My Aar


To understand my husband you have to get to the core of his heart and understand his depth of love. The way he loves God, the way he loves his family, the way he loves me, is so amazing. If you can imagine the deepest, most genuine, perfect kind of love, full of concern, kindness, and comfort – that’s how Aaron loves a stranger. One of the first conversations I ever had with my husband he told me, amidst a drunken stupor mind you, that there was nothing more important than showing the world kindness and love. The inside of my husband’s soul is exquisite and it shows in everything he touches. I’m seriously obsessed with him. I spend my life in constant awe of him and the way he loves.

The second thing you would have to understand is his patience. I often refer to it as his ‘calm’ when I talk to people about it. If you are reading this and you know me, you know that I am not what most people would consider stable. I feel emotions about ten times deeper than I should and I explode over things most people would barely notice. My Aar has never even thought twice about it. He loves me through it and always finds ways to pull me back to reality. His calm goes into everything he does. Through every disaster I stood in awe of how faithful he remained to God and to our future. With every set back I got more mad at God and when I asked him how he was able to look past and trust God he just quoted Romans 9:20. “On the contrary, who are you, O man, who answers back to God? The thing molded will not say to the molder, “Why did you make me like this,” will it?”  His strength and patience has numerous times been the only thing holding me together. God gave me the most perfect person as a life partner.


With a better understanding of Aaron I’m sure you can imagine his absolute joy when I taped this to the outside of the door he walks through every night coming home from work:


He started talking to our little one the next day in the middle of a little play argument. He looked at me and said “You’re dumb.” Then he put one hand on my still unchanged abdomen and said, “Not you, little one. Your mommy – she’s dumb.” He tucked me in every night and would tell me and our little alien how loved we are. My wonderful, perfect, beautiful husband fell in love with our baby in a way I thought only I could, but I should have known. After all, it’s Aar I’m talking about.

And that brings me to the hard part. The part that breaks my heart all the more. My sweet perfect husband is broken. He is just as broken as me. I’m not telling you this to try and tell you men should cry – which is true, they should – I’m telling you this to say that they don’t know they should. My Aaron has always been so strong for me. He has held me up right and carried us through the hardest moments in my life. This is why it kills me to watch his eyes get darker. If you’re reading this and you’re just as obsessed with your person you know what it feels like to need to do anything for them, to have a gravitational pull to whatever will make their heart smile. The way Aaron loves though, the way he loves me, is the strongest thing I’ve ever felt. He will do everything it takes to piece me back together every time, but what happens when he’s just as broken.


As I write this I’m still not sure how to help my husband find any amount of peace or comfort. I’m at a loss as to what more I can do but tell him repeatably how much I love him, how much I need him, and that he can always talk to me. I don’t have any wise words to help you through this part either, just a few bible verses and prayer.


“Above all, love each other deeply, because love covers over a multitude of sins.”  1 Peter 4:8


“Be completely humble and gentle; Be patient, bearing with one another in love. Make every effort to keep the unity of the spirit through the bond of peace.” Ephesians 4:2-3
And I’ll leave you with my favorite. We will both make it through this. He is the exact fit for my heart and God put us together. Our rainbow will happen and it will be so beautiful and so treasured.
“Therefore what God has joined together, let no one separate.” 
Mark 10:9

Dramatic Pauses

My world has come to a dramatic halt a few times in my short life so far, and of course not every time has been bad! When my husband got down on one knee and asked me to marry him and the whole world stood still – dramatic pause. Standing over the bathroom sink staring at the two little lines that showed so quick on the fourth positive test I had taken that night – dramatic pause. Those are the times we talk about. We talk about how much we cried before we could manage to say yes to the man of our dreams before kissing him. We talk about the look on his face when you tell him he’s going to be a dad and that little sparkle of hope in his eyes. We hold on to these moments so tight and we tell them to anyone who will listen over and over because all too often we have more negative pause than positive. While I’m sure I’m no different than you, I’ve had quite a few of those not so happy pauses too. Three of those times lead me to write this. They’re probably different than the times your world sat still while you tried to piece it back together, but I feel like each story is important to talk about, so here are mine.

The first time I think is important to talk about happened in August of 2014. I DID NOT want to be pregnant. That’s probably why I waited and made excuses not to take a test for a month and a half after my missed period. Finally I wandered down the hallway in clinic I worked in and requested a blood test. By four thirty that day I got a call telling me I was pregnant and had an appointment the next day. Due to my stubborn waiting I was told I was already almost 10 weeks along. Dramatic Pause. As a million questions bubbled in my head all of a sudden I knew for certain one thing: I wanted to be a mom. I wanted it more than I had wanted to move out of my small hometown. I wanted it more than I had once wanted my husband to marry me. I wanted it more than I wanted to be a nurse. That want has been my reason for almost all the choices I’ve made since then. The next day at my appointment they talked to me about how I was feeling. I panicked at the thought that really I felt no different physically. They told me what to expect to feel, and then they got out a doppler to check the fetal heartbeat. After the longest five minutes of my life, the nurse gave me a tight smile, and told me she was going to get the doctor to preform a trans-vaginal ultrasound because the baby “must have it’s back turned.” The doctor came and shortly and confirmed what I had realized was my biggest fear – my baby had already died. The next events were honestly a blur. There were many people that came to talk to me. Nurses and doctors explained to me what was to come and repeatably asked me if I was okay. Soon after though I started bleeding rather heavily due to the sudden stress, but because of the bleeding they wanted to do the D&C right away. I was awake but medicated for the procedure as they hallowed me out, or at least that’s what it had seemed like to me. I don’t remember much, just the long drive home and wanting my mom. My life had changed forever.

The second time this happened I was in a much darker place. I was no longer in the military, I wasn’t working yet, and I was back in that hometown I once couldn’t wait to leave. March of 2015 I had what I thought was just the worst cramps because of a new birth control I had just started. Until that night when heavy bleeding turned into passing the tiny human I didn’t even know I was carrying. After a few panic attacks and a lot of crying I called my doctor that morning and she confirmed what I already knew. Thankfully no further medical intervention was needed and the physical recovery was short lived.

The last time my world shattered around me was a week ago. Friday April 8, 2016. I was so excited for this day. I had so many amazing things going on. My husband and I found out that we were due October 27th, right before my favorite holiday. At our 8 week ultrasound the baby measured 7 weeks, 5 days, which is normal because of my long cycle. The doctor was blown away by how strong our little alien’s heart beat was. I was in love with every little thing going on in my body. I was in love with my morning sickness and foggy brain, sore breasts, random crying and anger. I was in love with feeling my stomach get tighter. I will always be in love with that baby. With hope filling my head and my husband holding my hand we went to our second ultrasound appointment. She showed us how much our little one had grown. He looked so much more human. You could even see a little profile had formed! He was so perfect except for one thing – he no longer had that strong heartbeat we had heard before. As I’m writing this it’s still hard to comprehend. I would love to tell you it gets easier after having gone through it before. I would love to tell you it gets less devastating. That would be a lie. April 8, 2016 was the worst day of my young life. Over the next few minutes my doctor explained that I would get to be asleep for the procedure and that this time they would figure it out. Monday morning at five o’clock in morning Aaron scooped me into the car, helped me check into the hospital, and stood by my side as long as the doctors allowed him before they took me back to take my almost perfect little alien.


No one talks about their miscarriages. No one tells the emotions you feel or the pain you’ll go through. No one tells you about the emptiness you feel after they tell you the procedure went well. I’m here to tell you you can talk about it – and you should! That loss is a part of me. I miss my babies. I never held them. Until the last I didn’t even know about them for longer than 24 hours, but they were mine. They lived inside me. They doubled in size within me week after week. I love them.  And as I struggle to type this through tears I hope you know that its okay to miss something you never really had and that you are strong.

Just as Scared as You — My Story

Today I am 7,604 days old. At this point in most people’s lives they have finals, friends, sorority drama, and boyfriends to worry about. That’s what most of my friends from high school worry about any ways. I guess you could say I’m not the average person that’s only 7,604 days old. I’m a prior duty military wife, full time nanny and student, and I’m supposed to be a mommy of two (an almost one year old and a four month old) coming out of her first trimester. I’m not a mommy of two though, and I’m not coming out of my first trimester. Actually, I’m currently recovering from my second D&C procedure after my third miscarriage that no doctor has truly been able to explain to me. I’m here to tell the ugly, sad, and quiet truth about the loss of a pregnancy. I hope this reaches everyone who may need it and maybe breaks down a few barriers. Mostly though, I hope everyone who reads this, and truly needs it, finds everything they’re searching for. Nothing can take away this pain, but I hope my words can help you find a little bit of hope, light, and insight into this dark time in your life.