letters of hope

Letters of Hope Continued…

believeSo after all the weeks of waiting, praying, waiting, praying. Tears. Stress. And more tears. The wait was over. I didn’t sleep the night before. Weird dreams. But I remember being at a shower. Ashley was pregnant. Ready to pop. And then I woke up. And realized what day it was. The nerves set in. Stomach rolling. Hands shaking. I went to barre. Spaced out. Headed to OTF. Zoned out. At 11:40, my heart was pounding. I raced out to check my phone. And there it was. Emoticons. “Prayer hands.” One after the other. From Ashley. I sent them back. There was nothing left to do. But wait. And pray. Some more.

I headed home. I offered to sit with her. She wanted to be alone. Tyler was at work. But she said she was okay. 2 more hours. I could manage that. By 3:00 I was ready to jump out of my skin. I was pacing. My nerves were shot. I told myself I wouldn’t meddle. But I was a mama. A worried mama. So I texted.

“Are you okay? Any news? Do you know what time?”

“I’m fine. 3:00.”

“Okay.” And I was back to waiting. A few minutes later my phone beeped. Ashley. My heart pounded out of my chest. She wouldn’t text me the news. Would she?

“They just called. I won’t know until tomorrow.” Ugh! I had to call her. I knew she’d be pissed. I didn’t care. I had to know she was okay. So I dialed.

“You okay?”

“Fine. Hungry. I’m going to eat. I’ll know tomorrow.”

“Will you be at work?”

“I don’t know. Really mom. I’m fine. I’m just hungry and stressed. I just want to go eat and lie down.”

“Okay. Love you.”

believe 1At least 12-24 more hours. This was agony. But if she could do it, I could do it. So I took Angel. Cuddled on the couch. And waited. I tried to watch TV. Blank stare. Tried to crochet. My fingers didn’t work. Tried to sit outside. Too restless. I paced. Looked at the computer. Blank stare. Up. Down. Sit. Stand. Looked at the clock. Maybe an hour had passed. This was going to be a long night. Breathe. I sat with Angel. Stroked her back. Talked to Gregger. Prayed.  Two to three hours passed. I wanted to text Ashley. Call her. Something. But I couldn’t. I just sat in that quiet house. Alone.

Suddenly there was a pounding at my door. UPS. Had to be. I was expecting some packages from Amazon. Couldn’t even remember what I’d ordered. But it was a distraction. Picked Angel up in my arms. Headed to the door. Peeked through the peephole. No one. Must be a package by the door. So we opened. And out jumped the greatest surprise of my lifetime. Ashley holding the most amazing sign!  

Tyler capturing it all. The tears. The  screams. The overwhelming joy. Ashley was PREGNANT!  Dreams do come true. And this pretty much says it all…

I couldn’t wait to write Gregger that night.

June 3rd

Dear Gregger,

YOU DID IT! THEY DID IT! SHE’S PREGNANT!!! You are going to be a grandpa! Thank you, thank you, thank you for watching over her and those babies. I only wish you were here to celebrate this joy. I kind of think you are. I think you are watching. I think you see everything. And you know. So now you have to keep them all safe and healthy. It’s a long road, but they can do it. The kids are so happy. It was so sweet the way they surprised me. I was overcome with tears, joy, and love. The only thing missing was you. I just kept thinking how I wanted you here. Here to celebrate the happiness.

 We all love you and miss you so much. I look for a sign of you every day. And I try to send something back so you can feel my love. I hope you do. Until tomorrow…

Letters of Hope

Letters of Hope Continued

hope 3Infertility is tough. There’s no other way to put it. It’s an emotional roller coaster that weighs heavily on the hearts of future moms and dads struggling to build a family. But when it’s your own, it’s different. It’s tough. You want to do more. And more. You want to fix it. But you can’t. So, my role? Support. Encourage. Reassure. And PRAY.  In the meantime, I turned to my Gregger. My support. I didn’t get answers. But I felt better. And better was okay.

May 24

Dear Gregger,

Well today was a HUGE day. Those little embryos, babies, or whatever you want to think of them were implanted in Ashley’s body today. Now we wait, pray, wait and pray that they continue to grow and are healthy. I know you will continue to watch over her. I had the most miraculous moment today. She was in for the procedure at 1:00. She was sending me messages, telling me how nervous she was, and I was trying to keep her calm. All the while, I was a wreck. But I had no one. No one to calm me. So I turned to you. Of course I did. You always were my rock. And at 1:30, when I thought I couldn’t stand it one minute longer, you showed up. Right there in my car. “Somewhere Over The Rainbow.” Your version. The one I NEVER hear!!! I stopped. Literally. Thank god I was at a red light. I took a picture of my radio. I couldn’t believe it. I was shaking from head to toe. I texted it to Ashley. I wanted her to know her daddy was here. He was watching and taking care of her. Of me. I cried. I sobbed. And when they called to tell me about this miracle that had taken place today I was overcome with so many emotions. Am I crazy? Maybe. But I will hold onto this belief. I will believe I see you in the clouds. Hear you in the music. Why was I so strong for so long and now I’m just falling apart? I guess I had no choice. And now I just really, really want you here. I want you to be a part of this. You should be here. But you’re not. So I’ll see you in the clouds. Hear you in the music. And keep believing. Watch over Ashley and those tiny babies in her womb. Keep them all safe. Know that we all miss you so much, but no one as much as me. I love you so much…until tomorrow…

May 25hopw

Dear Gregger,

It’s kind of been a crazy kind of day. I’ve heard you everywhere. I’ve seen hearts in the clouds. And my “rainbow” song played AGAIN!!! I  never hear it and there it was. I took a picture. I sat at the gas station so I didn’t miss a word.  I heard “The Prayer” two or three times. Keep us safe. What a beautiful message. That’s all I think about. Keep Ashley and those “little ones” safe. I know you are watching. I hope you hear my words. My heart beating. See my tears. That’s all I can give you. I wish there was more. I just wish we’d had more time. So many things to say. So many things to do. But it was so good. Not perfect. But we made it so. The bad times made the good times so great. They taught me to be grateful. They taught me about blessings. Life gifts. If life was always perfect, how would I have learned. You showed me the way to happiness. To love. To courage. And now to strength. Even when I am so weak, I hear you pulling me to find my way. Thank you.

Keep those magic, soft hands over your baby. Keep all of “them” safe. As always, I love you more than ever. Until tomorrow…

I believed in my signs. They brought me joy. Peace. They still do. I cling to hope. Faith. And the power of positive thinking. “You can’t live a positive life with a negative mind.” I choose positive. Today. Tomorrow. Always.

hope 2

To be continued…

Letters of Hope

Letters of Hope Continued…

griefSo I’ve been looking back. Some may wonder why. Why look back on a difficult time? Why relive difficult moments? It’s part of me. Part of my life. Part of something I want to share. So others know they aren’t alone. And for those who are members of this “club,” I’m sharing the waves. The highs and lows of the second year. Reality. Feel. Fret. And sometimes fall. It’s all okay. Because at the end of the day, you will stand. On your own two feet. Stronger than you’ve ever been.

So we were waiting. And praying. And I was continuing to write Gregger. The words are unedited. They were a stream of consciousness. He was my lifeline to sanity.

May 22

Dear Gregger,

sunday fundayToday is Sunday Funday. But I haven’t had one of those since you left. I kind of hate Sundays anymore. I actually dread them. I think about how we would wake up, you would do your silly chores, we’d have our coffee together, and then go for our walk. I miss that. I really miss our time at Starbucks. How silly is that? But I loved that time. Our time to talk. Catch up. Talk about everything. Or nothing. It didn’t matter. I just loved spending time with you. Running all those silly errands. That meant more to me than some fancy dinner or a big night out. I don’t know if you ever really understood that. I just loved being with you. I see couples together and I miss that. Miss walking and holding your hand. Miss talking to you. Miss riding in the car. Miss everything. But Sundays are tough. So today’s one of those.

Ashley called first thing this morning and she was so excited. She was nervous but excited. I guess the eggs divided again, which is a good thing. Like I keep saying, I don’t really understand it all, but if she’s excited, that’s a good thing. Please keep watching over her. Hold her in your arms and keep her and those little eggs safe so they can be implanted in her body. I am praying with all my might. I look for you in the clouds. I see smiles and think it’s you looking down at all of us. At least I hope so. That beautiful beaming smile that just lit up the entire world.

I love talking to you. I feel closer. I hold your picture in my hands. I whisper to you. Others would think I’m crazy, but it makes me feel good. And right now that’s what I need. Remember to hold your baby in those big, strong soft hands of yours. I love you so much…until tomorrow…

May 23

Dear Gregger,

grief 2aI was such a wreck today. My nerves are starting to get the best of me. I didn’t realize that Ashley wasn’t going to hear anything until this afternoon so I carried my phone into every class with me. I NEVER do that. But I was afraid to miss something. She called and she’s so nervous. Excited. Everything rolled into one. This has brought us even closer than we were before. It is a blessing. I know it is. In so many ways. Tomorrow is the BIG day. They are implanting the embryos (or whatever they call the fertilized eggs). Then we pray again. Again and again. Over and over. With all of our hearts. I can’t remember how many days she has to wait but it will be treacherous I’m sure. She’s taking such good care of herself. You’d be so proud. She’s so much of you. You’d love watching her at work. I watch her and see so much of you. Her smile. Her way with people. Her joy. Everyone loves her. They tell me she is warm. Loving. Caring. Kind. All the things people told me about you. It warms my heart. And I tell them all that she is her father’s daughter. And that you would be so proud. Maybe that’s all the “smiley” clouds I see overhead. I hope so.

Hold your hands over her. Or maybe they are wings. I don’t know. You must be the grandest of angels. Take care of her. Keep her safe. I so wish you were here with me, but, if I can’t have that wish, I wish that you watch over your baby (and her “babies”). I love you with all my heart. Until tomorrow…

“Grown don’t mean nothing to a mother. A child is a child. They get bigger, older, but grown. In my heart it don’t mean a thing.” So my child was grown, bigger and older, but in my heart, still my child. My heart simply wanted her to find the greatest joy. The joy I had found with her.

To be continued…

angels

Letters of Hope

Letters of Hope Continued…

prayers 4My stress levels were off the charts. Every day I waited for Ashley’s call. My heart racing. Pounding out of my chest. Good news? Please God. I’d sit in my car. Afraid to move. Afraid if I were driving, I’d break down. I knew the time. Knew when she’d call. So I’d sit. Wait. Think. Pray. I had my songs. My letters. They kept me sane. At least somewhat.

May 20

Dear Gregger:

So today had it’s ups and downs. I struggled so much today. I cried a lot. A lot! I hear songs and they remind me of you. I try to pretend like you are speaking to me. Sending me signs. Messages. There are special songs. And when I hear them, I break down. “The Prayer.” “Somewhere Over the Rainbow.” “To Where You Are.” I heard 2 of them today. I needed to. So badly. So Ashley got some news. Two of the eggs fertilized. It could have been better but she’s hoping to hear more tomorrow. Prayers. Prayers. And more prayers. I know you are watching. Taking care of them. We are hoping more will mature and fertilize too. Keep guarding her. Watching over her. I know you will. It’s hard as a mom. It’s hard being here alone. That’s why I’m talking to you now. I know you would know what to do. What to say. I just pray. Constantly.prayer 2

May 21

Dear Gregger:

I didn’t sleep very well last night. I was talking to you all night long. In my dreams. Half awake. Half asleep. I just remember talking to you. And praying. A lot. Today was a little better. Ashley found out that 1 of the eggs that fertilized split and they are still holding hope that another will mature and maybe split. I don’t understand all the terminology but 2 of the eggs were rated “good” which I know is a good thing. We have to keep praying. You have to keep watching and holding your hands over her. I am counting on you. She needs you. I need you. Really we all need you. But that’s the way it always was, right? Maybe we needed you too much. I sometimes feel guilty. Did I push too hard? Did I cause this somehow? Could I have done anything different and changed our situation? I don’t know. I go back and forth, blaming myself. It’s hard not to. It’s hard holding so much inside. From my family. Friends. It hurts. But I understand. So I pray. And I talk to you. I’ll keep saying it over and over, I miss you. I miss you so much. And, as always, I love you. Until tomorrow…

Two more days of waiting, and praying…

prayer 3

TO BE CONTINUED…

Letters of Hope

Letters of Hope

hope for blog 3So I’ve been all over the place lately. 2 year anniversary. Butterflies. Signs. Sickness. Strength. Flashbacks. And the “news.” Ashley and Tyler. This consumed the first half of year 2. Physically. Mentally. Emotionally. And I wasn’t even the one trying to get pregnant. But I was the mama. And there’s nothing worse than watching your child “hurt.” Hurt has no age limits. But this wasn’t a time for sorrow. Negativity. It was a time for strength. Courage. Confidence. And optimism. So I smiled. I laughed. I cheered. But in the silence, the tears fell. I prayed.

The hardest part was being alone. Not having anyone to talk to about my feelings. Not being able to vent. It was just stuffed. Deep down. It hurt. My heart hurt. Why was I taking this on so intensely? I wasn’t sure. I just knew I was. And I didn’t know how to let go. One night it hit me. I could talk to Gregger. Just in a different way. But he would hear me. So I started.hope for blog 4

May 19th:

Dear Gregger:  I am totally at a loss anymore. I don’t have anywhere to turn. You were my rock. My best friend. And you’re gone. You’d think I’d be used to it by now. 20 months and 19 days. But it doesn’t get easier. It gets harder. I don’t know if I was just numb before, or in complete denial, but lately it just sucks. Don’t get me wrong. It’s always sucked. But it sucks more than ever. I want to talk to you. I want to tell you things. I want you to help me find the answers. But you’re not here. I look at your picture. I beg you to send me signs. Show me the way. I feel helpless. Lost. Stuck. I reach for your hand. But there’s nothing there. It’s empty. Just like my heart. It aches. It hurts so bad sometimes I don’t think I can stand it for another minute. But somehow I breathe. I keep breathing.

Ashley and Tyler are going through their struggles. I want you here to hold me up when I’m ready to fall. Today was a big day for them. I was ready to fall apart. I just wanted to talk to you. Hold your hand. Have you tell me everything would be ok. I talked to you over and over again. Did you hear me? Please watch over them. Today was the day the doctors retrieved her eggs for IVF. She is going through infertility like we did. Only it’s even tougher for her. We got lucky. She’s lucky because now there are great doctors and miraculous medical improvements. I just pray and pray and pray for them. I pray that you are holding them in your hands and heart.hope for blog

I will continue to talk to you. I need you so badly. There is so much I wish I could say. I want one more hug. One more kiss. One more beautiful smile. I miss you more than words will ever say. Please hear my words. I love you. Until tomorrow…

So it was corny. Crazy. But it helped. This was the slow process. We had to wait to see if the eggs fertilized. Days and days of waiting. Hoping. Waiting. Hoping. So I kept writing. Day after day after day…

To be continued…hope for blog 2

there is always hope

There is Always Hope

hope 3“I’m strong, but sometimes I break.” Sunday I broke. Sunday sucked! There is no easy way to put it. I tried. I struggled all week long. I prepared myself for Father’s Day. I thought I would be okay. I made plans. I cancelled them. I decided to spend the day alone. It was a good decision. I needed the space. I needed the time. I needed to grieve. It was one of the toughest days I’ve gone through in almost 10 months. Why? I’m not really sure. I was sad for me. I was sad for Gregger. But, most of all, I was sad for my kids. I just couldn’t get over the hump. I cried a million tears. I cried on my way to OT (my happy place). I cried on my way home. I cried every time my phone rang. I cried walking Lucy. I cried listening to some of my favorite songs. Everything reminded me of Gregger. He was embracing me ALL day long. And I was REALLY missing him. My friends and family were AMAZING. I am so blessed to have such wonderful people in my circle. The love and support poured through my phone, social media, and the airwaves all day into the night. Thank you to everyone.I had a cheering squad to support my personal efforts. Throughout the day I was chanting, “I can do this. I can make it. I will get through this day. Keep on truckin’.” Minute by minute. Hour by hour. And I did. I was wiped out. Spent. Physically. Mentally. Emotionally. Day over.

hope 2I woke up this morning with a new sense of hope. Today is a new day. This is the way life will cycle. I accept that. But it’s been a good day. Strangers have reached out and touched my heart. They simply stopped to say hello. Old friends messaged with words of encouragement. New friends spent time chatting and sharing. Hope. A bottomless pool of emotional strength. A place to turn when the going gets tough. A place to see the future as a better place. It’s not hoping things will get better, but believing things will be better. Life will always present challenges. This was definitely my BIGGEST. But with a little hope each and every day, I’ll jump the hurdles when I cross them. Because I believe I can. The “firsts.” The heartaches. Just plain old missing Gregger. Hope. It makes me smile. And there’s nothing wrong with that.