Someday: thoughts on patience and gratitude

Written by Caity

On my way to my mom's house today, I saw a panhandler out in the snow with a sign that said that he needed size 2 diapers, among other things. Luckily I had a big old wad of em in my car so I handed him all I could spare and went on my way.

I was suddenly very aware of the nice car I was driving, with the toasty heater on and the lovely warmth on my bum that only seat warmers can bring. I am grateful for my car.

I was thinking back to a time in my life when I was driving the crappy little lemon Brad brought to our marriage. It broke down all the time, got stuck in the snow, shook when it idled, had an interior that was falling apart, a dent in the door, and a lopsided headlight. It was a sight to behold. I remember rumbling around town in it, I used to think about how junky it was (it was kind of unavoidable. Everything was wrong with that car) and then smile, and think "I'll drive a nice car someday."

I realized that's been a habit of mine through the years.

Like in one of our first apartments, it was a 1 bedroom and 1 bath, with the washer and dryer in the teeny kitchen. Sometimes, when laundry littered our front room and I fumbled with all of our detergent that always fell down from the flimsy cabinet over the teeny stackable washer and dryer, I would smile and think, "I'll have a laundry room someday."

Or when we had all that awkward, lumpy, mismatched furniture in our first apartment, when you literally fell into the crevice between the back and the seat of the couch whenever you sat down. Sometimes I'd sit (read: fall) into the couch and laugh and think, "I'll have nice furniture someday."

Or when we had one tiny bathroom in our apartment in Philly and I had to wash the tub every single time we gave Bea a bath, sometimes I'd scrub it and smile and think, "We'll have another bathroom someday."

Or the times when I laid in bed at night wondering how I would make it through another day living so far from my family, I'd take a deep breath and think, "I'll live closer to them someday."

Or in all those small apartments with no closet, counter, or cabinet space, I'd pile the food anywhere I could and think "I'll have a pantry someday."

Or when Bea had potty accidents every hour of every day, I'd breathe deep and think, "She'll get the hang of it someday."

And you know what?

I have a nice car now.
I have a laundry room now. (with our very own washer and dryer that we own!)
I have some nice furniture now (can't have all nice furniture with tiny kiddos that throw up everywhere!)
We have 2 bathrooms now.
I live close to my family now.
I have a pantry now.
Bea has almost no accidents anymore.

And I'm that much more grateful for them now.

A lot of people will tell you that wishing for the future keeps you from living happily in the "now" but I don't think that's always true.
I feel like my little "someday" sentiments were moments to be grateful for what I had, and encouraging reminders to be patient, that someday there would be something even better.
I didn't always bemoan those moments where life's little frustrations got me down. Sometimes, I was able to cheerfully smile, and power through them, reminding myself to be grateful that at least I had a car, a washer and dryer, functional furniture, an apartment, smartphones to call my family with and that I only had to buy diapers for one kid. And that one day things will be even better.

By no means have I "arrived" in life yet. (does anyone really?) Things aren't perfect. I think I'll always have those "somedays" to keep me grounded and grateful.

Right now, I'm grateful for a cozy house to rent. Someday I'll own my own house to (finally) decorate how I want.
Right now, I'm grateful for my awesome swagger wagon. Someday, I'll fix that scratch I put in the passenger door :(
Right now, I'm grateful for two small kiddos to love. Someday, they'll stop throwing up all the time and be easier to take care of and take out and about.
Right now, I'm grateful that I healthily carried a baby to term in my belly. Someday, I'll lose all the baby weight.

And when those right nows are used to be's, I hope I'll chuckle and look back on the smiles I had thinking, "Someday..."

Peanut Butter with a Purpose

Written By: Hayley

My eyes widened with shock as I looked out the window of the airplane descending into Port-au-Prince Haiti. The tin shacks, dirty crowded streets and poverty were all I saw. If I hadn’t spent a year and a half in, what I thought to be, the poorest of the poor countries, Honduras, I might not have gotten off that plane. Honduras was looking like a resort right then compared to what I was seeing…and smelling. 

Luckily I love adventure, and I was eager to get to know my husband's homeland. Adventure soon found me as a major hurricane hit my husband’s hometown of Gonaives that day! After weeks of the roads being too damaged to drive on, we boarded a bus and went to help dig people’s houses out of the mud. It was then that I fell in love with the people in Haiti and knew that THIS is what I wanted to do with my life. Not dig mud…that was hard, but help the people in Haiti who desperately needed it! Since my first adventure in Haiti I have gone back many many times. Haiti is where my heart is (and some of my children, but that’s a story for another day)! 

Thankfully my husband is just as passionate about helping people in Haiti. He realized what a privilege it was for him to be able to go to college and learn, that the first thing he did when he got the chance was to teach anyone who would listen the things he learned about entrepreneurship and business. A LOT of people wanted to listen. He taught over 100 people and inspired some to start their own businesses. 

Everyone was pumped to start their businesses, but most were not able to because of lack of funds. Most people did not even have jobs! There just weren’t any jobs available. We knew we needed to find a way to give people a form of employment, so we came up with a great idea. We started a peanut butter factory and named it Manba Tropical. 

Manba Tropical has been an answer to many people’s prayers. It proudly employs many Haitians who can now support themselves and their families, but there are still many jobless hard workers out there who we want to employ. So we are expanding Manba Tropical and bringing our unique peanut butter to the U.S.

We are currently raising funds though Kickstarter. We need $6,000 to aid in the expansion and are currently 20% funded with only 6 days to go. The thing with Kickstarter is that it’s all or nothing! If you want to do something truly life changing for people who are in need THIS is your opportunity! 

Please donate here: https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/2018223579/spicy-haitian-peanut-butter

Every little bit helps. Every share helps. And not to mention you get some delicious spicy Haitian peanut butter to try! You’re going to LOVE it! No joke!

The thing I love most about this business it that it not only provides employment for people who need it, but it also gives us a way to provide aid to orphans. We decided that for every jar sold $1 would go towards providing food, clothes, toys, hygiene kits, and more to a special group of orphans in Gonaives that stole our hearts. As much as people need those jobs, these orphans desperately need our help. I LOVE them so much and am going to do all I can to help them…even if it means going WAY out of my comfort zone and literally asking for money. 

Helping people in Haiti has brought me SO much joy! I am so happy I stepped off that plane and into a hot, humid, humbling, wonderful adventure. I have the strongest desire to just do good things and make a real difference in the world and I invite you to join me!

-Hayley <3 <3 <3

Mini Pecan Pies

Written By: Sally

If there is one thing I’ve learned in my life, its that people love a good pie. And people REALLY love mini pies. Mini pies are a crowd pleaser. The crust to filling ratio is just perfect, and everyone loves to have their own individual pie. Plus, they are just so darn cute. Last year I shared my recipe for mixed berry mini pies over on my family blog here.

This week I tried something new, and a bit out of my comfort zone. It was my friend Jackie’s birthday this weekend so I offered to make her any dessert she could dream of. She told me she had been dreaming of pie lately and I was all over that. But then, she told me her favorite was Pecan Pie. Ew! I totally cringed. But you guys, it turns out Pecan Pie ROCKS! Seriously. It's got this crunchy top and ooey gooey filling. It's salty and sweet. It's so much better than I ever imagined. Plus, its so much easier than it looks.

I’m actually a little bit upset that I now have another dessert I can’t resist. Any time pecan pie was on the table, it was easy to turn down. That is no longer the case my friends, no longer the case. 

I got my mini pans as a wedding gift. They are from Williams Sonoma (buy them here) and I absolutely cannot live without them. These bad boys are a kitchen staple for me. I melt a little butter and use a pastry brush to make sure all the bumps and creases get buttered. In my mind, the more butter the better (always!) Plus you’ll want to make sure your pies slide out with ease.

For me, the crust is the most stressful part of baking a pie. It can be so finicky depending on humidity, butter temp, screaming children, ect. So, when I’m in a hurry, or feeling overwhelmed, I go with store bought pie crust. I know what you’re thinking, what a cop out. But it is so easy, and honestly really delicious! It’s a win-win in my mind. You’ll want the kind thats rolled up, NOT the kind thats already in a tin. 

If you’re using the store bought, make sure its not frozen when you’re ready to use it. Unroll it onto a piece of parchment paper or floured counter. Find something round in your kitchen that is about and inch to two inches bigger than your mini tins. Use that as a guide to cut out your mini crusts. You should be able to get six crusts out of one roll. I usually can get four, then combine the left overs and re-roll it to get two more.

When fitting the crust into the tin, you’ll want the crust to come up over the side of tins, even just a little bit. This will prevent the filling from dripping between the crust and the tin. That’s always a sticky situation and can make it really hard to get your pies out in one piece. 

The filling is so easy, you don’t even need a mixer. I love something I can mix with a wooden spoon. Start by chopping up the pecans and filling the crust a thin layer. In a small bowl, combine the eggs (beaten), sugars, corn syrup, salt, vanilla, and butter.  Stir just until its all combined, and smooth. It will still be a little grainy from the sugars. Pour this mixture over the pecans. You’ll want to fill them to the edge of the pan, not all the way to the top of the crust. The pecans will naturally rise to the top, and all the ooey goodness will sink to the bottom. Yum. Top with a couple of pecan halves for decoration. 

Bake at 350 degrees for about 20 min. Watch that your crusts don’t get too dark. Your pies are done when the crust is just golden and the center is no longer jiggly. It will be soft, but shouldn't jiggle like jell-o. Allow to cool, but not for long. Top that baby with ice cream and enjoy! Share, only if completely necessary.

They were a hit at Jackie’s birthday dinner, and we didn’t even have a single crumb left.  I don’t think I was the only one to lick my bowl clean. Hah! 

Here's the recipe written out for easy following. 

Make sure to pin this recipe, and post/send us a picture when you make it! I'd LOVE to see how yours' turn out and hear what you think of the recipe.

XO

Sally

minimizing mean girl-ery

I was standing in line at h&m the other day behind a group of 4 teenage girls. 2 of the girls shared a secret with one another and deliberately, emphatically left out one of the other girls. I think her name was carly or something. The other girl ambivalently kind of ignored them, while the girl who i can only assume was carly looked wounded for an instant, then brushed it off and giggled nervously, as if she was in on this "exclude carly" thing like it was some kind of joke. except it wasn't a joke. It was the age old game of girls being mean to other girls, for what seems to be no reason.

The middle-aged woman behind me in the line and i looked at each other, when i said {probably a little too loudly} "ugh. i hated being teenager. girls are so mean." ambivalent girl looked at me, gave me a passive look, and followed the other three out of the store for what would probably be a very calculated and unpleasant afternoon.

what i told the woman in line was only half true. i'd said it to make a point in the only way i knew how. yes, girls are so mean. but i didn't hate being a teenager, because i was blessed with probably the only nice teenage girls on the planet for my friends. {with the exception of one girl who seemed to believe it was her life's work and purpose to make me feel terrible about myself}, my high school years were virtually mean girl free. but one mean girl was enough for me to know how they work, and how to let it not affect me or my self-worth.

i feel like with all the buzz lately on "bullying" and "cyber-bullying" {ugh i hate the prefix 'cyber' and the word 'bullying'}, a lot of us are overlooking the everyday meanness that happens in real life.

i want to get something straight. bullying isn't the same as girls just being mean. at least not in my book.
in the dictionary, a bully is defined as {and i quote:} a blustering, quarrelsome, overbearing person who habitually badgers and intimidates smaller or weaker people.
i think that most mean girls are just regular girls who at one time or another {however often} sacrifice the feelings of one for acceptance from the whole. this doesn't make them serial bullies. {usually}. it makes them insecure individuals trying to find their place in the world. it makes them teenagers. a girl isn't a bully because she makes mistakes. the problem arises when several girls are making the same mistakes, in the same place, all at once.

i think once a standard of mocking and malicious teasing is set, girls think they have to follow suit in order to stay alive. one girl makes a mean joke and everyone laughs along at the target's expense, in order to avoid becoming the next target. the cycle is then perpetuated when girls continue to avoid being the target by creating new targets by being even meaner. and then the cycle becomes impossible to break. i've decided just now to call this "the cycle of mean." what these girls don't realize is that they don't need to belittle some girls in order for other girls to like them. most girls are more impressed by kindness than anything else. well, the girls worth being friends with anyway.

when i was pregnant with bea, i was thrilled to discover i was having a girl, but at the same time i dreaded that day when she would have her first taste of mean girl-ery. while i managed to escape adolescence mostly unscathed, i fell witness to some nasty antics performed at the expense of my little sister. i know how awful it can be. i've tried to pull from my memory the methods employed in my own experience and my experiences with my friends to minimize the mean in our lives and i have some thoughts and i guess what i would consider tips...? {i don't consider myself a sage or anything so i'm not sure if i'm qualified to tip, but. anyway.} i'll be sharing these with bea when she enters the world of little girls.

refuse to be manipulated
i feel like this is the number one tip to avoid mean girl-ery. when i was in preschool, i came home one day almost in tears and explained to my mother that some girl i was friends with {whom i no longer remember} had decided and told me, completely out of the blue, that she no longer wanted to "be my friend anymore", as preschool girls do. my mom offered me the best advice she's ever given me that day. she said something along the lines of, "Caity, whenever someone tells you they don't want to be your friend anymore, they usually don't mean it. Just say 'Ok! come find me when we can be friends again!' and then just go play with someone else." the rest is pretty much history. i avoided 100% of elementary school drama this way. i realize, this is preschool level advice. but the principle of refusing to be manipulated is timeless. if a girl is messing with you, don't allow it to affect you. not only does refusing to let others have power over you empower you, it lessens the influence of the perpetrator on others, thus limiting the cycle of mean. when a manipulator feels powerless, they eventually lose their will to manipulate.

refuse to reinforce mean activity
i would say this is even more effective than actually speaking up and challenging an offender. when  meanness is fueled by laughter or affirmation from others, the cycle is perpetuated. when meanness is greeted by wide-eyes and cricket-chirps, it not only halts the momentum of mean, but it embarrasses the aggressor. and if there is one thing teenage/tweenage girls can't stand, it's embarrassment. if, in that moment where laughter and encouragement for bad behavior normally take place, the offender is greeted with silence, they {if they have a conscience} will have a moment to be ashamed of having been mean, and they will think twice before doing it again. i've seen it happen. the less of a reaction the meanies get, the less they perform. no one likes to perform for a dud audience.

refuse to instigate
i know this is totally obvious but when caught in the moment, it can be very easy to let the mean slip out. don't let it. nothing you will ever say is funny or clever enough to merit hurting someone else's feelings. 

i hope i can drill these principles into bea's head before she starts school. i hope every mother of every girl can instill similar ideas into their girls' heads someday. there's a quote by one of the leaders of my church that says: "When it comes to hating, gossiping, ignoring, ridiculing, holding grudges, or wanting to cause harm, please apply the following: Stop it!" one day, hopefully our girls can be part of the movement that says "stop it!" to the mean girls.

Let It Go

I feel like I can truly say I have learned to Let It Go, since living in my approximately 120 sq. ft. room in my parent's house.  We have never had a lot of things, and I think living here has just confirmed that I don't really like having a lot of things.  I love how cozy we are and how easy it is to tidy up.  Because I love how easy it is to clean up so much "stuff" on the outside, I have been thinking about ways to help myself live a little less stressed out, and a little more care-free on the inside.  What ways can I more easily clean up the "stuff" going on in my mind?  Here are some things I have found that help me out a little.

When something feels “heavy”, LET IT GO!  When it comes to clothing or an object in my life, I find this is a really easy concept, because for me, I need light and upward movement.  When something feels like it is weighing me down, I let it go.  Some examples of things that weigh down my mind are, comparing myself with others, stressing about things that are out of my control, saying “yes” to too many things, not being true to myself in any decision, and when I put someone down (even if it is just in my mind).  Ways I have found to lift this heaviness is, prayer, FIRST! The One who can lift my burdens, is the One who has already taken them through the Garden.  The next thing I do is get rid of it.  I like to think I have a little trashcan in my brain, kinda like on the computer, and when I don’t like the thought or the feeling, I “click” on it and move it to the trashcan.   And third, I sing/listen to a fun song! The other day I started to feel “heavy” and when I got in the car to go somewhere, Poker Face by Lady Gaga came on.  I turned it up crazy loud and just sang and danced and I looked like a crazy woman, but I felt SO good after!!

When things start to get cluttered, LET IT GO!  I HATE CLUTTER! Like, seriously, I do.  But, um, I make a lot of it… Cade calls me the “pile queen” because I just move piles around the house.  When I clean, I make piles.  I don’t know what it is! Haha!! Anyways, I hate clutter, so when I get too many piles going on the outside and on the “inside” I start to pick at a pile.  In my mind, stressing about too many things or having too many things going on creates some piles.  I’ve found that to sit down and make a list helps me to clean out those piles quickly and efficiently.  I see the things that I am stressing about and realize what I can control and what I can’t.   When I see what I can control, I can start finding a solution/figure out a different schedule/start working on that project, etc.,.  The same helps me on the outside.  I just pick a pile and start cleaning it.  

And lastly, when things just seem too overwhelming, and trying to clean the clutter, stop the noise, or you just can’t LET GO right then… LET GO and GO TO TARGET! HAHA or wherever you feel fun and happy.  I usually like to treat myself with something small, a diet coke and a t-shirt or new razors.  (A new razor, and a good grooming, always makes me feel like a new woman ;)  

It isn’t always easy to let go or downsize, but there is definitely a freeing effect when you do.  I don’t have it all figured out, obviously, and I find myself at Target a lot more than I’d like to admit.  When I do practice what I preach, I find that I can be a better wife, a better mom, and a better me.  "What are some ways you "Let It Go"? I'd love to hear some other strategies!!

XOXO britt 

Happy November

Written By: Sally

Happy November People! Aside from the impending doom of another Connecticut winter, I have been really excited to welcome November. It's the beginning of the holiday season with Thanksgiving around the corner, and Christmas not far behind. It's a time of year filled with traditions and celebrations. So many of my favorite memories from childhood, (and adulthood) have these chilly, cheery months as a backdrop.

Each year, around early November, my mom would bring the winter boxes out of storage.  We packed away our summer clothes and unpacked the warm things. She'd have me try on clothes to figure out what still fit and what hand me downs I had grown into. As simple and seemingly mundane of a task this was, it was something I always looked forward to. In fact, it's one of the traditions that I have held onto as I've started my own family.

I'm sure all those years that my mom did this, she wasn't thinking, "I'm going to make this elaborate tradition for my kids to fondly remember their childhood." It was just something we did together every year. It was just a sign of the changing seasons. But for me, it was a little bit magical.

This week was the big week around here. We pulled out our coats and mittens and filled the boxes with our flip flops and swim suits to pack them away for the winter. As I was feeling all sentimental about the process it really made me think: "Why is this such a meaningful tradition to me? Why do I even remember it?"

It's had me wondering about what my children will remember about me, and about our life now. My mom has been my best friend as long as I can remember. Will my kids  feel the same about me? I really really hope so. I pray constantly, that I'll have the relationship with my children that I have with my mom. What God reminds me of over and over, is that our relationship wasn't built in a day. There wasn't one big thing she did that made me love her and admire her. It was the hundreds of grocery trips; there were countless conversations in the car after school. It was the helping with homework, and the unpacking of winter clothes.

It's not like we didn't have special holiday traditions; we have a few. A thanksgiving toast. Putting up our Christmas Tree on my parents' anniversary. Making a nativity craft on Christmas Eve. Eggs Benedict for Christmas breakfast. But none of them were extravagant. All of these things took place on our living room floor, or around our kitchen table. They weren't expensive and didn't require any serious skill. We didn't even have to leave our house. But the common thread between all of them, is that we were together.

Isn't that the purpose of traditions? To bring us together?

I'm not one for elaborate schemes or decorations. Mostly because it's not something that comes naturally to me. I don't believe in mountains of presents or intricate traditions. But what I do believe in is the power of quality time. I've just experienced my 26th Halloween. And do you know which one stands out the most? It was when I was 4 or 5 and Halloween fell on a Sunday. We were all devastated that our parents wouldn't let us trick or treat that night. But they pulled out Monopoly, popped popcorn and the four of us kids laid on the living room floor playing board games while trick or treaters came and went. We didn't get candy or costumes that year. But we got a really fun night together, and that memory got a special spot in my heart.
There's a lot of pressure these days to create elaborate and labor intensive traditions for our families. It can be exhausting, and down right intimidating. But, if you're like me, and lack the Pinterest gene, just remember, the things that will always be most special to your family is the time you spend with them and the way you make them feel. For me, that was always the real magic of the holidays.

Photos By: Shanda Photography

On pregnancy and loss

I have written this post in my head many, many times and have thought about it even more. I sometimes have worried that writing my story would just bring back the overwhelming heartache I felt that day and the days,weeks, even months following. But I have learned that when you experience a loss, expressing your feelings and writing them down can be cathartic. And perhaps, there is a friend or someone reading this post that can benefit somehow from it. If that someone is reading this, you are not alone. Trust me on this, for I have been through this not just once, but twice.
These losses were miscarriages. I recently read miscarriage referred to as the "Voldermort of women's health issues." And it cannot be more true. Few people who experience it want to talk about it. Why? There are many reasons.. In my experience, it was heartbreaking to think about, let alone talk about. Plus, though I had made it through my first trimester, we had never announced the pregnancy. How was I supposed to bring up my miscarriage to all my friends and family who never even knew I was pregnant to begin with?

And this is me talking about my miscarriage, this is my story. In May 2012 my husband, Brandon and I were busy with preparations for moving to Spain for a masters degree program when I found out that I was pregnant. This was not my first, we already had a beautiful little boy who was a little over a year old. And all I could feel was nervous, anxious, unsure of what would happen, frustrated of the situation (imminent move overseas!) and just scared. We kept the news to ourselves, knowing all those who loved us would be a bit worried as well. We had already spent hundreds of dollars and countless hours on getting to Spain that I could just not imagine going and doing what we felt was best for our family (Brandon getting his masters degree in such a short amount of time). I saw my doctor at 6 weeks where I had an ultrasound and was able to see little babe's heart beating. I still could not believe this was happening.
Weeks passed and things seemed fine, I didn't have much of an appetite or cravings and hardly any vomiting, I thought I was lucky. Not too long after leaving our home and arriving in Ohio to visit family before our move, I started feeling terribly sick, couldn't eat anything for a couple of days. Not sure if this was the flu, or my body hinting to me that all was not well. A few days later I was back to normal. A few weeks passed and I was now at just a few days shy of 15 weeks, when I started spotting. I made some calls to nearby OB offices, all who advised not to come in unless I have heavy bleeding and/or cramps. I did not, and though I was a little reassured, I still felt like something just wasn't right. A few days past and I was still spotting a bit. Now, Liam and I were scheduled to leave for Spain in 2 weeks and my husband in 2 days. Then I started bleeding, and it was bad. My heart sank knowing that I had more than likely just lost our baby. We immediately drove straight to the hospital. There nurses tried to assure me that there was still hope as they searched and searched for my little babe's heartbeat, but I knew in my heart that they wouldn't find it. A doctor came in and performed an ultrasound and informed me that there was no blood going to my baby. I could see my baby on the screen, with arms and legs, only problem was that my baby was not moving. Another doctor came in to confirm that we had lost our baby a few weeks prior and that that my body had just held onto the baby, resulting in a "missed miscarriage." Even though this was the news I had anticipated hearing the entire drive to the hospital and the whole time the nurses couldn't find my baby's heartbeat, hearing it confirmed was terrible. They left the room to give us some time alone, leaving on the screen showing our little babe that had no heartbeat, that was gone. It felt so surreal in that hospital room knowing that the baby I had been carrying for 15 weeks was gone. This baby would not be part of our family. I would never hold this baby or sing to it or cuddle it for hours on end. For the past 4 months we had been about to be a family of 4.. and now it was just gone. They tried to reassure me that "these things happen" and that "I did nothing wrong." They sent me home and I was scheduled to come in the next morning for surgery. 
The next morning, as I laid in the freezing OR, waiting on the surgeon, a nurse brought me a few warm blankets and then came to my side, she didn't say anything either, She looked at me with such care in her eyes and took my hand and grasped it. I couldn't help but begin to cry, a mix of realization and sadness for what was happening and yet the sweet gesture brought me a little comfort. I truly feel like those who work in medicine have to just be meant for that job, and that particular nurse was clearly meant to be a nurse. 
Later in the recovery room, I was informed that I had lost a lot of blood, but they expected me to be ok. A bit later a nurse came and started to fill out my release papers. Turns out I was not ok, for hours they monitored me, trying to stabilize my heart rate and blood pressure. The whole day I was pumped full of IV fluids. After that didn't work, I was given a transfusion. Finally I could go home and hold my little boy. How glad I was that I had him that sad night. Being wheeled out of the hospital empty handed was probably the hardest part. I hadn't even thought about how hard that would be. The last time I had left a hospital (except for the day prior), I was wheeled out holding onto my precious Liam to take him home with us. This time I had nothing. 
Then the next day, as scheduled, Brandon left for Spain. I was left to mourn on my own. Most of those two weeks were spent lying awake at night, having no distraction from the thoughts that plagued my mind. The strongest thoughts were feelings of guilt. I felt guilty that I had not been excited about this precious life, and I felt guilty for not seeking help when I got sick thinking of the possibility that I miscarried due to dehydration. I don't think I will ever not wonder if I could have prevented my miscarriage. I don't think I will ever not wonder what our family would be like now, had we become a family of 4 then. 
Now, I can talk about these things without becoming an emotional mess. When I went through my miscarriage and the feelings and heartache were new, I did not want to talk about it. Not just because of the awkwardness surrounding never even announcing my pregnancy, but also, I hoped that I could just forget it all. I thought if I didn't talk about it and I could just forget it, it would be less painful. The reality was that never talking about it, did more harm than good. I felt alone in my loss. Though my husband obviously lost a baby as well, I still felt like he didn't understand what I was going through. I felt I had no one who knew what it was like to go through a loss like this. And a miscarriage isn't exactly what you bring up in everyday normal pleasant conversation, right? "Hey, how have you been!!?"..-"Oh, you know, just lost my baby that I wasn't excited about at 15 weeks and now I feel like crap.." In my head there would definitely had been awkward cricket sounds following. But as I very slowly began telling a few close friends and family members what happened, the responses I got were sincere, heartfelt reassurances of love and sympathy. And that was what I really could have used in the days and weeks following the loss of our precious baby. And though I don't have all the answers on why this happened, there are lessons I learned on my journey of loss. Human life is precious, and the gift to be able to conceive and carry a tiny, perfect human being within you is not a gift given to every woman. Appreciate it and don't take it for granted. And please, if you suffer the heartbreaking loss of a precious baby, don't rob your loved ones of supporting you by shutting down and not speaking about your loss.

Rachel is a mother to three babies, two here on earth and one angel baby.