National Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day

National Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day is observed annually in the United States on October 15. It is a day of remembrance for pregnancy loss and infant death which includes, but is not limited to, miscarriage, still birth, SIDS or the death of a newborn.

The first time I’d ever heard of this national remembrance day, I was 18, and pregnant with Ben in Utah. Someone had tagged me in a post for a Facebook group made up entirely of women who had babies to remember. They shared pictures, mementos, tattoos, and stories about the short lived life of their pregnancy or child. It was a heart wrenching thing to read, and even more to be a part of. I made a little post, apologizing for not quite fitting into the group, but still feeling the loss of my infant through adoption. The wonderful thing about women like that is that they loved me and supported me like I belonged. Because losing Ben the day after he was born felt a lot like death.

Last October, I remembered losing Ben, but also the loss of Houston 1 and 2. This year, I have Houston 3 to remember as well. All my beautiful babies.

The community that I’ve found and been able to be a part of on Instagram has helped me put words to my feelings, and grow beyond my one-sided perspective. I follow adoptive parents, other birth moms, and hopeful adoptive parents, as well as agencies/support groups. I like to share things that really stick out to me, either because they word, so perfectly, the things I’m feeling, or because I want others to educate themselves on the complexity of these feelings and relationships. 

Adoptions and miscarriages touch our lives and those close to us more often than we can imagine, and knowing what to say, what not to say, and how to love the people going through it can really lighten their burden. Because when you’re in the thick of it, you feel all alone.

BEN

Now, I know Ben didn’t die, but my mind was so completely traumatized by losing him that I legitimately cannot connect the three year old I know today as the perfect baby I bore in the hospital. I don’t know how other birthmothers feel, but this is how I feel; it’s like he died. I walked out of there with an empty wound, empty arms, and so many tears. I grieved my loss. I ached with every ounce of emotion my body contained. And when I was dried up, I was like a zombie, until more tears could be produced. Maybe I feel this way because I was forced to give him up. I don’t know. The end lesson is, trauma is real, it seriously affects your brain, and your memories, and your emotions day to day as you remember. To this day, I wake up sometimes, thinking I have a child, searching for understanding, until the weight of losing him crashes down again, and I have to get up and move on, like it’s natural.

HOUSTON 1

When I miscarried 1, I was sad because I really wanted a baby. I was able to wrap my head around it pretty quickly because, logically, I understood that it was very soon after removing my birth control, and my body might not have been fully built up to support a child. Also, I had had a pretty serious fever for 3 days right as I found out I was pregnant, and lost it a couple days later. Fevers that early in a pregnancy are very bad for babies. So putting those facts together, I was able to step back and feel sad for my loss, but still hopeful for my future family.

HOUSTON 2

2 wrecked me. I was just completely devastated. I still have nightmares about the day I lost 2. I was only 20, and in perfect health, and yet I had my second miscarriage, and a very rare kind where I carried my mostly dead baby for 4 extra weeks. And then for 2 months after that, my hormone levels were still so high, that if I had taken a pregnancy test, it would have read positive.

I remember the ER doctor’s face. I remember yelling at him and my mom “how many do I have to lose?!” I remember him frantically searching for tissues that I used entirely.

3 months of loving this baby. I loved this baby so so so much. Whenever I feel sad about my miscarriages, I always think back to this one.

HOUSTON 3

When we got a positive test result, I was determined to not get attached because I knew it would die. And yet I got attached anyway (because hey, it’s still my baby after all). I was in a very public setting when it all happened, and I still cried my eyes out and screamed, even though I knew it was going to happen.

I cannot count the tears I’ve shed over my three babies and Ben. Grief is a horrible pain, a numbing emptiness, and a never ending, aching reminder of what could’ve, and should’ve been.

I don’t know what lesson I was meant to learn from losing not only Ben, but my three miscarriages too. Did I really need 4 examples? Did I not properly learn a mother’s love after Ben, that the it needed to be carved into me deeper? What did I miss?

There is a woman I follow on Instagram, named Elise Harris, who lost her twins halfway through pregnancy. She got their names tattooed on the inside of her arms, and said this about them: “I thought about getting my tattoos and ultimately decided that they were for me. Everyone else gets to physically have their children with them. They get to carry them in their arms and hold them. But I don’t. But having the tattoos of their names on my arms is a way for me to also have my children with me physically. To hold and to carry always.”

I talked to Zach about me getting a tattoo for a long time; we even went and met with an artist and talked about the process and my design. When I finally decided to do it, I was pregnant with H2, and therefore couldn’t get it. And then I rethought my ideas, now to include these Houston babies. So now, once Houston 4 is born and no longer breastfeeding, I can finally get my tattoo. Because I want them in my arms like it should've been. 

HOUSTON 4

This pregnancy has been SO much harder than I’d anticipated. I’ve been working at least 40 hours per week, in an understaffed department leaving me with the majority of the heavy lifting—literally. Good news is, I’ll be super fit for birthing and my arms are strong so hopefully carrying around a 8 pound nugget won’t be too hard. She’s incredibly active; she never stops kicking. I’ve gained more weight in these 31 weeks than I did my entire pregnancy with Ben.

My emotions have seriously caught me off guard. I think everyone close to me has been hoping this baby will provide some good healing to my heart. But, my depression is still much more significant than I’m comfortable with. My thoughts get really scary sometimes. I’ve been grieving Ben and my Houston babies a lot.

I stopped wearing my necklace because one day, I just got so freaking mad that that is all I have of Ben; I want more, I want HIM, not some necklace.

I get really irritable when people ask me how many kids I have or if this is my first. Because I have had 4 babies. This is my 5th. But I just tell them that I do have a boy, and then they act like my family is complete now that I have a girl too.. and I just want to die.

I’ve been having anxiety too. 

I had a panic attack at work and was crying on the floor, on the phone with Zach for 30 minutes one day.

I’ve talked with one of my mama friends on Instagram about connecting to this baby, because it feels so unnatural to actually get to keep her and take her home and she’ll be a real person, my person; will it be instantaneous? if it isn’t, does that make me a bad mom? Can I keep her to myself until I feel safe and bonded? Because everyone is going to want to see her, but that scares me, because what if they take her?

What if they don’t think I’m going to be a good mom, like they did with Ben?

Am I allowed to not have my dad bless this baby at church? Because that’s going to be a super awkward conversation.

Do I really have to go on a road trip less than a month after she’s born for step-family in-laws? What if people kiss her and she gets a cold and I don’t know what to do?

And.

What if she leaves me like all my other babies?

What if she hates me, and doesn’t bond?

I feel like I have no control, and suppressing all these crazy downs while dealing with super the great high of actually being able to have this baby, it's all driving me crazy. 

Anyway--today is a good day to love on those women around you who have miscarried, or lost a baby. Pray for them, say hello, send them a card. Even if it isn't specific, just love on them. 1 in 4 women have had a miscarriage, 1 in 8 couples are struggling with infertility. There's probably someone close to you that you could help today. 

A New Season

Zach and I are so so so so unbelievably excited for this new season in our life because I AM PREGNANT! Houston #4 is on its way, and every week feels like we are leaping and bounding towards parenthood. We got the news on April 5th, with a beautifully strong positive test result. I was feeling hopeful, sad, positive, scared, doubtful, but still overjoyed at this opportunity again. While some couples struggling with infertility pray for a positive pregnancy test, we just pray that it will actually last, since our last three haven't made it past that 8 week mark. I was able to get a 6-week ultrasound since I'm high-risk due to multiple miscarriages, and I got to see the little baby. After that, our intuition told us this was the one. We were both extremely positive that this baby will actually be in our arms, coming home with us. Throughout further appointments, we crossed our fingers that there was still a heartbeat, and each time, our doctor was able to find it, strong and healthy.

As of now, we are 18 weeks along, almost halfway, and have our 20-week anatomical scan scheduled for the end of the month. We are so excited to set up the baby room and decorate (in more than just grays.) We are grateful for every movement we feel, every chance we have to hear its heartbeat, and every bottle of ginger ale curing the symptoms of this beautiful pregnancy. 

I only show if I eat lots of food. Even this far along, I'm tiny and skinny. 

Hawaiian Honeymoon (1 Year Later)

Zach and I never officially went on a honeymoon last year; our trip to Europe was with my family 100% of the time. So I booked tickets to Oahu back in January and happened to pick the best week to leave for both of our jobs! We got to avoid crazy busy weeks.

The trip started off quite crazy though. We left Seattle at 5:50am and arrived in Oakland, just to find out that our flight to Oahu was moved up an entire hour, AND had left 10 minutes early. Basically, we missed the flight. I had several freak out moments when no one was being helpful and all the Hawaiian Air staff were gone from the airport until 5pm that night for the next flight. While I was on hold with customer service, we had to book new tickets to get there that day, since we had an AirBnB and car payed for and I wasn't about to waste money. After a lovely chat with Hawaiian Air, he finally conceded to a full refund!

While we were able to do a lot of the things we wanted, I got super sick the first day, practically feinted, and then was just completely exhausted for the rest of the trip, taking naps every day, and struggling to eat. And then Zach weighs to much to ride the horses, which is ridiculous since he really isn't that big. Although if you saw my Instagram, he did let me post a picture of him calling him a beached whale.

Laie, Hawaii Temple

The grounds were SO beautiful. Last time I was here 8 years ago, it was closed for renovation. I'm so glad we went back. We also visited the Polynesian Culture Center (thanks Krissy) which was amusing, but we didn't get to stay for the show because we were so tired. We go to bed here at 7-8p, and the show didn't start till 10p Seattle time, so we left early. 

Pearl Harbor Memorial

I got really sick this day, and the attractions cost SO MUCH MONEY so we did everything we possibly could that was free. There were two small walk-through museums, and I'm so grateful for the memory refresher on how tragic everything was surrounding WWII. 

My grandpa Steinhilber fought in the war, but over in Europe, in Battle of the Bulge, and with Patton. History has always been interesting to me, but a foreign concept since I've never been affected by war. Learning that my relatives took part and their impact always astounds me. 

Dole Pineapple Plantation

My favorite fruit is pineapple. And I will use any excuse to go on a chu-chu-train. 

Waimea Falls

My mom and dad went here on their honeymoon, so I really wanted to go too. Luckily the walk/hike was only 1.5 miles so I was actually able to do it, even being sick. 

Over all, it was a good trip. It was nice being with each other and not having to work. It was nice to relax and not feel guilty about finishing the kitchen or staying up too late. 

Infertility After Adoption: Mother's Day

It’s much easier to put the pain of this day aside when you choose to act like it isn’t happening. This is my third Mother’s Day; 3rd year without Ben, 1st year without all three of my Houston babies.
Infertility after adoption has been devastating. It makes me love the babies that surround me even more. It makes the sicknesses of pregnancy worth it in the hopes a baby will come out of it at the end. Somehow the world keeps spinning, and I along with it.

Just a couple weeks ago, it was National Infertility Awareness Week. And that whole week struck me much harder than it ever has, since I've now realized this is a real thing I'm dealing with. 

By some random chance, I found a woman on Instagram who battled with infertility and wrote some amazing things about her journey that resonate so much, and I want to share them. Her handle is @Huntersofhappiness

"One day I realized that the people that make insensitive comments did not realize that this was a real medical problem with a diagnosis and a treatment. They were unaware about what infertility really is and what it entails or didn't know what to say, so they said something silly."

I've blocked people on social media simply because of the things they say, thinking they are encouraging. My body is unique. And right now, it's broken and they can't figure out why. I am not your cousins sister's husband's ex-girlfriend who's going through the exact same thing. My infertility is mine and my husbands. It's our unique genes, my unique eggs and uterus. My story will never be the same as anyone else's. So please, for the love of all things sane, do not tell me some random advice because it may have worked for "Suzy."

"Hope is happiness. I remember the pain of our 2nd failed (pregnancy). It was crushing. Everything had gone perfectly. We had so much HOPE that it would work. I was angry and so sad. I remember thinking that the pain was so intense because I had been so hopeful. It was then that I decided the next month I would have no hope. I would plan or it to fail and then it wouldn't be as painful when it did. So that next month I did it. I had zero hope and got a negative result again.  That month, I was miserable and so incredibly unhappy. I realized that hope is happiness. Sure, hope might make the day that your hope is crushed a little more painful, but the whole rest of the month was so much happier. We have to have hope."

This hit me so hard. After losing Houston one, I was just confused. When we got pregnant with Houston 2, and saw his heartbeat and watched him on the ultrasound, I was SO happy. He was right on track with my pregnancy with Ben, so I knew this would happen then. And then he died, and it was one of the worst pains I've ever felt. I hated everything in life. I hated Ben for leaving me. I hated Zach for not being able to save the baby. I hated myself so freaking much, I can't even describe it. I was so done with even trying for a baby, because all we ever did was try and try and fail and fail and it was shredding me to pieces. 
When we got pregnant with Houston 3, I was more depressed than ever. I told myself "don't get attached, don't take pictures. It's going to die. That's what happens." I told myself that for weeks. I tried to never get excited. And then when he died on New Year's day in one of my favorite restaurants, the agony was just as real. 
I've done it both ways, hopeful, and not hopeful. In the end the baby always dies. But how many more good days could there have been had I been happier, rather than staying under my rain cloud? 

"Many hardships in life are an event. They happen, they are devastating, then you begin the grieving process; denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and eventually, acceptance. When you live with infertility, you go through the process every month, and often times, you don't even have time to get all the way through before your next cycle comes."

You might find me on a good day. You'll usually find me on a day where I'm faking it really well. Then there are some days where I can't even try. The pain is so real. Losing 4 children? How can I be expected to survive this? How can I ever accept it when I know that no peace can be found without reclamation, aka a new baby? I know what could potentially be the ultimate fix, and I'm destroying myself further to get to it. 

"I'm sorry. I am asked on a pretty regular basis what people can say or do to help, comfort and support friends or family members going through infertility. The short answer is to say I'm sorry: I'm sorry you're going through this, I'm sorry you have to experience this pain and heartache, I'm sorry your baby is not in your arms, I'm sorry that this totally isn't fair.

It's simple but it's powerful. It validates the hardship of infertility while also expressing your sympathies. To those who have never experienced infertility themselves, they often have no clue what to say. I love you doesn't have to be a grand gesture. So many amazing friends and family sent me flowers, randomly dropped off care packages, gave me a thoughtful piece of jewelry, sent a card, a simple text or phone call."

When I lost Ben, my front door was heart-attacked by the LDS Singles ward, people I didn't even know but who knew about me thanks to my brother in law. I received so many cookies. They were so good, and they filled me up for days. And I was so grateful to those people. Receiving cookies literally made my day, that's how low I was. There were also a lot of flowers. And one amazing woman, Andrea, gave me a card too. It was one you would find under the loss/grief section of Hallmark. The words, though generated to sympathize with death, happened to be the perfect description for what I was going through. I read that card a thousand times, thinking to myself, "finally, someone sees that this adoption has completely destroyed me. It's like he died." The human mind is not equip to deal with adoption. It sees it as infant loss. What once was there is now gone. And even when I see him now, it is not something my brain can compute. He is not the 27 hours old baby I held in my arms. He's this totally different person who is nothing like me. He is their child, because mine died after I walked out of that hospital. 
If that seems too cruel of me to say, I hope you never have to experience this pain. It is life-altering. It's never ending. 

Motherhood is near to divinity. 
I am a mother of 4 beautiful children. One day, I'll get my 3 Houston's back. But not the child who's loss continues to rip at my soul every day. 

3

Today is my sweet baby's birthday!
That's right, Ben is 3.

It is absolutely insane how fast the time has gone.
It is absolutely insane how slow the time has gone.
The pain and every bit of the experience is so fresh in my mind.
I have days where I wake up and feel like a normal 21 year old.
I have days where I wake up and immediately look around for my bear cub that was stolen from me.
I have days where I wake up and almost drive to Andrew's house instead of work and demand him to give me my life back, and if he can't figure that out, at least give me my baby back.
I have days where I can't look at my parents because they didn't love me enough to save me, and let me keep my baby.
I have days where I hate Ben for forgetting me, for leaving me, for loving his parents instead of me, for warming up and playing with everyone but me. It's like he senses that I'm different than everyone else and doesn't approach me because of it.
I have days where I love Ben so freaking much it's paralyzing, and I end up on the floor of a room at work crying my eyes out because how it is possible for my heart to be this full yet this empty?
I have days where I want to pretend that those three years with Andrew never happened, that the pregnancy didn't happen, that the abuse never happened, that I just decided not to go to college and worked instead; that I am normal.
I have days where I think about every little thing I could have and should have done differently so that Andrew and I never dated, that we never got pregnant, that I never let him force into adoption, that I never researched it, that I never prayed and pleaded with God, that Ben came and I left Andrew to raise him safely, that Andrew came back to me and actually loved me, and if not, then my mom helped me raise Ben until Zach finally came into our lives and took us in.
I have days where I think Ben is better off without me, just like everyone keeps saying.
I have days where I'm some how able to get Ben back, that he magically loves me and calls me mommy, and it's like the last three years never happened, and we were a normal family.

Ben is literally my whole world. Everything begins and ends with him. He has my whole heart, and the majority of my tears. His birth was the most magical experience, and his departure was the most earth-shattering. I love him so much.

"My last birthday, I'd closed my eyes and thought of nothing when I leaned over my cake. You stop believing in wishes when the only one you want to make can never come true." (Sarah Dessen)

"The brightness of the sky outside, the filtered sunlight through the tree just past my window, the most beautiful fall, everyone agreed. It probably was. But even though I was there, and lived it, I couldn't have said so... you, too, can disappear in plain sight if enough is taken from you. I was missing, in many ways. And I wasn't sure I wanted to be found." (Sarah Dessen)

My little book worm!

New Year, New Home, New Goals

On the last business day of 2017, Zachary and I officially purchased our condo 13 miles from my childhood home. It's invigorating 1: Owning actual, valuable property 2: Having free range to be a Pinterest/IKEA addict. We are currently demolishing the crap out of the kitchen and have appointments set to get a new master bath shower & vanity. 

Funny story about that actually: I set an appointment with Bath Fitter to come quote me on the new shower, and he gave me a HUGE $ number, so he said he'll call me later and see what our final thought was. Well he called last night, and asked what we though, and I'm like "Yeah! We totally want everything we talked about!" And he was so caught off guard that we weren't denying him, that he wasn't ready to take our deposit. We were laughing about it. 

Anyway, I'm really excited for this phase in my life. I'm going to go crazy having so much room to be ME and for Zach and I to finally be US without roommates or mother (who has been so kind to house us for the last half-year.) 

I've taken tons of before pictures, and current demo pictures but I want to wait until I have a proper side-by-side before & after to post on here. 

I'm been on this internal hate-rampage for my photography business. Because I think pictures are valuable, and moments like pregnancy, birth, families and marriages and EVERYTHING should be documented in this way. I feel like we photographers all feel like this to the point of passion that we go crazy trying to get business, not for the money, but for the joy it brings us and the warmth we know it will bring as these day to day happenings become distant, cherished memories. I wish with everything in me that photography would be more than just a hobby that I get to take part of, but a life I completely want to immerse myself in. I'm in marketing groups and photographers groups and these women are complaining that they started out this year with only 10 weddings booked (they're used to more) and I'm over here like WHAT HOW WHEN WHERE HOW HOW HOW. Are they better than me? Are they just good at selling themselves? I've done 3 weddings, two of them were for my sisters and the other was my old best friend. 

So it isn't this "organic" experience that my "competitors" are having where they get to meet brides from Instagram and talk about details and shoot for 10 hours at a $10k venue with a bride wearing a $12k dress holding a $500 dollar bouquet, oh and don't forget that her groom is a picture perfect model who actively takes part in the wedding and is willing to pay over $1k for the photography. I would KILL to shoot a wedding like that, to show off what I can actually create; the Instagram algorithm is destroying my chances even more of getting seen. Rant not over, but I'll be done for now. 

I had this daydream where I had just finished hiking a gorgeous piece of mountain on Oahu, knelt down and lamented to God until all my tears had run dry. And for that reason alone, Zach and I are booking ourselves a Hawaiian getaway for the sole purpose of praying on a mountain. Sounds crazy. Sounds HEALING. 

Ben, a Brit, and Baby Houston #3

Happy New Year!

BEN

So in case you didn't know, I love Ben.

If you follow me on Instagram, you've heard about his visit. I just want to share the stupid things I had to deal with.
Once upon a time, I was pregnant with a little baby named Benjamin. During that time, certain genetics were passed on to him via mine and Andrew's genetics. Things like, hair color (mine), eye shape (mine), facial structure (Andrew's), ect. Since he was in my tummy, he also inherited certain taste buds from me (like his love of lemons which I ate constantly while prego) but those have since gone away and he now has his own.
Benjamin cannot inherit any of my behaviors or antics, likewise with Andrew. Those things would be learned behaviors, things that Ben might copy if he were to see us do it. I know this and have accepted that he'll never be like us, and for the most part that is a complete blessing. This world doesn't need another bi-polar rapist abuser like Andrew.

Once upon a time, we were all at Andrew's house for breakfast during Ben's visit. Ben was completely spoiled with attention, and train tracks from his abuela. As he was getting settled to play, he took off his socks and shoes. Just FYI, but that's totally normal. **Side note: my niece Kens looks at her feet funny whenever she has socks on because she doesn't understand where her feet went, it's adorable. Arizona babies are completely foreign to the cold.** Anyway, Andrew interjects as he sees Ben taking off his socks, and shares a completely irrelevant story about how he always sleeps with his right sock off (which is true, but totally irrelevant) and says "Oh he gets that from me."
WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?! How in the world would Ben get that from you dude? He doesn't watch you sleep. He's never even seen you for more than 3 hours in his life.

But don't worry, that uneducated-ness continues.

Randomly, in the middle of me and Joel playing trains with Ben, Andrew decides to ask Ann and Derek if Ben ever gets nose bleeds. Ann plays along perfectly as always and humors him, answering that YES Ben does get nose bleeds when he hits his face on the floor or the fridge when playing; which Ben does often because he's a child, and a boy. Andrew interjects once again with a irrelevant story about how he used to get nose bleeds whenever he snorted too much chlorine water at the pools (duh) and how Ben MUST also get that trait from him. WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?! Y'all he sounded so freaking dumb. And Ben's parents are too nice so they just play along. It was agonizing. I wanted to just tell him to shut up, but then I would look bad.

Later that morning, after Ben was crammed into his highchair while abuela kept attempting to feed him food that he didn't want anything to do with for an entire freaking hour **don't put two year olds in a highchair for an hour, they go crazy. Hell, I was going crazy.** Anyway, I was holding baby Nate, and trying to keep Ben happy while abuela was shoving food at him, and he looked at me and shook his head, so I shook mine back and it was just this cute little game of scrunch face giggling. And of course, Andrew had to interject and say "He definitely didn't get that from me!" OH MY GOOOOOOOODNESS. Someone tell me where his brain went.

Anyway, I hate him and he still drives me freaking mental.

A Brit

I have the bestest brothers in the whole world. I got a British GQ model as a brother when Krissy got married in June. He came to visit for a couple days and we took him to Seattle, and played video games, and made him repeat every thing he said so we could hear his accent again. We love him. Zachy is obsessed with him.

Baby Houston #3

At the beginning of December, I got another positive pregnancy test. We got the okay to try again a month after my surgery in August. I wasn't very optimistic about this baby; I don't trust the process anymore. On new years eve, Zach and I were going to go out. I got all showered and dressed up and my makeup was flawless (which never happens so I was really sad about that) but then I got super sick and ended up waiting for him to come home while laying on the bathroom floor. 

Then next day, my British brother came to town, and we took him out to Mizu: Japanese Steakhouse. It's. The. Bomb. Anyway, I couldn't eat because my stomach hurt. Then I felt the oh too familiar release of tissues and I left the lovely dinner show and ran to the bathroom. My mom came running in after me right as I burst into heartbreaking sobs at the amount of my pregnancy now in the toilet. 

In that moment, I wanted to die. My heart cannot take losing these three pregnancies after already losing Ben. My body is 100% perfect. My body is strong and my reproductive system is working perfectly. My progesterone levels were exactly where they should've been. "It's just a bad egg" or bad luck.... three times in a row. I'd love the excuse of "needing to heal from all the previous miscarriages" but I'm in perfect working order. Or maybe Zach could get checked, then I don't have to blame myself--but his body is also in perfect working order; I have absolutely no issues getting pregnant. 

Nothing is wrong. 

And yet everything is wrong.