and then there was one...

“I want to stop feeling this way,” I cried, standing in our apartment kitchen with Zach. “I feel like we have said that too many times this year, Kitty,” he shared as he looked down at his feet in disbelief. It was the morning of Wednesday, November 28 th  and we had just found out our baby no longer had a heartbeat at 8 weeks. It was my second appointment with my OB and they discovered our sweet baby was gone.  Zach and I had been trying to get pregnant for almost a year and a half, thinking 2018 was a wash due to all the stress we had endured this year. We were elated when we found out we were pregnant in late October and it was, by far, the best day of our lives. I surprised him, standing in that very same kitchen, with a pregnancy test wrapped in an Amazon box I had found in the garage. His reaction was beautiful and to this day, I wish I had recorded it as I did the reaction of our family’s weeks later in Michigan and Canada. He had tears in his eyes and he just kept asking

There is no doubt in my mind that things happen for a reason. The pendulum I have been on the last 8 years since losing John has been one of complete and utter desperation to full blown happiness. This post has many angles and without a shadow of a doubt, incredible admiration and emotion. Most of all, though these last few months still make zero sense, I know there has to be a reason or a higher purpose/involvement. Zach’s dad, my father-in-law, has esophageal cancer. Even writing it down brings me to tears much less, thinking about he feels, how Dixie feels, how the Cunningham family feels, how Jenny feels and what Mellie must think, and how overwhelming this must be for my husband. When you go through seeing someone you love fight cancer you think to yourself, “Okay, that’s it. I can’t do another round ever again.” It is all too close and it is all too real. Raw thoughts combined with what needs to be positivity is a constant bridge I cross on a daily basis since finding out Mike