As I watch my children grow, I can’t help but feel that our family is not yet complete. I do not feel that my infant days are over. Now that Calvin is almost 7 and Conor is 4, we are past a lot of the ‘hard parts.’ No more bottles or diapers, they can dress themselves and even brush their own teeth. They can largely entertain themselves and we can even go out to eat without it being too much effort to be worth it. But still, I dream about a baby laid across my chest sleeping soundly. The boys too dream of having a baby to dote on, love and show off to their friends.

Before I had children someone gave me some interesting information. You might call it advice but at the time, I didn’t know how to take it. They said that your first kid is your practice child. They were right, in a way. The change that happens as a person becomes a parent is significant. Our children bring out all of our fears and unhealed parts of ourselves. WE are truly challenged as to who we are in a way that no traveling or career can do. We may have declared that we would parent differently than our own parents, only to realize we have no idea what that actually means. We have to hunt for resources on how we should parent to achieve our goals. And a lot of it is the learn as you go plan. You learn that kids are all different and one might respond well to a certain parenting style that might crush another, more sensitive kid. You learn that true love leads without shame or fear. While my first son, Calvin, taught me how to unconditionally love another, Conor taught me the joy that comes with relaxing in that love. My third son, Colin, taught me how to say goodbye and alas he did not join our family.

My fourth child, Sadie, will also not enter this world. We found out a few weeks ago that our fourth pregnancy, a very loved and wanted pregnancy, was a little girl and she had Down syndrome. At 12 weeks of pregnancy, a genetic counselor called to give me the results of our NIPT test. I knew that was bad news and already had an instinct that our baby was a girl with Down Syndrome, I’m not sure how I knew. I avoided the call. I called back once I felt ready for this news. She told me that the NIPT came back with a high risk for Trisomy 21 (Down Syndrome). A genetic counselor by training myself, I knew what this meant but I did not practice after NIPT came to market ~10 years ago. I asked her “how high is the risk?” and she said 90%. Oof. That hit my heart like a dagger. I asked her if she could tell me the gender. She checked and said “it’s a female fetus.” And the dagger twisted. I cried and thanked her for the information. She said that they could see us for an ultrasound that afternoon or a CVS in the morning at the downtown office. I was thankful I had chosen to go to the high risk clinic from day 1. Having chosen a high deductible insurance plan allows me the flexibility to refer myself and had been seeing a midwife there I liked quite a bit but there were always MFMs there when needed. I told her I wasn’t sure what to do. I called my husband for the next 20 minutes and he did not answer. I cancelled my afternoon meetings and drove home. I woke him from our 4yo bed as they were slumbering together. I pulled him into our bedroom so Calvin wouldn’t hear and I told him what I had learned. We cried together. My mother came over and we went straight to the office for the ultrasound. I asked the genetic counselor to review everything with my husband, then we went to look at baby. I could see it as soon as the ultrasound tech did. The space behind the babies’ neck was larger than it should be. Normal is less than 3mm but most healthy kids are around 1-1.5 (as were Calvin and Conor’s). Sadies’ NT (nuchal translucency) was 4.85mm and I could see that it extended the length of her back. I sobbed. Chris cried in response to my distress. We got some pictures of our sweet girl before the MFM came in to tell us the findings. She looks great except for a cystic hygroma, a hallmark of Down Syndrome. With that information, the risk Sadie has Down syndrome is now 99%. A CVS, a diagnostic test, is invasive and would give us ‘conclusive’ information. I say that in quotes because that is also a test with 98-99% accuracy where there are some exceptions to the rule and the babies chromosomes don’t always match the placental chromosomes (both NIPT and CVS are sampling placental derived chromosomes). Having seen a traumatic CVS when I was a student, I declined, feeling comfortable that the ultrasound had given us the information we needed to confirm the diagnosis that NIPT had identified.

I honestly did not know what I wanted to do with this information. They could schedule an early anatomy scan at 16 weeks or they could provide us information to end the pregnancy, should that be our choice. I scheduled the ultrasound but asked what our options were. If we wanted to end this pregnancy, we would need to travel to Virginia. South Carolina had recently passed a bill so that pregnancies cannot be ended once there is a heartbeat (so basically, no abortions, all of my pregnancies have had heart beats by the time I knew I was pregnant around 6 weeks). North Carolina allowed termination up to 12 weeks for any reason, up to 20 for terminal genetic illnesses, but not Down Syndrome. For days, I agonized over what to do with this information. Lying awake each night mulling over the details and googling. To my husband it was clear, we should end the pregnancy and try again. For me, it was not as clear. This was my daughter.

Sadie and I had already experienced so much together. We had just recovered from the flu. Traveling back from Palo Alto on July 19, the day microsoft/crowdstrike broke Atlanta (among other things), I was lucky enough to make it home with only a 2-hour delay. But I hadn’t eaten all day and was tired. The next day, the tell tale body aches and nausea hit hard. For two weeks I was run down. At one point, I couldn’t breathe and thought it might be the end for both of us. I worried that the medications I had to take had hurt the baby. But ultrasound at 10 weeks showed a strong heart beat and she was OK. When we received the news of her extra chromosome, I had just started to feel like a normal human again. Pregnancy at 38 is hard. It’s exhausting and the nausea seems to get worse with each pregnancy. I had fallen behind in work which is important to me as well. How could this be happening now? Why does she have to have Down syndrome? How can I possibly make this decision? It felt like no choice at all.

For a few days, I tried to estimate HER risk of miscarriage and taking this decision away from me. The statistics tell us that fetuses affected by DS have a 30% chance of miscarriage by 16 weeks and 20% until full term. I called the genetic counselor and asked her what she thought. She said that her cystic hygroma wasn’t large- definitely there but not large and would likely resolve. This could be a more positive pregnancy outcome. We wouldn’t know if she had a heart defect until at least 16 weeks in pregnancy (something very severe could already be detected), but it’s a good assumption given the cystic hygroma. The extra fluid behind the neck indicates that the heart is not circulating fluid as it should. If the cystic hygroma goes the other direction and doesn’t resolve, she could develop hydrops which can be fatal. If she is born, there is a high likelihood she will need surgery to repair a heart defect. Other health concerns are low hypotonia leading to breathing and eating difficulties, thyroid problems, high risk for leukemia in the first three years and lastly GI tract abnormalities like biliary atresia which may require surgical repair. All in all, 85% of babies with DS survive their first 2 years. Lower than a ‘healthy baby’ but greatest likelihood is a baby that is born will survive.

Could I bare a loss later in pregnancy? Could I bare to lose a child after birth? As a college student, I read ‘Waiting with Gabrielle’ about a mothers’ choice to continue a pregnancy affected with hypoplastic left heart syndrome. She wanted to experience all of the time with him that she could and held him as he passed. I understand that feeling and part of me wanted that too. As we learned of Sadie’s diagnosis, I watched a video on Inside Edition about a mother in a similar position that decided to continue a pregnancy affected by DS. He never left the hospital. He lived for 199 days and was not held the last month of his life. The mother tells a very positive story of love and holding him on the roof of the hospital as he died. She had no regrets. Is that reality? We all have regrets. Every decision we make comes with challenges- you choose your hard. What I heard was a story of torture, for that baby. Sure he had a few good moments in his short life, but he didn’t get to feel love in his last days and was also traumatic for that family. If I knew this were my outcome, I would end my pregnancy, I thought. A termination is one traumatic event, while a later loss is many traumatic events.

As I researched outcomes about DS, the only stories told are positive ones. Most children with Down syndrome have some level of intellectual disability and it can be severe and very limiting. Some are quite high functioning and these are the children you hear about, the many that can learn to read and even hold jobs. I believe a lot of this is pro-life propaganda. The statistics do not support this rosey picture. Being a genetic counselor, I knew where to check for accurate information. Chris and I read about the health risks. I also read the statistics. In America, 67-85% of couples decide to end the pregnancy. And the pro-lifers are actively working to outlaw the termination of pregnancies affected with DS. Where were the stories from the families that struggled? Are they simply not talking or not able to talk about anything but the positives – it makes sense. Where were the stories and words from those that had discontinued their pregnancies? How did they make this impossible decision? In a facebook support group (Pregnancy after loss support), the only words were those that wanted to tell me that people with DS are wonderful people. I have in fact heard that kids with DS are ‘always happy.’ But that is not actually true, it is a misconception from those that spend a few hours with those that are highly functioning. People with DS do have a higher rate of depression, but it’s under diagnosed because many cannot communicate. The rate of ‘high functioning’ is not a number that is available, but my googling into the bowels of the inter-web revealed it’s maybe as high as 30%. The families that had reached out to tell me about their delightful experience with their child with DS told me about what sweet babies they were or youths that were wonderful older siblings and that this experience had strengthened the entire family. But what about the teenagers and adults? All I could think about is how much harder life would be with a child with extra needs. It would change the trajectory of not only my life, but also my husbands’ and my children’s lives. Is it fair to them? My husband, the stay at home parent, struggles to be patient with my neurotypical kids. Could he handle this? His perception is that he cannot. And me (the mom) being the stay at home parent, like many families with a child with DS, is not an option. I love my career and I am the breadwinner.

Not only would the next 10-20 years be harder on everyone, but what would happen to Sadie when she becomes an adult? Our midwife told us about a patient who was 27 and had a slightly older brother with DS that was non-verbal and couldn’t walk and rode in a wagon with his sister to her appointments. No one talks about the adults with DS that ARE NOT high functioning. We turned to resources provided by the social worker- tales of those that have terminated for this reason, but also Reddit. There are Sub-Reddit’s for TFMR (termination for medical reasons) where many made this choice. There is also a Sub-Reddit for those seeking support with Down Syndrome. Siblings that choose to take on the care of their aging brother or sister that has developed Alzheimer’s and needs 24/7 care. Many adults with DS live to 60 or 70 and 30% will have Alzheimer’s by 50 and 50% will have been diagnosed by 60. There was another post from a sitter who watched a 45yo woman with DS who just wanted to watch tv and eat. And had constant meltdowns when encouraged to do anything else. I’m 38 years old and would be 39 by the time Sadie was due to be born. If she survived the pregnancy and infancy, what would her life look like? Was it fair to Calvin and Conor to be sidelined by a sibling with such significant needs? Forever? It would be never ending, unlike the transient couple of years for a baby without those extra challenges. And you might think, even without DS, there is no guarantee of a ‘healthy baby’ and that’s very true. But I do know this, is it fair to move forward with this pregnancy with this information? Even if she is high functioning, which again is not likely given the stats, no amount of therapies or intervention would change that, she is not likely to ever get married or have children of her own. Is that fair to her? And if she’s not high functioning, she will require someone to care for her when I no longer can. While I know Calvin or Conor would rise to that occasion, what will it take away from their lives? Everyone says how wonderful the experience of raising a child with DS is, that it makes their other children more compassionate and accepting. Reading the DS Reddit tells me that is not always the case. Some siblings really struggle. Could I knowingly choose this for all three of my babies?

If I had chosen to continue my pregnancy, I would have fought for Sadie and loved her fiercely every step of the way. Having experienced a lot of trauma throughout my life. Trauma that I’ve only recently begun to heal from after years of therapy, I did not think I could handle this. The worry and the stress of a ‘sick child’ would likely have triggered my PTSD. A stressed and anxious mom is not a loving, kind or patient mom. I have worked very hard to become those things over the past 5 years. While I very much look forward to bringing another child into our family to love, I do not think this is the right choice for Sadie or for us.

At 14 weeks of pregnancy, a fetus is still small, about the size of a lemon, they do not yet feel pain and are not a baby. At 14 weeks of pregnancy, we chose to say goodbye to our sweet Sadie. The baby I had pictured sleeping on my chest and the baby my husband had pictured in blonde pigtails giggling as he played with her. But the outcome could have been anything but. A later pregnancy loss would have been incredibly traumatic. An infant loss, even more-so. I could have waited until the 16 week anatomy scan to learn the extent of her heart defect, if any. But ultimately, I didn’t want her to suffer a lonely adulthood without the life that most would have, without a partner and child of her own to love. If I were 25 and this was my first pregnancy, I likely wouldn’t have known about this diagnosis until a 20 week scan and that would have been a much more difficult choice. Once a mother can feel a baby move (around 16 weeks), the attachment to that pregnancy is 1000x more than before that. At 25, I could have made very different choices knowing that I would probably survive as long as she does. I could also have chosen a different financial path that didn’t rely on me working a challenging corporate job. But at almost 40, if she survived into adulthood, she would most likely survive me and be alone, unless one of her brothers took over her care. I simply couldn’t make that choice for them or for her, or for me.

As we decided to end the pregnancy and say goodbye to our sweet Sadie, we grieved. We grieved the healthy baby girl that we fantasized about. We grieved the third baby that we would hold and love. We accepted that this was a pregnancy that would not continue and that there would be another loss. We accepted that now was the best time to say goodbye and that delaying the inevitable in search of more information, would only make this harder for everyone involved. The boys grieved their little sister that they so deeply desired. Colin, having passed before my 19week appointment had taught me what to expect. The same procedure, dilatation and evacuation, would be done again. This time, earlier. My body and my mind were prepared for this. It was a very different experience, but yet the same. In a different hospital, 7 hours away, I was aware of my incredible privilege. Many cannot afford to make this choice. All we had to pay for was the gas and food. I used my points from work travel to book our hotel and since I work for a California based company, my insurance would cover the cost of the procedure.

I quit my job at MUSC nearly 10 years ago because I didn’t make enough money to cover by living expenses, even with a roommate. I chose to go into industry because I felt exploited as a clinical genetic counselor working for the state of SC. The health insurance was terrible. Pre-Affordable care act, being a woman was a pre-existing condition and I was billed $1000 for a pelvic exam at MUSC, a state run hospital and state employee insurance plan. Women are second class citizens in SC. That has not changed, with the exception of federal protections that have recently failed to protect us.

I often think about the impact of our decisions. The butterfly effect you may call it. Or alternative reality that spirals from every decision. What if I still worked at MUSC and we were struggling to make ends meet from the meager salary. Both of us would be working full time jobs which would have been a significant disadvantage. We wouldn’t have been able to afford this procedure which runs roughly 20-30K. At our consult, the Doctor that performed my procedure at VCU, when asked how we could truly make this decision, said ‘i find that people are resilient.’ She said that if we ended this pregnancy, we would recover and if we continued this pregnancy we would figure that out too. I sobbed. She’s 100% correct. We said goodbye to Sadie on a tuesday afternoon. I awoke and I cried. I felt very at peace with our decision. I am sad I will never meet her or hold her. But I am confident that the choice we made was made of love and we will all be OK. This was my choice.

I haven’t posted for exactly one year. One year ago today I shared a story of loss. Loss of my third son, Colin. Loss of a brother, grandson and friend. It was an experience I do not ever wish to relive nor do I wish for anyone. However, there are many gifts I have acquired over the past year, as a result. Colin sped up a process that had been nipping at my heels for years. It forced me to change, to work on myself, to learn to truly love myself.

I haven’t posted since then because this has been a quiet process. As a fern frond unfurls, I have been opening up small bits of myself, connecting with myself and understanding what I need.

You never know what someone is truly made of until you have children. And that includes yourself. We all have toxic traits (maybe not, but I think so). We are all walking around holding up shields. Shields composed of coping mechanisms or behaviors that we learned from others that came before us and taught us about the world. Not only about the world but how to interact with it and the other humans that inhabit it. We don’t know they are shields as the injuries that led to their creation happened long before, potentially before we remember.

Over the past year I have learned how to choose for myself, set boundaries to others and starting getting ‘unstuck.’ One thing I didn’t realize is that I was living in a constant state of fight or flight mode. I was very unhappy and had been since my first son was born. His birth triggered PTSD that took years to identify and work through- am still working through, may always be.

This time last year, my husband was also quite unhappy. And we had been in marriage counseling for 4 years and we were both in individual counseling. In some (bad) months, we collectively spend $1500 on therapy. Things were not working as they were. I love my husband, deeply. He is a good man. But he does not know how to love. And I do not either. I thought I did and maybe I forgot sometime ago, but neither one of us was being a very good partner. The struggle was real and it ran deep through every member of our family. I decided I needed a break. A break from the constant struggle, chaos and general discontent that existed in our marriage. My husband moved out for a couple of months and lived with his mother. At first, neither one of us knew what this meant or why we were separated. We both feared divorce but both wanted to continue working on our relationship and our family. I decided to to pull the trigger and remodel our house and the kids and I moved in with my mother.

After 3 months, during which Thanksgiving, Christmas and New Years’ past, we moved back into our home as a family and continue to make it work each day. I have a few pearls of wisdom from this past year that I would love to share now.

Self love is discipline. Self love is choosing the hard today for an easier tomorrow. Self love means considering your own needs, without first considering those of others. Self love is tirelessly and kindly advocating for your own needs. Self love is not settling to ‘keep the peace’ in any relationship. In order to love another, you must first love yourself.

Our kids do not need to be busy or ‘do all the things’ and they certainly do not need to have all of the things. Stuff weighs us down. It creates a chaos that is hard to name. It’s overstimulating, dusty, most of the time it is superfluous and can create a distance between ourselves and those we love most.

We all crave to be connected with others. The ways that we seek ‘easy connection’ prevent us from good connections. The very devices that were created to connect us have only caused us more disconnection and unhappiness. We must re-learn to connect with others and nature. “Get back to our roots,” if you will.

If you spend your time avoiding or escaping life, you are merely surviving. Whether your escape is drugs, alcohol, shopping, hoarding, watching TV, social media, video games, gambling, or working, if you are avoiding the real work, you will never get where you want to be. Why would you want to spend your life avoiding it?

I have few secrets that have not been written about before. I’m finally accepting that life is just hard for me. It probably always will be. And maybe every single human feels this way. My life, as have those of many others has been marked by loss. We come into this world perfect. We slowly learn that we are ‘too much’ or ‘too loud’ for others and we adjust ourselves, we grieve our authentic selves. Over time we say goodbye to grandparents, parents, friends, lovers, partners, pets and sadly, for some, children.

We may have accepted the enigma of our society that keeps us working hard and striving (hustling). Or we may have figured out that the true meaning of life is to love others and seek deeper connections. It is not wealth. It is not status from a career. It is our ability to give to others unconditionally. This is not to say that it is wrong to love your career and contribution to society, but it is not larger than those that create new life and nurture it. That will always be the job that we were born to do. And brings true happiness. Especially with the support of ‘the village.’ And you have to build your own village. Given the direction our society has moved since it was created, we pride independence and individuality and shame others for ‘needing’ others. Our species was never meant to be like the wolf, we rely on each other to survive. Don’t ever let someone make you feel ‘less than’ for needing them or anyone else. You are human. You are allowed to ask for your needs to be met. And they are allowed to say no. Just keeping it real. We can really only rely on ourselves to meet our own needs. But if someone else does it, we feel loved. So go out there and meet someone else’s need, without expecting a thing in return.

I have bad days. When my cup feels empty and I need to feel better about myself. I focus on what I can do for others. Whether that is a fist bump to a colleague at work or an extra cuddle for my highly sensitive offspring, I always feel better having lifted someone else. And the better I feel, the better I become.

If you want a better life, it is your choice. Your life is always your choice. I used to worry about the day that I ‘gave up on life’ and became like others that have come before me and just quit trying. Would I quit my job? Would I spend my days drinking? Would I watch TV and ignore my children? Would I do that? It was my choice. It always has been and it always will be. Every day that I get up, it is my choice what my life looks like. And every day I get up and choose to do my best. And sometimes that looks like taking time for myself to go to the gym or a walk to clear my head. Or on the really loud days, relaxing looks like 6 hours of yard work. If you felt that sentence, I see you.

Our habits create the life that we have. If you want a better life, create better habits. For ex) I hate last minute rushing to get out of the door. So now I leave earlier. I get up earlier. I shower earlier. I leave more time for the ‘in between moments.’ When you have little kids you might think, I need to be there in an hour it takes 30 minutes and it’ll take 30 to get ready. There’s always the 5-10 minutes it takes getting into the car. Stop to look at bugs. Spill a drink or need a last minute snack. Now I just add extra time. No one ever got sad about extra time and not having to rush. It makes my life better to not rush, so I just force myself to get up sooner, and I’m always thankful for the time. That is real self love.

It’s really important to understand your own coping mechanisms. I’ve spent the last year really learning about the impact of trauma on the body and about how we attach to other people. Many of us coped with our early environments in ways that resulted in developing anxious or avoidant/dismissive attachment. For me, I now know that I have Disorganized attachment. Which, I know there isn’t a ‘worst’ but it sure feels that way. Sometimes I’m anxious and need lots of reassurance and other times I push people away. I’m surrounded by a sea of avoidants that trigger me with their ‘avoidance.’

Over the past year, I have hit many milestones. Since processing the loss of Colin, the most loved and never met, sweet little boy, I have grown immensely. I’ve changed in priceless ways. I like myself better and I feel a momentum that is propelling me forwards. Instead of constantly feeling like treading water, I feel like I’m on solid ground again. I am at peace. Not every moment, but the peaceful moments are closer together. And I know that it will feel peaceful again.

Some books that I now highly recommend:

The Body Keeps the Score: Brain, Mind, Body in the Healing of Trauma by BESSEL VAN DER KOLK https://www.besselvanderkolk.com/resources/the-body-keeps-the-score

Attached by Amir Levine and Rachel S. F. Heller https://www.attachedthebook.com/wordpress/

The Empathic Parent’s guide to Raising a Highly Sensitive Child: Parenting Strategies that I Learned to Understand and Nurture My Child’s Gift by Freeda Meighan https://www.abebooks.com/9798614031671/Empathic-Parent%E2%80%99s-Guide-Raising-Highly/plp

Dear Colin, I loved you from the minute I imagined you joining our family. I imagined you completing our trio of little boys, me being forever a boy mom. I imagined you as a third, smaller boy in my pack of small children with a mop of blonde hair, following behind your brothers. I imagined holding you to sleep each night, snuggled onto my chest. I imagined feeding you your first foods and your wobbly first steps. I imagined that with Calvin, your adventurous oldest bother and Conor, the cautious (don’t touch me!) older brother, you would balance the pack with your big heart and enthusiasm. I imagined your wedding day, my last baby to fly the nest, proud to be your mama and happy to see my baby happy.

Yesterday was so hard. I was not ready to say goodbye to you. It was hard for me, your dad, Calvin and even Conor sensed there was something going on. He brought me the cutest handful of little yellow flowers and asked me to put them in a cup to place with the other flowers that friends and family have sent to comfort us.

Deciding how to say goodbye to you was the hardest thing we’ve ever done. The Drs offered an induction or D & E procedure. For the first, I would have a full labor, just like Calvin’s – there would be lots of unknowns including how long it would take, needing an epidural (which I don’t handle well), and potentially needing a D & C after delivery for retained placenta. With Calvin, born full term, I had to have a D & C after delivery and well, Calvin’s was a very traumatic birth. While I would have loved to meet you and hold you and properly say goodbye, I was also cautioned that seeing a baby that small, after a couple weeks since demise could also be traumatic. The D & E on the other hand is a surgical procedure that you can sleep through from beginning to end. Knowing myself, my traumatic birth experience with Calvin and not wanting to leave Calvin and Conor overnight, we chose the D & E. We were fortunate to get a teeny tiny footprint to keep.

All day yesterday I awaited what the afternoon had in store for me. Even though I only felt you move one time, I knew exactly where your body lay, low in my belly. Sleeping. Or at least, I imagine you sleeping. I was not ready to let go, but I knew I had too. It was not really my choice. When the time came, your dad and I drove to the hospital. We parked, we walked to surgery, checked in and waited. Then the nurse prepped me- clothes off, IV in, wait for anesthesia and Doctor. Cry. Keep crying, Doctor stuck in last procedure. I tried to keep it all in, but I couldn’t. I cried, awaiting a procedure I both didn’t want and needed. Then, at last, anesthesia put in the meds and all I remember is starting to leave pre-op and I was out. Then I awoke to Oye (sp?). A kind nurse telling me that everything was all done and I just needed to rest and wakeup. Gingerale? Yes, please. I spent the next hour not really speaking, just waking up. Your dad went to get the car, I sat in silence as they helped me dress. I felt your absence in my belly and I cried. Oye told me it was OK to be sad, to cry, to grieve with my family. She said to focus on the positives right now and that everything would be OK. She gave me one of the best hugs of my life. She wrapped me in her arms and comforted my soul.

When I came home, there was nothing to do but love your brothers. They were hurting too, well, at least Calvin was. When bedtime came, he fell asleep asking me why this happened, why he couldn’t meet you, if we could bury you in the front yard by our tree that we love to play around. He doesn’t understand any more than I do how to make sense of this. I will always think of you as my baby, the one I never got to meet, but knew and love completely.

They say that having a son is like having the slowest breakup of your life. I’m not sure I understood that until having Calvin join our family. He is the one who taught me what love was. He taught me just how much you can give to another person to make them whole. He is the one who has taught me that love is patient, kind and warm. But as he grows older and becomes more independent, he is slowly ‘leaving me.’ And one day, if I do my job right, he will marry someone and have a family of his own. He constantly tells me that he wants to grow up and be a daddy, marry a mommy and have kids of his own one day. That’s what he wants to be ‘when he grows up.’ And I couldn’t be more proud or happy for him. I know that working towards that will bring him happiness. Even if it breaks my heart at the same time. But you see, being a mom means loving someone else more than yourself and putting their happiness ahead of your own. Besides, I’ve done hard things. I can do this too.

The past 4 months have been some of the hardest, most challenging months of my life. Around the first of the year, I found out I was pregnant with our third baby. At the same time, my van was destroyed in a hit and run in the Toyota parking lot. A month later, my husband had shoulder surgery on his right shoulder. I had to do everything, while dealing with taking my car to get fixed, switching rental vehicles every couple of weeks, with persistent nausea in the background. Also, undergoing some of the most challenging personal growth of my life. HARD is an understatement. Some days felt down right impossible. But I was thoroughly excited at the thought of another baby joining our family. As time went on, things got easier. After 6 weeks, Chris was able to help with daily chores again and life went on. Our van took months to fix and I cannot even tell you the drama surrounding that, nor do I want to waste our time on that right now. As things began to feel doable- around 16 weeks of pregnancy, the nausea subsided, but we were hit with hand, foot and mouth disease. Something I had been fortunate enough to dodge until now. Neither child was sleeping, I was getting maybe an hour of sleep at a time for what felt like forever, but was actually 5 days. We didn’t even know what it was until the tell-tale sores popped up, but by then it was too late. Other than a bad cough, I seemed to have dodged that virus. Then Calvin caught my cough and was unable to sleep for a few nights. Then, again, the dust settled. I thought, thank goodness. I needed a break. I had a conference coming up and was literally fantasizing about sleeping in a bed by myself. Two days later, I experienced the worst breakup of my life.

I drove to Mount Pleasant for what was supposed to be a quick OB visit to check blood pressure, urine, heart beat. I had done the first two and was waiting for the Doctor. Not my doctor, because she was out of town, but Dr. Joseph was quite nice. I told the nurse I needed to leave in 15 minutes as I had a meeting I needed to make it home for. Dr. Joseph came in quickly and told me everything looked great and then put the doppler on my belly. We joked that baby was hiding and eventually she told me that she had given it her best but that we needed to go to ultrasound. I cancelled my meeting. Trying to ignore the anxiety welling in my gut, I waited what felt like the longest 2 minutes of my life for the ultrasound tech. She took me to the last room at the end of the hall. She spread warm jelly on my belly and quickly placed the transducer. Just like that baby popped onto the screen above my head. No movement. No sound. I knew. We had lost our baby. Our baby that we had named. Another boy to join our rambunctious house, Colin Wienke Myers. We had been talking excitedly about him for months and I’m not sure who was most excited, Calvin or Chris and I. My first thought was, how am I going to tell Calvin? Then my next thought was, why? when? Hoping I was wrong, I waited for the sonographer to speak. She said in a very straight voice, ‘let me go get Dr. Joseph’ and it was then that I broke down in tears. Being a genetic counselor my mind raced but I couldn’t remember the chances or causes of losing a pregnancy at 19 weeks. I had been screened for autosomal recessive diseases and baby had been screened for chromosomal abnormalities. Could it have been my bodies’ inability to properly make a placenta? I will probably never know.

My fears before this pregnancy have always been for my health. With both Calvin and Conor I developed severe preeclampsia. Thankfully not early in pregnancy but both times quite suddenly and scary. This was new territory. Dr. Joseph came in and confirmed my worst fears by simply saying “I’m so sorry, Sara. I do not know why this would happen to a perfectly healthy pregnancy.” I gulped for air in between sobs. I asked her when. Baby measured 16 weeks. But I was at the Doctor at 16 weeks. Baby had a great heart beat, my AFP was drawn- normal, all of my prenatal labs, normal. Why would this happen? She said she had no idea. Everything looked ‘fine.’ But yet, there was no flicker, no tell-tale sound, that sweet sound of a baby thriving inside the safety of my belly. He was gone. I asked her what the next steps were. She said I could be induced and that could take days and be very hard or I could go to MUSC for a D & C. She asked me what I wanted to do. I had no words and my brain was failing me to find any. She said “You probably don’t even know how to answer that. Do you want to go home and think about it?” I said yes.

I asked the sonographer if I could use the bathroom and she showed me where it was. I quickly ran down the hall afraid of the happy couples that seemed to be everywhere that day. Their excitement and joy was palpable, floating through the air like a sweet aroma. I ran back to the ultrasound room. The sonographer, Jennifer, was wonderful. She sat with me and asked me if I needed to stay for a bit. I replied that I did not want to stay, that I wanted to go home but that I didn’t want to walk past all of the ‘not sad couples.’ She walked me down that very long hallway and out to the external hallway. I called my husband and shared the news with him as I went down the elevator, past the people coming and going and to my car. He said he would meet me at home. I called a friend who talked to me the whole way home as I cried, simply following the car in front of me and my GPS. It was surreal. I honestly don’t even remember driving. I pulled in the driveway and Calvin rushed out to hug his sobbing mama. He asked me if I was sad “because Colin had died.” And I said ‘yes.’ I went inside to get him ready to send him off for a day of fun with my mother. I held my Conor who had no idea what was going on. He had never quite comprehended what pregnant was and did not want a baby brother. Calvin, as he was leaving asked if we could make another baby. We told him, yes, eventually we would. He said, ‘OK, I’m sad I won’t meet Colin but can I have a sister this time?’ I smiled at him, hugged him, told him I loved him and to have a good day.

The day was filled with telling people our unfortunate news. My friends, family and colleagues, all so supportive, rose up to the occasion and sat with me in my pain. But there is nothing anyone can do. It is simply time to go through the motions. Schedule procedure to say goodbye one last time to the baby I will never meet. Cancel meetings today. Cancel conference this weekend. The whole world just froze that day. That day was yesterday. It already feels like a lifetime ago. I still can’t quite comprehend that I will never meet my Colin. That sweet baby that I bonded with from day 1.

While it may be hard to see our sons grow up and leave our nest. This was far harder. I held my babies closer last night. Calvin, showing his disappointment in his repeated questions. “Why can’t they shock his heart back to life? will we have a burial for him?” and “I’m sad we aren’t going to meet Colin.” I’m sad too, buddy. It’s OK to be sad. This is a sad thing to happen.

It’s an odd feeling to still ‘feel pregnant’ because my body hasn’t yet figured out that there is no more heartbeat. I’m not exactly sure what the next few days look like but I’m pretty confident they will be some of the hardest in my life.

My heart goes out to all of the mamas who have lost their babies. I’m not happy to join your club but here I am. I am weeping with you, grieving the baby I will never meet. I always find solace in sharing my stories with others, so if you read this, thank you.

Yesterday was a really hard day. My husband had shoulder surgery 5 days ago. It has been 5 days of being the primary caregiver to my two children AND my man child. Five days of trying to get caught up on laundry, dishes, housework, yard work, etc. Five days of trying to convince my kids to do anything other than watch TV. Five days of moving for 18 hours straight to get it all done. Yesterday I snapped. I had asked my 5yo repeatedly, repeatedly, repeatedly to get ready for school while I get ready. He wanted to go outside so I finally said ‘ok, take 5 minutes’ and he immediately came in with muddy shoes and said ‘it’s OK it’s wet and boring outside’ and I asked him to take his shoes off. He insisted he had to keep them on and I said ‘no, no, no come here’ and I attempted to take his shoes off. At the same moment he pulled my dirty, unwashed hair out of it’s bun and I lost it. We were late already, I had so much to do and so much more to do. In my overwhelm, I screamed at him. I then screamed at his brother. Unleashing 4 days of pent up frustration and exhaustion. He screamed in frustration at himself. We finally got out of the door and into the car. All 4 of us. We drove to school in relative silence as I pouted and cried off and on. Disappointed at myself. Do you know what hurt the most? I’ve worked for a solid year to not be that person. To focus on kindness and warmth towards my kids. And I failed in the most epic way. I was cruel to my kids and once I calmed down I realized it was for absolutely nothing. Who cares if we are late to school (well, the old school did, but not the new school)?

When we arrived at school, I turned back to my son and reached for his hand. Appearing calm and relieved he took it. I told him “what happened this morning was 100% my fault- you did absolutely nothing wrong. I am so sorry that I yelled at you, you did not deserve that. I hope you have the very best day and that I didn’t ruin it.” He gave me a big hug and went inside for drop off. I pouted all day, crying off and on. Ashamed of my behavior. Ashamed that I still get overwhelmed and explode and cannot seem to control it, no matter how hard I am trying. My younger son and I had a wonderful walk to the park and picnic that allowed me to reset. Everything was calm and ‘normal’ for the rest of the day. This morning, we got up 30 minutes earlier and while Calvin fought me for a second on not watching TV, he ended up finding fun games to play. I took a shower, made them breakfast which they ate! I got them both ready and out of the door right on time. No stress, no fuss, Calvin got himself ready early.

In the car, Calvin told me that he did a good job doing what I asked so that I didn’t have to yell. I pouted for a second and I said- ‘you did amazing today! But I want you to know that me getting overwhelmed yesterday was not your fault. Mommy is trying to do better at not getting overwhelmed and yesterday I failed. You were normal. You were a normal 5 yo- you are not a bad kid- do you know that?” and he nodded yes. He asked why I yell back at him when he yells at me and I said “i don’t know. I wish I didn’t. I just don’t control my emotions as well as I wished I could all of the time.” He replied “next time I yell, just tell me to stop. Don’t yell at me, just talk to me.” I thanked him for sharing that with me and promised I would try to do that to the best of my ability next time. And that was it. My very hard day was over.

Now it is time to have grace so that it doesn’t happen again. I remember when my father used to have really bad nights, fueled by alcohol, he never apologized or even acknowledged that he hurt us. I imagine he thought we knew, but we did not. I can only hope that my attempts to repair and do just a little better than he did will go a long way. I’m so proud of Calvin’s ability to speak with me about what has happened- without judgement and only with love. This tells me that I may not get it right every time, but I’m on the right path. And this is the first time I’ve yelled at him in a really long time. It’s time to forgive myself, for growth is not linear. It can be easy sometimes when we hit a speed bump to shame ourselves into believing that is our true self. But it is not. We are the person who shows up every single day trying to do better. And each day that we do better, we are closer to being who we truly want to be.

For all of my kin out there fighting to be better and do better so our kids can Know better: I see you. Keep fighting, keep trying, keep working and keep growing. Growth isn’t always up. Sometimes there will be hard days. There will be challenges we didn’t see coming and weren’t quite prepared for. Our best is ALL we can do.

One of the hardest things about my journey to…happiness? enlightenment? parenthood? has been understanding and accepting that it’s not about me. Every mean word anyone said to me, they said from a place of pain within themselves. Perhaps they are reflecting onto me what they don’t like about themselves or maybe I’ve triggered pain unknowingly by being me. Regardless, it is imperative to not listen to those external messages that are hurtful. We are not what others reflect onto us. I’ll give an example) someone in my life that I have a very painful relationship with- every time I tell them why I do something or ask of them something in particular, they tell me that they don’t believe me. It has been years of me wondering why this person thinks I would be lying. Until I discovered this person had been lying to me for years. That is not a dysfunction I am familiar with (at least not knowingly). I finally realized it’s because this is how that person manages to cope, rather than talk to people and tell them what she needs, she lies and manipulates to get her needs met. I’m sure my poor coping mechanisms are equally as poor, but that is not one of them that I possess. That’s not my toxic trait, it’s hers. When we don’t have our eyes open, when we avoid thinking about the things that we do to hurt others, we internalize what they say about us. And we can also become what they say if we listen too closely.

Additionally, when we internalize the bad that people say to us we also seek external validation from them to feel good about ourselves. This is what drives us to feel like we need to be heard and understood by our abuser. Because surely, if they saw what we were struggling with, they would not feel the need to hurt us. But they can’t. They cannot see past their own struggle. They are perpetuating anger and unhappiness, but it is not about you. You are just the catalyst or holding place for them to focus it on. Because something about you flares something inside of them- perhaps jealousy. Perhaps they wish they could have the career/marriage/pregnancy that you have. And rather than be happy for you, they want to sabotage you. They want you to suffer as they have suffered. Not intentionally, but because they simply don’t know how to manage their emotions or have their needs met in a healthy way. We must feel sorry for them, but we don’t have to take on their pain, we don’t have to suffer their abuse. And you may have been them before. I could have been seen like this in my relationships before I started facing the reality of my negative behavior and how it impacts others.

To counteract the need for external validation, we must build our own self confidence. This is where we finally learn what true love is. Love is an ACTION, not a feeling. This is what we do not understand until we have children of our own. Love is losing sleep for years so that your child does not have to suffer alone in the dark. Love is letting your spouse get a couple of extra hours of sleep so that they know you see their struggle and you care. Love is ignoring the bad behavior to understand the need beneath it. Love is confronting your negative behavior so others around you do not have to suffer as you may have. Love is patient. Love is kind. Love is warm and soft. So, if your behavior towards another person does not align with this, you need to ask yourself why. What is preventing you from being kind, loving, warm towards others? What do you need to overcome that obstacle? It truly takes a village and we should be working together to be our best selves, to create a brighter tomorrow for our children. We don’t know what the world will look like in 30 years, but the kinder we can be to ourselves and others, the brighter it will be for all.

When I am having a particularly hard day. When everything is overwhelming and I feel like I cannot do anything right and I feel the urge to blame others and point out what they are not doing, I call/text/email someone that I admire. I tell them that I think they are doing an amazing job. This always makes me feel better about myself. And loving others is a skill that has to be learned like anything else. But the better you do today, the easier it will be tomorrow. But you cannot love others if you do not love yourself. How do you love yourself? Well, who would you want to be if you could be anyone? Be that. If you want to be a more fun mom- spend more time with your kids. Period. Prioritize that over whatever else. Realize that no one will die if the house is dirty for a few days. Focus on what brings you joy and set boundaries to those that steal your joy. Slowly but surely, you will feel love and happiness and find it easier to share with others.

As my oldest son turns 5, I can’t help but reflect on the past 5 years. At this time 5 years ago, I had just been checked into labor and delivery, diagnosed with severe preeclampsia and receiving a drip of magnesium and pitosin. It was scary. But I was so excited to meet the amazing little man that would change my life forever and for the better. The initial years that followed were filled with so much joy, but so much fear. Becoming a mom started my journey to meeting my true self. It has not been easy, but it has been filled with much happiness and of course, the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. My pot of gold is learning who I AM, not who was created by the challenges I’ve encountered in my life. I’ve met the real me, who just wants love, just like my sweet baby boy. She is not afraid, she is not anxious, she is at peace. And with peace, comes joy. I have found my joy by becoming a mom.

Part of this journey involved deciding what type of parent I wanted to be. Accepting that it’s OK to do things differently than those that came before me. Accepting that they too did their best to do things differently than those that came before them. It is my turn to decide how I will live my 1 life. And the years to come will be filled with love and happiness.

So on this anniversary of meeting one of the loves of my life, I not only celebrate him, but the mom I have become and will continue to strive to be as long as I am alive. In many ways, 5 years ago today marks the beginning of my life. And I wouldn’t change a thing.

So, here we are, the 3 of us looking super happy and put together. Pictures are often deceptive. We can hide pain with smiles when we need to. On the day that this picture was taken, we were all very happy. It was a wonderful day spent with friends and family in a gorgeous park, followed by beer and pizza at one of our favorite restaurants.

This is my family. My entire world in one photograph. My son Calvin recently turned 18months old and my husband and cheerleader, Chris.

When Chris and I discovered I was pregnant, we were ecstatic. Unfortunately that meant moving our wedding up from November to June (whoops!), but it was one of the best memories I have, regardless. From the day Calvin was born, parenting was incredibly overwhelming for me. I wondered what was wrong with me. I see every other mother ‘have it all together.’ I have since learned, that often what is on the outside does not match the inside. And at times, this discrepancy can lead to unhappiness. I used to wonder if I had the “mum gene.” I will tell you that, decidedly so, yes, I was meant to be a mom. I was meant to be a mom to a beautiful little boy named Calvin.

Because of the overwhelming nature of being both a wonderful mom and having an amazing career, I have decided to “outsource” the chores. You name it, I may have bought it or tried it. Probably on Amazon, at 4 am, while my baby sleeps soundly because, well, my kiddo didn’t sleep past 4am until 15 months. I am apparently destined to now wake up at 4 am for the rest of my life. All jokes aside, if you can make your life easier today, please do it. We have hired mobile dog groomers, housekeepers and most recently decided it is time to outsource the food prep. Well, at least take dinner off our plates (haha). The problem with cooking is that it requires time and when you have kids, you don’t have time. You have to plan what you are going to cook over your hard earned weekend. You have to prepare a grocery list, then go shopping, then each day prepare the meal according to plan/schedule or your vegetables are going to go bad. Add a very needy child to the mix and it’s just overwhelming at best. Oh and child demands dinner ready by 5:30 (I would have told you that this would have been impossible to accomplish pre-baby).

After having thrown away vegetables week after week, I decided to try a meal delivery service. After reviewing the meal kit services, decided that actually cooking was simply too much for me. So, I chose a prepared meal service. I will share with you what I picked and how it worked in my next post.

Until then, I will leave you with this: parenting is ridiculously hard and borderline impossible. Add in postpartum mood and anxiety disorder and sometimes we have barriers to success higher than the empire state building. But, you are enough. You do have the ‘mum gene.’ Please take a breath, go for a walk, take a moment for yourself.

Thanks for joining me!

Good company in a journey makes the way seem shorter. — Izaak Walton