Finding Inspiration in Sadness

So I had a blog post all ready to go this morning to memorialize my six precious angel babies in honor of Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Day…but then inspiration struck…

…in the shower.

My daughter is just chilling in the living room, watching Cinderella and eating Pops…cuz ye know, it’s Thursday, when suddenly inspiration PUMMELS me. It’s so bad that I have to step out of the shower with conditioner still in my hair, and talk all my ideas into my phone.

You see, right now I’m working on the next book in my romance series and I’m going deep on this one. Many ask me how I went from writing a memoir in recurrent pregnancy loss to adult contemporary romance, and if you’ve read A Broken Us, my first romance novel…you know that it all started with infertility. I wanted to bring the face of infertility into an epic love story that would give it a larger platform than memoir provides. It just snowballed from there.

Writing for me is so much more than a smutty love story. It’s about tapping into emotions and the way people think and feel and react. It’s about telling a story of how someone can get past all the crap in life to find love and a happily ever after. Because that’s what I found.

fam pic

But not everyone is as lucky as me. I’m sitting here after losing six freaking babies and telling you that I KNOW I’m one of the lucky ones. I got my baby. I got my HEA. But what about those who haven’t? What about those still suffering through loss, still grieving, still aching, still waiting for their rainbow baby?

My advice is…inspiration

Find something that fulfills you and drives you and use those angel babies to inspire you to go after it. That’s what writing and publishing books has become for me. So now, when inspiration strikes and I get that magical AHA moment…I wonder know where it comes from.

My six angels.

October 15th is National Pregnancy and Miscarriage Loss Awareness Day. The entire month of October honors this but on the 15th at 7:00 in the evening, no matter what timezone you’re in, you’re supposed to light a candle honoring the precious babies you have lost. It’s supposed to create this gorgeous wave of light across the world. My family and I will definitely be doing that.

12118971_526201240874703_6693918990919575148_n

In the meantime, I want to share an excerpt from one of my angel baby’s whose story hasn’t been told yet. We lost Nevaeh Peace Daws on November 11, 2013 at 18 weeks pregnant. It was our most devastating loss to date and will be included in it’s entirety in Chasing Peace…which I hope to release later this year. Below is an excerpt of our precious baby that we said goodbye to, much too soon.

Pageflex Persona [document: PRS0000032_00025]

Unedited Excerpt 
By Amy Daws
Copyright Amy Daws

“This is it, isn’t it?” I cried to the doctor. There was no holding back my emotions now. I knew better. I knew prolapsed membranes were about as bad as it could get right now.

The doctor looked at me apologetically and said he wanted to try and manage my pain so we could make it until morning so my personal doctor could decide what he wanted to do. He excused himself so he could go call my doctor and update him on my status.

The tech looked so sad and tired. She knew me. She knew my history. I was the only girl they ever did ultrasounds on with an abdominal cerclage. I knew all the techs by a first name basis, so they knew my story just as well.

After being taken back to my triage room, my labor progressed to where I was screaming and thrashing in pain. They doubled and even quadrupled my pain meds but nothing was working. Finally the doctor came back in and said we just couldn’t wait any longer…I couldn’t continue laboring like I was on that cerclage. It wasn’t safe because at any moment I could start bleeding out.

It was then he said, “We have to deliver the baby.”

I looked back at him broken hearted, “But the baby’s still alive! We’d be killing the baby right?” I was bawling now asking questions I already knew the answers to.

“The baby can’t survive without fluid in your uterus and yours is almost entirely prolapsed through the cervix right now. There’s no meds we can give you to stop the contractions because you’re too early gestationally. The meds don’t work this early on. If we don’t do something now, your uterus will rupture. That’s very serious.”

I looked at him and in that moment I was so hurt and so tired and so emotionally beaten, I just didn’t care anymore, “Ok fine, just get it out, and get it over with. I’m done, I’m so so done. I don’t want any more kids. We have one, that’s enough.” I pleaded with him desperately.

He suggested instead of a mini C-section like my emergency plan called for, he wanted to go in abdominally, snip the cerclage off, close up and then let the baby delivery vaginally. This way he wouldn’t have to cut in to my very small uterus.

In my right mind, I knew that wasn’t what we should have done because that would eliminate my cerclage that I worked so hard to get. This cerclage was supposed to be a permanent fixture in my body. It was supposed to remain in place for subsequent pregnancies. But I was in the midst of the worst pain of my life and just didn’t care.

Kevin must have felt the same way because he didn’t speak up to tell the doctor anything different. I think we both knew we were in way over our heads at this point with the kind of pain I was suffering from.

“I won’t have to deliver the baby when I wake up will I?” I asked him.

“No, I think once I take out the cerclage, the baby should engage in the birth canal on it’s own right away.” He answered.

“Ok, I don’t want to wake up and have to push the baby out, I want it out while I’m still asleep.” The doctor nodded thoughtfully at me.

Once I agreed to the surgery, four nurses rushed in and busied themselves around me prepping me for surgery. I was signing papers telling them they could give me a hysterectomy if need be. Meanwhile, the doctor was telling Kevin he was worried about whether or not he’d be able to find the cerclage or if it would be covered by scar tissue and difficult to locate. They were calling in extra blood from the blood bank and then, my water broke.

A huge gush of fluid and pressure came pouring out between my legs. It was like a dam had released, “Something big just came out!” I screamed.

A nurse came and lifted my gown and said, “It was just your water hon, your water just broke.” She said.

I began to feel some relief from the intense contractions I’d been having. The doctor came in and said this is actually a blessing because now we have no choice but to deliver. Before that, I guess our decision was, in a small way…terminating a healthy baby because of pregnancy complications. By my water breaking, it made it a necessity, not a choice.

I looked over at Kevin and he looked overwhelmed and scared shitless. It all was scary. I looked over to the doctor and said, “I don’t know you. You’re not my doctor, but I need to come back from this. I need you to know that I have an 18-month-old baby at home that needs me. She needs me! She is everything to me! This needs to all be ok.”

He assured me he would do everything in his power but there were a lot of unknown elements. The nurses then said it was time to go, so Kevin kissed me quickly and said he’d see me soon. As the medical team pushed the bed and me down the hall, I felt so very alone and so very sad. Kevin was instructed to wait in Labor and Delivery Triage. I can’t imagine the sight of watching your significant other get wheeled away to emergency surgery while you have to stay back, helpless and alone.

I was crying softly when one of the nurses reached under the blanket and grabbed my hand. She rubbed it soothingly as we passed through the maize of hallways and hospital corridors. It felt like we were moving at warp speed, but her strokes were soft and sincere. I remember her telling me over and over that it was going to be all right. She only stopped stroking my hand when we reached the O.R. and they needed to transfer me to the operating table.

Staring up at the ceiling, the medical team all busied themselves prepping me for surgery. Even with a huge team of people around me, it still felt like it was just me and my little baby in the room. I took a moment and rubbed my small belly. I whispered softly, “Good-bye my little fighter. I’m so so sorry this is happening to you. I wish I could have kept you, but I can’t.” I sobbed loudly and tears streamed down my temples and into my hairline.

The anesthesiologist came over with a washcloth and wiped away the moisture on my face. He didn’t say anything encouraging. He didn’t tell me I was going to be alright. He just wiped my tears. That silence screamed volumes. He knew. He knew what a horrible and rotten situation this was and since words failed him, he offered a simple touch instead. Eventually he put a mask over my face and told me to take ten deep breaths. Before I passed out, the last thing I remember was my own hand continually rubbing my small belly.


 10689481_1510303915911294_5779867820127012396_nAmy Daws lives in South Dakota with her husband, and miracle daughter, Lorelei. The long-awaited birth of Lorelei is what inspired Amy’s first book, a memoir called Chasing Hope, and her passion for writing. Amy is a lover of all things British and her award-nominated romantic comedy series, The London Lovers Series, is centered around Americans in London. It’s emotional and self-deprecating with lots of humor sprinkled in.
On most nights, you can find Amy and her family dancing to Strawberry Shortcake’s theme song or stuffing themselves inside children’s-sized playhouses because there is nothing they wouldn’t do for their little miracle.

For more of Amy’s work, visit: http://www.amydawsauthor.com

Game Face in the World of Miscarriage

Typically my newsletters reside around book news…but today’s is a bit more personal.

Today my best friend in the whole world celebrates her 5-Year wedding anniversary. While she looks back and remembers all the beautiful friends and family gathered around her, laughing, drinking, celebrating…
collage picsI remember standing in the stall of a hotel bathroom, wadding up my chiffon bridesmaid dress and injecting a 1 1/2 inch needle into my butt.im progesteroneThe needle is thick too. It has to be because I was injecting progesterone in oil, a hormone that is often prescribed for women suffering from recurrent pregnancy loss.
hqdefaultI nicked a vein, as you sometimes can, and when I pulled the needle out, a fountain of blood squirted out in it’s wake. Being prepared for this exact moment, I had a wad of toilet paper tucked into the waistband of my Spanx and was able to put pressure on the bleed right away.

I slapped on a bandaid, yanked up my spanx…and went back out into the party.

Game. Face. On.

game face

A Game Face is a vital necessity when you’re living in the world of recurrent pregnancy loss and infertility. You see, three days prior to this…I was living in hell.

My husband, Kevin and I had just found out we were pregnant…with twins. Exciting times for most, but scary as hell for us. This was pregnancy number three for us. I had suffered two miscarriages prior to this day. Miscarriage one at 12 weeks, miscarriage 2 at 12 weeks 2 day. Miscarriage two began on the due date of Pregnancy 1.

Life was funny like that.1018100741

At barely six weeks pregnant, I was cramping so badly I swore I had internal bleeding. Several ultrasounds and an ER visit later, my doctor informed me that he wasn’t sure what was going on but that we should NOT attend this wedding five hours away in Kansas City.

“But it’s my best friend! I’m the maid of honor!” I cried to him, sitting inside a dingy ER exam room. I was literally bleeding all over myself at the time because for whatever reason, ER’s don’t ever want you wearing clothes beneath your hospital gowns.

He gave me those sad, sympathetic doctor eyes but remained firm on his position.

Kevin and I got in the car and before the door was shut I was yelling, “There is no way in hell I’m missing DJ’s wedding, Kevin. No way!” DJ has been my best friend since we were babies. I convinced her to stick a popcorn seed up her nose in Kindergarden and we’ve been thick as thieves ever since. Thankfully, Kevin completely understood. He’s is good like that.

So my doctor wrote me a prescription for pregnancy safe pain medicine, handed us my HUGE medical record, and wrote down a list of all the nearest hospitals in KC. We were preparing for the worst to happen while we were there.hands

I would likely miscarry.

Most people probably look at me and think…are you crazy? Stay home! Lay down! Keep your babies safe! But when you’re living in the world of recurrent pregnancy loss…life doesn’t stop. If I would have skipped out on every special event or evening out because I “might miscarry” or I “might be pregnant” … I would have been even more miserable than I already was.

And guys…I was pretty freaking miserable. It took us three years to get pregnant the first time and then I got the double whammy of being diagnosed a “habitual aborter”…at least, that’s what my medical records call recurrent miscarriage.

This is where the game face comes in.

63803_661770594643_4877334_n

It’s party time, remember? My best friend is marrying the love of her life! So we dance, and we laugh, and we fake drink the night away…because the last thing I want to do is tell everyone I’m pregnant with twins but probably going to lose them before I get home. That’s the life of a Habitual Aborter. You mask the bad with the good. You perfect your Game Face. Because there’s no handicaps in the world of infertility and miscarriage. Every stroke is yours. Every bogey is recorded. And there’s no best ball.

Thankfully, I made it through the wedding, but I later lost both those beautiful babies. It wasn’t in Kansas City though. Baby A passed away around 9 weeks and Baby B literally fell into my hands over a toilet bowl in labor and delivery at 14 weeks pregnant.

But here’s the funny thing…the real kicker…  

Today, when my bestie posts a beautiful blog spread, celebrating her amazing day…it doesn’t make me sad at all. It doesn’t make me mourn the loss of those babies. It makes me feel closer to those precious lives I lost. It makes me feel like I shared one of the most beautiful memories with them. They were with me…inside of me…when I watched my best friend walk down the isle.

They were with me then…

They are with me now…

And they certainly….are with this little miracle that I ate fruit loops with in bed this morning.

12011163_10101185178804353_3161208671072492763_n

My point is…regardless of the bad…regardless of the sad…regardless of the horrid memories we all walk around with…it’s all shaping us into who we are. You just have to put on your game face, and get back in there. Because shooting for that big WIN is what makes memories worth keeping.


 10689481_1510303915911294_5779867820127012396_nAmy Daws lives in South Dakota with her husband, and miracle daughter, Lorelei. The long-awaited birth of Lorelei is what inspired Amy’s first book, a memoir called Chasing Hope, and her passion for writing. Amy is a lover of all things British and her award-nominated romantic comedy series, The London Lovers Series, is centered around Americans in London. It’s emotional and self-deprecating with lots of humor sprinkled in.
On most nights, you can find Amy and her family dancing to Strawberry Shortcake’s theme song or stuffing themselves inside children’s-sized playhouses because there is nothing they wouldn’t do for their little miracle.

For more of Amy’s work, visit: http://www.amydawsauthor.com

Happy Birthday A Broken Us!

It’s the ONE-YEAR ANNIVERSARY of my very first novel, A Broken Us!!!
Defeat
Finley & Brody’s story is very near and dear to my heart. I wrote it two weeks because it just poured out of me. I gifted a very special poem to this book that I wrote when I was going through one of the hardest times in my life. It was an honor. I would share it here now but it’s a bit of a book spoiler and just better if you read it within the story.

A Broken Us is a second chance romance that covers an extremely sensitive subject matter that you don’t often see in contemporary romance. I’m so incredibly proud to bring light to it and to involve a heavy romance element along with it. It’s all about the love baby!

Happy Birthday Brody & Finley…thanks for bringing me into the world of contemporary romance where I have never been happier! And thanks to all of you who have already ugly cried with me in this story.

Sidenote: A Broken Us was originally Book 1 in my London Lovers Series but I later went on to write the prequel (Becoming Us). Since then I’ve re-ordered them so readers start with the prequel.
But A Broken Us can be read as a standalone.
3D-Book-ABU-UpdatedPageflex Persona [document: PRS0000040_00004]

The moment those words come out of the doctor’s mouth, I feel sick.
So sick.
The life I have dreamed of…obliterated.
And Brody.
God, Brody.
How will he look at me?
How can he accept me?
He’ll know what I hid from him.
He’ll know everything.
It’s over. It’s completely over. I can’t tell him “I love Us” anymore.
Even though I do.
Even though it will kill me.
I can’t tell him anything. Everything is ruined. Pummeled. Broken.
I have to leave him. I have to give up us.
I know he’ll come after me.
I just have to do something to make him not want to.

Pageflex Persona [document: PRS0000040_00004]


CHAPTER 21:

I shake my head and move past him to head downstairs. He grabs my hand and pulls me backwards into his chest.

“Hey,” he breathes into my ear. “I haven’t even had a chance to say hello to you yet.”

“Hello,” I reply lightly, enjoying the feel of his warm breath on my neck. He smells awesome, like a fresh laundry detergent.

I feel his lips gently kissing my shoulder and moving their way up my neck.

“Liam,” I shake my head back and forth, feeling a shiver prickle all over my skin.

“Finley,” he growls into my neck and nips at my ear.

Goosebumps crawl straight out from the spot he nips me and I break away from his grasp.

“Friends, remember?” I say, holding my hands up defensively toward him.

He scrunches his lips to the side, “I don’t like the sound of that.”

“I know, I’m sorry, but it is what it is. Let’s go downstairs. It’s family flick night for goodness’ sake.”

I start to make my way down the steps and Liam rushes up behind me, throwing his arm around my shoulders playfully. He growls in my ear, nipping at it again. I giggle into his touch and my heart hits the floor as my eyes glance down to the foyer.

Dead in my tracks, I stop. Everything around me blurs as Liam continues his descent and looks up at me, grabbing my hand. When he takes in the frozen expression on my face, I hear him say my name, barely. I can barely hear him because blood is rushing in my head. I can feel my heart beat pulsing in my eyes as I begin to feel faint.

Brody is standing in the foyer with a small suitcase in hand. Brody. In. London. Liam drops my hand and turns to look at what I’m looking at. I hear Leslie and Theo come down the steps behind me. They stop beside me when they see me frozen in place. Leslie gasps as she sees Brody.

Pageflex Persona [document: PRS0000040_00004]

Purchase Links!
Amazon:
US: http://amzn.to/XFDHCz
AU: http://bit.ly/1IW683e
UK: http://bit.ly/AmazonABU-UK
CA: http://bit.ly/Amazon-ABU-CA
iBooks:
http://bit.ly/iBooks-ABU-US
http://bit.ly/iBooks-ABU-UK
http://bit.ly/iBooks-ABU-AU
http://bit.ly/iBooks-ABU-CA
B&N:
http://bit.ly/ZoX8RC
Kobo:
http://bit.ly/1vsI6nM

2014 Blur

Looking back on 2014, I’m shocked and awed at all that I have accomplished.
Pageflex Persona [document: PRS0000039_00063]Pageflex Persona [document: PRS0000040_00005]Pageflex Persona [document: PRS0000040_00006]

Before you think this is going to be a brag session…please hear me out.

537338_10100516221699753_679317202_n

2013 ended on a very sad note for my family when I lost my sixth baby.
Nevaeh Peace was a true gift and I cherished being able to carry her inside me for those 18 weeks.
Holding her tiny body on my chest is a sensation that I will never forget and I still get tears in my eyes just thinking about it.

 

Prior to losing Nevaeh, I had started taking some notes about my losses. Writing had always felt therapeutic to me and getting out all my sad stories while sobbing over top of a keyboard is what helped me process. However, when I lost Nevaeh, I wanted to do more than “process.”

I wanted to memorialize.

Quotes-LaughableSo, Nevaeh inspired me to make 2014 MY year. She inspired me to turn a negative into a positive. A sadness into a happiness. And a depressing story…into one of HOPE. So birthed, Chasing Hope, and the beginning of a crazy, beautiful, and challenging journey of becoming an author.

 

1896773_10100667635674933_8301579413751859825_n

 

 

 

Seeing my family’s story of heartbreak in a bound book was an incredible sense of achievement. And receiving emails, facebook messages, and letters from people who my story personally affected, was more than I ever hoped for.

So doing what I do best…I pushed for more. When I’m passionate about something, it consumes me until I finish. I’ve always been this way. Whether it’s reading all the Twilight books in one week, pouring over discussion forums on how to train our new puppy, or even researching recurrent pregnancy loss specialists and textbooks. I go all in.

10683656_1473087866299566_3017280866225376212_o10686861_1521713831436969_3940289343350840880_n

So birthed…
The London Lover Series.
I’ve always loved reading contemporary romance.
So when I had an idea that I thought sounded interesting, I decided to go for it.
I wrote A Broken Us in two weeks and now have another book in the series, Becoming Us, releasing January 13th.


10339330_319347571560072_3760225789755140282_oBecoming an author and publishing nearly three books in 2014 is a complete surprise. But I’ve been welcomed into the writing community with open arms. Am I successful at it? HECK NO! Does it make me want to quit? Not a chance. And the reason for that is because I have this rockin’ family at home rooting me on. I know that I would not be able to write down one single word if it wasn’t for the incredible support of my family. My husband picks up the slack, listens to my rants, does my accounting, and tolerates this crazy writing obsession of mine. He’s the shiz. And my curly-haired, two-year-old, miracle baby is all the inspiration I need to keep chasing my dreams and never giving up.

Hey, it’s that very attitude that got me her.

10313903_10100731208594293_7272123041062342105_o

Where It All Began

I have a lot of new followers on my site these days, so I thought it was time I did a post about how I became a writer started writing. <—-I still cringe at calling myself an author or a writer because it still doesn’t seem real. It doesn’t seem believeable. But I have two published books out there, and three more on the way, so I best get over myself!

Here’s the deal. I lived in darkness with my husband for five long years.
Birthday-post

For five long, sad, and somewhat miserable years, we went through a struggle together that no one truly knew the depths of. That bothered me. NO ONE KNEW! It felt like people didn’t really know the real me! Some are the suffer in silence types. Not me. Anyone who knows me knows that I’m a loud-mouth, obnoxious, extroverted goof. Middle Child Syndrome through and through.

So, I wanted to change that. I started writing my experience. I thought at first, it would just be something nice to have on a shelf to always remember. Because even though it was sad and tragic, I didn’t want to forget. Then I thought…maybe I’ll let my mom read it. And then it was like, ‘Oh my Gosh, this story is so much more than just my experience. I have to put it out there!’

So, Chasing Hope snow-balled and I cannot begin to tell you what an incredible experience it has been sharing it. Chasing Hope is my family’s true story. If you want to laugh, cry, scream, giggle…you may want to pick it up and read it. I’m incredibly proud of it and it offers a glimpse into a world not many people know about. It will make you want to hug your babies, hug your family members, or just appreciate life more. It’s one of those books that you read and just feel better about life when you’ve finished.

amazonbandn iconibooks

And if memoirs aren’t your thing…Chasing Hope inspired me to branch out into adult contemporary romance. Writing fiction was a ton of fun for me. A Broken Us was an idea that was inspired by a very small part of Chasing Hope. Sort of a “what if” scenario that popped into my head. I’m incredibly proud of it and the reviews it has received! The next book of this series, Becoming Us, releases in January. 
Graphic Post--
amazonbandn iconibooks

Thanks for taking the time to read this post! It’s been a whirlwind of a year, diving into the world of indie publishing. But I’ve met so many incredible people along the way.
And if you don’t follow me on social media…you should totes start. I speak way more candidly over there! 😉
FacebookTwitter Instagram Pinterest

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Nevaeh Peace

In honor of the 1-Year Angelversary of my sixth pregnancy loss, I’d like to share an excerpt from Chasing Peace. Chasing Peace is the sequel to Chasing Hope and tells the story of my beautiful angel, Neveah Peace. She was my most painful loss to date. This is a hard day today and it sometimes feels like it only happened yesterday. I miss you sweet baby, I can still feel you resting quietly on my heart.

Pageflex Persona [document: PRS0000032_00025]

Chasing Peace:
As the medical team pushed the bed and me down the hall, I felt so very alone and so very sad. Kevin was instructed to wait in Labor and Delivery Triage. I can’t imagine the sight of watching your significant other get wheeled away to emergency surgery while you have to stay back, helpless and alone.
I was crying softly when one of the nurses reached under the blanket and grabbed my hand. She rubbed it soothingly as we passed through the maize of hallways and hospital corridors. It felt like we were moving at warp speed, but her strokes were soft and sincere. I remember her telling me over and over that it was going to be all right. She only stopped stroking my hand when we reached the O.R. and they needed to transfer me to the operating table.
Staring up at the ceiling, the medical team all busied themselves prepping me for surgery. Even with a huge team of people around me, it still felt like it was just me and my little baby in the room. I took a moment and rubbed my small belly. I whispered softly, “Good-bye my little fighter. I’m so so sorry this is happening to you. I wish I could have kept you, but I can’t.” I sobbed loudly knowing my baby was alive inside me but they had to take her out anyways. Tears streamed down my temples and into my hairline.
The anesthesiologist came over with a washcloth and wiped away the moisture on my face. He didn’t say anything encouraging. He didn’t tell me I was going to be alright. He just wiped my tears. That silence screamed volumes. He knew. He knew what a horrible and rotten situation this was and since words failed him, he offered a simple touch instead. Eventually he put a mask over my face and told me to take ten deep breaths. Before I passed out, the last thing I remember was my own hand continually rubbing my small belly.
~Chasing Peace, A Memoir by Amy Daws
http://bit.ly/1GLMvt4

537338_10100516221699753_679317202_n

The mold of our sweet
Nevaeh Peace. 903228_10100539417340503_477447998_o

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Our very special Dragon Fly Christmas tree. An ornament for each sweet angel. 983720_10100730997182963_5730351640912031139_n

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

You Are Enough

enough
Today is National Pregnancy Loss Awareness Day. Just saying those words is depressing isn’t it? The fact that pregnancy loss happens to so many people that we need to designate a day to raise awareness just sucks. It sucks bad. But there it is….so now what? We’re talking about it, posting about it, tweeting about it. But what’s it really doing? Who’s it really helping?

When I started writing Chasing Hope, I wanted to write it just to get the nightmares out of my head. And to show to my family the true  trauma Kevin and I went through. No one knew and it was killing me that I had endured these ugly, life altering events and no one had any inkling the scary situations we were put in.

But something happened during my writing process. Something amazing. Hope found a way of sneaking in. HOPE of all things! After five losses in a row…five gory, ugly, bloody losses….how they heck could HOPE get in there? But it did. I laugh because the working titles of my book were nowhere near “Chasing Hope.” But it was like my story wanted to name itself by the time it was all over.

Maybe it’s because I’m one of the lucky ones. I have a daughter. After all our pain and anguish, I was granted a sassy, spirited little toddler with curly hair, big eyes and has miracle baby plastered all over her precious chubby face. Getting her granted me perspective. Getting her made me proud of my HOPE and not embarrassed by it.

But I know there are so so many couples out there right now that are grieving their losses without a little miracle to comfort them. And my heart breaks for them because we had those tragic, dark days too. Those days where I would hole up in our home office with the lights off and just cry and cry and cry and pray that hubby wouldn’t come in because I was just so so tired of sympathy.

So, try this thought on for size…

I am not going to give those couples sympathy today. I’m not going to give them awareness. I’m not even going to give them HOPE.

I’m going to give them a glimmer of the BIG PICTURE. The BIG PICTURE…is that someday, it will all make sense. I PROMISE you. Someday you WILL find your purpose, you will find your PEACE. You will find your own ENDING. It may not end with a child, as hard of a pill that is to swallow, it’s a distinct possibility. But you have to find a way to make yourself okay. You have to find a way to make yourself be ENOUGH. Because you are ENOUGH.

Grieve your losses today. Light your candles. Hug your spouses. But look into each other’s eyes and say, even without all of this…YOU. ARE. ENOUGH.

parking lot excerpt