Still at a loss

It's been exactly one week since Kellan passed away. I'm not sure how it's only been seven days, and so many thoughts still swirl around in my brain as I process this loss of life. This hole in Christmas for us all, but especially for Kellan's family.

I struggle because it's really not my story to tell and I don't want to share things that Brad and Becky wouldn't want me to share. I did ask them both to read my last post to make sure they approved (they did), and I think for me personally I just want to focus on my own experience. I feel like I have to write it all out so that I can really move forward: a common thread throughout the many years of my blog.

Telling Truman and Cecelia that their friend is no longer here on earth was honestly one of the hardest, saddest occurrences for Nate and I as parents. We were both crying, which stunned the kids in itself. But they are just so innocent and their comments were a lot more difficult to handle than expected.

We scripted it with the following sentence, as recommended to us by my mom : Kellan was very sick. His body couldn't get better, so Kellan died. Truman's eyes got really big and worried and he said, 'He is really dead?  Kellan is in heaven?' We told him yes, he is in heaven now. Both of the kids asked 'why' a few times and we repeated the script. You aren't supposed to elaborate or go into some long explanation, but are supposed to keep it succinct and clear. Then Truman said, 'Now Kaydin doesn't have a brother anymore. I don't want Kaydin to die, too. Kellan is going to miss Christmas.' And then I sort of lost it as I watched my first born begin to cry. We told him it was okay to be sad, because we are sad, too. 

Then Truman wanted to write Kaydin a letter, which is such a healthy and typical way for Truman to process this news. He addressed it to Kaydin, Becky and Brad and wrote 'share with Lori' on there, too. He said, 'I hope that you think about Kellan to think of the funny things he did.' Truman then elaborated to us about how Kellan would make that funny sound and jump up and down when he wanted to make Truman laugh. Sort of like a wild monkey sound with flapping arms---something that made Truman giggle every single time. Then he drew a picture of Kellan with God in heaven at the bottom of the letter. Later Truman said, 'That is God taking care of Kellan,' and both Nate and I couldn't really speak for a few moments, fighting back huge tears and a sense of grief and also gratitude. Thankful for our kind boy and his ability to talk to us about his feelings. 




Cecelia is so much younger and at age three, I wasn't sure what she would understand. When we told them both together at the breakfast table, she asked us, 'Why did my friend die?' She asked it twice before I could swallow away the lump in my throat to repeat our scrip. And 'why was he so sick?' was another frequently asked question. But that's about all she said at first--she didn't cry, but she did comment on Nate's and my tears. She seemed a little testy to Porter right after we told them. But for the most part she didn't seem to think about it much that morning.

Later that night Cecelia was crying and disproportionally upset over something insignificant (like losing a ball under the bed). I asked if she was sad and she said, 'I'm sad Kellan got sick.' She asked me why he got so sick. I gave her a huge bear hug and we talked for awhile. She said 'I miss my friend' and I cried the ugly cry, gasping a bit, and really feeling a deep sorrow as I hugged my three-and-a-half year old who was just a few days older than Kellan. Best buddies. So many memories. She missed her friend, and I was at a loss of how to make sense of it all for her. 

Since last weekend, Cecelia has been giving a lot of frequent 'I love you, mommy' statements.
She's a little more emotional and she wanted me to lay down with her one night, which she never does anymore. She hugged me, kissed me, and said she loved me. 'Don't you love my bed, too?' She said she knows I love her, too, because she is my girl. One night she randomly said, 'I hope Kellan gets better really soon. Are there toys in heaven for him? What will he do there? Are there other kids there? I wonder what heaven is like.' It's like she understands but not the finality of it, as she seems to be waiting for a day when he is 'all better.'

Tonight as she was going to the bathroom before bed: 'Hey, we are still alive! I don't want anyone in the whole world to die, Mommy. You're the best mommy ever. I don't want you to die. I love you, Mommy. I love everything in the whole wide world. ' Lots and lots of hugs and kisses from our little girl, none of them taken for granted.

Kellan's story has made the news on two different stations now. After watching Lori being interviewed on the news, the kids were excited to see and recognize her. They loved all of Kellan's pictures scrolling through on the TV and would say things like, 'hey, look at his awesome blanket there! He is laughing and running!' But once the clip was over they were both very quiet. Truman said he was sad and Cecelia just kept asking why he died. Truman has frequently said 'I'm sad that Kellan died, mommy.' And I will just tell him that it's okay to be sad, that I'm sad too, and then we think of some funny Kellan moments or things that we loved about that little boy. It's been hard you guys, but as soon as I think about that statement I feel horribly guilty.

Because, really? Hard? Hard is being the mom to Kellan, losing a son who was three years old, and losing him quickly and to an illness that is 'rare' and not supposed to happen. I feel physically ill when I think about Becky and Brad having to do Christmas without Kellan there. Reading some of their Facebook updates and even getting a glimpse into their reality right now is beyond heartbreaking. I've enjoyed my children so much this Christmas and it's been a wonderful celebration---but there is definitely an underlying weight of sadness as well. Which of course doesn't touch the severity of Brad and Becky's pain.

One very significant silver lining, one positive part of the story: Kellan was able to donate his heart, liver, and kidneys to little children who needed those organs in order to get another chance at life. Talk about the ultimate Christmas gift, the ultimate selfless act by Brad and Becky. It's just amazing to me that they could think clearly enough to make the decision to donate. Truly inspiring to make something so good come out of such a sad situation.

Also, the GoFundMe site is beyond my wildest imagination for raising money. I know a lot of you readers donated and for that I am so thankful, it's really so amazing to see everyone support Brad and Becky through this. I know everyone just wants to do something that might help--I wish we could take their pain away, but since we can't it's wonderful to take the burden of finances away. They are overwhelmed and grateful for your donations, you guys. Thank you.

As Memaw said in an email to me:
"People showing the goodness of their hearts.  Empathy in its purest form.  A reverence for life as never before. The reality that death is no respecter of age. A renewing of the mind that the tangibles of this world can never compete with what really matters. A busy world coming to a halt and requiring the heart to grow quiet and ponder what it may never have pondered before.  There is no thinking of the future, only of the now." That woman sure has a way to nail my thoughts with her words. 

Other things I wanted to mention: we found out that the strain of bacteria that caused Kellan's meningitis is NOT one covered by the HiB vaccination. So it's not like the vaccine didn't work, it's just even more rare than the Type B strain that the vaccine covers. I'm not sure if that fact makes it easier or harder to believe that this is really real, and this really did happen. The worst case scenario played out with lightning speeds and we won't ever know why. I just can't wrap my head around it. The health department finally called all of us daycare moms and of course they couldn't provide the hard answers like 'WHY', but I guess I'm realizing that this particular bacteria isn't uncommon. It's out there, it might just cause a cold or an ear infection or not cause a single symptom. It's course to progress into fatal meningitis is quite uncommon, however, and they weren't able to give solid numbers for how rare 'very rare' is in Wisconsin. I just wish I knew if this particular strain causes meningitis a handful of times each year, or every few years, or what. But again---it's so rare that there aren't even reports run on it, as per the health department lady. Perplexing, right?

Lori and her husband came over to our house on Tuesday, because she really wanted the kids to have their Christmas gifts from them. Totally unnecessary, obviously, but I knew she also wanted to see the kids for herself to know they are still well. Seeing and hugging Lori made this feel real and it was hard to fight back the tears to speak, but we somehow managed to have a great conversation. Lori was happy to see all three kids and cried when hugging Cecelia---I know CC's proximity to Kellan in age and in their time spent together at Lori's through the years made her big blue eyes and loving grin difficult to handle. But it was a much needed visit and all a part of the healing process, to face reality. I just can't stop thinking about their entire family---something that numerous people have said in comments/messages/emails. It's a hard story to get out of your head.

I've found myself in a puddle of tears when listening to music this last week. During the Christmas Eve service at church, I had to wipe my eyes many times when listening to the children's choir sing with their sweet little voices. Thinking of Kellan and how he was probably singing two weekends ago and now he is gone....thinking of how the Christmas story is so full of hope and life and excitement, and losing Kellan has been so devastating....thinking of how I know God must have a plan and this life on earth is not all there is, but taking a child away from this world is just beyond any comprehension to me. Then the congregation sang the song 'Silent Night' and although I was walking around the hallways with a very antsy Porter, I still cried at hearing the lyrics. I know Brad and Becky's house is so painfully quiet now. And sleeping in heavenly peace is such a reassuring, fragile way to think of Kellan. I hope heaven has plenty of toys for him this year, something I know Cecelia wonders, too.

I heard a new song by William Fitzsimmons called 'Funeral Dress' and it sort of took my breath away with the lyrics:

And don’t worry if laughter is on your lips
Cause you wouldn’t be you if you changed for this
And I won’t measure love from the tears that drip
From your face

I can't wait for you

-The song 'Atlas Hands' by Benjamin Francis Leftwich:
I will remember your face
'Cause I am still in love with that place
But when the stars are the only things we share
Will you be there?


-A quote that my mom found that seems so fitting:
'Grief never ends...but it changes. It's a passage, not a place to stay. Grief is not a sign of weakness, nor a lack of faith...It is the price of love.'

-A poem that a friend on Facebook found:
"Little Angels When God calls little children to dwell with Him above. We mortals sometimes question the wisdom of His love. for no heartache compares with the death of one small child, who does so much to make our world seem wonderful and mild. Perhaps God tires of calling the aged to His fold. So He picks a rosebud before it can grow old. God knows how much we need them and so He takes but few, to make the land of Heaven more beautiful to view. Believing this is difficult still somehow we must try. The saddest word mankind know will always be "Goodbye". So when a child departs we who are left behind, must realize God loves children, Angels like Kellan are hard to find." -unknown

I realize this is a busy time for everyone and not many are reading blogs right now. Everyone is high on the Christmas experience and should be happy/celebrating, not reading sad thoughts from me. But I just wanted to get a lot of these thoughts off my brain and onto a post, as I process all of my thoughts. I know that many understand the experience of losing someone in their lives, so perhaps just sharing my thoughts could help someone else. So many of you have said you are thinking and praying for Kellan's family, and it's truly appreciated. The visitation and funeral are on Tuesday 12/29/15 and I know it's going to be really difficult to go, but I am also looking forward to having some closure with the services.

I hope you all had an excellent Christmas and have been holding those dear to your hearts even closer than before. I know I've gained perspective though all of this and hope it doesn't slowly slip away. Life is really unfair and scary sometimes, but it's also still quite beautiful.

Thank you readers, for listening (reading). ;)

No Appropriate Title Goes Here

The past three days have been surreal, they've been heartbreaking, they've been nearly unbearable. Now is one of the times in my life when I'm at a loss for words. I'm grieving, I'm mad, I'm sad, I'm scared, and I'm confused. But I'm determined to find a few words for you here because this story deserves it.

Our daycare provider, Lori, has two grandsons who have both grown up with Truman and Cecelia. Kaydin is two weeks older than Truman, and Kellan five days younger than Cecelia. On Wednesday after work, I went to Lori's just like I've done for five years. Kellan was there and he and Porter were playing with legos. He helped me look for Porter's lost Thomas train and was just his usual self: spunky, hilarious, full of personality.

On Thursday morning, December 17th, I got a message from Lori while I was out shopping with Cecelia and Porter around 10:30 am. She said there might be a bug going around the house, and Kellan had a 103 degree fever and had vomited. Minutes later she said his parents, Brad (Lori's son) and Becky, were taking Kellan to the ER at Children's Hospital because they thought he might have had a few seizures. By 4pm, Lori said that Kellan was in critical condition and getting a cath to the heart for faster medication administration. That night we knew he was in a medically induced coma and they were waiting for the official diagnosis for which type of meningitis. We were hopeful, albeit scared, that he would pull through this just fine and we could all tell him how much he scared the living crap out of us that one time he had meningitis.

Friday only brought horrible news, the worst possible news. First came the official diagnosis of bacterial meningitis, with the bacteria being extremely rare and one that is usually wiped out with vaccinations. It just didn't make sense. It still doesn't make sense. Kellan was fully vaccinated and he didn't seem sick prior to Thursday morning when the world came crashing down. The doctors say that before the HiB vaccine, this type of meningitis was alarmingly common and now it's not, so obviously the vaccine does usually work. Maybe Kellan's body just didn't take to the vaccine, or maybe it was a different strain from what the vaccine protects us against. Who knows, we probably won't ever really know. {Update, weeks later: the strain of bacteria was even MORE rare than they originally thought. Type F and not Type B Haemophilus Influenza. Not vaccinated against because Type F is rarer than rare.}

More horrendous news followed on Friday, as the physicians painted a very bleak picture for prognosis. Within 36 hours from the time Kellan first showed signs of anything wrong, the entire world had changed for his family. 

On Saturday, December 19th, Kellan passed away as the infection was unrecoverable. He was three-and-a-half years old. It happened so fast, nearly instantaneously. All from a rare, highly unlikely illness. Life can change in a moment, I've always 'known' that. But in this moment, I feel it in my heart more than I could have ever predicted before. We are all heartbroken. I cannot even begin to imagine the depth of sorrow that Brad, Becky, Lori and their entire family are feeling. 

When I think about Kellan's mom, Becky, never being able to kiss her buddy goodnight again I can't handle it. When I think about his Christmas gifts that he'll never get to tear open, I can't handle it. When I think about his big brother whose life has forever changed, I can't handle it. I look at Cecelia and I know I have to tell her that one of her best friends is gone and I truly cannot handle it. 

Both Truman and Cecelia know that Kellan has been very sick and in the hospital. We've prayed for him each night and to hear their innocence nearly breaks me. 'Dear God, please let Kellan get a bandaid for his owie. Or let him go to the doctor to get better.' Several people have sent us ideas on how to navigate this subject with the kids. But the bottom line is that life is really effing unfair sometimes, and there are no good answers. I believe in God, I believe in heaven, and that Kellan is up there waiting for us. But to be very honest with you, I don't know how God could allow this to happen. 

We were dancing in the kitchen this morning, and I just started sobbing as I buried my nose into Cecelia's intoxicating curls. Why are we the lucky ones who get to experience the little treasures with our kids, and Brad and Becky don't? The pictures of Cecelia and Kellan through the years are both gut wrenching and the most precious gifts. I know she is going to miss her friend but I also believe she is probably too young to fully grasp the concept of death. We are going to tell the kids tomorrow and I'm dreading it, but know it has to happen. Pray for both of them, but I have a feeling Truman will take it the hardest, my sensitive little guy.

Porter is on some pretty hard-core antibiotics as a precaution, even though many of the doctors say the chances of this spreading are basically zero. After many calls to my pediatrician, the pediatric infectious disease doctor at the hospital, and then NO call from the health department as was promised I decided that giving Porter the antibiotics would give me a slight piece of mind. Again, his chance of getting this infection is basically nothing...but I also feel like nothing makes sense, statistics don't soothe me, because Kellan wasn't supposed to get it either. So we will do meds for four days, and once the week long window of incubation ends next week on Wednesday, I might stop watching him for the slightest sign of a fever/lethargy. But actually, nothing will change my anxiety when it comes to imagining the most outlandish things happening to my children. Kellan's story has only heightened this anxiety. 

I remember Kellan's phase of running into Lori's kitchen, as I would drop one or two of my three children off before work, and he would just roar like a tiger. It was a tiger phase and he didn't want to speak, only roared at me. Lori called both Kellan and Cecelia 'sassy pants' because they sort of ruled the roost around there for a few years, when they were big dogs on campus;)

On Cecelia's final day at Lori's, two weeks ago, I remember taking a few pictures of CC with her buddies. Kellan happily posed for a few of my shots, and it was bittersweet because Cecelia and Kellan have always been so close. Two peas in a pod, troublemakers, always talking about having sleepovers and taking over the world someday, sweet talking their way into Lori's candy drawer more often than not. 

Cecelia's last day at Lori's, 12/3/15

I remember that for the last two weeks, when Cecelia has been at home with Tony, I would sometimes take CC with me to pick up Porter at the end of my day. Most of those times Kellan seemed indifferent towards CC, almost like he was punishing her for being gone. Like he didn't really want to say goodbye, or even 'hi, there, friend!'. But then on Monday, the last time that Truman and Cecelia saw Kellan, I saw Kellan walk slowly by the kitchen where we were all standing. He grinned at Cecelia in a knowing little smirk and said, 'Hi, CC.' They hugged, she said 'hi' to him. And then he wanted to pull her into the front room to show her some toy he'd been creating. It was like he forgave her for leaving him, and to see her face light up at his affection melted me. 

We've created a Go FundMe site for Kellan's family, as I'm certain the medical bills, time off at work, and funeral costs will be an added stress for Brad and Becky. If you feel touched by Kellan's story, and if you feel as helpless as we all do, this would be a tangible way to help. I think the success of this fundraising so far speaks volumes about Brad and Becky, and about Kellan. But I also think this story really affects people because of how sudden Kellan left this world. Because of how unfair it is to lose a child. Because bacterial meningitis, and especially the strain of bacteria that infected Kellan, is supposed to be one of those things that statistics say won't likely happen. Or if it does happen, mortality is supposed to be low. His story touches people because he was so obviously loved, and because it's the week of Christmas and this family has to find a way to continue living when it seems like this loss might actually kill a person. Nothing will be the same for them, certainly.

When I think of this family and what they've endured in the past three days, and the magnitude of grief that has just landed on their shoulders, I want to cry for the millionth time. But I also want to share Kellan's story and do whatever I can to feel less helpless. If you are the praying type, I'd like to ask for your prayers for Kellan's family. It's just unfathomable. 

One final note: when I was talking to the infectious disease doctor on the phone yesterday, she told me something that brought me to tears yet again. She said that Lori and the family told her that if any of us daycare moms called, she was supposed to tell us one thing: to hold our children even tighter, to soak them in and never take a second for granted. 

Because sure, parenting small kids is freaking hard sometimes. But the things that seemed hard on Wednesday are laughable right now. Thank you, Kellan, for that perspective in my own life. Thank you, blog readers, for reading along. 

Our Journey to Parenthood: guest posting

Today I am over at Leah's blog Everyday Love, guest posting for her series on 'Our Journey to Parenthood.' I open up about our miscarriage, the complications after, and being pregnant after a loss. Twice;)




I've talked a lot about how that loss has changed me, but it was really cathartic to lay it all out there for this guest post. Head on over to read my story, and thanks to Leah for asking me to write.


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My post, because I want it to be published on my own blog, too.

A Page in Our Book

Hello, ladies (and possibly a few brave gentlemen)! I am Julia from My Life in Transition, and I'm so happy to be here today. I'm the mom to an-almost-four-year-old handsome devil named Truman. I'm the mom to a precious red-headed firecracker named Cecelia who is 19 months old, who is our rainbow baby (more in a bit). And I'm fifteen weeks pregnant with baby number three who is due to arrive in early July. Life is about to get even more chaotic and we are thrilled/scared to death/in denial.





I work part time as a Physical Therapist, I'm Nate's wife since 2007, I love to blog and tend to ramble, I post too many pictures of my children on Instagram (mrsjuliagoolia is my user name), I drink black coffee, red wine, and I run (all three of which are best enjoyed when not pregnant).

(new mom to Truman 2010)


(new mom to Cecelia in 2012)


That's me in a nutshell. So why is someone with 2.5 children posting here about my 'journey to parenthood,' when I openly admit that I've never struggled with infertility and I'm knee deep in parenting right now? Well, I'm a part of the club that nobody wants to join, but there are far too many members to be ignored. The miscarriage club. My journey doesn't include difficulties in getting pregnant (for which I'm extremely grateful) but I've had my share of pain with pregnancy loss and complications that followed. I'm forever changed by my loss. I wrote about my experience here on my blog, when my loss was still fresh. And here about my grief. And here about the concept of closure. Blogging helped me work through my emotions. It connected me to other girls who understood. I'm still floored by the number of emails I get from readers who are going through their own heartbreak. I'm thankful that none of us are alone in this, but when you are walking in your own valley of despair it's hard to see the light at the end of the tunnel. I can only imagine that the struggle to get pregnant must have a similar feel of 'being in the valley' and my heart goes out to anyone going through infertility and/or loss.

My story is a little different than the other girls who have posted here before me because I already had Truman when I suffered my miscarriage. In some ways I felt comfort in knowing at least I *could* keep a pregnancy and I was incredibly thankful for my first born. But at the same time, I knew how amazing it was to be a mother. I knew what I was losing. Truman's sibling, our second baby, was like a page ripped out of our storybook. We had to say goodbye before we even said hello to sweet Wren, after I got those fateful two words at my nine week ultrasound: No heartbeat. The day before my thirtieth birthday, 4.26.11. It's a date forever burned into my memory just like the birthdays of my babies here on earth. No, I will never forget the details of that day.

A baby that stopped growing at six weeks. No flicker of life on that screen. Just an immobile blob that was our second child. The look on Nate's face as we made eye contact in that ultrasound room. Truman's innocent gaze at his mama, as he sat in his father's lap---my symbol of motherhood. My son who was supposed to be a big brother that November. The boys were amazing and supportive and let me grieve. And grieve, I did.

I was shocked. Angry. Jealous of everyone around me experiencing text book 'perfect' pregnancies (which, ironically, was almost every one of my close friends). Betrayed by my body. So angry. Guilty, because maybe I should just be satisfied with one healthy child when so many women would give anything for the same. But in my heart I wanted another. I had another and lost him. It wasn't fair. Did I deserve this? I was so devastatingly sad that I wasn't sure I could go on. But of course, I did.

(my necklace to remember baby Wren, our November bird who flew away too soon)



The hardest part for me was that my body didn't recognize the pregnancy loss and never started bleeding on it's own. I waited a week after that ultrasound, took Cytotec to force the process, and then bled for five weeks straight. And then I began to hemorrhage.  While I was in the ER, I lost a scary amount of blood. I was practically begging for a D&C at that point (and wanted the surgery early on but they assumed my body was taking care of it). But the OB on call threw out words like 'hysterectomy' and 'large mass' and 'not if you want to have more kids' as she refused to do my surgery. I feel that my case was handled like absolute crap and won't go into it here, but thank the good Lord I went back to my original OB who had delivered Truman and got a second opinion. I needed that D&C badly and she was surprised I didn't already have a raging infection from the 'conception products' that were still inside me for so many weeks. She gave me my D&C. We followed the rules, waited two cycles, and tried again.

The second month I saw two lines and was equal parts overjoyed and paralyzed with fear. Being pregnant after a loss was one of the most challenging tasks I've had to mentally conquer. It didn't help that after some disheartening lab values in the first few weeks, I began to bleed profusely (i.e. through my pants) while at work. I was six weeks pregnant and was convinced that I was having another miscarriage. I was resigned to it, in fact.

God had other plans, and at the ultrasound that night we saw the most beautiful site in the world: a heartbeat! A fighter baby who was up against a huge sub-chorionic hemorrhage in my uterus, but she would win. Our little Cecelia is a miracle baby who could not be more celebrated. She gives us a run for our money in ways we never predicted, but she is our sweetest blessing. Someday I will give her an earful for scaring us to death in my first trimester of pregnancy, but for now I will settle for frequent cuddles.




Yes, I'm pregnant for a fourth time. And yes, my fear of a loss is very real this time, too. Now that I've been on the 'bad' side of of statistics I find little comfort in the concept that everything is 'probably fine.' But I know that we will get through whatever lies ahead and that worrying will not make it any easier. I've come a long way since my loss and am proud to say that I can enjoy and 'let go' during what is likely my final pregnancy. It's been quite the journey that included significant personal growth, a closer relationship with God, better communication with my husband, and two (going on three) precious babes. It's been worth the pain and heartache, a million times over.




I wrote this post when Cecelia was about four months old and it's still one of my favorites. My other posts on loss are difficult for me to read and re-live. But this one brings me to tears in a different way. Thank you, God. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

My advice for anyone going through a loss? Take the time to grieve. Get mad. Write it all out if that helps you. Find your best source of stress relief and milk it for all it's worth. Talk to anyone who understands. I met some amazing women-turned-friends through my loss on The Bump's message boards--specifically the miscarriage/loss board, the TTC after loss board, and the pregnant after loss board. Do not let the grief swallow you whole but let it process and take your time. I found that truly the only thing that healed my broken heart was my next pregnancy test, but even then my loss never left me. It's a part of me now, a part of my story, a page in my book and I am not ashamed of it. I don't know how your story will unfold but know that you are not alone in this.

For anyone who's trying to support their friend suffering a loss, and you just don't know what to do or say? Be there. Don't be afraid to say the wrong thing and offer a shoulder, an ear, a cup of coffee or some wine. Don't make light of the situation but don't gloss over it, either. Weeks and months later, don't be afraid to tell her that you love her and are thinking about her. I found that a simple 'I'm thinking of you' message went a long way for me. You don't have to say all of the right things. Just being there is enough.

Wow, sorry that I just wrote you a novel on this topic. I guess it's one I find very important and something that requires a LOT of words to explain. If you've made it to the end of this post, cheers to you! And thanks to Leah for letting me write it all out here.

Aug 7: So Many Members

I've always said that being a part of the Miscarriage Club is something that none of us want, but all of us feel connected to each other through sharing such a devastating loss. Such a connection, because it's such an emotional time.

And since I posted about my miscarriage over two years ago, I have gotten more heartbreaking emails from blog readers who are going through the same thing than I've gotten for any other topic in the past. And in the past month alone, I have gotten five emails from readers saying they found comfort in my loss posts, thanking me for sharing because it helped them feel less alone. Five girls in the past month, you guys.

It's not fair. Miscarriage is everywhere and it is unbelievably common. I hate that so many readers have to endure the indescribable sadness that comes with losing a baby. But I'm glad that you feel comfortable emailing me to say, 'Hey, this sucks. But thanks for sharing your story.'

When I email these girls back I always try to be positive but also want to really respect their grief and the fact that they are walking in the valley at that very moment. It will get better. But until then, it just sucks so much.

I'm not really sure why I wanted to write this out tonight. Except that I realized if I have this many emails about miscarriage, I'm certain there are even more readers going through a loss who don't email me. And to all of you, I'm sorry. It gets better. But it still sucks right now.

I spent some time tonight reading my old posts on loss, grief, closure and then my horrible ER stay. I read about the cost of our loss and then I came to my favorite 'loss' post: on the other side. I want to go hug my sleeping babies right now, but I won't because sleep is quite the fiasco here lately again. (I wrote this last night and scheduled it to post for today---hope this isn't cheating with the 'daily blogging' thing. Update: whoops, I think I actually posted it tonight on Tuesday instead of Wednesday morning. So much for trying to schedule posts.)

I do not take my success story of having Cecelia for granted. And I pray that any of you going through a miscarriage get your baby soon. And hang in there. And drink wine. And get angry and write or talk it out. Because it won't feel like this forever.

Senseless

It makes no sense and it probably never will. Senseless, shocking violence in America. Again.

You've probably read numerous blog posts, status updates, and responses to the mass shooting in Connecticut yesterday. I'm sure you are still processing all of the information streaming out of your computer or television and if you are anything like me, you are feeling sufficiently overwhelmed. And sad. And scared. And then the anger came to me this morning after the concept settled in a bit. Which makes me crave the therapeutic typing of a post on these keys. I doubt I have anything new or especially inspirational to say to you today but I want to say it, just the same.

The 'why?' and the 'how?' seem to be the most popular questions at the moment. Why would this kid do something so gruesome, horrific and devastating? Why an elementary school? Why victimize innocent children--a seemingly untouchable population that truly symbolizes goodness and hope and the future? If he was mentally ill, seeking attention and fame in the news, why didn't anyone in his life notice that he was about to snap? Why?

And how could this happen? How are we going to prevent it from happening again? How can we go on after such an insult on our sense of safety?

Can we feel safe anymore in this country? Should we stop flying on airplanes, shopping at malls, going to spas, going to church, and sending our kids to elementary/high school/college? If we live our lives in fear then terrorism wins. 'They' win. Evil dominates even more than it already does in this broken world. Don't get me wrong, I understand the sentiment of wrapping your children up in a bubble and never, ever letting them go. I get that because like millions of other mothers last night, I held my children more fiercely than ever before. I drank in their scents and swallowed a lump in my throat while praying to God for protection. For hope. For peace. For healing. These precious babies of mine are safe and I got to smother them in kisses when so many parents did not have that privilege last night. How? Why?

If faith and religion are not your thing, or it's too painful to think about how God could 'allow' something like this to happen, then you can skip this paragraph. But like most circumstances surrounded by pure evil and sin and undoubtedly Satan himself, I find myself going to God in prayer. Today I read a passage from my devotional app that was appropriately centered on hope and heaven.



I believe in heaven and hell. I believe, without a shadow of a doubt, that those innocent children will know no more pain, sadness, or disappointment in this world as they run with the angels in heaven. And I also believe that this sinful world is only temporary. There is more to life than this. But at the same time, that doesn't make the reality of the present day any easier to accept. And it's hard to remain hopeful about the future when it seems our time here on earth becomes more muddled with sadness every day.

I can't even pretend to understand what the parents of those sweet children must be feeling right now. Attempting to wrap my head around their immense pain sends my brain into 'shut down' mode---it's just impossible to imagine their loss. Unopened Christmas presents. Folded clothes that will never be worn again. Favorite snacks never to be eaten. Empty car seats and toddler beds and empty hearts. Memories never to be had. Loss. Immense loss. And the children who survived--the trauma that they endured is also indescribable. My heart goes out to the entire community of Newtown because my brain absolutely cannot handle it.

Today I received an email from a reader who lives just 10 miles from Sandy Hook Elementary. Her name is Christy and her sister-in-law, Kelly, has a blog post with an idea for responding to this tragedy. Christy asked that I pass along her message of supporting change in gun control laws and mental health assistance. This is not a political blog (mentioning religion AND politics in one post is so unlike me!) but it's very obvious that something must be done by our government. Something. Anything. Kelly's idea is to send an extra Christmas card to local legislators requesting that they work hard at creating change, to better protect our children from gun violence. Making it personal with a Christmas card seems like a wonderful idea to me. I think it's natural to want to help in some way, to reach out and do something. To feel a sense of control. A sense of purpose. Although it will never make sense. We can still respond anyway we choose.

I look at Truman and Cecelia and I am angry that they are being raised in a time of such senseless violence. I simply cannot imagine what other types of tragedies their innocent eyes will see in their lifetime. I feel sick, enraged, and hopeless. I want to hold them forever and promise to do everything in my power to keep them safe. But I refuse to let evil steal the joy from my family. I will not let this shooter, and all of those that came before him, scare me away from enjoying this short life on earth. I choose to accept the new perspective that has dropped into my lap. Perspective seems to stop by every now and then, usually after a major catastrophe. Perspective on what is important and what is not. What incredible blessings we have despite the challenges. And how it could all be gone with a sick twist of the story.

I choose to search for hope in this sick world. Because evil may have won yesterday. But we owe it to ourselves and to the families in Newtown to gain perspective. Pray for peace and hope and change. And to hug our babies more than ever before.

Whether you are still in shock, if you are sad, or confused, or angry, or scared---no matter where you stand in this mess, I hope you can find the strength to smile today. It's the little things that matter most, after all.

On the other side

I flip the calendar over to a new month: September. The summer is ending and we are heading into fall---the smell of crisp leaves on the ground, football, cool breezes during our family walks, pumpkin spice candles, apple orchards, hot coffee, crock pot meals, fleeces, and sweaters. I love all four seasons we get to experience in Wisconsin but fall has to be one of the best. The scents in this cooler air remind me of last year and I can't help but flip through my pictures from September 2011 with a sense of wonder. Was it really just one year ago?

Last year at this time I was over-thinking every twinge in my body, desperately hoping that I was pregnant. Desperate. That is a great word for the Julia of September 2011. I vowed not to test for a few more days but I couldn't get out of my own head. I wanted so badly to be pregnant again. I would say it was bordering on an obsession, really. My head was filled with thoughts on babies and pregnancy tests and ovulation strips and timing and symptoms and hope but fear and plenty of anxiety. Prayers each night requesting a patient heart, His will be done, not mine. And when that Saturday morning finally came, and I allowed my self to test, I could feel the weight of that moment on my shoulders. 'Pregnant'. It was happening again. And Cecelia's tiny being was a matter of a few cells, rapidly multiplying and ready to fight for survival.

My pregnancy journey from the positive test until her birth was....rough at times. Nothing was certain. I was bleeding at six weeks and heard the words, 'I've never seen a bleed this big turn out okay in the end.' I was awaiting another miscarriage. Cecelia wasn't supposed to be sleeping in the swing next to me as I type this. And yet, here she is---every bit the fighter that we saw on that ultrasound screen last year. She's here and she is amazing and truly the most wonderful miracle I've experienced. Words could never fully capture the love I have for my daughter and it seems silly to even try to describe how grateful I am for this little lady. Gratitude. Thankful. And even when my little fighter is fighting any sort of routine, or the bottle, or sleep, and I'm fighting back tears----even then, I wouldn't trade a second of it for the world. She is worth it. I think back to the Julia of September 2011 and remember how badly I ached for our second child. And I'd gladly take the sleepless nights and newborn dramas over the desperation for another pregnancy.

Prior to that magical moment of Cecelia's announcement into the world with a positive test, we had been through some of the most difficult months I could have imagined. And it's those months of grief and mourning and loss and despair that I find myself sorting through a year later. It's not that I think about my miscarriage a lot, and I don't let it get me down too often. I don't want you to think I'm sitting around dwelling on the loss or feeling sorry for myself. But when those memories come back to the surface they still make my heart hurt. Who was baby Wren? Why did it have to happen? Why did I have to have one of the most complicated, prolonged, expensive miscarriages ever? My story still seems like it happened to someone else and as I type it out, or read back over my own posts, I almost feel like it was all a dream. Or a nightmare, I suppose.

My body didn't know the baby's heart stopped beating and I needed medication to get the actual miscarriage going. It was painful. It was scary. It was horrible. I bled for 6 weeks just waiting to fully lose my baby, then had severe hemorrhaging and landed in the ER, where the staff handled my case like crap. Threw out words like 'hysterectomy' and 'large mass' and didn't provide any sort of answers or hope. Then I had the surgery I so badly needed and things started to return to a new normal. And nearly 7k later, with an entire summer of heartbreak, we entered the fall. When I saw the word 'pregnant' and felt a sense of peace, if ever so brief, that the worst was behind us.

I hear the creaking of the swing next to me and glance over at my beautiful baby girl, and I get a little choked up. Tears welling up in my eyes show me that again, it was all worth it to have Cecelia here with us. If Wren had been our number two we'd never have the privilege of meeting Cece---and that would be the biggest loss of all. But it still hurts to remember the path we took to get on the other side of loss.

My heart breaks for every other woman going through the motions of life after a loss. Miscarriage is everywhere and each time I read about it, or hear about it, I feel angry that it happens so much. It's not fair. It's so sad. But life does go on. It will get better.

A year later, we are living the life with two kids that I dreamed about for so long. It's happening. It's real. SHE'S real. We're on the other side of a loss. And I'm at a loss for words to accurately reflect my gratitude. And so I simply give my sleeping baby a kiss and say a prayer of thanks.

She's worth it.

tidbits

It's been awhile and although I didn't think I had much to post about, turns out I realized some tidbits to share. Bullet points necessary.

- Truman had his first swimming lesson on Tuesday night and I was nervous about whether he'd like the big pool in a new place or not. He LOVED the pool we visited this summer but you never know with a toddler. Plus, I sort of pulled some strings and although the registration online said kids had to be 2-3 years for this 'perch' class at the YMCA, the actual description said kids 19mo to 3 years. So anyway, I got him in the class but later wondered if maybe he wasn't too young for this 'second step class'. Well, turns out that we have a little fish on our hands because he was obsessed with the lesson! It is only 30 minutes long and full of songs, splashing, kicking and jumping off the side. Truman could not get enough, flirted with his teacher, and made us so proud---until we had to go and then he cried for 'more wa wa!'. I can see that these Tuesday nights are going to be pretty fun and instead of both Nate and I going each time, I might let the boys have some togetherness time just the two of them. I mean I DO hog Truman's 1:1 time a lot during the week so I'm sure Nate would like T-time to himself. I snapped my pictures from my phone this first session anyway, so I think my job is done here. :)









-So it's almost November, which means we are creeping up to my lost EDD with Wren. November 29 is probably going to be a tough day for me, but I'm glad it's a Tuesday so I can be home with my boy. It's really hard to believe that I should be extremely pregnant right now, ready to pop out a baby, but in some ways it feels like it was lifetime ago that I got my BFP in March. I think I wrote that out of my six closest girlfriends, 3 of them were pregnant and due within a few months of my due date. Well scratch that---all six of them WERE pregnant but now two of them have already had their babies (both little girls, congrats to Andrea and Lindsey!). Which means, I should be next. And I'm not. And this is a lesson once again that miscarriages suck and the grief doesn't really go away with time---it just changes. I'm definitely more at peace with everything at this point but I am certain that this loss will forever mark my heart in a way that I cannot forget. I'd like to think that the physical, emotional, and financial pain we've felt through this journey has given me loads of character, not just aged me by 15 years. But anyway, coming to terms with my upcoming EDD and feeling very reflective.

-in the same vein, October 15 was National Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Day. I never made my loss public on Facebook, but I wanted to post something about it just the same. Here is what I posted, and I found it on a Bump chat board---just too perfect to summarize the importance of that day:

Today is National Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Day. Pregnancy and Infant Loss is not just something that happens to 'somebody else'. It happens to your sister, your friend, your coworker, the girl who checks out your groceries. It affects many families every day. Today I am remembering all the babies who were taken too soon from the families who wanted so much to have them in their lives

-Not related at all, but did I ever mention that I officially dropped my half day of work on Thursdays? Yep, I work Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays now and TOTALLY dig this extra full day at home with mister man. It's amazing actually, and I feel even more in balance with my mommy/PT roles in life. Nothing like working only ONE day in a row....ever, right? Nate wanted me to sign something in blood saying I would be satisfied with this newest drop in my hours forever. I just smiled and said, 'I'm very happy right now, baby.' And left it at that. I love messing with my husband, pretending that I might push to stay at home someday but in reality, I am truly happy and blessed with my current set up in the work force and don't see that changing in the near future.

-Sort of related: we have decided to make our first house hunt official at the beginning of the year! We'd like to get through the craziness of the holidays and then after the new year get approved for a loan and start searching for our first home! I am so freaking excited and yet terrified, you don't even know. Mostly, I am becoming even more obsessed with HGTV and specifically House Hunters, My First Place, Property Virgins, and the newest amazing-ment: Property Brothers. Um, have you seen this show? Two brothers that find you a 'diamond in the rough' house way under your budget, then transform it with your remaining money into the most badass house ever. I TOTALLY want to apply to be on every single one of these shows but mostly Property Brothers. Any idea how to actually get on these shows? Research to follow.

-A big happening around here? Truman pooped on his potty last week!! I about died from laughter and then almost cried because he is just so freaking adult-like sometimes. But really, the timing was just very lucky because he wanted to pee (has gone about 7 times in the potty now, I'd say) and after he did that I just asked if he wanted to poop, knowing he hadn't gone yet that morning. He simply said, 'YEAH' and then started grunting, also placing both hands on the floor in front of him. It was hilarious and gross all at once. Then once he produced a little turd he stood up, stared at it, and pointed saying, 'Poo Poo'. Gah! My son is a genius!! I of course did what most normal moms do (right?) and snapped a picture, texted it to Nate, my mom and my grandma, and then wondered if that was inappropriate. I really REALLY want to share it here too because his face in the pic just cracks me up, like: Did I just do that? So I blurred out the actual poo and I hope you don't mind. I feel like blurry poo is much better than actual logs, right? And now I have become that mom who talks a lot about poop. So sue me.


We flushed the poo into the big toilet and waved 'bye bye' to it, and now my child loves to talk about his poo going bye bye. Ah, the life of a mom. Iloveitsomuch.

-Can we discuss the glory of pretzel buns? Have you tried them yet? Is it just a Wisconsin thing? I just did a little search and the brand we buy is called Pretzilla and it's a Milwaukee company, but I swear you all must hunt these down in your grocery store. The burger buns are like pure heaven in your mouth---a little soft in the middle with the firm outer shell of a pretzel. I am not kidding, I could eat a bun of pretzel every night and pair it with burgers, chicken, turkey sandwiches, ANYTHING and it's amazing. You can thank me later. Unless you have been eating these for years, in which case, why didn't you say something earlier??


-so the Brewers actually had a great season this year and even made it to the playoffs. When my parents were in town visiting earlier this month (did I even post about that? I am an awful blogger, btw) we decided to get tickets on a whim because the Brew Crew played the Cards. That day it was basically 400 degrees outside for Milwaukee in October but the game was SO much fun. Went with my dad, Nate's dad, and Nate and the Brewers pulled out a win that day (we won't discuss the final outcome of that series, however). This reminds me that baseball games are incredibly fun to watch live in the ballpark but totally awful to watch on TV (at least in my opinion). Also, it was very scandalous for me to cheer for the men in blue, FYI. I'm surprised I didn't get more hate comments on Facebook for that one, but I've lived here for 4.5 years now. I think it's time to embrace Wisconsin sports, no?


-If it were a few years ago, I would have devoted an entire post and 100+pictures to this cause, but um...Henry celebrated his 6th birthday on October 18! He is such a great doggie and we love him dearly. Poor babe has certainly experienced some major life changes since Truman was born but let's get real, he still has an amazing life so don't feel too sorry for him. To celebrate his aging I am getting him groomed tomorrow....since it's been almost 3 months since the last time. Whoops! Also, this iPhone pic shows Henry on his birthday with my son---who demanded to wear socks with sandals that morning. You pick your battles, people.


-we tried to enjoy the last warm days around here by going to our new favorite park, where I snapped this picture. And seriously, he looks like me here, no? And also he looks 16 years old but let's not talk about that.


-I finished all three Hunger Games books and loved them. Does that make me a teenager again? No? Well what about the fact that the next Twilight movie comes out next month and I'm practically salivating over the visual in my head for the honeymoon scene. Drooling now over it---so again, I must be 14 at heart, right?

-I think that is it and I better stop now, before I just keep writing more Truman updates and using up all of my information and pictures before his 20 month update comes next week. I'm sure I can find more to ramble about by that p0int anyway, don't worry.

The cost of a loss

Has anyone out there had the pleasure of dealing with medical insurance drama before? If so---you might totally feel me on this post. And if not, you are incredibly lucky and maybe you should read this anyway in case you are ever in a similar situation. I feel like SOMEONE has to learn something from this horrible journey we've been on since April and I'll gladly share my story in the name of helping someone else beat the bad guys and come out on top. Where to begin? This might get long. And maybe a little sad.

Well, first of all, Nate and I have always felt very strongly about always having medical insurance no matter how expensive or inconvenient it may be. It's just not worth the risk of having a catastrophic accident wipe us clean of our savings because we didn't opt to pay for a policy, assuming that since we are healthy we don't need insurance. That's just our mindset and I know not everyone thinks like us, but even after all of this ridiculous drama with insurance I still vow to always carry a policy no matter what.

Earlier this year, when I decided to change companies with my job, I knew that there would be a gap from the time I left my old company in March to the time when my new company would qualify me for benefits in July. We were planning on Nate carrying all of the benefits for our family when he began his new job, and that would get us insurance by June 1---so we still had a good few months when we needed to patch in a policy for our family.

Enter the confusing world of an internet 'self' policy, not provided by an employer! We found Anthem Blue Cross Blue Shield online and figured it would work out just fine for those few months, although the premiums weren't cheap at all (about $300 per month for our family) and the deductible was high ($5,000). We knew it would cover any major catastrophe past the 5k mark and it was really the best we could do without employer coverage. The one catch was that it did not include maternity coverage---something we knew way back in February when we selected the policy. But we were not planning to expand our family or 'try' to get pregnant and I personally figured that if I did happen to get pregnant in those few months before Nate's employer kicked in, it would only be one or two office visits before his coverage, which we could handle if we were blessed enough to be in that position.

And then, of course, I got my surprise BFP at the end of March and immediately called the OB's financial office to figure out how much one office visit and one ultrasound would cost us out of pocket. I had calculated that I'd only have to see her with Anthem for those two early appointments, and then by the time I hit 14 weeks we'd have Nate's policy and I'd be due for regular maternity visits and they'd all be covered. If I had only known then what was about to unfold.

If you've been reading my blog since April you know that during that 'out of pocket' ultrasound at 9 weeks we found out the worst news possible. I remember saying to Nate, while we waited for the doctor to come into that wretched ultrasound room, 'What if they want me to have a D&C? That is going to be SO expensive and not covered by this stupid policy!' He reassured me that we'd figure it out and my health was most important but I couldn't help but wonder if maybe somehow I could postpone any interventions at all until June 1, when Nate's policy would cover the surgery. I was just praying to pass the baby naturally, fully, and without the need of any help from my OB. But those prayers were definitely not answered and we began a horrible journey full of many complications.

I remember the day before I went in to finally get the Cytotec placed, to force my body to begin the bleeding it refused to do on it's own. I spoke with our insurance company on the phone and discovered that although our policy did not include maternity coverage, lucky for me it DID include 'pregnancy complications' for coverage. I really felt that God had to be making this happen for us, because there was no way for us to have known that we'd need this little clause in our policy more than ever.

Of course it's never that easy. I had a total of 4 more ultrasounds, medication placement that didn't work, multiple blood draws, a particularly nasty ER visit and hospital stay, then switched to a different OB and finally got the surgery I should have gotten from the beginning. If you are like me, you just read that last sentence and started hearing 'CHA-CHING' in your head as you pictured the enormous bills to follow such a complex course of care. But hey, lucky for me my policy covered 'pregnancy complications,' right? Ha.

As the bills started rolling in, we noticed that not one dime was covered by Anthem. And the grand total for the entire nightmare? Brace yourselves: $17,000.

GULP.

I knew in my heart that we should not be responsible for these bills. I knew that our policy clearly stated they cover miscarriage, and 'therapeutic abortions' (don't even get me started on this term for a D&C). I had the policy itself circled, highlighted, and practically memorized. And so I began to call Anthem at least twice per week for months. Every time I spoke to a rep, I tried my hardest to ask questions and get answers. And every time I felt like I was banging my head into a wall. They kept telling me that the diagnosis code used by my doctors was not covered under my policy. They would not TELL me what the freaking code was, so I had to talk to my OB's office a few times to figure it out, and after discovering that it was 'missed abortion' I felt more disgusted than ever. I mean, really? The 'A-word?' Talk about a shock to my heart--as if I purposely chose to lose this baby.

I did more research and discovered that there is NOT a code for 'miscarriage' as that isn't the technical medical term. The doctor's offices were using the correct code, then (as sad as the word was to me)----but my insurance still wasn't budging. There were even more phone calls to them, including one time when I couldn't take it anymore and just burst into tears saying something about 'Please stop treating me like I'm a number or a code---I just lost a baby should not be paying for thousands of dollars in bills, according to your stupid policy!' Not my finest moment but there just aren't words to describe the sadness and stress of paying hard-earned money for the loss of a child. It's one thing to pay for the birth of a child. But it's quite another to come home empty handed, with a broken heart, and more bills than I could have imagined.

There were definitely times during this struggle with Anthem when I really felt like giving up because I just wanted to move on with my life. Most all of the doctor's offices and hospitals had 'self pay' policies for patients who don't have insurance, and if mine wasn't paying a dime I could probably qualify for those discounts (which were only about 25% at the most, by the way). So we figured that if Anthem really didn't pay we were looking at about $13,000 or so out of our pockets. Technically we could pay this giant sum but only because we've been working so hard for the past four years to save up a 'down payment fund' for our first home. I realize that not everyone would be able to even fathom paying this amount of money and it might set some families back by years. Of course I'm extremely grateful for our financial situation, but that money was not supposed to go towards a loss of a baby. Especially not when our policy clearly stated, in black and white, that they'd have our backs in this case. And isn't this type of 'catastrophe' exactly why we wanted medical insurance? To cover us during a horrible, unplanned event? The more I thought about that idea, the more angry I got with Anthem and I refused to go down without a major fight.

I sat down and created a huge Excel spreadsheet with every single claim listed, so that I could keep track of everything. I documented every single call I made to Anthem and the doctor's billing offices. I asked to speak to supervisors and I tried to remain calm. I had already written a formal 'grievance letter' back in May, after one of my calls to Anthem's fabulous customer service department lead me to believe that would be the only way I could dispute my bills. I didn't really think too much about this letter, since I thought it would take months of ambiguous decisions made by faceless people behind the scenes. I really preferred to speak to someone in person about this issue because I believed that would be my way to convince them all that I was right. But finally, I asked my husband to take over calling Anthem for me because I could no longer mentally handle the stress of dealing with them. He agreed when he saw I was teetering on the verge of yet another breakdown.

And two things happened: First, we got a letter in the mail stating that my grievance letter had been reviewed by a committee and they thanked me for bringing my case to their attention (gee, three months after I wrote the darn thing). They said that they were reversing their decision to reject my claims, and agreed that everything should be covered under their policy. HALLE-freaking-LUJAH!!! And secondly, my husband can be a badass when we wants. When he called Anthem for his first time, he simply told the lady that he would not get off the phone until she personally figured out how to fix this problem, since she admitted that she was confused about why everything was being rejected. Turns out that our policy is basically the only one they have that covers pregnancy complications. Nearly every other policy does not cover them and therefore the computer automatically rejected my claims, because almost all of the time they don't cover 'missed abortions'. And it only took four months for them to figure that out, you guys. Nobody in the dozens of calls I had made before bothered to really look at the problem and figure out they needed to manually override the computer system. It wasn't the doctor's office using the wrong code---it was the insurance company not recognizing a correct code.

Even though we still have a 5k deductible to hit before Anthem really does pay for claims, it's amazing to me how each bill has been drastically reduced because we now have insurance 'covering' the claims. For instance, the total bill for the ER visit and brief hospital stay was almost $7,000 before insurance. And after the bills were 'adjusted' for allowable claims? Only $2,200 will be paid by us, going towards our deductible. Isn't that just insane? That doesn't mean that our insurance paid the difference (because they didn't pay any part of it), but the hospital just had to eat the rest of the total cost that nobody is paying. I could go on and on about how messed up insurance coverage is in America today but this is already ridonkulously long.

And according to my most recent calculations, after everything has been re-processed, I think we will pay the deductible and that is about it. We'll still need to recover financially from this big hit on our savings but nothing like what it could have been if we didn't fight for our coverage. Although I really considered giving up the fight just to move away from the pain much more quickly, I'm so glad we stuck by our guns. And I'm so glad my grievance letter worked---it must have been the two glasses of wine I downed while typing it. Oh, and of course my heroic husband's phone call didn't hurt, either.

If you made it through this whole post, I commend you. I guess I just had a lot of pent up thoughts and stories about this process. And I just want you to know that if you are banging your head against a wall with your insurance company you are not alone. But stay strong, go through whatever formal processes they suggest for a grievance, and keep meticulous records of all bills and all interactions on the phone.

This whole craptastic situation is yet another reason why I'd consider moving to Canada, if it weren't for the pesky fact that it's even further north than Milwaukee (and therefore colder, and past my limit of frigid weather). Not only do my lovely Canadian friends get a whole year of paid maternity leave, but they also wouldn't be paying a dime for this stupid fiasco. Love ya girls, but SO jealous right now.

Suffering a miscarriage is bad enough for anyone and I'd never wish it on my worst enemy. Throw a little financial drama into the emotional mix and you have a recipe for a serious breakdown. Just ask Nate---he's seen the effects first hand and it wasn't pretty. But I suppose it taught us a lesson in persistence and if we are EVER in this type of situation again, I'm having Nate make all of the calls from day one:)

Tidbits

I know it's been awhile and I haven't even updated since my surgery. I told Nate the other night that I just can't find the motivation to blog. It's like I don't have the mental energy to compose a post, and really I haven't even been a good comment-friend lately. He asked me why I didn't feel like blogging and I said, 'I dunno....it's just I don't feel like I have anything to say other than the same old crap about me being sad and grieving.' As a husband who normally 'doesn't get' the blog-life, although he's always supported me, I was sort of caught off guard by how strongly he felt about my statement. He really didn't like that I said I have nothing to blog about and started helping me think of things to say. He told me that it's really depressing to think that there is nothing good to share from our lives right now and plus, it's obviously not true. So that was sort of the kick in the rear I needed. Now for some tidbits.

-Surgery: Yes, I had it 2 weeks ago on Monday 6/13/11. It went very well and my OB was pleased that there was no signs of infection, but had lots of tissue that needed to come out of there badly. The day of the surgery my mom was a HUGE help for me because I was pretty groggy and weak but really by the next day I was already feeling immensely better. By day 3 I was back to work and sent mom back home and I'm happy to report that within one week of surgery, I have officially stopped bleeding! Hallelujah. Just a reminder: I bled for 6 weeks solid. Pads suck. Miscarriages suck. And not wearing any feminine products is awesome. I'd say I'm back to normal physically and still working on my mental state every day. There are happy and sad times, which is normal, and lately I'm just trying to focus on the present and my many blessings. Also hoping to get my period soon, to prove my body is back into it's normal cycle, because I think that will seem like the final step of this very long journey. Isn't it crazy that I got my positive test at the end of March, the bad ultrasound at the end of April and now it's almost July? Longest m/c ever...

-Sad news: on Saturday my in-laws had to make a very difficult decision to put their dog, Sammy, down after 13 years of being a part of their family. He really declined in the past few months; couldn't see or hear, couldn't hold his bladder, wasn't sleeping at night but was very lethargic during the day, was really weak and was obviously uncomfortable. His quality of life wasn't there anymore, as he didn't even enjoy his previously favorite parts of his day. It was time and Lois said it was a peaceful goodbye but still heartbreaking. I hate to see my in-laws, who are like parents to me, upset and I hate to think about this sort of loss. I don't even want to think about how hard it will be when Henry's time comes, especially now that Truman is literally in love with his 'daw-daw'. Hopefully, since he will only be 6 years old this fall, we have many more years until that point. But good old Sammy was a wonderful family pet and he will be missed. Here's to many bones and butter dishes in doggie heaven, buddy.

(back in 2009, 10 years old)



(and Saturday morning, 13 years old and just the sweetest soul)





- Sleep: I'll post more in an upcoming 16 month post, but dang---Truman ain't sleeping worth a hoot. He is teething and thus waking up screaming at about 4 or 5 every morning. Refuses to go back to sleep. It's amazing how quickly you forget what those newborn sleepless nights felt like. Quite a sobering reminder of what it will be like someday with number two, and a reason to be grateful for our normally-great sleeper. I hope he returns to us soon. It's a good thing he's so darn cute, right? And just because I can (I don't think baby butt cheeks are inappropriate for a few more years, right?)...


- Nate's job: the hubs is a working man and LOVES his job! We are seriously so blessed that he found an amazing fit with his coworkers and clinic. There are a few other male therapists there and get this: they all love to golf and even do swing analysis at their clinic. And his company is paying for a course in Chicago later this year, so that Nate can be 'Titleist certified'. I don't know what that means but I know that it brings much giddiness to my husband's life. And also, the second paycheck is mind-blowing, as expected.

-Bills: and of course, this increase in our income came at the PERFECT time because we have hellified medical bills now! Whoo Hoo! I'm having some difficulties with our stupid insurance right now because they haven't covered jack crap thus far and nothing sucks more than having a miscarriage, then having to call insurance companies to explain that no, I am not pregnant, and yes, I am having a 'pregnancy complication'. I wrote a very strongly worded letter last night and am sending it off as a 'grievance'. I know it might not help but dang, this is the opposite of fun. We are incredibly lucky that we do have a nice savings account, which was to be used for a downpayment on our first home, and luckily we won't go into debt over this. I know not a lot of other couples out there could say the same, but it's still hard to let go of a chunk of our nest egg to pay for losing a baby.

-House: originally, when we were pregnant and due in November, we thought about starting a house hunt this fall and moving in right before the baby was due. But now with the loss and the mounting bills, it seems like there really isn't a rush anymore and every month we spend at this duplex is more money we can save to replenish our nest egg. Although I'm super excited to buy our first home and can't wait to decorate the crap out of it, I'm surprisingly okay with waiting on it, too. After all, 'waiting' is now my middle name.

-Cars: because medical bills, house hunting, and insurance woes are not enough 'adult problems' to deal with, we also have to consider my poor car. After my little episode the other week, it's becoming apparent that my 10 year old car is getting to the point where we are pumping a lot more money into it and we aren't even sure it's going to last much longer. I mean, the recent break down was because I needed a new fuel pump and this marks the third year in a row when we had a major expense for my car. I really don't care about the status-symbol of a new car and have always said I just want to run mine into the ground, since it's paid off and I adore the fact that we don't have car payments. But after my time being stranded with my broken down car, I've started to feel really nervous driving around town with Truman. I'm constantly worried it will break down again with him in it, or while I'm working and in a not-so-great area. I mean, my car is more than just a thing to get me from point A to B now: it carries our most precious cargo most every day of the week, and now I drive around town for my job. So anyway, we'll see. Lots of big decisions to make there, too. Mostly I'm having to let go of my SAVE MONEY attitude to see that safety is really number one, not money. When it rains it pours, right?

-Mom suit: how does everyone feel about mom's wearing bikinis? How do you feel about one-piece suits, too? I've always worn a two piece my whole life, and never really thought twice about it. But now that I'm a mom, I sort of feel like exposing my stomach is a little weird---like I'm trying to be a teenager again. It's not that I have fat rolls and mommy-scars to hide, but I almost feel like it's more appropriate to wear a one piece when I'm hanging out with Truman at the pool. I dunno. It's just a weird transition for me mentally. And also, there aren't a ton of cute one-piece suits out there, either. Except for this one from J.Crew and it's $125. Gulp.

- Vacation: speaking of swimming suits, we are taking a REAL vacation in August!! Besides our honeymoon and our first anniversary trip to San Diego back in the day, Nate and I haven't ever been on a real vaycay other than to Chicago and Missouri for short trips. It's high time, no? We are making it a family affair and will bring Truman with us to Fort Myers, Florida--where we will rendevous with our good buddies Hannah, Michael, and Tilly. I'm pretty sure that Tilly and Truman will be the cutest things in the entire world as they play on the beach together. Of course the logistics of flying, renting a car, and managing toddlers on vacation is a little daunting but I know we will make it work. The countdown begins! (and the swimming suit hunt...)

-Father's Day: We celebrated Nate's second Father's Day this year by going to church (where he won the award for being Dad to the youngest child---it wasn't a popular day for new dads to go to church, I guess!) and then pressies. Truman and I made a little project for Nate and whoo-boy, it was a doozie. I am so glad I don't force my son to sit still for longer than .2 seconds for any reason because it's like wrestling a crocodile more often than not. I got the idea from Pinterest and love how it turned out, even though it was tough to get any halfway decent pics. Also, Nate has this framed and on his brand new desk at work. Isn't that the cutest?


-Pinterest: Speaking of this amazing time-waster of an inspirational site, I am officially addicted. Here are my boards if you want to follow me and/or have me follow you. Lately my newest obsession is finding the most beautiful inspirational quotes on there and pinning those bad boys onto my boards. Also, I love all the rainbow stuff. I just can't avoid the bright colors!

-LuLuLemon: another love of mine lately? LuLuLemon....anything. I now own three pairs of their pants, one hoodie, and two headbands. When I first heard about this line of yoga/running apparel I gawked at the prices and couldn't fathom paying THAT much for yoga pants. And now? Even a tight-wad like myself can see that these pants are basically life-changing in their fit, comfort, materials, and amazingness. I am absolutely getting my money's worth with every purchase I've made even though I still think it's a little ridiculous to pay $98 for a hoodie. But look at how cute it is!

Oh, that's just me during our fourth anniversary trip to Chicago last month. Soaking wet from the monsoon but still rocking the hoodie. And their pants, of course, so we basically looked like we could work there (yes, Nate is just as obsessed as me, if not worse).

Also, I literally live in my yoga pants. Yes, they are expensive but they will blow your mind. And they come in Talls that are so long I have to get them hemmed. Like I said, life-changing!


-Tunes: why not cover the entire spread of life with this post and hit up my newest music obsessions, too? I have been totally digging Phoenix, The National, Blind Pilot, Horse Feathers, Bon Iver, and Passion Pit. I feel very mellow and in tune with my emotions lately, hence my really hip/alternative choices. Anyone else love these bands and/or want to recommend others like them?

Is that enough food-for-thought for you? :)

One where I whine a little

You know 'those days'--the ones when you swear the universe is out to get you, and it gets to be slightly comical because everything goes wrong? I had one of those this week on Wednesday. I also have an update for you on my medical situation but first I have to give the spotlight to my Day From Hell.

I have been doing pretty well with my energy levels lately and so I saw two patients Wednesday morning before my all-important follow up appointment with the OB clinic at 1:00. Everything was going swimmingly and I was driving out to the doctor's office with questions bursting from my mind, waiting to be answered. Would the ultrasound show less 'conception products' meaning that the shot in the hospital worked? Would my giant/annoying blood vessel still be there? And would my pregnancy hormone prove to be dropping down to 0 in my blood work? All very exciting answers to be had since it had been a week after my little stint in the ER.

So doo-dee-doo, I'm about 5 minutes away from the clinic (which is a good 10 miles from home) and I go to push my gas pedal and there is no power in my car, all of my warning lights are lit up on the dashboard, and I can barely steer my freaking wheel (excuse me, but 'freaking' might be the word of choice in this post, so bear with me). I somehow manage to pull my car off to a side street and wonder if I just ran out of gas---a first for me, really embarrassing, but it's bound to happen at some point since I do like to push the limits with my gas light. But the light only came on to warn me of lower levels one minute before my car sputtered out on me, so I really didn't know if that was the diagnosis but I figured I had to try adding fuel first before anything else.

I started the trek to the nearest gas station, which I swore was only a block away while I was driving down the street, but in actuality was about a half mile away. So it's 90 degrees in Milwaukee, which by Wisconsin standards is basically an inferno, I have flip flops on and my feet are killing me, and I am not supposed to exercise at all at risk of my uterus springing a leak. Great. All in the name of a stupid 2 gallon plastic tank of gas that was dripping all over me as I hauled it back to my stupid car. And then? I couldn't figure out how to attach the gas spout and literally, I felt like the biggest space-cadet ever. Thankfully a nice mom-type lady stopped and we figured it out together, but I swear it really wasn't the easiest procedure. So of course, I put in 2 gallons of the really expensive gas that had spilled all over my sweaty, tired self and my car still would not start. It just keeps getting better, right?

At this point I had officially missed my appointment so I called to tell them the situation and they said they might be able to squeeze me in within the hour if I got there in one piece. I was hoping that my car would magically fix itself and I could continue on with my day but of course that would be too easy. I told the office I'd do my best, and then I called AAA and expected them to be my saving grace. Good thing I have a basic membership and they could come to my rescue and turn the universe around for me, right? Um, no. Old dude was no help at all and tried adding more gas to my car with the same crappy results I had before. Thanks, AAA.

And so I waited some more, because that is my full-time job lately as Julia-Waits-A-Lot, as AAA hunted for a tow truck company that could get me the heck out of this mess. An hour later, a truck did arrive, and by that time I had been stranded for 2 whole hours. I was fighting off the tears and teetering on the verge of a breakdown but decided to snap a pic and post it on Facebook instead. Priorities, right?

Once my buddy Nick, from the towing company, got my car up on his truck the best part of the day happened: he went to open his driver's side door and noticed that he had locked HIS keys in his truck. Amazing, right? You can't make this stuff up! He walked around to the passenger side and somehow, by the grace of Jesus, the door was unlocked and he could crawl in just fine. I should have known right then that Nick-ster wasn't exactly on top of his game but I really didn't care since he had AC in his pimped out tow truck. I thought to myself, 'What in the heck would I have done if Truman was with me right now?' and thanked God that at least he was safe with Lori and I wouldn't have to decide between holding him in my lap inside this tiny truck and calling a taxi so that I could use the car seat. Cannot even imagine how much worse this would have been with Truman out in the heat.

As we headed back to my little suburb, which of course was out of the 'free 5 miles of towing' radius, Nick hit two detours which had us wandering around greater Milwaukee for a bit until I decided to pull out my own Garmin and take charge of this faulty expedition. We finally landed at the shop at 3:30 and after I swung a deal with Nick to only pay for the miles he SHOULD have driven to this place, my mother-in-law met me so we could get Truman.

But of course, before we even had a chance to wrestle my car seat out of my car and into my mother-in-law's teeny tiny two door Civic, Lori called to say that Truman had a 100.9 degree fever. His 15 month well-baby appointment was the day before and he did have 3 vaccinations, so I knew that was it---but seriously? A baby that has a fever is so pathetic and sad and heartbreaking. And it was just the last straw.

We finally made it back home and Truman just could not fall asleep that night. He was uncomfortable and overtired and just wanted to be held. I held him and rocked him and rubbed his back while I let myself cry it out a bit in the process. My baby doesn't feel well, I'm still going through this horribly drawn-out miscarriage, and now we have to pay for my car to be fixed on top of the ever-mounting medical bills. I try to be a positive person most of the time but at that moment I had a major pity party for myself.

But you know what? I honestly think that my car broke down for a reason that day. I missed that appointment but already had a second-opinion appointment set up for the next day, with my old OB that delivered Truman. I called her up after my ER scare and she talked to me on the phone for quite awhile, giving me much more confidence with my situation. I planned to switch my care back to her once this dreadful ordeal was over, but when I didn't make the appointment with the other clinic, I decided that enough was enough---that was my sign to switch my care back to my old OB immediately.

I won't go into detail but I haven't been happy with my care with the new OB. Of course, with a situation this horrible it's always going to have a negative cloud over the care you receive but I needed to move on from that place and back into my comfort zone of Truman's OB. Insurance woes aside, I knew I needed to be her patient again.

So on Thursday I saw her and basically she says I need a D&C immediately because my uterus still has tons of 'products' remaining inside of it. She assured me that my uterus walls were 'beautiful' but my poor body just can't get rid of everything although it's trying to hard to do so. 5 weeks after the Cytotec was placed I am still bleeding and my body need help to end this mess. She is not concerned about the mutant blood vessel because she feels this is a normal thing to happen when a uterus thinks it's still pregnant, but I have another 'high tech' ultrasound this afternoon just to be sure. As long as that is okay, I am having surgery on Monday morning at 7:30 (prayers please!)

I have a million and one thoughts and questions and feelings about the course I've been on since that ill-fated ultrasound 6.5 weeks ago. But mostly I just want this to be over since I have done my time with this part of the physical journey. My mom is coming to town to be with me and help with Truman after the procedure and I feel a sense of peace about this decision for surgery. It's going to be okay. I'm going to get through this and learn a whole lot about patience and trusting in God. And I really do have faith that I will have more children in the future, looking back on this time as a horrible speed bump on the way to growing our family.

My OB gave me a printed out picture of my newest ultrasound of my poor uterus, ironically so full of 'loss', that it's the complete opposite of the happy ultrasound pictures showing actual babies with beating hearts, pinned up on refrigerators around the world. At first I couldn't look at the sad sight but now I feel like that picture symbolizes the low point and someday when I have my happy ultrasound picture full of new life, I'll look at this current picture and smile. It's got to get better. I just know it.

After all, I am very blessed, aren't I?