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The moment when I found out I was pregnant for the first time, I am convinced I felt the whole world shift in my favor. My “American dream” was going to come true. We had a happy family, beautiful house, steady jobs, and even two dogs to compose the perfect social media pictures. However, eight weeks later, the world shifted back. The physical pain was so overwhelming that I literally contemplated banging my head on the concrete to pass out as I crawled into the front yard waiting on my husband to take me to the emergency room. Tragedy struck that day as I lost my baby and my hope. Due to my own choices and emotional pain, I wound up unemployed, divorced, and physically ill resulting in surgeries where I was told having a baby would most likely not be in the cards for me. While I could get pregnant, I would never make it full-term. I had hit the proverbial rock bottom.
After that tragic miscarriage, I turned to music. Odd choice, I know, but I’ve always had a magnetic pull to the arts. The #1 hit on the radio at that time which became my life’s theme song was “Maybe” by Sick Puppies.
“Maybe it’s time to change, and leave it all behind. I’ve never been one to walk alone; I’ve always been scared to try. So why does it feel so wrong to reach for something more, to wanna live a better life. What am I waiting for? ‘Cause nothing stays the same, maybe it’s time to change.”
The lyrics spoke to me, and I made an attitude adjustment moving to Texas and falling head over heels in love with my next door neighbor from when we were toddlers. It was, and still is, the love story I never imagined could actually be mine. Fast forward to the proposal, marriage, and then faith for a baby.
After that tragic miscarriage, when I learned that I was expecting again, I was almost numb. I wanted to be happy, but I just couldn’t yet, not until I knew it was real and would last. Finally, the excitement overwhelmed me. When the doctor asked us if we wanted to know the gender, we jumped at the opportunity to get a head start on decorations. When he told us to break out the blue, I instantly had a shopping problem. Trennon Lake’s room was floor to ceiling decorated in sock monkeys, and he had so much clothes, it took up multiple closets.
The months ticked by, routine checkups came and went, and the credit card bills stacked higher. All looked fabulous, or so we thought. We were at a checkup when a nurse asked if we already knew the gender, so we said yes, and I talked her ear off about Trennon and our anticipation. The look on her face said it all. I cried tears of joy. My husband looked like he was going to vomit, as we learned that #BOYMOM was no longer my title. He was a she.
I went into full-on panic mode. My first thought was about all of the pictures, collages, and Pinterest boards I had shared on social media. My husband’s was on what all could be returned for a full refund. Within 24 hours, sock monkeys were replaced with elephants, red and brown to pink and grey, and Trennon Lake became Aria Ashlyn. All is back on track. She will be delivered on January 23rd.
However, nothing goes according to plan!
On December 8th, I had my final baby shower hosted by family, and then the wait. But, that night, I began to bleed. I was terrified as we rushed to the hospital where we had originally planned to deliver. We went into the ER, and my OBGYN was never notified. After keeping me overnight, they assured me that everything was okay. However, mother’s intuition told me otherwise. I went to see my regular doctor, and he informed me that the baby would be coming over the next week or two. I changed my delivery hospital to the Medical Center of McKinney, and my doctor immediately began a series of steroid shots to help strengthen Aria’s lungs to prepare for delivery.
The morning of December 15th, my water broke. It wasn’t like in the movies. I wasn’t even sure if that is what was happening. I called my new delivery hospital, and they told me to come in right away. I told them I was going to take a shower first, pack, get ready, and wait on my mom to fly in. I got scolded. Haha! I went in, and the next morning, at 3:25AM, Aria was born via emergency C-section.
I had to wait until I could regulate my own breathing to meet her. That was the longest 13 hours. Then, I held her. 4lbs/4oz of the most beautiful bundle of joy I have ever seen. She spent 17 days in the NICU, including her first Christmas and New Year’s. At the time, that was so incredibly difficult, but NICU nurses are the most magical, patient, and gifted people I have ever met.
Aria had a tough two years ahead of her with illnesses, and she even learned to walk in a hospital. Now at age 6, she is healthy and thriving. She loves ice skating, gymnastics, and acting.
“Everybody wants happiness, nobody wants pain, but you can’t have a rainbow without a little rain.” ~Anonymous