my journey through the loss of my first son and the life of my second

Thursday, September 30, 2010


tomorrow I fly home.

I fly back to the "scene of the crime."

I am flying alone this time. Ken could not take the time off of I will go it alone.

Yes, I am scared. Yes, I am worried the emotions that will come back. But, my family is there. I grew up there. I can't never go back.

Today I had so many people tell me that they were praying this weekend...on facebook, email, text, and in person. It was amazing. I didn't know if I had voiced my concern...I probably did. But, these people cared enough to remember that this trip would be hard. It was humbling. I always think I need to people EVERYTHING in hopes they won't forget about me. But, they didn't.

My main concern is Tuesday.

I fly home on Tuesday.

Tuesday is the day he was born.

Tuesday is the day he died.

Tuesday is October 5th ... exactly 9 months later.

It is a lot to try and contain.

So, prayers of peace on Tuesday will be needed.

Thank you.

Wednesday, September 29, 2010


You know that old saying if I knew then what I know now

I don't think I would want to live in that world...

i am not sure in that world much would make sense...even if we knew it all...

Here is what I know:

I know that i no longer run from my emotions. I no longer hide behind this fake, happy exterior so that the world will never see the real pain. I know that there has been a storm brewing in my heart for a very long time...and with the death of my son I could no longer contain it. I have been deeply hurt in my life. I used to hide all of this. I would hide the things that scared me...the things that would make me vulnerable. If you didn't know them you couldn't use them against me. I let my brother use my own insecurities against me for far too long. I refused to let anyone else. But, I know now...I am stronger in sharing my weaknesses. I am more whole than I ever was when I hid in the shadows of that storm. I know that my heart hurts...and it is okay to share that with people. I know that my weakness is not my insecurity but, rather what pushes me forward. I know that my biggest fear in life has already come to pass. I have lost my child. There is nothing worse. There is nothing NOTHING that can bring more pain. There is nothing left to be scared of. Am I still insecure? Yes. Do I still bottle up my emotions? Yes. But, I have changed. so. much.

On December 30, 2009 I sat in the Orlando International Airport waiting for a plane to take me back to the life I knew. The life of hope and promise. The life that included my son. I now know that that world was not meant to be. I am not going to say "it was God's plan" I HATE THAT! I don't believe that God's plan was for this beautiful boy to die. I don't believe that I serve a God that is that cruel. I don't think that it is fair to assume that Trent's plan was death and yours was life. I know now that Trent's story was 22 minutes. That was his life. That is what he got. And, he lived it to the fullest he knew how. He rested on his mother's chest, he felt the hands of both of his grandmothers, he felt the lips of his mother on his cheek, he felt the sweet caress of his aunt, he held his mommies hand, he breathed in the air around him, he fought as long as he could. He experienced the world in every way his little body would let him. That is his story. That is his life. All of it. But, my life is not over. My story is not done being written. God is still working on my story. It is changing every single day. HE GAVE me my son. He didn't take him away. He GAVE him a life. A beautiful, wonderful life. A life filled with love and happiness. Do I miss him? every. single. second. But, he did it...he lived...he was here. His life was fuller than I can even imagine mine could ever be. He never knew my pain. He never cried tears. He never hid his emotions. He lived. My son is gone. Forever. But, I am still here.

I now know that I must go on. There are days when I don't think that is possible, fair, or even likely. But, I must. My story is not over yet. Trent has become the star of my story. He has become the reason I have found the good hidden behind the bad. He is the reason I know that God is good...HE created my beautiful son. I know that I have to get up, face the world, and try my very best to make a difference. I now know that it is okay to look people in the eye. I have nothing left to hide. I know that I am worth something. I matter. I know that I am Trent's mom. I know that my son will forever be with me. And, most importantly I know the next time I see him I will NEVER have to say goodbye. I know that I have nothing left to fear.

I know life sucks, hurts, screws you over, slaps you in the face, kicks you while you are down, pees in your cheerios, gets your panties in a bunch....but, I know I can survive it all.

I have.

I will.


I received an email from someone who didn't like what I had to say...they did not leave a comment...just sent me an email...and I just want you to know that I am not heartless...I don't think that miscarriage is not a is just not what happened to the girl yesterday.

Yesterday I talked about the girl from Sam's. I said that it was "just a miscarriage." I just want to make sure you know I am not heartless when it comes to a miscarriage. I have had two since Trent was born. I know that a miscarriage is a very real loss. For me it came on quickly, crampy, and lots and lots of blood. There were many clots and more cramps and then it ended like a normal period. I did grieve over both of those. I felt like I had just flushed my would/should/could be child away. BUT, neither one of those were anything like giving birth to a live child and watching him die. When I said that I hated that people said that she had just had a miscarriage I was trying to say how much more she lost. She had a fully formed, fully grown, healthy baby that got caught up in his own cord and was strangled to death. It was NOT just a miscarriage. And, for the record I HATE the term "just a miscarriage." I think all of us who have suffered a loss know that nothing about this journey is "just" anything. Everything is awful. Everything is hard. Everything brings some sort of sadness or memory back. Nothing NOTHING is "just." It is all painful. Miscarriage, infant loss, losing the baby in the womb. All = the same thing...our children are not with us. Not one of them is fair. None of it makes sense. But, for me the miscarriages were slightly easier to deal with. And, easy really isn't the right word I just don't know how to say it. My point was that this poor girl lost her son. She left the hospital without him. And, two years later she is calling it a miscarriage. My heart is broken for her. I hate that people make us feel like we are not allowed to grieve our loss. I hate that people don't understand or don't think our child was ever here because they didn't hold them or see them or feel them move. As a mom, I KNOW that Trent was real. I know that his entire life was stolen away from me. I know that my life will never ever be the same.

Tuesday, September 28, 2010


I shop at Sam's ... way. too. much.

It is part of my, I embrace it. I have started having a lot of the food delievered to the soup kitchen and that has cut down on my Sam's trips...but, I am still there at least once and on a busy week twice or three times. I know the people that work there. They know me. Sad.

Yesterday I was shopping for a few things we needed and had a new cashier. I had never seen her before. She was trying to get me to upgrade our account to the business account and so her sales technique was, "Do you have kids?" That one always throws me off. I always seem to stumble over my words after that question. I am normally a strong, confident person when people ask me questions. But, this one always fowls me up! I said, "no, I mean, yes, I have one son who passed away." She said she was sorry and continued ringing up my order. She finally said, "I don't mean to be too personal but, how old was he when he died?" I told her he was only 22 minutes and she again said how sorry she was. She then said to me a statement that has been with me since I walked out of the store, "I miscarried before I had mine, so, I know your pain." I asked her how far along she was. She told me she was 9 months. He died during delivery because his cord got wrapped around his neck. I said to her, "that wasn't a miscarriage, your son died." She just kind of looked at me. I asked her if they buried him. And, she told me they had. I walked away feeling so bad for her. I feel like someone along the way told her this was "just a miscarriage" and she believed it. I found like she never got the support that she needed after losing her first son. I would have stayed and talked for hours but, the woman behind me in line was getting very mad that I was taking forever. The cashier was very young 19 or 20. She lost her son almost two years ago and now has a healthy nine month old son at home. I have thought over and over again that maybe she wasn't given the option to grieve because she was young. I did say to her before I left, "you know we were not meant to leave the hospital without them." She got a little teary eyed and said, "but, no one understands that."
I just wanted to grab her and hug her...let her grieve her baby boy. And, I am sure she did. I just feel like someone in her life has made her think it just wasn't that big of deal. I wanted to give her my email address and connect her to this amazing community of support I have found.

I am hoping I see her the next time I am there....which will be soon. I plan to give her my card and write this blog on the back.

I am grateful beyond words for the support I have found through this blog. I have shared my biggest pain in my life with perfect strangers. But, we have become friends. You understand my heart and my pain better than anyone else can. Thank you. I am not sure I would have made it this far without the support. I am glad that on the days that my eyes will not dry I know that I am not crazy. I am glad that the days I don't feel like getting out of bed I can sign on and see that there are others who feel the same way. I don't wish this world on anyone. But, I am grateful for all that have walked before and with me on this journey.

Sunday, September 26, 2010

a few numbers

I have always felt like a statistic.

5-10% of women childbearing age have PCOS...I am one of them.

1-2% of women have an incompetent cervix...I am one of them.

1-2 % of pregnancies end because of chorioamnionitis...mine was one of them.

3-5% of couples suffer from subinfertility...we are one of them.

there are now more people in the US that are morbidly obese than just overweight...I am NO LONGER one of them!!

For the first time in my life I am beating a statistic in a good way.

I am not going back.

My life is so different at 243 lbs than it ever was at 332 lbs. 89 lbs!! And, I am not done yet!!

I have taken my BMI from 47.6 to 34.9.

I would have never never done this without my sweet boy. I never had any faith in myself. I never thought I was strong enough to do it. But, if I can parent a child that is already in heaven...I can lose this weight.

Weight has controlled my entire life...I will not let it continue.

I have gone from a size 26 pants to 16!!

Saturday, September 25, 2010

the workings of me

I can be pretty strange.

Don't worry...I have come to terms with it.

I am SO weird about textures. Not just food but material also. When I was little I would not wear courdory. UGH...the thought of it just makes my teeth hurt. I hate sheets with little nubblies. I hate things that are too soft. I hate the feeling of cotton balls and try to avoid them at all times! I hate the feeling of anything slimy. I hate am allergic to, being near it gives me the hives.

My least favorite texture of all....

WAFFLE WEAVE BLANKETS!!! OH MY GOSH...I freak out just a tad when they are on the beds at hotels. And, by freak out I mean, I dismantle the bed linens and put that awful thing in the closet so I don't even have to look at it.

For as long as I can remember I have told my family and now Ken that if and when I was ever in the hosptial please PLEASE bring me a blanket. Because, it seems that standard issue hospital blankets are...waffle weave. Just shoot me now!!

But, in the eight days I was in the hospital with Trent I never once freaked out about the blanket. And, yes it was waffle weave. I didn't even really notice. I was so focused on keeping my son alive and then so in shock that he was didn't even matter.

SO much is like that now. Things that I used to think were a big deal...they really don't even kind of matter. Things that I spent hours focusing on...I can't seem to remember them. When you go through something as tragic as seeing your son die in your arms the waffle weave in life just doesn't seem to matter.

So, for the last 8 and a half months I have tried to figure out what does matter. I have tried to soak in the moments with Ken. Love to the fullest I can. Be real with people (did you read my last post??? TMI!). It really doesn't matter the title you hold, or the car you drive, or the clothes you wear...what matters are the people and the way you love them!

Yes, I still despise waffle, please do not send me a blanket made out of it for Christmas!! But, for 8 days it didn't even phase me. Trent was/is the most important...not all the strange things about me.

3 am

Yes, it is 3:00 am and I am up blogging. I don't sleep well anymore. I used to fall asleep and stay asleep for 6-10 hours...with no help from prescriptions. These days I have lots and lots of options when it comes to sleeping pills (I really think doctors will write you almost anything after you lose a child) but, still no sleep.

But, that is okay...I am getting pretty used to functioning on 2-5 hours of sleep a night.

Last week I had a doctors appt. A normal doctor. My general doctor. It was strange to be at an appt where they weren't talking about my cervix or PCOS or miscarriages. I was there to talk about....well, poop.

I may give you TMI in this post...but, it is 3 am and it really was kind of an exciting visit in a strange sort of way!!

I love the labels that follow you around in your medical charts...don't you?

When I was two years old I was admitted to the hospital for severe dehydration and bathroom issues. It is my first memory. I woke up in the bed and looked around the room. It was huge and the walls were green tile and my dad was curled up in a chair across the room. That is all I remember. But, the diagnosis then followed me for years to come. I was diagnosed lactose intolerant. So, I spent my childhood without cereal and ice cream and with my mother shoving calcium chews down me. (love you mom)

Another strong memory from childhood was the sheer number of times I had UTI's. I remember them happening A LOT. Each time I would see the doctor, he would give me medicine, and then my mom would buy me cranberry juice. I think I have consumed more cranberry juice in my life than most! But, on the up side, being one of six there was not often a drink in the fridge off limits to all other kids...and the cranberry juice was all mine. I have continued having UTI's into my adulthood. I would say I get between 4-7 a year. SUCKS!

Up next was my PCOS diagnosis. I know I don't have to go into detail on this one. So many of us suffer from this. But, I will say I was 18 and my mom was reading a magazine article that gave all the symptoms. She was sure this is what I had. She made an appt for me and the tests started. I had not had a period in over 12 months. Anyway, you know what comes along with PCOS...

The most devastating diagnosis of all came in January. My incompetent cervix. Just for the record, I HATE that term now. I hate the word incompetent. My cervix has no idea how to work. UGH. But, of course this diagnosis was a matter of life and death for my sweet Trent and for children yet to come. So, I hate that I have it...but, am very glad I was diagnosed with it.

Finally, my point of all of this rambling, I suffer from constipation...ALL. THE. TIME. I have for as long as I can remember. I can go 5-7 days without a BM. I have always thought this was normal. But, then I married Ken. He is a 2x per day kind of guy. And, for the last 5 years has always teased me about the issues I have with my BM's. I will not give you many more details...I know it is TMI. Anyway, I was at church last week and a girl and I were talking and somehow she told me she had been diagnosed with IBS...irritable bowel syndrome. She told me all her symptoms and I was like ME TOO!! So, 8:00 am the next morning when my doctor opened I was on the phone. I got in to see her at 3:00. Long story short (too late) I do have IBS. I was SO excited to know that there was a name for all the issues I have AND that they make a pill to fix it. I can honestly say that this is the first time I was relieved to get a diagnosis!! Here is what I learned from my doctor...more than likely I have had it my whole life. All those UTI's they kept diagnosing me with were probably my inflamed bowels pressing against my bladder giving me the same effects as a UTI!! My allergy to milk probably came from the same IBS. It is crazy but it is like this little piece of information filled in this huge gap for me!!

So, here I am ... 3:23 am ... talking about poop.

But, here is the point of all of this. The medicine I am taking (which is more than one) is helping me become regular. Which of course means cleaning me out first! TMI!! But, last night as my tummy was rumbling it felt eerily like labor. While in the hospital with Trent they kept getting on to me because I had not had a BM three days in. They kept listening to my bowels and telling me they were inflamed (what the heck was I supposed to do about that) Anyway, they started me on some meds to help with those issues and they gave me the same feelings I had last night. And, Trent was kicking. The first time I felt him kick was at the hospital...mixed in with cramps from the bowels. I did feel him kick without the cramps...but, mostly it was all mixed in together. The day my contractions started I didn't know that is what they were. I thought it was still more gas pain. But, it was not. So, last night it was like I was right back the middle of it all...hoping and praying it would be okay.

I hate how the strangest things can take us back. But, last night I kept thinking "if only I could go back so that I could have him kick me one last time." I want to go back to when he was with me. I miss having my little peanut!!

Wednesday, September 22, 2010

wordless wednesday


Tuesday, September 21, 2010


Do you ever wonder how people describe you?

I was thinking tonight about all the different "people" I have been in my life. All the ways that others might remember me. There have been so many things that have defined me along the way. The first one that comes to mind (of course) is 'the fat girl.' But, when I started middle school I was called 'Doug's younger sister' (thank goodness he dropped out and I could go on with my life) I was known as 'one of the Wilhite's' I imagine there are quite a few boys that would call me 'the annoying girl with the major crush on me.' Somewhere along the way I became 'the girl that plays the flute' or 'the girl in the marching band' or maybe even, 'ken's wife.' In college the 'RD' or 'the one who works with the youth' 'the girl on the radio'
There are so many ...

I will always be a daughter in my parents eyes, a sister to my siblings, an aunt to my nieces and nephews, a wife to my husband, a daughter to my in-laws. But, what about the rest of the world.

Who am I to you?

Am I the one who lost her son? I think that is the most profound title I will ever carry. I think it is the one that has molded me and will mold me from here on out. I think that when people think of me it will always be there...which means my sweet Trent will be there. But, can I be more?

Can I be Trent's mom without the tears? Can I be the woman that loves her son with everything she has? Can I be known as the one who had 22 minutes that changed her forever? Will you ever think of me as the lucky one for getting to hold that precious boy? Will you ever see me as God picked to be his mommy?

It is such a fine line I walk between grief and hope. It is a daily struggle to figure out which side of the line I am on. I miss my son more than words can say. But, I want people to know 'i am a mommy.' I want that to be in your head along with everything else. My life became harder than I can explain eight and a half months ago. I have cried more tears, doubted myself, beat myself up, wished for death, lived for nothing, hated myself, questioned God, wondered why...but, does that define me?

Which part of the line defines me?

So, how would you describe me?

Who am I to you?

Monday, September 20, 2010


I started an Etsy shop...

I made some super cute earrings for Infant Remembrance.

We are less than a month from October 15th and thought these would be perfect for us all to wear to remember our babies...

Please check them out...

It is so important to me to have things that remind me of Trent...

and, these earrings can maybe help you remember you little one...

Sunday, September 19, 2010


This morning I was sitting on the back porch drinking a cup of coffee, watching my dogs play, and taking in the silence of an early Sunday morning. The longer I sat the less I enjoyed the silence. I don't want to be living this quiet life. I don't want to be able to be up at 4:30 and have no sounds in the house. I want to hear him breathing. I want to hear him cry.

This past week I have had a lot of friends give birth to their babies and post all the pictures that come with it on Facebook. The pictures that struck me the most were the ones of the first time the baby was placed in the moms arms. The look in the moms eyes is something you don't see anywhere else. It is a look of expectation for the life to come, a look full of love, a look of adoration, and especially of look full of dreams of a life time. That new baby placed in their arms is now the parents entire existence. That child will soon be their entire life. Most parents look into the face of their child and see hope and future. The morning I meet Trent I saw what could have been. I saw everything I would never have. I saw a child that would never grow, or run, or walk, or cry. I saw a life that I would miss forever. The pictures this week have been heart wrenching. Those mommies and daddies will look back at those pictures of the first days and will have forgotten how tiny their now 2 or 3 year old started out. They will some where along the way get lost in the now and forget the then. But, for me it will always be the then. I will never get to see his face in any other way. I will never see his first smile. I will never know him more than I knew him that day.

I was reading the blog Still Life 365 today and this statement was profound to me...

When our children die, we suddenly touch our ancestors in the same moment that we touch our legacy. It is like time has folded in on itself.

When our children die we are only left with the quiet memories. Our hearts scream with pain, our mind explodes with questions, but, the world around us is silent.

Death is silent.

As, our children have gone before us our legacy has too.

We were not meant to out live them.

My world is too quiet.

Friday, September 17, 2010

out of these ashes

There are moments that will haunt me...and at the same time be the greatest thing I have ever witnessed. I think about Trent a hundred maybe even a thousand times a day. But, some days thoughts will creep up on me like, 'i held my child as he took his last breath' 'all i have left is ashes' There are moments when the grief is so intense it circles me and I can't find a way out. In those moments I can't see that there will ever be good again. In those moments I can't breath, my chest is heavy, and the hot tears just won't stop. I will tell you it happens less often now. It used to be a daily event.

This morning as I was driving to work I heard Steven Curtis Chapman's "Beauty Will Rise." When I hear any off the music of his new CD I feel connected to him. I feel like I am walking the same grief stricken path he is...and I am...we both lost a child. He lost his 5 year old little girl when his oldest son accidentally backed over her. I always think "I can't imagine." And, I get that statement so so often when I share Trent's story. I know you can't imagine. But, I can...actually I don't have to ... I have lived it. My heart knows a pain greater than anything I have ever experienced before. My son died in my arms.

As I heard this song this morning a line just stuck with me...I kept saying it over and over in my head..."

out of these will rise

The number of times I have thought of Trent's little ashes I could never imagine beauty rising. But, today as I drove and said that over and over I can see the beauty that has risen. I can see that I have grown into a woman with compassion I never had before. I listen instead of waiting to be listened to. My heart hurts with others. My life feels like it has meaning because of my sweet boy. For so many years I felt like my life must have been a joke. I was sure I was not supposed to be here. But, I am. I am here to be Trent's mommy. I am here to live this life to the fullest. I am here to watch the beauty rise from his little life.

In the past week or so I have had so many emails, calls, texts, and people that I see in person use the word "inspiration." I can't even fathom anyone thinking of me as an inspiration...especially when it comes to physical beauty. But, as people have watched my weight loss journey and watched me transform into a new person...I think they see the beauty that is rising too. I think they see the new me...the one who has loved with everything inside and lost with greater pain that can be explained. I can't tell you how grateful I am for all the love and support I have received in the last year...with Trent, with my heart, and now with my new self.

I have never NEVER felt beautiful or even pretty...but, this morning as I listened to those lyrics all I could think was, "my sweet baby boy...out of you ashes...a beautiful new mommy has emerged."

Here are the lyrics from a grieving dad...

It was the day the world went wrong
I screamed til my voice was gone
And watched through the tears as everything
came crashing down
Slowly panic turns to pain
As we awake to what remains
and sift through the ashes that are left

But buried deep beneath
All our broken dreams
we have this hope:

Out of these ashes... beauty will rise
and we will dance among the ruins
We will see Him with our own eyes
Out of these ashes... beauty will rise
For we know, joy is coming in the morning...
in the morning, beauty will rise

So take another breath for now,
and let the tears come washing down,
and if you can't believe I will believe
for you.

Cuz I have seen
the signs of spring!
Just watch and see:

Out of these ashes... beauty will rise
and we will dance among the ruins
We will see Him with our own eyes
Out of these ashes... beauty will rise
For we know, joy is coming in the morning...
in the morning...

I can hear it in the distance
and it's not too far away.

[ From: ]

It's the music and the laughter
of a wedding and a feast.
I can almost feel the hand of God
reaching for my face
to wipe the tears away, and say,
"It's time to make everything new."

"Make it all new"

This is our hope.
This is the promise.
This is our hope.
This is the promise.
That it would take our breath away
to see the beauty that's been made
out of the ashes...
out of the ashes...
That it would take our breath away
to see the beauty that He's made
out of the ashes...
out of the ashes...

Out of these ashes... beauty will rise
and we will dance among the ruins
We will see Him with our own eyes
Out of this darkness... new life will shine
and we'll know the joy is coming in the morning...
in the will rise!

Oh, Beauty will rise
Oh, Beauty will rise
Oh, oh, oh, Beauty will rise
Oh, oh, oh, Beauty will rise
Oh, oh, oh, Beauty will rise

Wednesday, September 15, 2010

81 lbs lighter

We all lie about our weight right? Well, maybe it is just be.

The first time Ken was going to take me up in his plane he needed to know my weight. Weight and balance is pretty important in a smaller plane...I lied and told him 220. 220?!? Are you serious I had not been 220 since high school. But, it sounded like a better number than the 312 pounds I really was.

So, here I am today...weighing in at less than I can EVER remember weighing in my adult life...and I am going to give the dirty details of who I more it is.

I started this journey on April 1st weighing in at a whopping 325 lbs. How did I let myself get that far? How did I not want to just slit my wrists? The truth is my weight has been one of the most painful things I deal with. Food is an addiction for me. I eat when I am sad, happy, stressed, bored, or just because something looks good. I am an addict. I could blame my heavy weight on my PCOS, my genes, whatever...but, the truth is I have eaten too much and done little or no exercise for most of my adult life. I know the PCOS plays a part in it ... but, still.

I have been on every diet known to man. I have done the grapefruit diet, Atki.ns, Sout/hbeach, Weig.htWatchers (like 8 times), Jenny Craig, Op.tifast (an all liquid diet that was regulated by a doctor), and the saddest part of all is that in April of 2006 I had lap-band surgery. Yes, I was drastic enough to have a device placed inside of me. I lied to myself for months saying I had lost 70 or 80 lbs. I weighed in on surgery day at 318 pounds. In the sixth months that I actually worked at it my lowest weight was around 275. Why? Because I thought the lap-band would do it for me. I thought I didn't really have to work at it. I thought it would be the miracle that I had been searching for my whole life. After that I gave up. I failed at a surgery that thousands of people succeed with. I just decided to stay fat forever. I gained all the weight back and then some. I was up to about 335.

Why now? Why this time? I think because this time I am doing it for me. This time it is not because my dad is bribing me with $10 for every pound I lose. It is not because my mom and I joined weight watchers together. It is not because every single doctor I saw said I needed to lose weight. It is for me.

Enough is enough. It is not fair to myself to be 325 pounds. After I lost Trent I lost 11 pounds in one week. I couldn't eat. I was in such a state of shock. I had no reason to eat. For six months I ate to sustain that little boy and now there was no reason to go on. However, that soon faded and I soon began to eat for comfort. I gained that 11 pounds back plus some. In March Ken and I went on a little vacation. I had no pants that fit that were not maternity pants. I headed to Lane Bryant to try on clothes and soon found out I was a size 26! I have stayed in the 24 section for years. But, 26 made me a little sick to my stomach. We took our vacation and the next week I joined Gold's Gym.

I told Ken, "I am not dieting. I am changing what I eat." I think that was a break through moment for me. I kept thinking that I could not control anything that happened with Trent's death but, I COULD control my weight.

So, for the first 70 pounds I worked out every single day, yes, even on Sunday's. I kept my calorie intake at 1200 a day. I started reading labels and cut out anything with sugar or too many carbs. I switched everything I could to organic. I started only eating the whole grain breads and cereals. I did not deprive myself if I had a craving I would get it and eat one bite. Then I would be done. But, after a while the cravings started to fade. I was in a routine and I was feeling better than I can every remember feeling. As the pounds shed so did my clothes. Nothing fit. I was shopping for 22 and then 20 and now finally 18...and NOT 18W just plain 18 from a normal store like Old Navy. I set a goal for myself to be 250 by the time I flew to Florida on October 1st. I felt like I had hit a plateau and really needed something new.

I started seeing a doctor who does mesoth.erapy. They inject shots into you fattest areas and the shots burn the fat away. In the first week I lost 5 inches of belly fat!! I am on my third treatment and am close to 9 inches of belly fat gone. They also do a diet called H.CG. This is the hormone that woman produce while they are pregnant. This hormone along with a 500 calorie diet opens up fat cells and the bad fat goes away. The doctors office charges 327 for the 40 day treatment...and I would have to give myself injections of it everyday. So, I went home and did a little research and found that I could get the same stuff at the health food store. I bought it and 5 days later have lost 9 lbs!! It doesn't even seem possible...but, the scale doesn't lie...and neither am I anymore ;)

So, for 40 days you use the HC.G drops (put them under your tongue) 3 times a day. For the first two days you gorge on anything and everything in sight (I skipped this step , I was too afraid if I started down that path again I would never come back) And, then you follow a strict diet. In one day you can have 2 - 4oz portion of lean meat (white fish, chicken, beef, lobster, shrimp) 2 servings of vegetables ( 2 cups of spinach , 1 whole cucumber , 2 cups of broccoli) 2 servings of fruit (an apple, orange, grapefruit) and 2 Melba Toast a day. Let me say that it scared me a little the first day but, really it is plenty of food and something in the drops makes you not hungry. I am loving it.

The drops I bought are e-HC.G and you can order them on their website They are FDA approved.

Let me say this....if I can do this ... you can. I have been over 300 pounds for 10 years.

And, today I weighed in at 244 !!!!!! When I get on the scales in the morning I can't believe it is me standing on it. I take a picture every day to show Ken. I have a chart hanging in the bathroom with my weight each day.


It doesn't seem possible but there it was in bright red numbers this morning1!!


Tuesday, September 14, 2010

ideas needed

I am flying to Daytona October 1. I am so looking forward to seeing my family. But, I am not looking forward to being back where it all began ended.

I have three precious nieces...I love them all so much. I had the idea yesterday that while I was there I would take them to get their pictures done. I expanded that idea into have matching dresses made for each of them. I think we will take the pictures on the beach. Tonight as I drove home from the gym I couldn't help but think how much I want Trent in those pictures. I give anything to have him there with me. So, I am thinking I will find a way to represent him. I thought about having the girls hold blue balloons, having a candle, maybe a teddy bear...what do you think? His little memorial will not be in all the pictures...just a few. He is their cousin. He should be on that beach with them at least in spirit.

Monday, September 13, 2010

prayers please

A fellow BLM, Kara, who blogs here was admitted to the hospital tonight. Her cervix has softened. They are hoping to place a cerclage tonight. She lost her son Jordan at 22 weeks due to her incompetent cervix. Join me in prayer that this little rainbow stays put!!!

Thursday, September 9, 2010


Can I just say....I am struggling.

The why is surrounding me lately.

Haunting me...

Laughing at me...

Reminding me I am not good enough.

When I start to play the "why me " game I can spend hours ... Days telling myself all the reasons why I believe.

Sometimes I feel like I am being punished because I am not good enough, sometimes I decide it is because I am overweight (so often my weight has been blamed for my problems by others), sometimes it is because I didn't fight hard enough.

This list could go on and on...some of my " why's" are too hard, too awful, too personal to write...

When does it make sense?

When does it end?

Why Trent?

Why two failed pregnancies since him?

Wednesday, September 8, 2010

a missing tooth

I have not had a lot of experience with death. I guess I should say I have not had a lot of up close and personal dealings with death.

I was in the 5th grade when my great-grandmother Huber died. I only saw her on Christmas and was a little scared of her. She had arthritis so very bad her hands were misshapen. I remember her being kind. But, that is the extent of my memories...until her funeral. We drove from GA to IN for her funeral. This was my first funeral ever. There was a viewing and seeing her in her casket was one of the most frightening things I had ever witnessed. The next day was her funeral. I sat and watched as people cried and mourned her. I had no understanding of what was really happening. At the end my grandfather, her son, went up and touched her on the cheek. The whole family then loaded into limo's (probably the only reason I remember this first limo ride) and followed her body to the cemetery. I asked my mom why grandpa had touched her cheek. My mom answered, "to say goodbye." I asked what a dead person felt like and she told me, "cold." That is all I really knew about death. I was brought up in a Christian home so I was very aware of what happened after death. I just didn't really get the whole dead part.

In my 31 years I have had only a very few encounters with death. In the 8th grade a good friend of mine was killed in a car accident. I attended her service. In high school my best friends long time boyfriend was killed in a motorcycle accident. In college one of my favorite high school teachers was killed in a motorcycle accident. My other great grandmother passed away in college. And, two years ago my grandfather passed away. I am very blessed to still have my other three grandparents still living. My paternal grandparents are in their 90's and my maternal grandmother is in her 70's. Death was fairly common in the church I worked at. The median age of the membership was 81. So, people died pretty often. I attended most of those funerals out of courtesy...but, had no real feelings either way.

On January 5th my whole view on death changed. I had never encountered death on such a personal level. I never thought in my whole entire life I would create life and watch that life end. I never could have imagined what it would be like to hold a child as it took it's last breath. I could not have in visioned being in a room where someone was born and died withing 22 minutes. I can't even explain the profound effect this has had on my life.

I had never felt death until that day. I had never smelt death until that day. I had never dealt with the aftermath (funerals, paperwork, autopsies) until that day.

And, now death is a part of my every day.

Trent was born with his mommy, paternal grandmother (Grammy), maternal grandmother (Nana), and one of his four aunts their to meet him. He was held by all four of us in his short life. He was loved beyond words. His short life was filled with more love and more tears than most encounter...ever. After he passed away the nurses took him and dressed him, bathed him, took his pictures and footprints, and other things I can't remember. After it was all over they gave him back to me. In those moments he was alive it was like holding any other baby, the only difference was his size. He was warm, soft, delicate, breathing, blood flowing, moving, grasping, sucking. He was perfect. In the hours we spent with his little body after he was gone I learned what death feels like. His little body became so very cold. His skin felt like marble. His hands stayed in exactly the position they were placed. His life was over.

I was on vacation in Florida when the whole nightmare started. My family all lived about an hour from the hospital I was in. Ken's parents flew in from Missouri to be with us. The rest of Trent's aunts and uncles came to meet him. But, they didn't get to feel his warm skin, they didn't get to see him hold mommies fingers, they didn't get to see his little tongue moved. They held his body. My entire family meet death that day first hand. They all held him, loved him, kissed him, cried over him. It wasn't was like he was sleeping. We kept him in the room all day.

This morning I was in the shower thinking about how unfair that was. How awful it is to drive to a hospital to meet your nephew, grandson, son knowing he was already gone. How sad to hold that little body that held all of my heart. I am grateful beyond words that they all came. I am humbled that they all stopped their lives to meet our precious son. I just wish it was so very different.

Death this close and personal has been so hard for me. In the beginning I kept thinking I must have dreamed it. He was still going to come home to the nursery we prepared for him. He would still be our son. But, that will never happen.

Death for me is like when you lost a tooth when you were little. The tooth was gone forever from you body. You could hold that little tooth...but, it never again would be part of you. The whole in your mouth was fresh with blood and pain. You can still see the hole weeks after the tooth is gone. You can stick your tongue in it and play with the emptiness. Yes, a new tooth can grow in it's place...but, you will never, ever had what was lost. It is forever missing.

Monday, September 6, 2010


It is 12:42 in the afternoon and I am in Bed...still. Most days I am up and making coffee by 7:30. I have a pretty normal routine;make coffee, let the dogs out, shower, dress, have a little breakfast and then off to work. But, on days like today when I wake up and the grief is all bed feels safer than the world. If I just stay here I don't have to face all the reminders that he is not here. If I just stay in bed I don't have to try to live up to every ones expectations. I don't have to be super woman. I don't have to be strong and hold back my tears. I don't have to be rational. I don't have to put on a smile. If I just lay in bed I can cry as Long as I want. I can let my Hair stay a mess. I can not brush my teeth. And, most of all I can dream of all hay could have been.

Sunday, September 5, 2010

eight months

My sweet Trent,

I cried for you today. My heart aches for you to be here with me. I want to hold you one more time. I want to kiss that beautiful little face. You were my heart and joy. I didn't want to get out of bed today. Right after you died I thought I would never be able to get out of a bed. I am trying to live without you. It seems so hard! Today as I was out and about I saw so many pregnant woman. I wanted so bad to be back in those moments where you were with me. Daddy and I ate at Cracker Barell today...your favorite place when mommy was pregnant with you. You craved it!! Daddy and I would sit at the table and read the pregnancy journal every Saturday morning. We would talk about how much you were growing inside of me. We would dream about what you would look like. We would laugh over all the things daddy would teach you to do to annoy Mommy. We always read all about what you were doing in my tummy that week. Mommy always read ahead to see what was coming next. I miss those days my precious angel. As we sat at Cracker Barell today all I could think was how much better it would be if you were sitting in your car seat next to us. I wish I was feeding you baby food like the lady next to us was doing with her little one. I drove around and thought of all the things you should be doing right now. We should be celebrating your four month birthday instead of your eight month angelversary. I miss you so very much.

Love always,


Saturday, September 4, 2010

trisha thing

On the eve of my wedding my dad asked me, "Are you sure about this? Or is this just another one of those 'Trisha things'?" I was mortified that he would even ask. I said, "Yes, I am 100% sure of this." I then asked what in the world he meant by a "trisha thing." He said something to the effect of....well, you worked at the church for only a few years, and then you went to college for just a little while, and the manatee collection, the band...his list went on and on. I walked away devastated. It was the eve of the happiest day of my life and my dad doubted me. What did he mean about each of those things? I worked at the church for 3 years. I was 21 when I started and left at 24 to take a job at the college I finished my degree at. I finished my degree and moved back to Daytona to be near Ken. I was in high school when I had my stupid manatee obsession. I was in the band from 6th grade until my sophomore year in college. I only gave it up because I was paying for school myself and you had to pay to enroll in the band class. It seemed like an expense I didn't need. All these reasons to leave or move on seemed reasonable. Yet in my dad's mind leaving things too soon (his opinion, not mine) constituted a "trisha thing." I give 110% to everything I start and see it until finished if humanly possible. But, that seed of doubt was planted. That thought that I was going to screw this up too. I have always given 110% in hopes he would be proud. I pushed myself to be good at everything in hopes one day he would approve. My mom has always pulled for me. She has always been the one sitting in the stands at marching band performances. She was the one who took me all over the state of Georgia to enter my carrot cake into the Girl Scout Cake-Bake offs. (my cake won first place for the whole state of Georgia!) But, I just wanted his approval. I just needed to feel like I was winning at life in his eyes.

If you ever have the chance to meet my husband you will fall in love with him right away. He is sweet, loving, caring, funny, smart, charming, and has a laugh that can fill the room. It is an infectious laugh. You can't help but laugh when he does. His laugh was one of the first things I fell in love with. He gives all his heart to anyone who needs it. He loves fully. He cares deeply. And, because of all this he does get hurt easily. But, he is such and amazing man. "Is this just another trisha thing?"

There are some very strange things you should know about me. 1. I HATE GUM!!! Passionately. HATE. Gum. I think it should be outlawed. I hate hearing people chewing it. I HATE when people pop it over and over again. I hate the smell of it. And, more than ANYTHING I hate to see chewed gum. All I can think about is GERMS GERMS GERMS. I have had this phobia for as long as I can remember. I don't chew gum...ever! I hate it. 2. I have major issues with body fluids; sweating, spit, and things that happen in the bathroom. (Yes, I know I am about to sound crazy. It is okay I have come to terms with it ;)) I don't like the idea of a sweating person sitting where I am about to sit down. I can't stand the thought of someone sitting on my couch all sweaty...I will never be able to get those germs out!! Spit...that goes along with the whole gum thing. And, finally the bathroom. I can not stand the sound of people peeing. And, #2 is a whole other problem. Well, along with these issues comes a lot of criticism for people. I know that they are strange. I have a reason for all of them. Gum - when I was little my brothers and sisters would spit their gum out the back window of our van and it would be one of my weekly chores to pick off the pieces that stuck. Spit - when I was 11 or 12 I was jumping on the trampoline with a boy I had a huge crush on. He thought it was cool to spit and kept spitting on the trampoline. I just kept watching it bounce up and down. I felt covered in it. I got off the trampoline and walked into the woods and threw up. The crush ended that day. Bathroom issues - well, I will not get into that one...just know they are real. Long story short - I put myself through college working at day cares. I have changed hundreds if not thousands of poopy diapers. I can do it. I just don't like to. On a few occasions I have changed bad ones and whoever happens to be around would say something like, "You will never be able to have kids." "Wait until you are a mom." "How do you think you will be able to be a mom if you can't change this?"

"Is this just another trisha thing?"

These seeds of doubt follow me around like the plague. I could go on and on. My insecurity runs so deep I am not sure I will ever find a way to get rid of it. These comments stick with me. They are tiny seeds of doubt that have grown into a jungle full of reasons why I should not succeed at anything I try. I love my husband. I try to be the very best wife I know how to be. But, some days I fail. Some days I am tired and grumpy and maybe yell at Ken. On those days I think I should have taken my dad's advice and walked away. In the last eight months I have thought it so very many times. I love Ken so much that I know that he deserves a better woman. A woman that can carry his child to term. I have thought over and over again, "This is just another trisha thing." I lost his baby boy. When I get into this mindset all the other doubts start to creep in...maybe I am not meant to be a mom because of my issues with gum, spit, and poop. (I know that sentence even makes me giggle). But, once you start down this path of illogical thinking it is hard to turn back. Once I am already walking this way the "Why's" start. And for me the only answer is, because this is just another "trisha thing." I guess to me a "trisha thing" is another failure in my life. The funny thing is all of the things my dad listed that day are some of my greatest accomplishments. I loved my job at the church more than any other job I have ever had. I had the chance to speak the name of Jesus into young peoples lives. I still am in contact with many of them. I was given the opportunity to perform the marriage of one of them, be there for the birth of one of their children, attend the funeral of a father of two of them, sit and cry with others. And, all of this was years after I left the church. I still get emails from them. I still chat with them often. Those kids are now adults, moms, dads, husbands, wives, college graduates. While I was at the college I finished my BA. I am the only one out of six kids to accomplish that. I put myself through school. I payed my own way. I worked full time and went to school at night to finish my AA and then took the job at the college to finish my BA without huge student loans. I did it. I finished it. I didn't walk at graduation...because I didn't feel worthy. I doubt me...yet, if I could get the doubt to go away I could maybe, possibly be proud...a little.

Do you watch Friends? There is an episode in season 4 where Monica and Phoebe are catering a dinner for Monica's mom. Monica losses a blue, press-on finger nail in one of the quiche's they are making. When she tells her mom her mom tells her not to worry and pulls lasagna from the freezer. After an argument her mom says she has the lasagna just in case she "pulls a Monica." Phoebe trys to convince Monica that they will just change the meaning of it. "pulling a Monica" will become a good thing. That is what I want...I want to switch the "trisha thing" to a positive.

I want the "trisha thing" to be that I married a man and five years later still love him with my whole heart. I want the fact that I gave birth to a beautiful baby boy and watched him die and am still living to be a "trisha thing." I want the world to know that i haven't given up. I want the "trisha thing" to be known as someone who has had great struggles but keeps pushing forward. I doubt myself daily. The doubt chases me. It follows me everywhere I go. It haunts me.

I am trying daily to be me. I want the "trisha thing" to mean that I lived my life praising Him. I want it to mean that I loved with my whole heart. I want it to mean that my son is forever remembered. I will try...but, there is still doubt. Most days I feel like the world will see the "trisha thing" as a woman who loses. A person who can't finish what she starts. A person that losses her children. A person that is too scared of failure that she doesn't shoot for the stars anymore.

I see the world through the eyes of doubt. I want to chagne that...but, how?

Friday, September 3, 2010


This week has been such a wave of emotions. I mean I started the week pregnant and ended not pregnant. That is a lot of emotion in one weeks time. But, I am doing pretty good. Really. I felt from the beginning something wasn't right. Tuesday they told me this one wasn't the one. I didn't "pass" "it" (don't you love the medical terms) until yesterday. I woke up covered in blood, awful cramps, and dreams gone again. But, this is nothing like giving birth to a live child and watching them take their last breath in your arms.

There are so many woman getting pregnant around me. I am thrilled for all of them. I am beyond excited to meet all these little ones! Yes, I am jealous that my body can't figure this whole "carry a baby to 40 week" thing out.

But, I will have a baby one day. A baby that comes home from the hospital in a car seat not an urn. I will be a mommy to a living child.

Wednesday, September 1, 2010


I have three sisters...

I share an amazing bond with each one of them. I am not sure I could have survived the last 8 months without their support.

whom I love dearly...

they are my best friends in the entire world...
(them and Ken and my mom)

kristen was born after me - we are 2 years apart...

cassie came two kids later - we are 9 years apart...

and bridget is the baby of the family - we are 15 years apart...

Bridget and I have always had a very close bond. Because we are 15 years apart much of her life I was like a second mom. She spent the night with Kristen and I when we roomed together. She stayed with Ken and I all the time once we were married. I have always loved that girl.

Here we are five years ago....

I love this picture of us!

Tonight Bridget emailed me this:

i know this is really silly but it has been in the back of my head all day. today i was sitting outside of sissys house and there is the big tree in the back you know. and i was sitting on the ground and little acorns were falling on my head. they were so little and cute, just like trent. some were so little you couldn't even see the green yet. and some were really little but you could see that they had tried so hard to grow and survive, again just like trent. and it made me think...if trees had feelings i bet that tree would be so sad because it kept trying to made acorns and they wernt surviving, but as i was looking at all the little dead accorns on the ground i was think that the tree was still growing and it had some big accorns on it. that tree didnt give up...and even though it kept losing acorns it still kept trying, never lost its faith. and i think the next time i go to sissys house i will find big acorns on the ground. i know that losing trent is the hardest thing you and ken have ever been through but im here for you, and so are alot of people. i love you SOOO MUCH. i cant put into words how much i love you trisha. i told you this was silly but that tree reminded me so much of you.

At 16 I had no idea the world could be so cruel. But, Bridget has a whole different outlook on life. She was in the room when Trent was born. She watched him live and die. This sweet, caring, worry-filled girl prays everynight for Ken and I. She worries daily about us. I wish she could be a naive 16 year old. I wish she didn't have to know the horrors the world holds. But, she does. She is the strongest 16 year old I know. I love this girl.

in other news...

This blog is about my journey from losing Trent and beyond...

So, today I thought I would share a positive that has come from losing my dear son.

I have been "morbidly obese" my entire adult life.

If you are not overweight or just have never really looked into the whole BMI world ... I will give you a little background.

According to AARP, BMI is Your Body Mass Index (BMI) is an estimate of your body fat, based on your height and weight.

The higher your BMI, the higher your risk of developing such conditions as heart disease, high blood pressure, sleep apnea, and type 2 diabetes.

Yes, lovely. Every doctor I have seen or weight loss expert I have gone to has calculated my BMI for me to proceed to tell me that I am morbidly obese...and how unhealthy it is...blah blah blah. I know it is unhealthy. I just didn't care. Well, I cared enough to go on 400 million different diets in the last 20 years of my life. But, not enough to actually change my life.

In the weeks after I had Trent the only comfort I could find was from food. I was already morbidly obese...and I ate myself into the "super obese" category. That is just sad!! My BMI when I started this weight loss journey was 47.9. That makes me want to throw up!!! I think that may be the highest it has ever been!

According to Wikipedia here is the breakdown:

30-34.9 Obese I
35-39.9 Obese II
40-44.9 Morbidly Obese
45 or greater Super Obese

Sad sad sad!

However, for the first time in my adult life my current BMI is...........


Yes, I know it is still high but, I am only obese II. I have fallen below the morbid obese stage.

That is pretty dang exciting to me. I know that it is still not a great number...but, it is down 10 points!!

And, I went from size 26 to size the last 7 months.

Here is a picture I took this morning in the mirror. The white shirt I have on is size XL from Old Navy and the blue one is XL from Kohl's. NO PLUS SIZES! Just plain, normal sizes...not bought from a special store.

I don't tell you all of this for your praise. I tell you because my son inspired me to do this. Like I said i have been overweight for nearly 20 years. As a child I was not overweight. But, once I hit my teenage years and I was diagnosed with PCOS I have been heavy every since. My weight has kept me from doing so many things in my life. It is my barrier to the world. I didn't want to let people in so, the fat could keep them away. The weight has kept me from riding roller coasters, flying comfortably, going off to college, and dating. I know that sounds crazy...but, if you have been overweight you will understand. I never used to fit in the booths at restaurants. I never could buy normal clothes. I have never ridden a horse in fear I will hurt the poor thing. I have never tried things that i would have loved because of my weight. But, my sweet Trent changed all of that.

I learned how precious life really is after him. How unfair that I keep feeding my face and cutting my life shorter and shorter. How sad that I pick food over health. How sad that my future children would have to have a fat mom. I just didn't want to be that person anymore. I wanted to be Trent's mom. A woman full of life...and living for her sons memory.

So, my life has chagned in more ways than I can count since losing him...but, most importantly I work out daily. I eat right. I am loving my body and giving it the things it needs. I can't remember the last time I ate drive thru and it used to be a daily staple. I pack my lunch, drink protein shakes for breakfast or even make some eggs and toast, Ken and I make healthy dinners. No pizzas ordered, no fattening things cooked. I have truly changed my life style. And, it doesn't feel so bad. In fact it feels great. I love the feeling of being 72 lbs lighter. I love the compliments I get from people who have not seen me.

I will not go back. I will not be that person again.

So, if anything....losing our rainbow lets me continue on my weight loss journey and be even that much more healthy and strong for our next one.



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