From the Mommy Files…

Archive for the ‘pregnancy loss’ Category

I read and hear about babymoons, people planning when they’ll get pregnant, outlining every single moment of their lives.

And I laugh.

I laugh really hard.

Have you ever heard the saying about the “Best laid plans?”

Or what about the one that says something about we make plans and God laughs?

When I was planning my wedding, a well-meaning friend lectured me extensively about how you’re supposed to wait two years before you have a child.

I was 36.

There was no waiting two years.

She got married at 30, so she had two years to wait if she so wished.

I explained this to her, insisting that if I waited two years, I’d probably only have one child.

Well, as it turned out, I got pregnant at the end of my month-long honeymoon.

We thought we’d settle in, and after a few months start “trying” to get pregnant.

Well, what do they say about the best laid plans?

So we jumped into the fray, fast and furious…

You know, marriage, children – in the immortal words of Zorba the Greek…

The full catastrophe.

Add to the mix that my husband decided we needed to start a gut rehab on our home BEFORE the baby was born.

And that house was about one hour away from the nearest family member.

Did I mention that my mom’s health took a huge downturn about the time I discovered I was pregnant?

To tell you it was a tough few years, I wouldn’t be giving you the whole truth.

There have been really difficult, painful times, with many obstacles thrown in the mix.

I have two children. I lost the third.

If I had waited two years, perhaps we would have had the storied “honeymoon period,”Mommy and Eleni Feb 2009

Spent more time solidifying our relationship and learning to be a couple.


But we got married older.

And one of the problems with marrying older is that when you have kids, there’s not a whole lot of support from the grandparents.

At that point, they are often older, ill, or already passed on.

My mother-in-law passed away the year before we married.

My mother is not well.

My sister lives in another state.

So there was no chance of help.

Unless we paid heavily for it, and since we decided I would keep my part-time job and be a stay-at-home-mom, this is one of the things we couldn’t afford.

This makes things even more difficult for a couple, and can strain the strongest of relationships.

Would I change anything?

Well, sometimes I wish I would have married younger.

But more than likely, I would have married someone else and would probably be divorced.

And I wouldn’t have my girls.

So things happen as they are supposed to.

We all have an “ideal,” a way, a sequence that we think everything should happen.

Life has a way of laughing in our face.

Things happen in spite of our best efforts otherwise.

The second time I got PG, it took 8 months to make that happen.

The third time, we really didn’t even try – and that pregnancy turned out to be a molar pregnancy.

Life comes at you fast.

Don’t make too many plans.

Things happen.

Just live.

Be grateful for your blessings.

CHOOSE to be happy.

Enjoy life.

You can plan and “try” all you want, but inevitably, things will happen when they are supposed to.

Make some plans, but don’t get your heart set on them.

Remember – things will happen as they will.

The challenges, the stumbling blocks will make you even stronger.

Life is too short.

Don’t waste too much time planning.

Just enjoy your life.

Then you will be the one laughing.


I’m honored to be part of The Next Big Thing Blog Hop, which not only makes me feel like a true member of the author community, but also motivates me to finish rewrites and get my book published!

Nai’lah Carter tagged me for The Next Big Thing Blog Hop. Her book, You Have What it Takes has come to me at just the right moment, as I have experienced that doubt that we all feel, just as we are getting close to the finish line. The purpose of this promo is to be able to discover new authors you may never heard of, and learn about their work. In this week 21 of the blog tour, you’ll read about my “Next Big Thing.” At the end, I’ve tagged 5 other authors, who will do the same thing next Wednesday.

So, without further ado, here we go!

What is the working title of your book?  Positive About Negative: Adventures in Molar Pregnancy.

Where did the idea come from for the book? In September 2010 I experienced a molar pregnancy. This is a rare type of miscarriage that can become cancer. I endured many complications, and ultimately, 14 weeks of chemotherapy. Each year, about 200,000 molar pregnancies are diagnosed, worldwide; 6500 of those are in the US. There are precious few resources out there for women who have a molar pregnancy. I really felt like I was alone at sea. I don’t want any other woman to feel like that.

What genre does your book fall under? Women’s health.

Which actors would you choose to play your characters in a movie rendition?  Don’t know that this would ever happen! I never even thought about this before. My husband said maybe Sandra Bullock could play me… I could see Alec Baldwin as one of my doctors… 😉 LOL

This book will be a tremendous resource for women; their partners, family members and friends; and even for doctors, who wouldn’t normally have that intimate a look into a patient’s journey.

What is the one-sentence synopsis of your book? This book is for women who have endured a molar pregnancy – from diagnosis, to treatment, healing and beyond.

Will your book be self-published or represented by an agency?  Not sure yet.

How long did it take you to write the first draft of your manuscript? More than one year. I have two small children, and I was on my own healing journey. There were times when I couldn’t go near it, because the grief would rear its ugly head, or some milestone date was approaching and I was trying to busy myself with other things. I’ve consulted experts as well as women who have also experienced molar pregnancy. Their feedback was extremely positive. I’m currently working on rewrites.

What other books would you compare this story to within your genre? I haven’t found any. There is a book that shares stories of several women who have endured molar pregnancy, but there are none like this. My book not only reveals my journey, but also examines what a woman can expect on her own journey, and more. I share research I have compiled, plus, there are topics such as grieving (so important and often overlooked); advocacy; (critical!); advice for partners, family and friends; controversy within the field, etc. Also examined is the rare nature of the disease, and why there is a lack of a protocol for treatment. Currently, there are no institutional or national guidelines for the treatment of molar pregnancy.

Who or What inspired you to write this book?  As I embarked on this roller coaster of a journey, I couldn’t find any resources. I felt very lost. I was fortunate to connect with women around the world via an online support group. We shared research, offered support, cheered on everyone’s progress, listened while we vented or lamented. I floated the idea about writing a book, and my fellow survivors applauded and encouraged me to do it. I learned so much on this journey. You may not be religious, but my faith was a driving force in getting me through this, and also provided inspiration. I believe that God chose me to go on this journey, because I am a writer and I would not be afraid to share my story. I don’t want anyone else to feel as alone as I did.

What else about your book might pique the reader’s interest? Molar pregnancy is rare. A woman goes from the anticipation of a new life and feeling full of love and hope, to learning that the pregnancy is lost. Not only is a woman grieving her lost child, but she faces a health crisis: she’s received this diagnosis of Gestational Trophoblastic Disease (doesn’t that get stuck in your mouth?), and the knowledge that this could become cancer—who knew that what started as the promise of a new life could lead one to the chemo lab?

Just when does it become cancer? Ask many doctors and you’ll get many answers. How did this happen? Could this have been prevented? Will the disease come back? Will it happen again? Do I really need to grieve? Do I need chemo? Can I have more children? What’s next? These questions and more are all discussed in this important book.

The foreword has been written by a physician who is widely considered as the top specialist for the treatment of molar pregnancy in the US.

Thanks for reading about my forthcoming book…

And now…

As you know, I am always promoting my heritage, so I thought I’d present to you five Greek authors (OK, one isn’t Greek, but his latest book is set on a Greek island!) Check out these wonderful authors and find out what they’re up to!

Kelly Andria

Patty Apostolides

C. Dionysios Dionou

Bryan Mooney

Stephanie Nikolopoulos

I’d be remiss if I didn’t give a shout out to my dear friend and fellow writer, Patricia V. Davis, who I “met” when I interviewed her a few years ago for The Greek Star.  Three hours later (yes, we spoke for that many hours on the phone!) we were friends. That day, she encouraged me to do more with my writing. She gave me the little push I needed to get out there and expand my horizons. She’s a dynamic and inspiring woman. Check out her site, and see all the things that she’s up to!

This October 15 is Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Day.

This is a day for people to commemorate their lost little ones.

I lost mine in the early part of my pregnancy, but it hurts tremendously, nonetheless.

A loss at any stage of the game is life-altering.

I cannot fathom the grief experienced by women who have progressed far into their pregnancies.

Or the incredible sense of loss felt by women who’s babies were born sleeping.

Or who those who had a a child who lived for only a short while, and left this world way too soon.

And let’s not forget the dads–and other family members. They grieve too.

They feel the loss in different ways, but are still affected.

But it must be acknowledged and worked through.

My heart breaks thinking about this.

It’s an earth-shattering experience.

And one often suffered in silence.

Why don’t people discuss pregnancy and infant loss?

Why do we grieve undercover?

According to, 1 in 4 women will experience the loss of a baby at sometime in their lives. 

That’s a staggering statistic.

So why are we still not talking about this?

Many people you know have experienced a miscarriage.

When I began speaking about my experience, I received notes from people telling me they too, have had a miscarriage–or two or three.

Why did I not know?

Do we feel ashamed?

We should not.

We’ve all heard people say, Just get over it.”

The truth is, you can’t.

You must grieve your loss.

Mothers fall in love with their babies from the very beginning.

Sometimes even before the pregnancy is confirmed.

The very thought of this new life growing inside us inspires great love, dreams of little tiny feet.

When that’s ripped away, it’s something that rocks you to the core.

We often blame ourselves when there is no blame to be given.

Many women do not properly grieve their loss.

And it haunts them throughout their lives.

We must grieve this loss.

We must get in a good place with it, so we can truly move on.

This is one of those things that is gone, but not forgotten.

You learn to live with it, and you find a way to move forward.

You may commemorate your little angel on your due date, the date of loss, even their birthday.

This October 15 at 7:00 pm, join women and their loved ones around the world, who will light candles in honor of their lost little ones.

Participate in this Wave of Light.

Light a candle.

Cry if you need to.

Say a prayer.

Imagine your little angel in Heaven.



Do whatever works for you.

If you know someone who has been through this, give them a giant hug.

Acknowledge their grief.

Moms are incredible beings.

Moms who have endured this life-altering loss, I salute you.

You are stronger than you even know.

Sending big hugs your way.

Now, imagine our little angels playing together in Heaven.

Now that’s a beautiful image.


Next week, I will commemorate two years since I lost my baby.

Two years after my molar pregnancy adventure, I can honestly say, no, we don’t really ever get over it.

Two years ago, I was patting my belly, dreaming about bringing home a blue bundle of joy.

Two years ago, I was on top of the world, expecting my third child.

I’d always wanted three.

If you’re new to my blog, a molar pregnancy is a rare type of miscarriage that can act like a cancer, and if untreated, can become cancer.

In some cases, it can become cancer anyway.

In September 2010, I was blissfully expecting my third child.

A month’s end, I went for my first prenatal checkup.

The exam went well; we set a due date.

Then there was the ultrasound.

I’ll never forget that moment…I never felt so unsure, so worried in all my life.

To that point.

I didn’t know that was the start of a roller coaster of an adventure that really doesn’t end.

It just gets on a more even path with fewer bumps along the way.

During the ultrasound, the doctor searched for the baby, to no avail.

I’m not sure how much time passed, though to me it was an eternity.

The doctor finally spoke.

“What I’m seeing here is not typical. I see the placenta, the sac—maybe two sacs, and one is pulling away from the placenta. I’m looking, looking, and I’m sorry, I can’t find the baby.”


This is not what you’re supposed to see on your ultrasound!

That was the start of my life-changing journey.

I had a D&C, bled for several months, had all sorts of complications.

Ultimately, I endured 14 weeks of chemotherapy.

Now, when you’re going through this, and the health crisis in looming over your head, you’re not really thinking so much about grieving.

There are too many other things in play.

When you reach that magic number for negative (your HCG—pregnancy hormone level—reaches a normal range), it all rushes in like a huge tidal wave.

For me, this happened about 5 months after the molar pregnancy was diagnosed.

To some, I should have gotten over it by then.

It doesn’t help when you read stuff on the Internet that basically says you were never pregnant.

But I beg to differ.

I got pregnant the same way I got pregnant with my daughters.

There was conception, implantation, rising HCG, morning sickness, my belly was growing—and there is that little thing called a positive pregnancy test.

Not to mention, I already was in love with that child and dreaming of meeting him.

While all this was going on, it was really difficult to see pregnant women and babies—and it seemed like they were everywhere.

I couldn’t escape it.

It took a while, but I finally got to a place where I could see these people and not get upset.

I finally got to a place where there were more good days than bad, and I could be happy for people expecting a new little bundle of joy.

I could even hold a baby and be happy looking into a sweet little face.

Every once and a while, though, it sneaks up on you.

One day at church, the priest was acknowledging the altar boys—and their moms.

As I sat there, I began sobbing, thinking, I will never have a son.

I’ll never have a son—whether he’d serve in the altar or not, who knows—but there are things that I will never experience and celebrate, because I don’t have a son.

Sounds a little silly, I know, since I have two beautiful daughters and I get to experience many things with them every single day.

I recover quicker now, but sometimes it still gets me.

I’ve written a book about my experience with molar pregnancy and dealing with the loss.

However a pregnancy is lost, it’s still a loss.

I tell women that it’s a profound loss that must be grieved.

If you don’t grieve this loss, it will haunt you.

It’s something you really don’t get over.

You just learn to live with it.

That little one is in your heart always.

And you have your very own angel in Heaven.

I take comfort in that, but sometimes, I do get thrown for a loop.

I’m compiling some visuals for the book, and requested the ultrasound images from my doctor.

When you have a complete molar pregnancy, they don’t send you home with pretty ultrasound pictures.

However, those images have been indelibly engraved in my mind.

I could close my eyes at any time and see them.

I didn’t think it would upset me so much.

They arrived and I found myself hesitant to open the envelope.

Inside was a printed sheet of images and a CD.

I pulled it out, and wow, if I could have hooked up a printer to my brain and hit “print” I would have gotten the same thing.

Since so much time had passed, I’d thought my brain was exaggerating these images and they didn’t really look that way.

I couldn’t control the wave of emotion that swept over me.

I looked at the images and it was like I saw them for the very first time.

Like it was happening all over again.

I was surprised at my reaction, nearly 2 years later.

I put them away, and went about making dinner.

It was a good thing we were expecting company—I had a diversion.

I felt this intense sadness hanging over me.

My roller coaster took a sharp turn, but then got back on a straight track.

People don’t speak about pregnancy loss, and they should.

There’s no need to suffer in silence.

So I guess this is something we never get over.

That void remains in your heart and in your life.

People that have never been through this cannot truly understand.

They’ll tell you to “get over it,” and “so much time has passed.”

These are events that change us forever.

But we have to be sure that we don’t spend every moment wallowing in our grief.

Let’s do something positive with it.

Make that little one proud.

Here’s a virtual hug for you, and a little push.

Go out there and having an amazing day!

Many of you know that I experienced a molar pregnancy in September 2010.

It was with great anticipation that I looked forward to the birth of my 3rd child, only to have my world decimated by the revelation of the molar pregnancy, and of course its aftermath, wrought with complications.

And then there was chemo.

As I struggled to deal with it all, I proclaimed that I was now the mother of 2 daughters and 1 angel baby.

Since the day of that earth-shattering diagnosis, I have prayed for that little angel baby.

He’s visited me in dreams.

Ok, you’re saying, “Stop the truck! HE?”

He’s come to me several times in dreams and pronounced that he was a boy.

So I finally got my boy, but he’s an angel in Heaven.

Many times I have contemplated how and when I would tell the girls about their baby brother.

There was never an “if”. I would share it with them someday, somehow.

That day came much sooner than I expected.

A few months ago, the girls were arguing about who was the big sister.

Bebs was not satisfied to be just the “little sister.”

I tried to explain to her that I was a little sister, too.

“But you’re a big sister too!” she retorted, with all her 3 year-old wisdom.

I am.

And she kept repeating, “But I am a big sister! I am a big sister! Mom, will you tell her?”

I paused for a moment to ponder what she meant by that. How could she possibly know?

I recall talking to her about the baby when I first found out I was pregnant.

She was 18 months old. I figured she wouldn’t tell anyone.

I never told Boo. For some reason I thought she’d run to school and tell everyone.

This was strange, because I hadn’t kept any of my pregnancies a secret.


A subconscious safety mechanism for what was to come?

Who knows?

Then I wondered, could Bebs actually remember that, on some level?

I thought the best thing to do was to go with it. After all, she really was a big sister.

I sat the girls down.

Mommy: Yes, Bebs is a Big Sister.

Boo: And who is this other person?

Mommy: It’s an angel baby. He lives in Heaven with Jesus.

Funny, there were no other questions.

Good thing, cause I wasn’t sure where to go from there.

From time to time, the girls mention their little brother—but only as Bebs refers to him—as the BABY ANGEL.

Last night, after one of Bebs’ monster tantrums (it’s tough to be 3, after all!), she started talking about the baby angel.

Bebs: I’m sorry, Mommy. The Baby Angel said I am a good girl, and I should be one.

Mommy: Did you talk to the Baby Angel?

Bebs: Oh yes, Mommy!

Mommy: What did he say?

Bebs: He said not to have tantrums. That I’m a sweet girl.

Mommy: Yes, you are a sweet girl. Can we see more of this sweet girl?

Bebs: OK.

Mommy: Do you see the Baby Angel a lot?

Bebs: Yes, Mommy.

Mommy: Does he look like you?

Bebs: No.

Mommy: Does he look like Boo?

Bebs: No.

Mommy: Does he look like me or Daddy?

Bebs: I’m not supposed to tell you.

Mommy: Why not? I’d really like to know. (I’m curious, after all!)

She paused for a moment.

Bebs: Well, he looks like Jesus!

Mommy: Really? Does he have dark hair?

Bebs: Mommy! OK, well, he has white hair…

Mommy: Really?

Bebs: I can’t tell you that. It’s a secret.

Mommy: What else does the Baby Angel tell you?

Bebs: It’s a secret between a Big Sister and her Baby Angel.

Wow. I guess she’s right. I’m really not supposed to know.

Not to be outdone, Boo chimed in.

Boo: I know what the Baby Angel looks like!

Mommy: Tell me.

Then she presented me with a small painting her godmother gave her, of an angel watching a baby in its cradle.

She pointed to the baby.

Mommy: This is the Baby Angel?

Boo: No, Mommy. We are the baby, and the Angel is our Baby Angel, watching over us.

 5 year-old wisdom.

As a tear came to my eye, I thought this would make me sad.

But somehow it did not.

It’s actually comforting to know he’s here with us.

Knowing the girls acknowledge him too, and he’s part of regular discussion.

This morning, Bebs was acting up again.

Mommy: What would the Baby Angel say?

Bebs: Oh, I don’t think he would like it.

Mommy: Then you should be a good girl, a good big sister.

Bebs: You’re right, Mommy. I’ll be better, for the Baby Angel. I have to teach him things. That’s what big sisters do.

Yes they do.

And if he can help with behavioral issues too, A-W-E-S-O-M-E!

I knew losing a child could change a parent forever.

Who knew the influence that angel child would have on his siblings.

Last year, I wrote a piece that appeared on Harlots Sauce Radio, called “You Did Not Just Say That!” about what not to say to someone who recently experienced a miscarriage.

Since then, I have been bombarded with questions – and from people who know better – asking when #3 is coming.

When I tell them that I’m not so young anymore – I’m 42…

Then they respond with examples of 57 women who had kids at the age of 46.

Then I remind them that I lost #3 – it turned out to be a molar pregnancy, with many complications, and required chemotherapy – they still insist that I must have a 3rd child.

These people are really at the height of insensitivity.

Sad thing is that most don’t even realize it.

If you didn’t know me well, and you asked, it wouldn’t be so bad.

If you took my response and left it at that, it would be OK.

But some people just feel like they have to win, and will not give up until you say, “OK! I’m going to go for it! Thanks for showing me the light!”

I’m not a violent person, but sometimes I swear I’d like to give these people a punch too.

I’m hearing from women all over the country who are dealing with this incredible insensitivity as well.

We are not being selfish, vain or even frugal.


First of all, it’s none of your business.

Second of all, you have no idea what that person has been through, and what kind of hurt you cause.

You might say, “Well, I didn’t know.” Or “I was just making conversation, etc.”

But seriously, this isn’t good conversation.

I’m 42.

I’d love to have another child.

I’d love to have a boy.

Don’t ask me if I want that, because I do. It’s just not in the cards.

And I have been asked more times than I can tell you.

Are my two girls not good enough? I have to have a boy to be legit?

When the molar pregnancy happened, I felt like God said, “No more kids!”

In my heart, I knew I wanted another, and as soon as it was over, I insisted I was going to try for another.

Complications set in, and it was evident that that wasn’t going to happen.

When I learned I needed chemo, I felt like God tapped me on the shoulder and said,” Excuse me. Did you not get my message? I said, no more kids!”

Well, I got the message. Loud and clear.

It’s taken me a long time to make peace with that.

Actually, I do have a 3rd child – and he IS a boy. He is an Angel Baby in Heaven. So leave me alone!

And stop with the questions!

Really, you don’t know what people have gone through.

I’ve heard from many women going through this. Let me share with you.

What about the woman who, after her molar pregnancy, her husband refused to discuss another child, and then went and got a vasectomy against her wishes?

How about the woman who has had 3 miscarriages in a row, and would give her right hand to have a healthy pregnancy?

It took a good friend of mine 4 years to get pregnant. She wanted kids more than anything, but I guess the timing wasn’t right.

Then there’s the friend who went through 4 failed attempts at Artificial Insemination, then 6 failed attempts at IVF before giving up. Do you think she doesn’t want a baby?

How about the woman whose husband is on extended deployment, or was injured in the line of duty and there is now an issue?

And the young woman who was diagnosed with cancer in her late 20s, who would love to be a mom more than life itself, but is on meds for the next couple of years?

I could keep going.



You don’t know what’s been going on in her life.

If you want to think it fine, just don’t say it. You inflict pain on people and cause tremendous upset.

And I know that’s not your intent.

Forget the “Think before you speak.”

Just do not ask.

You might get yourself into serious trouble.

It’s not my fault if you get slugged.

Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

Yesterday was D-Day –

As in DUE DAY.

Yes, yesterday was my due date for the child that I lost.

I had been thinking about this for weeks.

Both of my girls were born a little early.

The first one at 37 weeks, 2 days; the second at 36 weeks, 4 days.

Most likely the baby would have been born already.

But yesterday was the day.

I joked with myself, reminding myself that May 4 is the birthday of an old boyfriend, and I didn’t want my child to be associated with that day.


Fat chance.

It already is.

So how does one commemorate a lost little one?

I didn’t know what the day would bring.

I planned to be busy.

I wanted to be strong, in his honor.

I did say “his.”

Back in December, when I was going through the worst side effects of the chemo, I had a dream.

A beautiful cherub with gossamer wings appeared in front of me.

Hi Mommy,” he said.

“Don’t cry. Don’t be sad. I’m here in Heaven with Jesus. I’m OK and you are going to be OK too.”

I was stunned, as this amazing creature fluttered before me.

I didn’t get to say anything.

In an instant, he was gone.

As I tried to compose myself in the dream, he re-appeared.

“By the way, I’m a boy. Don’t cry! Everything’s going to be OK.”

And he was gone. I woke up.

While driving home from chemo that day, I felt awful and was frustrated that this wasn’t ending fast enough.

I swear I saw something shimmering and white fly past me.

It was the baby angel.

I was reminded of the dream, and instantly felt better.

I’d felt in my heart that the baby was a boy and this dream confirmed it for me.

Before you call me a whacko, you should know I’ve had prophetic dreams before.

Since then, when I’ve had difficult days, I have imagined him in the arms of Jesus, smiling and waving at me.

But I digress.

I didn’t know what the day would have in store.

The night before I’d spent an hour on the phone chatting with Boo’s pregnant Godmother.

She’s due in about 4 weeks.

She’s been gracious enough to “share” her pregnancy with me.

From seeing the awesome ultrasound pictures, to hearing about kicks, doctor appointments and planning the baby’s room, I feel like I’ve been part of the whole process.

Which has meant a lot to me.

We excitedly spoke about the new arrival.

She asked some questions, and I relived the anticipation of my girls’ arrivals.

I didn’t get sad.

It was fun to talk about all that again.

And fun to talk about her impending bundle of joy.

She’s going to be an incredible mom.

I’m so happy for her and can’t wait to meet her little one.

I went to sleep just feeling good for the great conversation with my dear friend.

That morning I woke up and instantly thought of my little angel in Heaven.

I came downstairs, and lit a candle for him, and said a prayer for him by name.

Yes, his name.

I’ve officially given him a name – the name he was supposed to have.

Somehow it made me feel more connected.

It made him seem real.

Staring at the flame, I thought of my precious cherub.

To my surprise, there were no tears.

Only smiles.

My heart just felt so full.

I went about my morning routine, and then the girls woke up.

They greeted me with what seemed to be even bigger smiles, and even greater enthusiasm.

There was so much love in that room.

It was a trouble-free morning – a gift from my girls – though they have no idea.

We took Boo to school, and Bebs and I went to meet a woman from my support group.

Her due day would have been today, however she’s already expecting again.

We had a good chat.

Just like old friends.

She’s 18 weeks along, and I can’t wait to see her with a big belly.

What an exciting time!

We’re also waiting on the birth of another baby – Boo’s friend from school is going to be a big sister anytime now.

So we’re on the baby watch, and I’m finding it positively delightful.

Boo and I have been cheering on her friend, that she’s going to be a great big sister.

Also, Boo wants to have her over for a sleepover so she can teach her all about being a big sister.

That will be a hoot!

As I sat down to write, I poured a glass of wine, and toasted my angel.

He’s here –  in my heart.

This weekend we are going to begin planting our garden.

I’ve decided that I’d like to honor our little one with a tree, or some sort of perennial, that I can nurture and watch grow.

When I’m having a bad day – which I do have every once and a while– I can go out there and talk to it and just look at it.

This plant – a beautiful living, breathing creation of God – will be a live memorial.

A tribute.

This is how I will commemorate my little angel.


Be the best mom that I can be to his sisters and the best wife I can be to his daddy.

Be the best person I can be.

Help others who’ve experienced this type of loss.

And most importantly…

To love.

To live.

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BooBoo BeDoux

Bebs LaRoux


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