Kittymomma and Mamalode – together at last!

Hey, lovely readers!

Some of you may remember my post “Letter to Lucy in Heaven”. I am proud to announce that it has been published on “Mamalode” magazine’s website for the November theme “Breathe”.

Please check it out! This is my first time in a professional publication and I am very excited. 🙂 If you have never checked out “Mamalode” magazine, their website, or their Facebook page, you are in for a treat. Some of my favorite writers are there and I am honored to be included among them now.


Weekend of Waiting

I am having trouble getting pregnant. I guess.

I have debated whether to write about this. I know it seems like I have no trouble sharing personal issues. I probably overshare sometimes. But this seems much more personal somehow. Probably it’s the old stigma attached to discussing “female” issues.

Plus, if I do get pregnant again, I’m not sure when I want to tell people. It would seem impossible not to tell people if we have another loss, but I don’t want to be forced to again by the fact that they already know. And it seems like, if I share that I’m having trouble getting pregnant, y’all would expect me to share when it happens. Even if I don’t, it will be pretty obvious if I suddenly stop yakking about trying to get pregnant.

What is so wrong with sharing that you’re having trouble? That you have had a loss? There’s nothing shameful in those issues. Most people go through them at some point. The problem is that when you share you open yourself up to judgment, opinions, advice, and intrusive questions. I have been lucky in that most people have been extraordinarily respectful and kind.

So, since this sucks and it’s hard and sharing usually helps, here goes nothing.

We have tried twice to get pregnant since the D&C and struck out twice. We have never, ever had trouble getting pregnant before. Three kids – homerun the first time every time. So, of course, we would have trouble now. Because life just hasn’t been hard enough this year.

I know it can be normal to take up to six months for a normal, healthy couple to get pregnant. I know my body endured trauma with the pregnancy and the D&C. But I know my body, I’ve been tracking my cycle, and I know things aren’t right.

It would be nice if my doctor would listen to me and believe me. But she doesn’t, so I am now searching for a new doctor on top of everything else.

The problem seems to be that my cycles are only 23 days long since the D&C. Not only that, but my period is coming barely a week after I ovulate. That is not enough time for the little egg to get in there and start growing if it’s been fertilized.

The first time it happened after we tried was really traumatic. I thought it was implantation bleeding at first, like when I got pregnant with Lucy. But it started to look a lot like the beginning of my pregnancy with Baby Bean. It didn’t even occur to me that I might not be pregnant at all, because that had never happened. So, I spent three days certain that I was starting another bad pregnancy and feeling cursed. It was so heartbreaking and traumatic that I was actually relieved when I realized it was my period.

The next month, I once again thought it was implantation bleeding. But then I remembered the previous month and my heart sank. Sure enough, it followed the exact same pattern, except that there were FOUR days of tortuous spotting before it finally became apparent it was my period.

Despite the fact that this has happened for three cycles now, my doc still thinks the problem is that my lining hasn’t recovered from the D&C. At least, she gave me estrogen gel. Hopefully, that will help. But I’m afraid my worst nightmare is coming true. I have a problem that probably has an easy fix, but my doctor is going to force me to suffer through months of this heartbreak before she lets me pop a damn pill that will fix it.

This weekend marks the usual time in my cycle when the tortuous spotting starts and my body plays cat and mouse with my emotions. Is my period early again or am I starting a bad pregnancy?

I just hope and pray that, even if I am not pregnant this month, my cycle will be back to normal. I went to acupuncture. I’m using my estrogen gel. I don’t think a normal cycle is too much to ask.

In the meantime, my temperature was very slightly down this morning. I’m cranky and having mood swings. I am terrified it’s PMS and my hopes are about to be dashed again. Sunday is the dreaded day 24.

All I can do is pray for strength and hope our plans for this weekend will distract me from whatever is coming in the next few days. Please send thoughts/prayers/good vibes that, even if I am not pregnant, my cycle will at least go back to normal.

Our Last Day of Normal

Today is the fifth anniversary of the day Chris and I found out we were going to be parents.


A year ago today, it also became our last day of normal. November 4, 2012, was the last day before an X-ray showed Lucy’s heart was enlarged. She was diagnosed with dilated cardiomyopathy by the end of that day.

A year ago today, we took the kids out for frozen yogurt to celebrate the anniversary of those two pink lines.





We had no idea our little girl was so sick. We had no idea how close to disaster we were. We had no idea that she would be dead in six months or that we would have lost her sooner if the doctor hadn’t listened to his gut and kept ordering tests instead of sending us home.

After the yogurt shop, we went to the grocery store. It was your typical Sunday afternoon at the store. It was incredibly crowded. I had an incredibly long list. I was going to cook EVERY NIGHT that week.

All of that food spoiled in the fridge during Lucy’s ten-day hospital stay.

The kids were tired and cranky. I remember Chris carrying Lucy in the Ergo. I remember rushing through the aisles trying to get everything and get out of there as fast as I could. I was so stressed.


That night I was inexplicably worried about Lucy. I stood in the hallway outside of her room holding her. The lights were off in her room and I thought I saw a dark figure standing in her room. A year later, it seems it must have been my shadow, but it’s hard not to believe it was a sign of some sort considering the events of the next day.

We had no idea Lucy and I would be sleeping in a hospital 24 hours later. We had no idea that would be our family’s last night together for 10 days. We had no idea, as we worriedly noted her quick breaths in her crib that night, how quickly we were getting to the last one.

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