Sleepovers terrify me. Especially now that I am a mom. Kids are exposed to so much and if the sleepover isn’t at my house, how do I know the type of supervision they’re getting? Sometimes parents being in the house to supervise can also be a problem, unfortunately.

When I was 12, in middle school, I often slept over at a friends house. She was 2 or 3 years older than me, but I pretty much have always had friends that are older than me. Usually we slept in her room, falling asleep to the same Bring It On movie that we could recite every word to we’d watched it so many times. This specific night, we watched a movie in the living room with her parents and her little sister. We had made one big bed in front of the TV on the floor with blankets and pillows. It was a scary movie called “Candy Man” which is ironic.. I know. It was a scary movie and we were of course being dramatic girls squealing and coving our eyes at times.

After the movie was over, we put on a funny movie to “unscare” ourselves, and we all ended up falling asleep. Or so I guess I thought. My friends dad was not lying directly next to me. Between him and I was her little sister. I had never had any sort of strange or uncomfortable interaction with him before that night.

In the middle of the night, I was woke up by him rubbing my thigh. I gradually woke up, and when I realized what was happening, I was frozen. I started sweating and didn’t know what the right things to do was. I continued to lay still and try to keep my breathing calm so he didn’t know I was awake. Do I just pretend like I’m still sleeping?? Was that going to get it to stop or would that just prolong this? What was his plan? When would this end?

After several minutes, I faked a few coughs and dramatically wiggled around, hoping to wake up my friend next to me, and make it seems like I was doing this in my sleep, unprompted. Thankfully, it did indeed wake up my friend and the rest of the family. I stated “I don’t feel good, my stomach really hurts” avoiding any sort of eye contact with the dad. My friend suggested we move to her room and she would get a glass of water for me. We moved into her room and I tried my best to sleep, but of course, I didn’t feel safe. First thing the next morning, I called my mom to come get me.

To this day I have never reported that or have really even told anyone. I never stayed the night at her house again and I just started distancing myself from her, and eventually her family moved away.

Sleepovers will definitely be something that will realistically come up in the future with my kids. But it is my job to make sure they are safe and never put in a situation where they are taken advantage of. I will be the “mean” or “strict” parent every time, if it means my babies are safe.

-Kenz

Trauma is commonly associated with shame. We keep our trauma a secret because of that heavy feeling of shame so closely associated. We feel like somehow we are to blame for what happened to us. But something I’ve learned about a secret, is the power it can hold over you. However, once that secret is shared and it’s no longer a secret, it no longer has power over you. So, here are some of my secrets I’ve been working through for 20 some years.

When I was 4ish 5 years old, I was sexually abused by a family member. This happened multiple times. When I was about 12, I was sexually assaulted by a friends dad during a sleep over. This happened once and I never stayed the night there again. When I was 15, I was sexually assaulted by a guy 2 year older than me. I had always had a really big crush on him, and he knew that, and took advantage of that.

A lot of people have asked me the difference in sexual abused, sexually assaulted, raped, etc. To me, it’s whatever fits your experience and how you feel the term validates what happened to you.

So lets dive in at the start with the first abuse I experienced. A family member was grooming me. Using his position of power and authority to take advantage of me as a child. He was a favorite family member among my siblings and cousins. Always so fun, taking us to do exciting things. My nickname for him was “The Candy Man.” Now as an adult, I look back and of course realize this was all grooming behavior. He knew exactly what he was doing, asking me to keep “our secret.” But it wasn’t until the summer going into my freshman year that it got reported, and my life started to change.

One day out of the blue my cousin called to tell me about how she had been sexually assaulted by a family member. (the same family member) Suddenly, it was like a giant wave of emotion smacked me in the face. My stomach sunk, I was nauseous, and I couldn’t believe what I was hearing her say. I had lived my life almost forgetting this had happened to me as a little girl. Our brains are truly amazing at protecting us. That trauma gets suppressed in our mind, almost letting us forget all about it. I didn’t tell my cousin it had happened to me too. Not yet. I just encouraged her to talk to her mom and make a report.

A few days passed and all I could think about was every instance of abuse that happened to me, and how brave my cousin was for speaking out. I called her a few days later to tell her I too had been sexually abused by him, all those years ago. By this time she had told her mom and made a police report. I told her I didn’t want to tell my mom or file a police report, I just wanted her to know she wasn’t alone. In the back of my mind, I knew my parents would not handle this kind of news well and I didn’t want anyone to know. I still wanted this to be my secret.

A day later a detective knocked on our front door. My mom stepped outside to talk to her and it felt like they were conversing forever. That same sick feeling overtook my body as I paced in my room, looking out my window every few seconds to see them still talking. When my mom came back inside she said, “You have an appointment at the police station tomorrow to be interviewed. Your cousin said that you were being sexually abused by __?” I looked at her and said “okay.” Naturally, this infuriated my mom. I think looking back now, she was convinced this wasn’t true, but then my simple response of “okay” made her question her initial beliefs.

“Okay?!” She said. “What do you mean, okay?!” I said, “Okay, I will go talk to the detective tomorrow.”

The next day came and I went and spoke to the detective. Interview rooms have come a long way, thank god, because my experience was terrifying. I was sat in a small room with a woman (whom now I adore) that I didn’t know, and in front of me was a double sided window. My view was of a police officers lounge. At least that’s what it appeared to be. There were a handful of officers in uniform eating and conversing. I’m assuming their view was a mirror, but I’m unsure.

Talking to the detective was the first time (other than briefly to my cousin) I had spoken my truth. That I was a victim of sexual abuse. It’s true what they say about knowing something is true in your mind, versus saying something out loud, almost making it more true. Saying those words out loud, speaking in specifics of the abuse was painful. I felt ashamed and like I was in trouble for speaking about the multiple experience of abuse. Both because I was ashamed, and because I was telling a stranger something I hadn’t told anyone. A secret I had been holding onto since I was 5-6 years old.

The detective then said, “We have to make your mom aware. Do you want to tell her or do you want me to?” I asked that she be the one to tell my mom. It was hard enough to make the disclosure to her. I couldn’t imagine finding the courage to say it all again. Especially face to face with my mom. She brought my mom into the room and told her. Truthfully, I don’t even remember my moms response. I just remember having this feeling like everyone was judging me. I felt so exposed and dirty. I remember my body positioning being very closed in. Arms crossed, legs crossed, hunched over, almost like if I could make myself small enough, maybe I’d just sink into the chair and disappear. I wished.

I remember having a conversation with my mom on the way home. What I remember was she believed me, without question. She supported me from that very second on. She told me she was going to have to tell my dad. I remember being angry at that. I wasn’t ready for my secret to include so many others. Obviously I was naïve to think this, and making my dad aware only furthered my circle of support. However, my dad didn’t take the news lightly. I remember asking my mom where my dad was that evening, as he didn’t come home after work like he usually did. She told me he had gone for a drive around the dam. I went into my room, closed the door, and sobbed. It was then that I realized my life and the lives of those that loved me and this family member, were forever changed. And it felt like it was all because of me. (I had A LOT of self blame)

My extended family was made aware, as other female cousins in the family were interviewed as well, trying to identify if their were any more victims. Family dynamics got extremely dysfunctional from there. A lot of fighting, victim blaming, questioning, disbelief, and mass amounts of tears.

I look at this picture of me at 5 years old and I feel so many ways. I can’t believe that little girl was holding onto such a big secret. I wanna save that little girl from the isolation of her feelings that she doesn’t understand. I wanna tell her that “secrets” don’t exist among children and adults, so tell your mom what is happening to you, she will help you. I wanna take all of the scary sexual images out of her head that she doesn’t understand and fill it with images of baby dolls and family holiday memories of fun and safety.

I am still working to remember that little girl is me. That little girl was a victim, but I am a survivor. We are the same little girl, with the same mind, but we process those thoughts and memories differently.

It’s never too late to make a report and it’s so important to know the signs to make sure kids are having safe interactions with adults you think you can trust. This is an experience I will forever be healing from.

-Kenz

This pregnancy hasn’t come without scares of it’s own. At our 13 week appointment, pending everything looking good and healthy, we planned on getting a blood test to find out the gender, and then announce our pregnancy on social media shortly after. The gender test is also the genetic testing, test. We didn’t want the genetic testing, we just wanted the gender. However, my doctor shared that legally if they find something in the genetic testing that shows any abnormality, they were going to have to tell us. Yes, most sane people just wait until their 20 week ultrasound to find out gender and avoid the genetic testing, but I am very impatient and of course wanted to know as soon as medically possible! The blood test for gender and genetics can be done anytime after 10 weeks and 1 day. At this appointment, I was going to be 13 weeks.

Trent and I usually make the last appointment of the day at 4:45pm. This allows for me to only have to leave work 45 minutes early, to make the 2 hour drive to our doctors office in Utah. (I live in Wyoming) When we got there, baby looked great! My blood pressure was high, but to me, this was justified. the 12-13 week appointment is when we were told baby El didn’t have a heartbeat, so naturally I was anxious. It was high enough that they were concerned and didn’t want to wait another 4 weeks to see me and test again. My doctor asked that I check it at home for awhile, and call back with the results to ensure they didn’t need to start me on blood pressure medication. I followed orders and thankfully all levels came back normal over a two week period of checking. While this isn’t something I was too worried about, it was enough to make Trent feel uneasy.

We weren’t able to do the blood test for gender/genetics because the lab was already closed for the day. (Downside of making late appointments) Living two hours away, my doctor wrote me an order to have the OB department in the hospital back home do the blood test for me. Again, because I am inpatient, I ordered “Sneak Peek” (an at home gender test kit) which was known for having overnight shipping and results back to you very quickly. I got the test kit in, took my blood, and sent it back. Anxiously awaiting the gender results, we tentatively planned a small gender reveal with our family. We planned to know the results ourselves, and the surprise would be for them.

I got an email from Sneak Peak with the test results. “Inconclusive” they read. With some garbage explanation of how that didn’t automatically mean there was something wrong with my baby. Like that was supposed to make me feel good. So, I texted Trent slightly afraid with these results, and cancelled the party that was supposed to happen that night. Trent and I decided we’d go have the doctor take the blood test at the local hospital, trying not to give too much merit to an at home test. To ease our worry, we also stopped by fetal fotos after the hospital to check on the baby’s heartbeat and make sure everything was okay. Both being anxious people to begin with, then our previous loss of baby El, we were both just feeling uneasy. Luckily at fetal fotos, the ultrasound showed that baby was doing great and the heartbeat was good and strong. Additionally, we were able to see the gender plain as day! A little boy that was very proud of his penis!

We ended up having the gender reveal for our family and posting our news on social media. Our secret was out and we received so much love from our friends and family. There were about an even number of guesses for boy and girl among everyone.

A few days later I got a call from a nurse at the local hospital that did the blood test. While I no longer really cared because we found out the gender later that day at fetal fotos, she of course called with words that once again.. struck worry. “Your results came back inconclusive so we’d like for you to come back in so we can redraw.” What in the ffff. Was the Sneak Peak test more than a fluke?? Was something actually wrong that wasn’t being obviously shown on the ultrasounds??

Trent and I discussed it and my appointment with my doctor was only a week away. We decided we would wait and ask her. I was worried, but I wouldn’t say I was losing sleep. We saw baby was good on the ultrasound at fetal fotos, so I wasn’t too worried. I chalked it up to just being a person with weird blood.

We attended our next appointment when I was 17 weeks with my regular doctor. Before she entered the room, Trent shared how he was finally starting to get over feeling nervous at each appointment, and he was starting to enjoy them, just a little. My doctor did an ultrasound (I get one at every appointment) and was able to confirm that baby was definitely a boy, and everything looked healthy! I then shared with her very casually that I apparently have weird blood, because two blood tests gave me inconclusive results. Thinking her response would be something like “Yup, you just have weird blood, that happens.” I was shocked when she showed some concern. “I don’t want to worry you, but that can be due to problems with the baby or the placenta.” And here we go again with things to worry about..

My body was hot and my mind was racing but also blank as I tried to ingest and understand the many medical possibilities she was listing off. While my initial response was panic and fear, seeing my little bug on that screen, hearing his heartbeat and measurements all being on track, a wave of calm came over me. To conclude our appointment, our doctor apologized and shared that it can also be a lab error and could be nothing! She reminded us that we didn’t want to know genetic testing in the first place, just gender. We now knew the gender, so she left the decision up to us on if we wanted to indulge in further testing or not.

By this time, I had thought through and processed a few different ideas in my head. Say there was something wrong with our little guy like down syndrome or trisomy 13. What did that really change in this moment or for the rest of pregnancy? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. If something is wrong, we will make the changes necessary when he is born to accommodate his challenges, whatever they may be. Regardless, we weren’t going to love him or want him any less! I used some radical acceptance and again for some reason, my worry just seemed to fade and disappear. I just felt like God was calming me and showing me everything was going to be okay.

We left our appointment and stopped at Texas Roadhouse for dinner. Trent is very attentive to me and my feelings and always aims to make sure I am okay and taken care of. He was convinced with the appointment we just had, that I was spiraling internally as we waiting to be seated. And usually, he’d be right! He knows me well. However, I wasn’t and I had to reiterate to him many times, “honey, I really am okay. This is something that is out of our control. Baby boy has a heartbeat and is measuring healthy. That is what I will continue to focus on. I truly feel in my heart that everything is just fine with him.” As we took our seats and looked at the menu, our wedding song began to play over the loudspeaker in the restaurant. I don’t even remember which one of us did it, but one of us pointed up to the ceiling and said “listen…” That was the sign we needed to assure us that everything was absolutely going to be okay. ♥

On the way home and the days to follow, I did some research. What an inconclusive blood test can mean, what you can find through genetic testing vs the 20 week anatomy scan, etc. Ultimately, we decided we didn’t want to do further testing. Nothing was going to change the rest of our pregnancy and the love for our baby. We didn’t want the test results in the first place! At our 20 week anatomy scan, the ultrasound tech had zero concerns. Little guy was still measuring and developing great. This was another giant sigh of relief! He was in the 54th percentile and just one day behind my due date.

Could something still be wrong or develop between now and delivery? Sure. But am I going to let the “what if’s” take my control away? Absolutely not. We have gained a serious appreciation for the miracles that are babies. Life is full of tests. Every decision you make is testing you, your morals, and your beliefs. We can’t control what happens to us, but we can control how we respond, and I find power in that. Our journey to starting our family has been anything but easy. But I know that regardless of what comes next, I have the best man by my side to face it with, and the best man and angel baby above guided it all. When we get to hold our sweet boy in 14 weeks, I know it will all have been worth it.

-Kenz

Pregnant. With a whole ass human baby. While I can feel his wiggles and kicks, I often have to stop myself and remember that isn’t just IBS invading my body from the cheese I devoured. That is my little boy in there!

Today I am 25 weeks pregnant. Similar to my pregnancy with Baby El, weeks 8-13 were rough. I was nauseous all day everyday, with the exception of a handful of hours in some of the days. (I don’t know if that even makes sense?) But truth be told, nothing made me happier than being sick for those 4 weeks. Because what was worse? Being sick and knowing it was because I was pregnant, or feeling good and being worried all day it’s because I was experiencing another miscarriage?

While I felt so much joy and relief to know I was pregnant again, I was not prepared for how much anxiety and worry would fill my days. Any “off” feeling deemed “off” by my overactive mind would send me into a downward spiral. I would be worried and crying that something was wrong, debating on telling my husband that I was scared, because I didn’t want him to also be scared. I never realized how alone and isolated I would feel getting pregnant again after our loss. But looking at it all again, pregnancy can be isolating all together. Be a past loss or not.

Even now, at 25 weeks, if I don’t feel my little guy move in the first few hours I am awake, I am reaching for that doppler to check on his heartbeat. Luckily, he’s gotten to be quite active, so the need for the doppler has started to diminish. For anyone who has experienced pregnancy loss, I would recommend getting a doppler. Having one to check in on baby has been a big relief for Trent and I between each appointment. His movements are always a sign of comfort for me. Because Trent can’t feel anything himself, he checks in daily asking if baby has moved today, which is what he needs to hear to feel reassured as well. He’s already a great daddy. ♥

All together, we have made it to 25 weeks which is a blessing! Each appointment still comes with a lot of anxiety, but we are taking it one day at a time. When I get to see his sweet face on the ultrasound, it’s like I can breathe again. Each day that passes, I am so thankful to be pregnant with our little bug.

There are always things to worry about in life and pregnancy alike. I have tried really hard to empower myself to choose positive thoughts, reminding myself that thoughts aren’t facts. This has aided me in keeping the worry at bay. Each day we grow closer to meeting our sweet rainbow baby and I can’t wait to hold him in my arms. We love him so much already.

-Kenz

I have waited quite a while to post this blog. Saved in my drafts for the past several months, I’m sharing it now. Partially because my pregnancy was a secret for 14 weeks, partially because I haven’t been as invested in writing lately. However, I feel like I’m ready to share again. So, here we go-

How perfect.. This is Chapter 10, our wedding date is the 10th, and today I found out I was pregnant, on 10DPO.

Very similar to my last pregnancy, I saw the thick test line and not much more as I finished peeing and grabbed the pregnancy test. As I grabbed it and stared at it, there it was.. the slightest little line forming. Tears streamed down my face as I closed my eyes and thanked God over and over.

I didn’t know how I was going to feel when I found out I was pregnant again. I have been nervous about not allowing myself to feel excited, because I didn’t know what could happen or how I would feel. However, excitement and love is all I feel! I have managed to keep the secret from everyone, except my best friend, Sydney. I plan to tell Trent tonight before we head to my work company dinner, where thankfully, alcohol will not be served!

Because I am who I am, I took a pregnancy test at home this morning, and then brought a different test brand to work to see if the results were the same. Thankfully, they were! A little line appeared on that test as well. I now have the test in my drawer until I go home to tell Trent after work. Every so often, I open my drawer and stare at it. What I would have given last cycle to see that little line appear. But we have trusted in God’s timing. Thank you, God and our angel baby in heaven. I know the two of you sent us this rainbow baby. ♥

However, I do have thoughts of our first baby, Elliott. I think about how far along I would be with her and I start to feel guilt for having excitement over another baby. But I know Elliott will always be apart of our family and Trent and I will always keep her spirit alive.

-Kenz (Mommy of an angel and rainbow baby)

As a social worker and school counselor, grief is something that comes up a lot in session with students. I feel confident that I provide them with comfort and support, but it has always been difficult for me, because I know there is nothing I can say or do to change the loss. They just have to give themselves the space to feel what they’re feeling, and that is hard for some of them to understand.

I am fortunate that I have not had anyone close to me die. I don’t do well with change and I don’t do well with small loss, so I know that when someone close to me does die, I am going to struggle.

The extreme sadness I felt after losing my baby scared me. I didn’t recognize myself. I have worked really hard to become the women that I am, so when I started having thoughts of questioning who I was, I started to get scared. I started to understand that through my grief, I was starting to lose myself. As I attempted to understand my grief, I realized I wasn’t losing myself, but rather I was changing. Changing into a different version of myself. I was now a mom without a baby. A women who is now, and forever will be, carrying grief.

Feeling like anything but myself, that scared feeling of depression and anger drove me to want to understand my grief and myself. I have always been very in tune with my emotions, but the association my feelings had with loss, I had never experienced before. I feel that we are all on a never ending journey of self discovery, because we are always adapting, changing, and learning from what life throws at us. With that mentality, I started journaling and reading about grief.

The week I found out I was pregnant, I bought a journal. This journal was set up in a way that was writing to my baby as she grew, week by week, documenting our journey of growth together. Each week there was a bible verse and lines to journal. At the end of each month, there was a place to add in my bump pictures. I made it to week 11 before my journals were no longer to a growing baby, but now an angel of God. I had the intentions of sharing the journal with her when she was old enough to understand, hoping it was something she could share with her own kids some day.

Journaling to my angel has made me feel just as close to my baby as writing to her before. Trent also wrote to her, which you hopefully read in Chapter 8. The pages since our baby has become an angel, include pictures and stories of our grief and how much we miss her, and always will.

Additionally, I had a book recommended to me that has been amazing! The book “It’s OK That You’re Not OK” has really helped me to understand my grief and grief in general. In fact, I think reading the book has helped me help Tessa in her loss. If you have experienced any kind of loss, this book is for you! Really, everyone should read this book, because if we as a society can better understand loss, than we can better support those experiencing grief and loss.

Things I have learned through the book include that grief is not something to “get through” or “move past” like people make it seem. If you don’t “move on” quick enough, then something is wrong with you and now you’ve got to “get over it” because “it has been months or years.” WRONGO! Grief is something that doesn’t go away. Now that doesn’t mean we’re sad every day for the rest of our lives. It means that we find a way to carry our grief with us, while still managing to find light and joy in the world. The two can absolutely co exist. Learning this was life changing for me. Having the validation that I can continue to be sad and miss my girl, but still experience the joy in everyday life brings me peace.

I have also learned that grief makes others uncomfortable, which is why there is this misunderstanding that we must move on and get rid of grief. If we are always sad, then there is something wrong with us and we’re grieving for “too long” and that makes others uncomfortable. Well, I am here to say, that grief can be selfish, AND THAT IS OKAY. There is no timeline to follow. My grief is about me and my husband right now. If telling you that “I need space” offends you, that is your problem, not mine. I feel 100% supported by my family and friends, although I have chosen to avoid them all. I have a new level of anxiety these days, and being alone or with my husband is what I need. I will not apologize for that. I put others before me daily. This is a time that I need to make decisions for me and my wellbeing, on my terms. Anyone who doesn’t understand that is just silly.

I lost my baby 2 months ago, and I still don’t want to be in a situation where I have to make small talk with people. If they ask me how I am doing or if I am okay, saying no makes them uncomfortable. So do I just say I’m okay? (No.. I just avoid them all!) But truthfully, if I am going to heal and understand my grief, I am going to be honest and not be ashamed. This is something I have been working on. Rather than answering “how are you” with an answer to make them feel better, I answer with the truth. Sometimes the truth is “I’m okay” and sometimes it’s “I’m really struggling.” Both of these answers are okay. It has been difficult for me, but I am not going to lessen my feelings for the comfort of others, because I lost my baby. It is more than okay, that I am not okay sometimes. So, I would like to challenge you to do the same. Be genuine to how you’re feeling. You deserve it!

All in all, grief is yours. Listen to what your heart and your head are telling you that you need. There is no right or wrong, there is no timeline. You have to do what is best for you. Those who truly support you and love you will understand.

-Kenz

Hi little one,

I hope, above all, that since you never got to read these pages by our side, like I know your mom envisioned, that you are able to read them up in heaven. I hope you know how loved you were and will continue to be down here. Not just by us, but by everyone you touched.

We are all sad we never got to see your face and the last couple of days, we’ve been sad that you never got to enjoy it with us down here on earth. Your mom said it best when she said you were too perfect to join us here and that you were called to heaven instead. Her words have given me a lot of peace knowing you’re in such an amazing place.

However, the more I think about it, the more I believe you were here, just as God intended you to be. You were here in both body and spirit, you  just couldn’t see the world around you. You were here when we took our (mostly) annual trip to High Savery reservoir to catch tiger trout. These are your moms favorite fish, as I’m sure you now know. We stayed in a crappy hotel room and the next day you napped with your mom and fluffy sister Tymber, on Seminoe reservoir, as I caught enough walleye for a fish fry. You were with us on our first trip ever to Green River Lakes. A trip where we got to tell your grandpa and grandma that you were a part of our lives. We were surrounded by friends as your uncle Preston, aunt Tessa, and uncle Jared helped us celebrate you.

You were with us on our first trip to Louis Lake as well. This trip wasn’t full of your Dad’s best moments as I took you on a couple side by side rides I really wish I wouldn’t have. Regardless, we laughed, smiled and had a great time together… as a family. Your uncle Mark even stopped by to have a beer with your Dad and share with us some much needed life lessons and simply reminisce about hunts and days gone by.

We experienced a lot together. A lot of firsts. We did this all as a perfect little family. A family you were, and always will be, a part of.

The last few weeks I had been really mentally preparing for your arrival. I had been thinking of how I could help raise a little boy to be a better man than myself, or how I could help raise a daughter to be just like her mother. I would sit and think about the extravagant places we could go on your birthday, as March is a great month to escape Wyoming! Or how maybe you’d rather just go ice fishing instead…

I thought about a lot, but it all boiled down to me thinking of how I could be a great father to you. In your short time with us, you have given me an even stronger love for your Mom than I ever thought possible. You have given me a greater outlook on life. But most of all, you made me a Daddy and although I’d rather have you here with us, I wouldn’t trade that experience for anything.

I love you,

Your Dad 

I found out I was pregnant and days later, Trent’s sister, Tessa, then found out she was pregnant with her second baby.

I grew up really close to my cousins, so that is always what I have wanted for my kids one day too. I instantly knew that our baby’s would be best friends growing up. Regardless of their gender, they’d have each other backs. They would attend rival schools, so they’d have a healthy amount of shit talking back and forth, but it would all be out of love. Tessa and I would get to be the pregnant ladies at all of the family events together, laughing at all of the behavior induced by alcohol.

Our due dates were 10 days apart, in March of 2023. We had so many thoughts on birthday trips our kids would take together. Hopefully they would love basketball and Dad/Uncle Trent would take them to the March Madness tournament for their birthdays. Maybe it would even be a yearly tradition. As they got older, they would have had their birthday’s during Spring Break. Lord knows how out of hand that could have gotten!

After Trent and I lost our baby, we made it clear to Tessa that we still wanted to know all the updates on her pregnancy and didn’t want her to keep anything from us, in fear of hurting our feelings. So when we got the call that Tessa lost her baby at her 20 week ultrasound, my heart sank.

She is my sister, I never want her to hurt. But to also know a similar pain myself, made me so very sad for her. A pain that is so aching in your heart. A pain you don’t wish on anyone. A pain that was now hers, too. The world is so weird. My faith in God makes it more bearable, but it is still a strange and painful world. Our baby’s were going to be best friends. I guess they couldn’t stand to be apart, so they went to be angels of God.

Selfishly, this was an event that of course, made me replay my loss. Thinking about Tessa in the doctors office when the doctor shared the devastating news, broke my heart for her, as I replayed the same conversation I had with my doctor, while staring at the screen at my baby. I still don’t know why, and I never will. All I know is our family now has two angels in heaven. Our pregnancy brought us closer together, and our loss will too.

-Kenz

What I was worried about happening, happened.

Our first “cycle” trying to conceive after our miscarriage, and we did not get that positive test on 12 DPO like I thought we would. Instead, my period began. Why? Why did we get pregnant so easily the first time? I tracked ovulation and did everything the same way we did it last time, so why do all the tests say negative? Is this going to be the start of us struggling to get pregnant? I have so much anger and sadness all at once. I was already pregnant.. We weren’t supposed to have to go through the tracking and testing process again until we had a 2 year old and were trying for our second baby.

I guess I also let the words of others slip into my brain. “After a miscarriage you’re really fertile, you’ll get pregnant again quick!”

But I was pregnant. I did have a baby.. she was due in March. My perfect timeline.. So again, my thoughts drift back to that damn timeline. The past that felt so perfect in the moment of seeing that positive test. The pain of my miscarriage immediately has creeped back into my head. Suddenly I’m consumed by sadness and loss again. I just miss my baby. If I was still pregnant with her, I wouldn’t be feeling the sadness I am feeling now. Will I ever get to have the joy and experience of being pregnant again? The thoughts are endless and painful to consider.

I haven’t yet posted about the specifics of my grief. As you can tell, anger is a large part of grief for me. Typically, I’m not an angry person. I get frustrated, sure. But true anger isn’t something I feel very often. Therefore, it has been a very new emotion to feel as I have carried my grief. If you know anything about emotions, you know that anger is a secondary emotion, and is typically sadness.

Baby’s are miracles and miracles take time. I know this. However, that doesn’t make it hurt any less and it doesn’t make me any less sad. This sucks, and I am going to let myself feel that “suck” because I deserve to be genuine to how I am feeling.

Oh so conveniently, it’s the middle of the week, so there is no time and no room to be sad and feel my feelings. Aside from my busy daily work schedule, I then had 3 meetings scheduled after work. Usually I power through just about anything, regardless of what’s going on and the severity. Today, after my first meeting of fighting back tears and getting dizzy spells from holding my breathe, I texted a colleague to let him know I would not be attending the third meeting. I hardly ever put myself first, and today I decided to choose me. So after my second meeting that I was unable to talk in due to my tears building and tolerance level dropping, I drove home and sat in my car outside my house for 10ish minutes. Wiping the tears from my face that I had been holding back all day, it took every ounce of energy I had left to walk from the car to my house. I finally made it and I have been sulking in sadness ever since. (Just as I deserve)

Please know that feeling is healing. Let yourself feel whatever you’re trying to suppress and hold back. It’s okay not to be okay all of the time.

Tomorrow is a new day and while todays sadness will cary over, I know I will be okay. Here’s to hoping our next cycle ends in a positive test. I know our angel in heaven has teamed up with God to pick our rainbow baby. I guess they’re just waiting for the perfect one.

-Kenz

They say after you hear your baby’s heartbeat, the chance of miscarriage goes down to 2%.

At our first doctors appointment at 8 weeks, we were able to hear our babies heartbeat. It was 158 BPM, which the doctor said was “good and strong.” Luckily, Trent was able to record a clip of the heartbeat during our first ultrasound. I am thankful he did, because it was such a special sound, that it would only ever be heard that once. However, now we have the audio recorded and we will cherish it forever.

When we left the doctors office after my D&C, we went to Build A Bear. We picked out the softest bear we could possibly find, knowing we would be cuddling the bear often. We played the recording of our babies heartbeat and the Build A Bear worker recorded it on a device that would go inside the bears hand. Then, Trent and I both held a heart in our hand. Squeezing the heart, we prayed. We both put our hearts inside the bear, the device that had the audio of baby’s heartbeat, and the worker sewed up “our baby bear” as we call it.

Ironically enough, the Build A Bear worker assisting us was named Sydney. Sydney is the name of my best friend of 15 years. As we were waiting to pay, there was a mom and her daughter in front of us. They shared with the cashier that they were buying their bear for a girl with a very similar name to the name we were planning to name our baby, if she was a girl. Trent chuckled and looked at me. “Did you hear the name they just said?” He told me and we both were again confident, that our angel baby was a girl and was sending us messages to assure us that she was still very much with us.

We often sleep with our baby bear or just cuddle it on hard days. In the left hand of the bear is the audio device. When you squeeze the hand, our baby’s heartbeat plays. It has been a way to bring us comfort and feel the presence of our first baby, who we will always talk about, and never stop missing.

In the days after my D&C, our family and friends brought us gifts and shared very kind words with us. Trent’s sister delivered beautiful flowers and a giftbag with two gifts inside. One was a quote about faith, which was so fitting for how we were and still are feeling. The other gift was a necklace with a mountain peak with the words “Best View” which is so fitting. The name of mine and Trent’s wedding song is “Hell Of A View” and when we are in the mountains, (which is often) the beauty makes us feel emotional and makes us feel close to our little angel babe.

If you ever experience pregnancy or infant loss, hopefully some of these are ideas you can use or can inspire a version of these ideas that you can make your own. Above all, please know you’re not alone. Your feelings are valid, and there is no amount of time that will make you miss your baby any less. Be gentle with yourself. ♥

-Kenz

Trent wasn’t supposed to come to our 12 week appointment, so I had asked my mom to come with me. Trent had planned to be gone hunting, however, he started having problems with the transmission in his truck, so he came home early to get it fixed. We didn’t feel it was right to “uninvite” my mom, so she came as well.

While we went back for my appointment, she waited in the waiting room. As we exited, after hearing the worst possible news, we walked past the front desk into the lobby. Holding my breath, trying to keep myself from crying until I left the office, my sweet mom looked at me with a giant smile. Obviously, she had no idea the events that had transpired. I looked at her giant smile, feeling her excitement for the sonogram pictures I knew she was about to demand to see. Instead, my face went from stoic to sobbing in a matter of seconds as I fell into her. I watched as my mom’s face turned from joyful to worried in an instant. I didn’t have to say a word for her to know. She just held me in her arms and apologized.

I can’t imagine my mom not being there and having to figure out how to tell her that we lost the baby. A text or a call simply wouldn’t have been right. But trying to face her in person the next day would have been even more difficult. I know this was absolutely God’s plan. Trent’s truck issues, mom still coming, all of it was planned to make sure I had the support I needed from my husband and my mom, during one of the hardest times of my life.

With the shock still very much present, Trent, my mom and I drove home with 2 hours worth of time to try to process what we just heard the doctor say. It was a very quiet car ride home. The sounds of sniffles and blown noses filled the car. My mind started to race with thoughts trying to justify the miscarriage. We did have a difficult time trying to decide if we wanted kids. Maybe this was a sign we didn’t? But that can’t be true, because the desire to have a baby was at an all time high. From the second I found out I was pregnant we were excited. I felt so much anger. And then because I was angry, I felt guilt for feeling angry! WHY IS THIS HAPPENING TO ME?! As I mentioned in Chapter 2, we planned to get pregnant in June, July, or August to align with my work schedule. Knowing this was completely derailed as it was now the end of August, I was so unbelievably angry. Knowing this was out of my control, but we had timed it right, and now for nothing. Knowing absolutely nothing could change this, angered me. Yes, we can try to get pregnant again after my first period, but that still wouldn’t be in the timeline we wanted. And we were ready. We were excited. No way we were going to put off starting our family another year to try for that same timeline. I still find myself coming back to the “timeline” piece. Each time my anger resurfaces and I have to remind myself that God’s timing is never wrong.

My body was not miscarrying on its own, which left me with two options. Vaginally take pills to bleed for up to 4 weeks to pass the pregnancy tissue and the baby, (which is said to be very painful and comes with heavy bleeding) or have a D&C (which the doctor classified as surgery). Originally, I picked the “bleed it out” method as it seemed more “natural.” I picked up the pills from the pharmacy and brought them home, still not knowing if this was what I wanted to do. I pictured myself on the bathroom floor sobbing from the physical and emotional pain I thought this option would bring me. I was left with making an impossible decision, and I tried to remind myself that there was no “right” option. It was going to have to be what was right for me. After many conversations with Trent, friends who had experienced both, and many questions to the nurses, I decided the D&C was the best option for me.

September 1st is known in our family as a holiday. Opening day of bow season for elk hunting. Trent’s favorite thing in the world. September 1st will now hold the memory of the day of my D&C. While it may sound strange, I felt comfort knowing that although my baby didn’t have a heartbeat and wouldn’t continue to grow and develop, they were inside me, and I felt comfort knowing I was carrying them and they were still a part of me. Having these feelings and that comfort made the D&C a little more difficult.

On the morning of September 1st, we checked into the doctors office. We didn’t wait long and they brought us to the back. The nurse attempted to get my IV in 4 different times. The first time in my left arm, missed. The second time in my left hand. She got it, stood up, tripped over the line, and ripped it out. The third time in my right hand, missed. Finally, she called in another nurse. The way I saw it, she really only had one option.. my right arm. Thankfully, she was successful and got it the first time. After that, we met with a nurse who asked if we wanted to do another ultrasound before the surgery. She stated some people choose to do it for peace of mind, others find it too emotionally painful. Trent and I looked at one another and we both agreed in body language and non verbal’s that we wanted to do the ultrasound.

She squirted the gel and put the doppler to my belly. There was my little babe. The last time I would see them. The nurse explained what we would be seeing if the baby had a heartbeat. She explained how when you hover over the baby, it should pick up the movement of the heartbeat and show the blood flow. None of that was present, just like our last ultrasound.

The time came for them to take me into the operating room. I kissed Trent goodbye and we parted ways. They wheeled me into a very brightly lit room. It reminded me of a preparation room at a morgue. They instructed me to move onto the table, lay on my back, and put my arms straight out. The anesthesiologist then put the oxygen tubes up my nostrils and told me I should be falling asleep soon. I took a deep breath and woke up in the “recover area” to Trent’s voice and touch on my arm. I was in quite a bit of pain as I came to. I could also feel the uncomfortable sensation of blood coming out of me. (girls you know) I told the nurse I was in pain and she gave me some ibuprofen and left Trent and I while I continued to wake up.

When we left and I was finally coherent, Trent shared with me what I said as I was waking up. Things I had zero recollection of saying. Trent said I first started mumbling, not saying real words or anything that could be understood. My first words that made sense were “I miss my baby. She will always be a part of our family. We have to tell all of her brothers and sister about her.” While I don’t remember this, I know that my little angel girl came to visit me while I was under. How else would I be so confident in saying “she” when talking?

Next, we had an idea in mind to honor our sweet angel after leaving the doctors office. I’ll share that with you next and hopefully it’s an idea I can offer that one of you may find comfort in using as well, if you should ever find yourself in this “place.”

-Kenz

Hopefully you read my Chapter 2 blog that addressed my journey to getting pregnant. This blog is what came next.

You go most of your life trying to avoid getting pregnant. When it came time to try to get pregnant, I was pleasantly surprised that Trent and I got pregnant after our first month trying. I didn’t know what to expect the early stages of pregnancy to feel like. Obviously, it’s pretty easy to feel pregnant the further along you get, because you have a growing belly and can feel the baby kicking inside you.

The first few weeks of pregnancy I was getting terrible gas pains. The pain was so bad it sometimes brought me to tears and woke me up in the night. I had tailbone pain and I quickly realized I couldn’t let myself get hungry or I would have the fun experience of feeling hunger pains as well. (Even though I ate an hour earlier) I really just tried to take it one day at a time and listen to what my body was trying to tell me it needed. Nonetheless, I loved every second of being pregnant. I knew the different pains I was experiencing would all be worth it. They were proof that I had a growing baby inside me.

Trent and I attended our first doctor’s appointment on August 1st. The drive to the doctor’s office was rough for me. I was super nauseous by the time we got there (2 hour drive from our house) but I knew we were about to see our baby, and that allowed me to push through the pain to walk into the office. The doctor determined I was just shy of 8 weeks through the ultrasound. We got to see our little baby and hear the perfect sounding heartbeat. The doctor shared that the baby’s heartbeat was “nice and strong” at 158 bpm.

We left with our sonogram pictures in hand, and I’m sure I had a grin from ear to ear. Everything had just become so real. We were going to be parents. We just got to hear the heartbeat of a tiny little human inside of me. Half Trent and half me. At that moment, nothing mattered. I was living the life I had always dreamed of. I was married to the man of my dreams, and together we were going to be parents.

One morning I woke up and I just felt hollow. Not empty, not sick, but just hollow. I remember thinking “well, I am almost out of the first trimester, maybe I’m finally gonna stop feeling morning sickness.” I mentioned to Trent that I was a little worried about it, but I quickly reminded myself in my head that I had never been pregnant before, so I didn’t know what was “normal” to feel. I told myself to stop being negative.

As our 12 week appointment grew closer, I was conflicted with worry and excitement. As we waited in the doctor’s office, the worried feeling continued. I reminded myself that I was excited for this ultrasound because I knew the baby would actually look like a baby, and I knew this was the sonogram picture we would use to announce our pregnancy to the world. I wasn’t bleeding when I went pee, so everything was fine, right? Yet something in me continued to feel worried. As per usual, the doctor was running behind schedule, and I really had to pee. I finally approached the front desk to ask the ladies if there was any way I could pee now, before the doctor called me. They promptly took me to the back and allowed me to pee in the cup they do whatever with.

When I walked out of the bathroom, they told me to go get Trent from the lobby, and pointed to which room we would be in. As we waited in the small room, my worried feeling remained. It didn’t help that the room was pretty hot with no window or AC control to mess with. Trent looked at his phone and said “gosh, I thought we’d be out of here by now.” We were approaching an hour past our scheduled appointment time, and we still had not seen the doctor.

The doctor finally came in and apologized for the wait. She instantly noticed the uncomfortable temperature of the room, and asked if we minded if she left the door open? “There is no one really left here” she shared as she reopened the door. She asked me how I was feeling and I shared that I felt like I was finally turning the corner, because I was starting to feel better. She tucked a napkin into my pants and poured the ultrasound gel on my stomach. “Okay, you’ll see everything is fine now” I thought as she picked up the doppler and put it on my stomach.

As I shared, I was excited for this appointment, because I knew the baby would look like a baby. The second I saw a flash of the baby, I knew it. It looked the same size as it did at our first appointment, and I knew that wasn’t right. I instantly got hot (even more hot) and felt a lump forming in my throat. “She’s gonna say it, she’s gonna say it.” She moved the doppler around and Trent blurted out “I saw it!” In those three or four seconds, so much happened as my mind slowed it all down. Waiting, holding my breath, knowing, waiting for her to say it. “Oh.. we’re looking pretty small.. let me see..” She measured how small the baby was and I could sense she was nervous. It was coming. “She’s going to say it.” I could also sense Trent was starting to get nervous, although my eyes were glued to the screen and my body was tense. I wasn’t hearing anything, but with my last glimpse of hope, I told myself “well, maybe she has to hit the sound button. Maybe it doesn’t automatically play the audio of the heartbeat.” And then, she finally said it. “Ah, I am not detecting a heartbeat..” I could tell Trent was holding his breath from the gasp he let out. “I’m sorry.. the pregnancy isn’t viable. That could be why you started to feel better.”

This all transpired within a minute or two, but it felt like forever waiting for her to say what I knew she was going to say. I remember being worried about not making her uncomfortable, so I said “okay” with my eyes wide, still glued to the screen, purposely knowing if I broke my gaze and attention from the screen, it was going to make it real and I was going to react to the heart shattering words she just spoke. At this point, Trent had left his chair and was at my side as I laid on my back on the bed with my head turned away from him, peering at the screen, staring at my lifeless baby. I didn’t dare look at him, knowing there was no way I could look him in the eyes and not fall apart.

The doctor continued by apologizing and explaining if the pregnancy was viable, what we would be seeing on the sonogram. She turned off the ultrasound machine and walked to turn on the light as I sat up and wiped the gel off my belly. She began telling me my options and how there was no explanation, as there was nothing I could have done to cause or prevent this. “It just happens.” I stared at her as she talked, hearing absolutely nothing she was saying. I was in shock. Why in the hell do the worst things happen to me? I had a moment of absolute hate for the world. I thought about how I was going to walk out of the doctors office and ever be okay again. I even remember thinking “I have no freaking clue what you’re saying” as I stared at my doctor with my eyes wide and my breaths shallow. What words could I ever say to Trent to make this all make sense or convey the aching in my heart? Part of me wanted to apologize to him. Finally, I lost it. She excused herself and gave Trent and I the room. I wanted to fall into his arms and fall apart, but all I could think about was getting out of that doctor’s office. I was sad but also so angry. I needed to get my initial tears cleared, talk to the doctor about immediate next steps, and knew I would call back tomorrow with a review of my options.

Next, I had to decide how I was going to “have” this miscarriage. That can be found in Chapter 4.

-Kenz