It’s January, which is when my blog hosting fees are due. And with it comes the reminder that if I’m going to pay for this blog, I need to use this blog.

Writing is hard work, but it is also therapeutic. It helps me sort through the chaos in my mind and formulate my beliefs. Living in my head isn’t an easy thing, but putting words on paper helps make it more bearable.

So I’m going to try to be a better steward of both my blog and my complicated thoughts and write more.

As for life lately, well it has been understandably dark. Miscarriage is a horrible process to go through; the hormones and the grief feel overwhelming. I knew that all of December would be dark, and I trudged through it as best I could (while loving my little ball of light as best I could as well). And now we are in January, and it feels a little bit better. We are closer to being able to transfer another embryo, and I’m so ready to begin moving forward.

Of course, transferring another embryo is terrifying. All six of our embryos were supposed to be fantastic quality. So have we now gone through the unexpected “bad” ones of the batch? I hope so. We discussed transferring two, and for awhile I insisted that we would. But after having one (glorious but high maintenance) child, I just don’t think I could handle two. Transferring two increases the chances of us having one, but the odds of twins are greater than 50%. And my mental health isn’t what it needs to be to handle twins. I wish it was, but it’s not.

So we will transfer one and hope it works. If it doesn’t, we transfer another. We have four more, all great quality. The idea of going through four transfers terrifies me, but we will take it one step at a time.

I am plagued by our inability to know exactly what went wrong. Since I passed the baby in Texas, we weren’t able to have it tested. I wish I knew if it was a genetic defect undetected by the testing we had done on the embryo (this is most likely) or if it was something that I did. Did I carry Abbie too much? Should I have cut out caffeine completely (how does one do that with a toddler)? Was I on too many supplements? Not enough? Should I have kept up with acupuncture? There is no way to know. So I keep plodding along, trying my best to manage the millions of thoughts that run through my brain on a daily basis.

It is hard being an analytical person. Even at two, I can see Abbie’s brain working just like mine, her mind struggling to take everything in, her eyebrows furrowing at new things. Her emotions running out of control in the same way that mine do when things just don’t seem right (some of this comes with being two, but it doesn’t seem all that much different at thirty five). I hope I can raise her to use her mind well, to love herself even when she drives herself crazy. To know that thinking is a good thing, even when it feels like your thoughts are drowning you.

And I hope I can help her to find a creative outlet for her thoughts so that she never feels trapped or alone in that beautiful mind of hers. Writing is one way I can do that for myself. So I will start writing more, whether people read it or not. But I appreciate all of you who read.




  1. Jessica Kohlenberger says

    Beautifully written. ❤️ I know we don’t know each other much (yet?!) but I think you are an amazing woman and the love for your daughter is so heart warming. Abbie is so lucky to have you as her mommy!

  2. says

    I’m always glad to see you’ve written. And I love love love that sweet Abbie. I’m so sorry for the darkness; I can’t imagine trying to juggle the grief of losing a child with the joy of loving the one you have. I pray it gets better, and that you soon have another ball of light to share your home.

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