I can feel it.
My energy is slowly coming back.
Not all at once. Not like before.
But enough for me to notice.
And Iām grateful.
But at the same timeā¦
Continue readingI can feel it.
My energy is slowly coming back.
Not all at once. Not like before.
But enough for me to notice.
And Iām grateful.
But at the same timeā¦
Continue readingIāve always been strong.
I run businesses, albeit small.
I take care of my family.
I show up for everyone.
And I know Iām not the only one.
A lot of moms⦠a lot of wives⦠are like this.
We carry so much.
We keep going, even when weāre tired.
We hold everything together, even when weāre quietly falling apart inside.
And sometimes, we donāt even realize how much weāve been carryingā¦
until something breaks us open.
Writing the story of Baby Lux has been one of the most emotional things I have ever done.
In the span of a few weeks, we experienced hope, fear, confusion, grief, surgery, and healing.
We learned how fragile life can be.
We learned how strong love can be.
And we learned that sometimes the deepest wounds also reveal the deepest parts of our hearts.
Baby Lux was with us for only a short time.
But that short time changed us.
Our family will never be the same again.
And strangely⦠that is not entirely a sad thing.
Because in the middle of losing a child, we also discovered something powerful: How deeply we love each other.
And just when I was ready to give up on the precious act of lovemaking, something unexpected has been happening to me these past few days.
And Iām almost embarrassed to admit it out loud…
Continue reading(The Final Chapter of the Baby Lux Story)
The night before the surgery was the night we were admitted through the Emergency Room.
Everything had happened so quickly ā the unexpected ultrasound results, the doctorās explanation about a possible molar pregnancy, the sudden instruction to go straight to the hospital.
By the time we were finally settled into our room, all three of us were emotionally drained.
Continue readingThat afternoon, I began quietly counting the minutes.
Around 1:30 p.m., I kept glancing at the clock. We had originally been told that I might be wheeled to the operating room around 2:00 p.m., but one of the resident doctors had also warned me earlier that my OB still had other patients scheduled before me.
So it might be 3:00 p.m.
Or even 4:00 p.m.
Still, the waiting made every minute feel longer.
Nurses came in and out of the room throughout the afternoon, checking my blood pressure, oxygen levels, and asking the usual questions. Each time the door opened, I wondered if it was finally time.
At 3:30 p.m., the gurney finally arrived.
Continue readingPart 1 ended with us entering the hospital not knowing exactly what the next hours would bring.
Morning came anyway.
And with it came the quiet understanding that the day ahead would ask us to let go of the life we had begun imagining.
Continue readingThis is what happened next…
Today was quieter than yesterday.
Not calm exactly… but softer.
At around 3 p.m., Hanz and I went to the diagnostic center for the blood test. The one that would say, clearly and officially, whether this pregnancy was real or not. We waited, did what we had to do, and then decided not to hover. We went to a nearby restaurant for my first meal of the day.
It was a nice moment. Ordinary in the best way. Good food. Sitting across from my husband. Life continuing while something very big hovered in the background.
Continue reading