Seasons of Love: Happy Birthday to My Boy

He loves to run in circles in the kitchen and zig-zag through the living room. His little hands flap in the air while he squeals several sounds that are the formations of new words, “WOW and Uh-Oh.”

He loves to smile while scrunching his nose, especially during bed time. He eats spaghetti by the fistful, and stuffs his face with every fruit snack in a way that would put a hamster to shame.

Every morning on our way to daycare he points to the helicopter on top of the nearby hospital while circling his hands saying, “voom, voom, voom.” As we walk into the building he waves “hello” to the fish tank and grabs his traditional set of two saltine crackers from the lobby.

He loves to sit on Daddy’s lap and play “Endless Reader,” and for some reason it is not the same as mommy’s lap.

He tries to sit on the blind, black pug and chase the cats. He loves to play in the sandbox, dig for worms in Mommy’s garden, and sit under Cora’s tree.

At night when he is scared he likes to curl up next to mommy’s chest, while sticking his feet in daddy’s face. And when the nightmares pass he wakes up and say’s “Ama, lo lo lo.” Which means “Mom, I love you.”

His favorite breakfast is pancakes, and now will only drink chocolate milk, and is on a white milk strike. He likes to watch Curious George, but screams in terror every time the episode with the frogs comes on. He likes to read his Llama llama books after his bath and will often curl up with three or four at a time, hard corners and all.

His names are bubbaloo, bubs, boo boo bear, pookie butt, IJ, sugar bear, the occasional demon child and every other cutsey name in-between. He is a twin to Cora and a big brother to Tyr, even though he may never know how special that title really is.

He loves playing on the playground, chasing his cousins, listening to his Nana, laughing at his Grumpy, kissing his Mommy, poking his Daddy, smiling at his Aunty Erica, teaching his Grandma about animals, eating apples with his Papa Doug, playing on the hammock with Grandpa and living every darn minute to its fullest.

He is my son, and today as of 2:26 am he is two years old. Every minute that he has taken a breath, he has taken mine away. I have loved and wanted him since before he was born, and he is the dream that was created for me.

Idan, I know you are only two and cannot read this, but I want you to know that the last two years have been the best of my life. I will love you every minute of your life, and every second of mine. Thank you for choosing me to be your mom. You are my one greatest adventure.

Happy Birthday.

I love you. Ama


Out of the Frying Pan and into…High School.


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Out of the Frying Pan and into…High School.

Yes, you read that correctly. I am back in High School. Um, what? Who? What is this all about? Well blogging world, I will explain. Unfortunately, I cannot go into a lot of detail, but I am privy to say a few things.

First, life has been extraordinarily chaotic since I started back as a full-time, working mom 6 weeks ago. I am not going to lie. I really miss being a SHARK (stay home and raise kids). I absolutely loved my time home with Idan, and I feel so fortunate that he and I were able to spend one special year of just “mommy and me” time.

But alas, I have to work and have had to do everything I could to adjust to a new routine of getting both a spirited toddler and a not so spirited mom ready by 6:30 am every day.

I have had to adjust to full time hours, and some overtime spilling into before/after school and on the weekends. I am training my body to be in bed by 9:00 pm and am trying to fully embrace every extra hour I get with Idan before his bed routine.

So, what does this have to do with High School? Well, I am happy to say that the universe offered me an opportunity to transfer from the middle school I was at, to one of the High Schools nearby.

I speak very highly of my former school and staff, after all they gave me a chance, but I will openly admit the position I accepted was not for me. I realized fairly quickly that that job did not help me use my strengths as a teacher. And frankly? I was unhappy.

I will leave it at that. Being a teacher there are some things you just can’t publicly talk about, but I will say that there were some tense uncertainties about the future. But as luck would have it, I was able to transfer to a new position, and I just finished my second week there.

And I am happier.

I never thought that I would find ANY pleasure in teaching high schoolers. Aren’t they all just a bunch of thugs who talk back to teachers and make out in the hallways? Don’t they just throw spit wads and make fart noises at the teacher while he is teaching? And then all the jocks just belch, point fingers and laugh?

What about the outcasts who lurk quietly down the hall with black eyeliner and chains coming from their faces? Or the obnoxious cheerleader squealing her cheers in the hallway with cutsey pig-tails and Minnie Mouse bows on the top of her head?

This is what Hollywood wants you to believe, and sadly in my naive thinking, I thought this too.

I was wrong.

Yes, everything I mentioned above DOES happen…but on such a small scale. I have seen the jocks, the belchers, the kids kissing, the eyeliner kid. But In my two weeks teaching High School the one thing that has shocked me the most is the revelation that these people are just KIDS.

Kids in big bodies, confused hearts, and soon to be adult minds. I am so glad that I get to be a part of their journey. I know come May I will want to strangle these soon to be adults and cry because they are still kids, but after teaching middle school for 9 years, I am humbled. I always turned my nose up at teaching High School. But I am no longer afraid.

So Universe? This year has been tough. I am not going to lie. But thank you for another opportunity to better myself as a person, and hopefully better other people.

I will keep everyone in the loop on how this year goes.

Oh, by the way…I am team teaching Algebra 2 all day. Thanks for that one, Universe. Ugh.

Yeah, that whole conversation of “when are we ever going to use this?” has just come back to haunt me. I am using it again, and have to relearn EVERYTHING. Damn. I shouldn’t have screwed around so much in math class.

Thanks for reading.

Cool “Idan-isms”

-He likes to hoard several items in his bed or he won’t sleep. This includes two books, three stuffed animals and a blanket.

-He loves daycare, and I happy he has such great teachers!

-He looks at me and gives me kisses and say’s “lolololo” which means I Love you…can my heart implode anymore?!

Cora’s “Angelversary



Two years ago my daughter Cora passed away. Writing those words seems so surreal to me still. I had a daughter, and her name was Coraline Erica Humphrey. I carried her for 22 weeks, and not a day goes by where I don’t think of her, miss her and love her.

I think of how she would look like right now. She would be almost two. I bet she would have curly hair like Idan, and possibly bright matching eyes. I think of her often when I am bathing Idan and how the tub is filled with toys and how she probably would be taking those toys away from him and dumping water on his head.

I think of the chaos that would have been my life if she and Tyr survived. How she and I would be outnumbered by the boys, but we would probably still win every match anyways. I think of what she would be like with her cousin only 18 months older and how Cora would be following her around with envy, like I do with her mom.

I wonder what her sweet voice would have sounded like. Would she have liked to make animal noises like Idan? Maybe she would have been a loud cryer waking up everyone in the neighborhood.

I think when a mom loses a child, the curse is always wondering what they would have been like, but the blessing is that in heaven they already know you.

I have so many more things I could say, but nothing I can write will convey the depth of my love for her, or all of my children. So I leave you blogging world with this song that connects me to her, and maybe someone out there who has lost their child can relate, and will be thinking of their own child as well.

Sing to me softly your tales of woe

I’ll cradle you closely, I won’t let go

I’ll speak to you gently of what I know

Don’t you cry


Lay your head down darling

The moon is sailing by

The stars are softly shining

The tide is full and high


We’ll fly to the edge, not as distant as it seems

And maybe we’ll find out the key to your dreams

So you just lay your head down darling

Sleep now, La la la la la


Winds blow, rains fall

But it’s warm by the fire’s light

Hush, don’t you see? You’re here with me

And there’s dawn at the end of the night


Lay your head down darling

The moon is sailing by

The stars are softly shining

The tide is full and high


We’ll fly to the edge, not as distant as it seems

And maybe we’ll find out the key to your dreams

So you just lay your head down darling

Sleep now, La la la la la


( -Sinead O’Connor)


I love you Cora Bell.


God, Give Me Guts


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I don’t know why I feel guilty when I don’t blog as often as I would like. I don’t know why I need to apologize to the virtual world for not updating about my little corner of the world more frequently. I am not getting paid to do this, I am not receiving prestigious  accolades. I am just writing for myself, and to keep some kind of documentation of this time in my life for my son Idan. Maybe someday he will get a big kick out of reading what his life was like when he was a toddler, and how his crazy parents were maybe not that crazy after all.

So anyways, sorry virtual world for not writing this past month. And sorry future Idan for not being able to read more status updates of your sweet little 20 month old self.

My world has been busy. Changes and transitions are happening quickly in the Humphrey household. If there is one thing I am learning, pathetically slow, it is that the one thing you can rely on is change. And change is the one thing that has challenged me my entire life.

So here I am, bracing myself for another change in my life.

I got a full time teaching job in the fall.

The upcoming transition is very bittersweet for me. I have loved and struggled everyday being a SHARK (stay home and raise kids).  The reality of the situation is it’s time for me to go back to work. It was a gift from the universe that I was allowed to spend EVERY SINGLE DAY, and EVERY SINGLE  MOMENT for one year with the love of my life. The Humphreys have fallen into that category  of people that just can’t swing it on one salary. Who can now-a-days?  Indeed, the parents who can, are extremely lucky, and I am sure they are thankful for that. Because during this year that we have struggled for me to stay home, I have fully appreciated every moment that I could.

Also, this year off has given me a lot more clarity about myself, being a wife, mother, and teacher. A year ago I had no idea what the future year was going to bring me. I was worried and excited all at the same time.  I didn’t know that it would be immensely pleasurable cleaning dishes, or that experimenting with certain homemade cleaning products would be so fun. I didn’t know that I would feel lonely for adult interaction and that I seemed like a weirdo for talking to anyone older than 15 at the local Starbucks.  Eventually,  I learned to enjoy stillness and solitude.  I am tickled that I was the one that was able to witness Idan crawling for the first time, walking by himself, and discovering how fun it is to climb on any piece of furniture.

I learned that routines are essential, and that nap time is truly the best part of the day. I loved that Idan and I became symbiotic with each other’s emotions, and I knew instantly if he was hungry, sad, or bored. I learned that there is no friendship better than that of a mom and her child, and together we were adventurers. Him discovering the world and me reliving it. I enjoyed taking several coffee breaks throughout the day, not shoveling my lunch in a 20 min time frame, and I enjoyed the challenge of trying to hide vegetables in a variety of his favorite foods.

This past year being a SHARK has taught me that no matter what other job I do, being a mom is the least recognized, hardest, but most  soul -fulfilling role on the planet. I learned that there is no rule book on how to make it work, that you just do it.

I didn’t know that I was going to lose another baby and how despite my deep grief and suffering I have had to trudge on and continue to be a strong mom for my Idan. And that during the moments where I felt like I was going to fall apart in sadness, all I had to do was watch his small, little curls on the back of his head bob up and down while he ran through the house laughing. Thank you little man.

Right before my interview I found a set of unopened daily inspiration cards that were hidden in my bag. I decided to do a silent prayer and pull one out. I asked God to guide me to the one I was about to pull out and have that be the message my heart and mind needed to hear.

To be honest, I was questioning if I should go back to work or not. The idea of teaching again was highly exciting, but leaving my son wasn’t.

The quote on the card I pulled said, “God, Give Me Guts.”

I smiled when I read that, and nailed my interview. Because when I think about it, everything I have done this year,  I have needed guts to do. This was my message.

So, God, give me guts to hang up my shark fins and put my teacher shoes back on. Because the new challenge of fulltime working mommy to a toddler is about to begin.

I am happy to announce that I have accepted a full time Special Education position at a middle school in Greeley. Not a day will go by that I won’t be thinking of my Idan or my heaven kids, but I feel that my year of clarity has prepared me to step outside my hobbit hole once again. Thank you Universe for the time that was giving to me already with Idan, and the times with him that are still to come. It will be these memories that will carry me on my hard days when coffee won’t do the trick.

Thank you for reading.

I still plan on blogging…but now it will be the adventures of trying to work and raise a child. Oh boy.

The Best Birthday Blog Ever – For My Sister Erica


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I just got off the phone with my older sister. Her Birthday is today, but if I tell you her age she will kill me.  Even though she is young and insanely beautiful, she would somehow feel old seeing her age immortalized on the web.


She mentioned to me that anyone who is over the age of 16 shouldn’t celebrate their birthdays. Now, before you all get riled up and pull out the pitchforks and torches to blast this taboo notion that adults don’t deserve birthdays, she didn’t really mean it that way. More a tongue and cheek comment that the older you get, the less importance should be placed on this yearly ritual.


But I am a MEGA BIRTHDAY person. I cannot help it. I LOVE BIRTHDAYS. I love everything about them. I love having a whole day about me, where I get to do…whatever I want to do. I love having a special dinner, special outfit, and to top it all off, after a whole day of “specialness,” I get to have cake!!  And if that isn’t enough I get presents too!! More wonderfulness!! Such a spoiled privilege that I like to indulge in.


But my sister is just not that way, and that’s ok. That is what makes her, well, her.  So, what is the point of this Birthday blog ramble?  Where is the “best” that the title announces, and how does it fit into this writing?


I am not sure.


I basically want to take a few paragraphs – ON my sister’s ACTUAL birthday – to tell the world how wonderful she is. Because, isn’t this the day where you can do that?


Where do I begin, without sounding like too much of an idolizing, weirdo fan, and more like the endearing little sister who looks up to, and is inspired by, her?  Well, I can only squeeze in a few memories and qualities, before this ends up being a novel instead of a blog post, so here goes:


My sister is Amazing.  Yup, she is my rock.  I cannot begin to express to you the depth of my love and friendship for her.  For as long as I can remember, I wanted to be just like her.  No Joke.  Still do.  When we were about six and nine we both auditioned for Missoula Children’s Theater Company.  She, being the natural actress, was immediately chosen and got a part.  I, being the not-so-natural actress, cried the entire audition and was not chosen.  All the people who were picked were asked to stay, and if you were not picked you were allowed to go.  I was confused and didn’t know what to do.  My sister, who has always been my champion, asked the directors  if her sister could sit with her while they talked to all of the selected kids.  She didn’t want me to feel left out or embarrassed.  And I wasn’t, because I felt more special sitting with her than getting picked.  And you know what?  The following year she coached me with some tips on how to do better, and I got my first acting part!


She is also super cool!  She has such an artistic knack for style that I can’t ever seem to get just right.  She recently cut her hair.  So I did too.  She showed me a new makeup product, and I went out and bought it.  She and I have come up with our own language that even the nerdiest people would cringe at.  I can tell her anything and she won’t judge me.  And if she does, she has good reason and usually good advice to follow.  She is extremely caring, loving and generous.  During my fertility journey I cannot tell you how much she helped us, emotionally, psychologically, and even in some cases, financially, without ever expecting anything in return.  She is a nurse like no other.  She has compassion towards every living creature, and her soul seems to recognize when a person is feeling at the their most vulnerable and can put them at ease with a simple shoulder pat, calm words, or a gentle glance.  She is raising two wonderful kids, and when I watch her with them, I can’t help but see us, ourselves, children again, in them. I love knowing that pieces of our souls are running around outside our bodies.


She’s also been there with me in my darkest of dark hours.  She has fallen down in the abyss with me, guided me so I wouldn’t completely crash, and has helped me pick up the shattered pieces.  During the dark days of Tyr’s diagnosis, she was there with me, holding my hand while the ultra sound tech kept revealing more and more bad news.  As I lay there sobbing on the table, she stayed strong and asked the questions I couldn’t.  But when I glanced out of the corner of my eye, her chin was quivering and tears were in her eyes.  She was there, in the darkness with me too, and was choosing to stay until I was ready to go.


The days following his passing were a blur, but somehow my sister made it okay.  She had the daunting task of cheering me up when I knew she was devastated too.  We both hugged each other and sobbed, then laughed about the amount of snot one person can produce, and proceeded to order Chinese food and do manicures and pedicures.


Only sisters know this kind of bliss.


I wanted to write this about my sister because I don’t think she gives herself enough credit. She does all these amazing things for people, and never expects anything in return. This may not be a reward, or her picture in the newspaper, but maybe this little bit of recognition on my itty bitty blog about my best friend will give her that much deserved Birthday Moment.  So to all of you out there who are reading this, know that there is this person on the earth, who is amazing, and is my sister.


So Erica, Happy Birthday. May you remember this moment of how important you are to me, and how even though you think it is silly, you deserve to have this one day where the world shines upon you!


I love you.


(Don’t expect a blog post every year…that is asking too much 😉


She told me this quote once and it rings true:


“A sister is a little bit of childhood that can never be lost”

– Marion C. Garretty

Moving On/Moving With


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Today  is one month since I lost my second son. One month. There is that saying that time heals everything, and eventually you “move on,” and live again.


This is partly true. I will never move on from his death, nor Cora’s death, or even the first miscarriage I had during my first pregnancy. No, you don’t move on, you move with. My love and grief for my lost children don’t stay at the train depot like a lost suitcase.  Instead, they are carried with me during my journey back home. Eventually the baggage gets lighter, maybe offloading parts of it I won’t use anymore, but it is never gone. It is always there, a part of me that I will someday not look at as much.


The hard part about moving on is that the person who suffers the loss, tragedy, or trauma never can really reconcile what has happened, but slowly, the people, and the world around them, go back to their lives, leaving the sufferer to find a new normal.


It is tough, and I am doing my best right now to pick up the pieces. I had an epiphany in my kitchen the other day. I was looking out the window at the bird feeder I made for Tyr before he died and started to weep. I realized that part of my despair comes from trying to make sense out of something that will NEVER make sense. I know it sounds simple, but realizing that there was no answer or hidden secret that I could discover about why these things happened to me gave me a small sense of peace.

There is no reasoning with nature. These things really do just happen, and it sucks, but it is the next step in the grief process.


There are two choices.  “Bug out,” as my sister would call it and fall down the dark rabbit hole, OR, put on my big girl panties and choose to live a joyous life.  And that is what I intend to do. Despite the darkness, sadness and despair, there is still light amongst the trees, and my husband and son are wonderful reminders of this.


SO,  I decided that I wanted to have a great Birthday. And I did. It was WONDERFUL.  No, I didn’t win the lottery, and I didn’t lose that extra 15 lbs overnight (However, that would have been wonderful).  But I did get to eat great food, shop guilt free with gift cards, and spend the day with people who make me feel special.


Did I think about Tyr and Cora? Yes.


Was my heart feeling heavy? Of course. I thought many times how I should be 20 weeks pregnant and buying cute maternity clothes, and instead I am stuck with my “in-between” wardrobe until my body remembers it’s not pregnant anymore.


But I was able to carry them with me through the day a little lighter and in a little safer place.

I will say that looking back on all the birthdays I have had, this one was one of the best.  Because it really cannot get any better than eating pizza while sitting next to the two deepest loves of my life.


Thank you for reading. I will be very interested to see what next year’s birthday will be like.


*Birthday Celebration number two happened today! It was more a combined Birthday between my sister and myself.  Hubby, Idan and I went to the Cheesecake Factory and spoiled ourselves with yummy food. Also we spent lots of time with family and with Idan’s cousins and had a BLAST!!* I am lucky to have an amazing life*


Idan at the moment:

The boy can run!! I am getting the best workout bouncing around my house, dodging corners, and jumping over toys. He is fast. My 32 year old feet cannot keep up, and scream bloody murder when they step on a Lego. Man those things hurt.


He is really tall. Like 88th Percentile tall. Where he got that, I have no idea. He will be the tallest Hobbit in the shire.


He still cuddles in my bed every morning, and I call him my Koala Baby. My soul hums in harmony every time he nestles under my neck.


Wherever You Are, My Love Will Find You.


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I cannot muster up the right words to adequately describe my feelings. So I am going to make this shortly written with some excerpts from one of my favorite books,  Wherever you are, my love will find you.

Tyr Jude Humphrey entered and left this world April 25th, 2014 at 9:00 A.M.  I was 16 weeks. He was loved, wanted, cherished and beautiful.

I’m struggling to write this because my fingers keep shaking on the keys and I am having to use my sleeve to wipe my eyes.

I am tragically heartbroken.

His name is more of a symbol and reminder of who he was. Several weeks back while my husband and I were on a walk talking about the sad news that was just  given to us about our baby, he looked at me and said he had a name for him.

“Tyr” he said.

Why that name I wondered. He then told me of the Norse story of Tyr who was courageous and honorable and had sacrificed his right arm, and because of this he was always remembered in glory.

One of our son’s defects was that he was missing his right arm. This name seemed fitting for us, because he will always be remembered in glory in our hearts and spirits.

I know in time the words will flow more freely. I will be able to open up more about him. I know there will be a time when I look back on this and not feel  a sharp sting, but a dull ache.

I know that when I look at Idan, I will often think about all the memories that will not be made with a new little brother, but mostly replaced with “what ifs.”

I know that when Idan plays in the sand, runs in the grass, falls to the ground and stares up at the clouds, his little brother will be there right next to him in spirit, instead of a broken body.

I know that this little soul was more loved in his 16 weeks than many people have in their entire lifetime, and I am happy that I could give him this small gift. My little one has known no suffering, sadness or pain, only my love and the beating of my heart to his.

I pray that he will come back to me in a body that can contain his heavenly  spirit, and if not, I have promised him that I will live my life with happiness, joy, compassion and humility, and know that when my time comes, he will be there to greet me, hand in hand with Cora, and I will wrap my arms around them and say “Hello, I am your mom, and I have loved you my whole life.”

To Tyr:

“I wanted you more than you will ever know, so I sent love to follow wherever you go.”

“You are my angel, my darling  my star….and my love will find you wherever you are.”

-Nancy Tillman

The Heart Bids to Break


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There were many reasons why I wanted to write a blog. Partly I was in midst of a fairly large transition in my life and felt compelled to catalog it.  I had also read so many blogs when I was on bed rest and found a lot of comfort in connecting with other women enduring similar experiences. I  wanted to document my time as a SHARK (stay home and raise kids) because I know this is such a small oasis in my life’s plan. A blip on the motherly timeline.

My husband basically said I needed a hobby, and since I like to talk, and talk about my favorite subject, myself, this would be a great outlet for me.

And it is.

It has proven to be a great hobby, virtual diary, and platform to talk about myself as a mom and all the lessons I am learning.

It is also painful. These past entries have been painful to write. I have mixed emotions wrapped around how much I want to share about Baby T.

There is a part of me that is willing to share every gritty detail, judgment from others and all, and the other part that tells me there will be a time and place to fully tell his story.

So that is what I am going to do.  Wait until he tells me to talk about every beautiful aspect of him.


I won’t leave my family and friends hanging too much. There will for sure be updates to follow, but I want to save some of this time for just He and I, because it is sacred and small.


I will say that we went to the doctor’s last week, and things are getting worse. The fact of the matter is I am losing him, and his time with me is winding down. I am heartbroken.


The test results came back clearing him for any genetic or chromosomal abnormalities, and the doctors are kinda scratching their heads to what is wrong with him. We all thought FOR SURE something would come back. No.


Our main doctor feels he has what he thinks could be a diagnosis, but we will NEVER know for sure. He told us what he thinks Baby T has is 1:10,000, and is like being struck by lightning.

He’s only seen two other cases in his 20+ years as a high risk doctor.  He feels if we were to have any more children, it would not happen again.


But no one knows for sure.


Right now we are waiting for clarity on decisions we need to make for him and myself. No mother should ever have to feel the gut wrenching , soul crushing sadness that I feel right now. I am hoping for peace and comfort to be given to us as we endure this trip through Mordor and to the fires of Mt. Doom.

I read this quote in a book the other day that spoke to me.  I am usually not the type to write quotes all the time, because I feel that can be a bit tiresome for others to read, but this is special to me right now.


Shakespeare wrote:


“Give sorrow words. The Grief that does not speak whispers to the o’er fraught heart and bids it to break”


So that is what I am doing. I am giving sorrow my words.


Thank you for reading.

Anniversary and Answers?


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The muse is not whispering today, and I am having a hard time putting my thoughts eloquently on paper. Or more like fake virtual paper.

Since finding out that Baby T has problems, my life has swirled into a tailspin. I’d like to think of myself as a healthy, stable person. I brush my teeth, shower, pay my taxes, do all the things a normal person does. But finding out that my second son will most likely not live, is causing a slow suicide for my soul.

When I write that out, I can’t help but think I sound ungrateful, which is not the case.  I am extremely grateful.  Idan is my reminder that life is good, and through the darkness there is always light.

I am unbelievably lucky to have my Idan and my husband. Most people know him as Brion, I call him by his middle name Joe, so for the sake of the blog, I will call him B.Joe

B.Joe and I celebrated our seventh wedding anniversary. What was special about this anniversary, was that the date was 4/14/14. Lot’s of fours. Made me think of how, at least right now, we are a family of four.

I can always count on B.Joe for making something as terrible as what we are going through easier with a little humor. He by no means is tactless or insensitive, he just copes with grief through humor, and I have grown to appreciate that in our marriage. We both agree that in our seven years of wedded bliss, we have gone through the fertility ringer, we have loved and lost two children, and most likely a third, and fought through fire to have Idan. And despite it all, we are having a blast being parents, and still loving and laughing together.

We decided to eat at Old Chicago’s for dinner. No wine, candles, or sexy glances. More like chomping on pizza, blowing my nose in a tomato sauce napkin, and taking turns entertaining Idan so we could each take a drink of our sodas.

On the way out from the restaurant B.Joe raised his eyebrows and said “what is that on your arm?!” Sure enough. Idan had what we Humphreys like to call a “Poo-Splosion” and it was everywhere! I went into mommy mode and stripped him down in the back of the car in the parking lot with the token frat-style college guys smoking and watching with no envy.

Seven minutes and fifteen wipes later, little naked man was refreshed and ready for home. We couldn’t help but break out laughing the whole time. Even now, with such sadness, we had a great anniversary.

That is true love folks.

We finally heard back from all the extensive testing about baby T.  All of it was inconclusive. Meaning, they do not know what is wrong. WTH?? When the genetic counselor called today I couldn’t help but sob to her on the phone. As a mom, you don’t want ANYTHING wrong with your child, but when there IS something wrong, you are desperate for an answer.  B.Joe and I are stunned. When you know there is an obvious issue, but there is not an “official” diagnosis, it is heartbreaking all over again.

The question that everyone wants answered in a tragedy is “WHY?”  And today, there was no answer. We meet with the doctor again this week to talk about all our options, and see if he has any theories on Baby T.

I am hoping to find the bottom of this rabbit hole, because the falling downwards is the most painful part.

Thank you family, friends, and readers from afar who may even care a little about my family. All of your thoughts and prayers are very comforting to us right now.

Until next time, thanks for reading.

Carrying You Home: My Journey with Baby T.


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You would not believe my complete and utter bewilderment when I saw the two little pink lines show up on the pregnancy stick in mid February. What the HELL? Never in my four year fertility struggle did I ever see a positive test. Even when I was pregnant the two times prior I only had it confirmed through blood tests.


But sure enough, it was there. Staring right back at me.


Memories of sitting in the fertility office and the doctor telling us that natural conception was not “impossible,” but highly “improbable,” were swirling as I stared at the test.


It was possible and now probable. Two blood tests and an ultrasound later confirmed that, Yes, I was indeed pregnant. Natural and unassisted. For the first time in my life I fell into that “Ooops, we weren’t even trying” group, and immediately everything I thought I knew about this journey was flipped upside down.


Fast forward seven more weeks to April 3rd, where we were awaiting our third appointment, and I was thirteen weeks pregnant. The time leading up to 13 felt like a blur for my husband and I. We were still wrapping our heads around the fact that our second hopefully live child would be coming home to us in October. After what we have been through, we were cautiously optimistic and heading into the second trimester. Everything up to that point had been perfect.

We had only told close family and friends, and were hoping to make the bigger announcement later on in the pregnancy.


We took Idan with us to the appointment. We were armed with juice boxes and Curious George to keep him occupied so we could focus in on our new little wonder. The usual drill commenced. Baby showed up on the screen. Brand new profile to gaze upon. Whew, there was a heartbeat! We dodged a bullet. I instantly felt relieved. Baby was twirling around as if to continue to assure me that everything was alright. The ultrasound tech was silent then said she needed to get the doctor.






What? Why? Was there something wrong? I looked over at my husband and he just looked back at me. We both shrugged our shoulders and looked around confused. Was something happening again? It felt like a bad sequel to a horror movie.


The doctor came in and showed us some frozen snap shots the tech had taken of our baby. He pointed out several severe problems. He said these things were fairly serious and he had some major concerns.


Concerns? What? What did he mean?


I didn’t want Idan to see his mom break out into guttural sobs, so I tried to stay as calm and clinical as possible. My husband and I proceeded to ask questions, and he couldn’t give us any more answers without more testing. He gave me a box a Kleenex and said he was sorry. He had me schedule an appointment with the big wig doctors in Denver for the following week to do more testing to hopefully “find an answer” and “discuss future options.” He then left the room and the tech followed, grimly in tow.

That deep place where Cora had been, that was freshly healed over, ripped open and came flowing out. Lighting had struck twice in the same spot. And I started to sob.


Now, I am very open about my fertility process, my loss of Cora, and other things pertaining to my life, but for some reason, I do not want to share with the world right now what the doctor explained to us is wrong. For some reason I can’t bear to write down the words, or think of anyone reading this calling my baby a freak. So why write about any of this then?


I don’t know.


I guess when I started this blog a year ago I wanted to document my time as a Stay At Home Mom, and with that comes the good, the bad, and the very ugly. I wanted to write about an honest raw time in my life, so that maybe other people can find a connection. I usually write cheery, uplifting posts, it’s in my disposition to be sun-shiny. But right now, as a Mama to my Idan, two in heaven, and one with me, I can’t pretend that things are easy right now, and writing this is therapeutic.


So now we wait for more answers. I already had the tests done in Denver and am awaiting more results. The doctors there agreed, things do not look good, and the outcome is very grim. The reality of taking home a normal, healthy baby will not happen, and the reality of the pregnancy continuing is very slim.


I am now a little over 14 weeks.


My heart is broken, my soul in despair.


There are so many questions without answers, decisions to be made that are impossible. All the while trying to continue to be a stable mom to Idan. There will be an end to this story, and it won’t be too long from now.


I don’t believe that God is against me, or that the universe is thwarting me. I just believe that this is life, and these things happen. As horrible as they are, they just happen, and I am not extra special or immune to this bad luck. I have my Idan, and he is my rock, and I am forever grateful to have him.


Until next time, thanks for taking the time to read this.


Oh, and we found out were are having a boy. We have given him a name, but for now he will be “Baby T.”