a year in review...

“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 “Really?” over and over again. We cried as we held each other in disbelief because of my many complications with my uterus and the amount of time it took us to get there. We were on cloud nine, to say the least, and all we wanted to do was shout it from the rooftops. 

Just as that day was amazing in surprising Zach, the opposite was felt on December 1^st when we had to induce the miscarriage. I have never been in so much pain and anguish in my entire life. I could not help but scream in agony, all while trying to stay strong for my husband who stood there in tears trying to help me. Miscarriage was something I had never really experienced with my family or friends. Not that it never happened, but maybe I never remember it being talked about. 

The same day we found out we were pregnant, we received the terrible news that my sister, Michelle and her wife Leah were in the hospital. They were days away from losing their sweet baby boy, Jude, at 20 weeks. Unfortunately, Leah had an incompetent cervix this go round and since he was alive until birth, he was stillborn. He was just too tiny to survive outside of her womb and passed away as soon as she gave birth to him. That was the closest I had ever been to the loss of a child during pregnancy and it was agonizing to see two of my closest friends go through such hell. I flew to Orlando to be with them but could not imagine the heartache I was stepping into. They lost their very first pregnancy that took, after over a year of trying themselves. It was one that they had tried to conceive for months after countless attempts, doctor visits and money. It was one where they passed the scary period of the first trimester and they were well on their way to meeting their little bundle of joy 20 weeks later. It is a day they will never get to have with Jude and one they will always remember in the delivery room that day. They are the strongest couple I have ever met. I know this will not break them but I know they feel broken as parents. It was a pain that I now share with them and I can feel my heart break as I say it out loud. 

My cousin, Sarah Mohle, who also had a miscarriage this month put it into words anyone can understand. “Pain sucks. And as I sit here processing the pain that we are going through of experiencing the loss of life – even one that was so short-lived – it is hitting me more and more how vital it is that we learn how to fully process our pain, that we learn how to validate ourselves in pain and validate the pain of others.” And that is where Zach and I are right now, processing our pain all while validating each other’s. We are grieving this tiny baby we lost and all the other pain we have experienced this year. 

We jumped into 2018 with heavy hearts when we found out Zach’s dad was sick early December 2017. I remember getting the call with Zach as we headed out to the mountains of Colorado. There was a light dusting of snow on the ground and we were slow moving in his truck heading west on I-70. The look of disappointment on Zach’s face as he talked to his mom, Dixie, on the phone is one I will never forget. We threw out hundreds of questions as we were trying to put together what was making him ill and driving ourselves crazy diagnosing him ourselves. It was just a few weeks later, while on our belated honeymoon, we found out Mike had esophageal cancer. The same stage and form John had and I could not believe my ears. I remember praying in that moment, looking to the sky, and asking God “WHY?” through the tears. 

As Mike went through treatment, we continued to experience one blow after another. In late March, we found out Romo had cancer and within a day we had to put him down. Immediately following, we found out Nixon, Zach’s pitbull, had cancer as well. A day later, a woman tries to run her boyfriend over in front of our apartment complex and crashes her car into our bedroom. Two weeks after that, we had to put Nixon down. All the while, Mike had turned the corner and was having a great summer in Canada at the Sikanni. While we were dealing with losing a part of our hearts in our two dogs back to back and dealing with insurance, we were grateful that Mike was pulling through. We really thought he was going to beat this thing. 

But, the summer of 2018 was not done rearing its ugly head and on June 16^th, Jeremiah Kolbensvik overdosed at a public park here in Denver. I remember we were camping at the sand dunes and got the call from Jenny. We noticed we had missed several calls from family as soon as we were back in cell phone range and called her back. Zach dropped to his knees and as I was running towards him I heard him say, “Jenny, I am so sorry.” I knew in that moment, Jeremiah had lost his battle with drug addiction. 

Jeremiah had spent countless months in rehab since Thanksgiving 2016. The entire family rallied behind him, with Jenny and Mellie leading the charge. We all wanted him to get better for his family and we could not wait to see him on the other side, the side of health. Unfortunately, things did not play out the way we had all hoped. Jenny was left with what was a shell of her husband and he left to San Diego then Denver to fill his void with several addictions. We never knew if we were going to run into him in the city, especially since Zach works downtown and Denver is a very popular attraction for the drug peddling homeless population. It is a sad epidemic. He would pop up on police reports from time to time, but we always had that thought, in the back of our heads that he could one day come back from all of this…and he did not. Jenny is the strongest person I know and this year has been one for the books for her, as well. She has kept her focus on Mellie and has had such grace through all of this, but you cannot help but wonder how much her heart aches.  

They say the first year of marriage is hardest. On August 5^thwe celebrated one year of marriage together and on that same day, we were heading to Vancouver to say goodbye to Mike. To try to salvage the dinner we had to cancel, we found the nicest restaurant we could find in the Denver airport to take a minute for each other. We could not believe we were flying to Canada to say goodbye to Zach’s dad and we were trying to talk each other through the grief. I could tell in that moment he was struggling for me because of what I had been through with John, and I with him because Zach is truly his father’s son. They are cut from the exact same cloth, minus the Houser legs he inherited from his mom’s side, and I was not sure how he would navigate this life without his dad. 

Days prior to the trip, his health had taken a turn a few weeks before while Mike and Dixie were at the ranch. They drove to Fort St. John where he was then airlifted to Vancouver to get more advanced care. We are thankful that Carolina could be there with her mom and dad as he had countless tests and I am sure, sleepless nights. It was Carolina who called us and told us it was time to make our way up north to say goodbye, and I am glad it was her on the other end of that call. 

“It’s been a good run Woodrow,” he said to his beautiful wife, Dixie, along with many I love yous to the family and friends who traveled from all over to surround him with love in that tiny hospital room. It was nothing short of beautiful with tears of laughter and sorrow, jokes, stories, shots of Jack Daniels and best of all, words we shared with each other to describe Mike and his incredible life. Just a few short hours after saying our own goodbyes and heading back to our hotel rooms, in the early morning hours of August 12^th, he took his final breath and left us to be with God and to be at peace. He fought hard that one and we could not be more thankful for the amazing final summer he had at the ranch and the very full life he lived in his 62 years. He raised three amazing kids in Carolina, Zach and Jenny and was an even more unbelievable Pops. 

That is the part that has hit me hardest throughout all of this. Pops will never get to hold and teach our kids the Mike Hammett way. When we were pregnant, I felt that pain but at the end of the day, I knew our child had Dixie, Lottie and my dad Mike to be their guiding light. Carolina said it best when she called to comfort me after our loss. “He just needed a friend up there too soon.” I pray that Mike is holding our baby just as he did Cooper, Georgia, Ruthie and Mellie. My heart can be at peace knowing that he is. 

We struggled this year. This is the year that brought us to our knees as a family and we have leaned so much on family and friends alike. Thank you for loving us through such a complicated time. “I have the whole world praying for you,” my mom said to me today as I continue to struggle with the physical pain of the miscarriage. We feel it and please, if you have the strength, continue. 

So, we welcome 2019 with open arms. We pray for healing for the family and direction as we navigate what this next year has in store for us. I pray for my brother, Jason, as he is going through some really big changes with his kids this year. Give him the strength to make it through this next phase in life and to continue being the best dad to my niece and nephew.  Please pray for my dad, Mike, as he has been through a knee surgery that is taking a bit longer to heal than originally planned. Pray my mom can continue to provide him the care he needs, as well. Please pray for Lauri Hainsfurther, as over the Thanksgiving holiday she was diagnosed with Guillain-Barre, a rare disorder in which your body's immune system attacks your nerves. The Hainsfurther family has a long road ahead so please send your sweet love to them, as well.  

We love each of you very much and again, hello 2019. <3