Tag: grief

infertility

Wishing We Weren’t Done: Letting the Baby Things Go after Infertility

We didn't need the space, really, but I couldn't bear to hold onto the collection of baby things our four-year-old had outgrown. The spare...
veterans

It’s Veterans Day, What Are You Doing?

“Support the Military.” I’ve lost track of how often that phrase is thrown around — it’s easily used.  With simple acts, such as wearing red...
pregnancy loss

Peace Amidst Pregnancy Loss

It's a boy! The day we found out our first son, Moses, was a boy was wonderful!  I remember being in the doctor’s office with...
prepare for grief

Can You Prepare for Grief?

One of my favorite lines from fiction is “I'm so glad I live in a world where there are Octobers.” Like Anne of Green...
don't know what to say

I Don’t Know What To Say

We’ve all been in that conversation where someone shares something personal or painful with us and we just don’t know what to say. Do...
wildfires

Colorado Wildfires Hit Close To Home

Wildfires are environmentally devastating.  Sometimes, they also steal homes and livelihoods. They are a part of Colorado living. Click on this link to see a...
Infertility

Second Time Around: Infertility Doesn’t Get Easier

I have less desire to carve out time from my full-time job to go to countless appointments where I try, and fail, to modestly cover myself in a too-small paper drape in preparation for physically intrusive examinations. Where even though my doctor's office is filled with caring professionals I leave feeling more like a broken incubator than a person.
beauty

The Beauty is Found in the Breaking

Have you ever seen a boulder opal? They are found only in Australia, and form in the cracks, hollows and fissures of ironstone. The...
embracing change

Embracing Change: Three Tips To Help You Through

The only thing that is absolutely certain in life is change. This inevitable part of life can be extremely difficult to adjust to, whether...

Dear Worry: No.

Last summer, we learned we were pregnant days before the doctors told my dad he had stage 4 cancer with weeks to live. Fast-forward six weeks. We found no heartbeat on the ultrasound only a few days before learning that Dad’s volleyball-size liver tumor was gone. Gone. We lost our precious baby, but got to keep my dad. With the same tears, I both grieved and celebrated.