional wreck.  I needed to move on and my body wouldn’t let me.  We had an appointment with Dr. McCarter on Wednesday, March 6.  He checked with an ultrasound.  I couldn’t look.  I made Andrew watch.  We all decided that we needed to schedule a D&C as soon as possible.

I was grateful that Dr. McCarter expedited the process for us.  He worked us in over his lunch hour that Friday, March 8.

Thursday, March 7, my dentist called in sick and so I happened to have the day off.  What a blessing it became!  I started getting phone calls from the hospital by 8:30 that morning.  Mostly to figure out the finances. 

Since I only work part time, I don’t have any insurance.  It’s an extra $492 a month out of pocket to add me to Andrew’s health insurance plan and that is in addition to the $7500 maternity deductible we would have to pay.  Andrew and I thought we would have a few months to shop around before we committed to a health insurance plan.  We didn’t expect we would get pregnant the first time we tried (TMI).  Big oops.  Lesson learned.

Dr. McCarter’s fee for the surgery was $700.  Reasonable.  The anesthesiologist’s fee was $792 for the general.  A little higher than we expected since Andrew and I both work in the health field and have experience with outpatient procedures but whatever.  Then the hospital has their fee.  We were given an estimate of $3,500-$11,000 for the hospital cost.  So, it costs as much to NOT have a baby as it does to have one.

We didn’t know what to do.  I spent a lot of that morning on the phone.  Andrew spent his time between patients on the phone.  How could we afford that?

Andrew came home for lunch and we talked about it and prayed.  We didn’t know what to do.  We felt that we were tested to our very limits and then some.  Emotionally and spiritually we were wracked.  I wanted so much to have the procedure and I needed to have it because I just couldn’t cope with the continued grief.  This was a very tender time in our marriage.  We turned it over to Heavenly Father.  We pleaded with Him and told Him that we were at our limits and that we would rely wholly on Him.  There was nothing more we felt we could do.

I went to the hospital that afternoon to talk to the business office.  We still didn’t know where the money would come from.

I had to do some pre-op labwork.  Those poor phlebotomists at Orem Community!  I sat in the chair and burst into tears.  They were so kind!  Evlyne held my hand and talked to me while Christina quickly did the necessary workups.  Evlyne assured me that we would have another baby—that we could try again soon.  It was what I needed to hear.  She also mentioned that unfortunately they have seen a huge increase in these types of procedures lately and said the hospital was experiencing a surge of miscarriages. 

I left the hospital and I was at peace.  I knew it was going to work.  I had my hospital band on and I was ready to go for the next morning.

That night I asked Andrew to give me another Priesthood blessing.  (Thank heavens, there isn’t a quota!) 

As he blessed me, I had an experience that testified to me of the power of the Priesthood.  With my head bowed, as I listened to the words of the blessing, my mind would wonder and I would think to myself, “Oh I hope he mentions something about…” and as soon as I thought it, the next phrase out of Andrew’s mouth would address that specific concern.  The third time it happened Andrew said verbatim the exact thought that crossed my mind. 

I know that God lives.  I know that He loves us.  I know that He knows me individually and that I am a treasured child of God—just as all of His children are.  I know that He knows my needs.  I know that He will provide.

That night as I laid down for bed, I began to miscarry on my own.  I don’t feel like I need to go into details here but it was a very calm experience for me in our particular case.  Thankfully, I knew it was coming and I knew what was happening.  It was really more of a blessing and a relief for Andrew and I since it meant that we didn’t need surgery anymore and it marked the ending of this chapter.

I called Dr. McCarter’s office the next morning and went in for an ultrasound where I was finally cleared from having surgery about 20 minutes before I was to check in for the procedure. 

As I got in my car and turned on the radio, I began to laugh.  It was right in the middle of Swedish House Mafia’s “Don’t You Worry Child” and the chorus was repeating:

Don't you worry, don't you worry now.

Yeah!

Don't you worry, don't you worry, child.

See heaven's got a plan for you.
Don't you worry, don't you worry now.

They were just really funny lyrics to hear right at that exact moment and I chuckled to myself.  That song went right into the next one: “Carry On” by Fun.  That was when I laughed out loud.  I knew it seems ridiculous to say this, but for me it was another witness of God’s love for me.  He knows me so well and He knows that I love listening to music.  I felt like he was sending me reassurance in a way that I would appreciate and also see the humor in. 

I know that sometimes we have daily witnesses like that that the mortal man would write off as “coincidence” but at that time for me and now as I share it, I know that it was a little joke that Heavenly Father and I shared at that moment.  Because we don’t need to worry.  Heaven does have a plan for us.  And we will carry on.

AFTER EVERYTHING

Beginning to bloom outside our condo March 8

As Andrew and I reflect on the past three months, we give humble thanks to our loving Heavenly Father who has seen us through this great trial.  It was reaffirmed to us over and over that all is in His hands.  He will see us through whatever difficulty we are facing.  He knows us and He loves us as individual children.  All is in His hands. 

The atonement of our Savior, Jesus Christ, can succor us in all of our trials.  It does not just cover sin but it covers pain and weakness, too.

There was a night before I miscarried where I felt very angry.  I told Andrew that I felt angry at God and I questioned whether He really knew what was best for us.  We wanted a baby and we know what have to start again.  We wanted to go to grad school and we had heard eight “NOs” at that time (eight out of eleven submitted applications).  I was angry and I felt like this wasn’t how it was supposed to happen for us.  We had righteous desires.  Why couldn’t we realize them?

I know it was wrong to question Heavenly Father’s plan.  But I also think this was a very human response to the pain that we were going through.  It illustrates how I felt pushed beyond what I thought I could handle.

By the next day, I had humbled myself.  I know that everything is for our good and that His timing is perfect.  He has shown me that time and time again.

We felt the love and support of friends and family as we went through this trial.  We shared our struggles with them and they opened their arms and hearts to us.  We felt the strengthening power of their prayers on our behalf and are overwhelmed with gratitude for the many kindnesses shown.

One of the sisters in our stake is blind and she crochets afghans and then passes them along to the ward Relief Society presidents to hand out.  Our sweet president, Kenni Wilcox, made sure I received one.  I was so touched that this anonymous (to me, at least!) sister would spend her time and talents serving others like that.  What a tremendous example of Christlike charity!

And finally, I am so grateful to Andrew for seeing me through all of this.  I learned that even though Andrew and I are sealed together as a family for all of eternity, RIGHT NOW is when I need him most.  I am so thankful to have him as my companion forever.  He means everything to me and I love him with all of my heart.  I can’t imagine facing any challenge in my life without him at my side.  He is my heart.