How did I not see it before?
God has been answering BOTH our prayers. But it was never the right time.
#answeredprayers #blessings #whatsmeantforus #inthewaitingseason
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@findingmyselfat35
How did I not see it before?
God has been answering BOTH our prayers. But it was never the right time.
#answeredprayers #blessings #whatsmeantforus #inthewaitingseason
It's been over a year. My last post was May 1st, 2024. So, it's been a year.
A lot has changed, but nothing at the same time. Does that even make sense? In my head it does.
This would be my third pregnancy loss. And, it started today. What's worse... I found out that I was pregnant on Mother's Day. How cruel is that?
The first was an ectopic pregnancy that I discovered in January of 2023 at 7, almost 8 weeks along. The pregnancy was a shock. We weren't really trying, though we had talked about trying. We had even started the process of working with fertility specialists. And during that journey my Ob/GYN advised me that I had uterine polyps that needed to be surgically removed.
Let me back up, and start at the beginning. And bear with me. The thoughts shared here previously have nothing and yet everything to do with why I'm here writing this today.
It's hard to believe that something isn't for you when you have this gut feeling that it's exactly where you're supposed to be. Either way, we are here now and we will keep moving forward.
But, back to it.
It was Summer 2022 and my partner and I had begun seeking answers to our abilities to have children. It was fun at first, and then I received some news that was ehhh. I say ehh because it wasn't bad, but it also wasn't good. I'd say at best it was indifferent. My Ob/GYN advised me that I had uterine polyps that needed to be surgically removed, however, my follicles and ovarian reserve was amazing (17 follicles were found to be exact, which was profoundly high for my age), and all medical markers for health concerns was practically non-existent. (My mother has T2D and hypertension, and my dad has hypertension and A-Fib), and while obesity existed as well, all of my blood work indicated that I was otherwise a healthy 32 year old woman.
So we forged forward with the removal surgery. My partner was there when I came out of surgery, and he was ready to do whatever he needed to get me across the recovery finish line.
We silently agreed that we'd actively begin try. However tracking ovulation, or other specific TTC actions were not taken, nor was it at the forefront of our minds.
And then December 2022 came around, and with it, a series of mysterious bodily events. Vivid pregnancy dreams. Sick with some type of cold every two weeks. Random bouts of nausea. Dizziness I associated with dehydration. Unexplained cravings. Consistent aversions to coffee and ginger ale. And bleeding. Yes, bleeding. It was weird because I couldn't understand why every two weeks I was spotting/bleeding. I really chalked it up to the cold that was sending my body for a thrill ride and didn't feel it was necessary to say anything to anyone except my partner.
I called my doctor (at my partners urgency), and she treated me for what she could diagnose - a cold turned bronchitis.
I was out of work on holiday break (December 22nd - January 4th), and woke up that morning in a relatively high level of pain. It was a 12 on a scale of 1 - 10. And it felt like with every breath, someone was taking a screwdriver and drilling holes into my pelvis. It was awful.
I was hallucinating, nauseous, lethargic, running a temp, grinding my teeth. I also paced the small apartment, shuffling my feet across the floor and tracing a steady path from the bedroom, to the living room, to the kitchen and back to the bedroom to simply try to ease the pain. I called my partner who was already at work and told him I needed to go to the ER. His route for work that day took him up to Greenfield MA, so he was no where near home to take me. And so to avoid the dreaded ambulatory transport bill, I called my dad and asked him if he could take me.
I don't quite remember how long he took to pick me up, or how long we waited in the ER before they began triage, but it seemed like an eternity. When you're in that much pain, there's nothing that can make it better. You just want the pain gone.
After multiple tests - blood work, urine sample, vitals - the nurses admitted me and put me on a bed in the hallway. This was our 2nd COVID winter, so the ER was PACKED. And just when I couldn't bear it anymore, relief came in the form of a single low dose of morphine. However, not before the nurse shared the exciting news with me that I was pregnant.
Huh? Que? How?
Well, we all know how. But how, like how, we weren't even really trying.
You know when your stomach knots, and sinks to your ass? Yea, I got that immediate concerning feeling. That undeniable gut wrenching feeling that something was not right.
And what happened next was a whirlwind of ultrasounds, and doctors yapping about what happens when a fertilized egg implants in a Fallopian tube. After a while it could be life-threatening. The growing embryo also could not be saved.
I can't quite remember what emotions I felt. But it was a cacophony of them.
I kept hearing that I was lucky. Lucky because I was really far along, but not far enough that the tube had ruptured. I was lucky because I was still young enough to keep trying for a baby.
Yea, I mean we could because that was the reality. But you can't simply move forward that quick. The trauma and devastation doesn't allow you to forget the heartbreak, confusion, sadness, anguish, guilt, anger and disappointment that easily.
And so after a laparoscopic right tubal ligation, I was sent home to recover with my partner by my side.
Exactly one cycle later, I was pregnant again. When they say it can happen fast, believe it. And again, it wasn't like we were tracking and actively trying. However, it happened.
We were over the moon happy. I however, was immediately filled with anxiety because was this another ectopic? Because of the previous risk, I was immediately referred to Maternal and Fetal Medicine (which I later discovered was high-risk obstetrics and gynecological medical care). My entire medical care team was excellent, methodical and informative, even after it was confirmed at our 8 week ultrasound that the pregnancy would result in a loss because of the absence of a fetal pole (heartbeat).
And so devastation set in. I'll spare you the disturbing and traumatic details of this miscarriage because you think an ectopic is bad? Try having to medically force your body into giving birth to an empty sac, yoke and uncountable amounts of blood clots that once formed an embryo. Contractions and all.
That was March 2023. By May 2023, my partner and I separated because we couldn't emotionally navigate the experience after the loss. By September 2023, I was jobless, in my first apartment ever, and scared shitless. By December 2023, I was newly employed, and just taking it all day by day, healing and learning and growing. And by May 2024, my partner and I decided to resume our relationship. June 2024 I moved into my new apartment. September 2024, I started my first full academic year with my employer. December 2024 were the best holiday's I had since winter 2018. And Mothers Day 2025, I discovered I was pregnant for the third time.
Anxiety, fear, sadness and concern didn't exist this time. It was all replaced with happiness and certainty that I would be okay. We would be okay. This pregnancy was going to be okay.
So now, lets go back to the top. It was only 12 days later that we discovered I'd be miscarrying again. hCG had stopped doubling, and progesterone had started decreasing. And we were a wreck. Again.
This time though, I can actually formulate just a part of what's been rolling around in my mind.
After suffering multiple losses, you discover a few things about yourself and your journey. You don't want to hear God allows everything for a reason. You don't want to hear don't blame yourself. You also don't want people to tell you to shift your focus to improving yourself. Don't tell me you can always try again. Don't tell me to be thankful and that it could be worse. Don't tell me maybe the time wasn't right. Because it's grief. "It's love with no where to go." And no amount of time or words can diminish the pain. I think everyone can agree that the sentiments to healing stem from simply wanting to see your loved one not be in pain and experience such deep heartbreak.
But here's the secret: just hold space for us. No, we don't want encouragement. Don't try to reason, or explain, provide logic or control the process. Just ask if they need anything. Ask to hang out. And simply say you're so sorry.
#grief #loss #triggerwarning #miscarriage #ectopic #pregnancy #navigatingloss #navigatinghealing
Just a gentle reminder that to myself that I am resilient. Determined. A lover. Damaged. Healing. Loud. Compassionate. Hard-working. Always freezing my ass off. Loves reading. Loves learning. Sometimes fickle. Perfectionist (even though I realize perfection is a myth). A loner. Optimistically obsessed with true love. Can engage in jealous behavior. If I'm hungry when I wake up a 2 am, I'm going to eat period. I'm thick. With hips and ass, breasts and a fupa. I hate working out, but I'm trying to be more disciplined. I'm a lot sometimes. And not enough other times. I make mistakes. But I'm trying to learn from them. I am enough. I am perfect. And I'm all that in a bag of chips for someone, whomever that may be.
I remember thinking that there was no way this was happening. To me?! No way! Things rarely, if ever, go the way that I'd want them to!
I felt like our time together at brunch moved at lightspeed. And about 1 hour in, I instantly knew that I wanted to go on another date with him. Like ASAP.
We talked about everything. Our family. What our long-term and short-term goals were. Our opinion on dating. What values mattered most to us when it came to parenting/children, finances, mental health, how we handle conflicts. Why eventually being married was important to us. We talked about our childhoods and our siblings (I think now's the perfect time to mention he's a twin as well).
He opened my car door for me, we said our good-byes, and just as he was walking away he said, "I really enjoyed myself, and I hope we can do this again soon."
My heart leaped into my throat. "For sure!"
My pits started to sweat, and my hands turned clammy. Why am I so damn nervous?!
Once I was home doing what your mother always told you to do to prepare for work - take out your clothes, pack your lunch and work bag - I received a text from WC.
"What's your favorite restaurant to eat at?"
"I really love this hole in the wall out in Bloomfield. Their Italian food is always amazing, called Carbone's Kitchen," I replied.
"Ok that's where we going tomorrow for our second date. I'll make a reservation for 7 pm."
I was floored. Yea, this was going to certainly be different than before.
I recently re-started my journey to develop my relationship with God. In doing so, I purchased the viral two part Bible Study Workbook. The first book I'm reading is Genesis. And one of the first lessons explains that God allowed Adam to name all the living creatures of the Earth because God allowed man to have dominion over all the things on Earth. Names indicate who and/or what these things become.
The author urged us to then look up the meaning of our names. So, I did. Below are my findings and thoughts.
Kareena
Origin: Greek, Scandanavian, Russian, Norwegian, Hindu
Meanings (adjectives): pure i.e., spotless, virtuous, Godly, unblemished, righteous, innocent.
Hindu prefix, "Kar" means (noun): flower.
You've got to be kidding me. Right?!
It all makes so much sense now. By divine creation of God, I am to be fruitful. Flowers pollinate and multiply; outside of beauty, the essence of their existence is to give birth to more flowers.
I lead my life through love and giving my heart to everyone. But it was always something I envied and couldn't understand why. Why do I keep giving love to others more than they give me? It never feels fully reciprocated in return, but I do it regardless.
Now I know why. God divinely created me to be a lover, to be pure of heart, to be virtuous, righteous, innocent and loving. I am to wear my heart on my sleeve because it makes me who God created me to be. And I realize now that deep in my soul I am meant to share this love, and create in love.
Just about a month ago I had a dream I was in a fluffy white bed, laying on my right side with my right arm propping up my head so I could watch TV. I don't remember what was on the TV but the room was very bright. And then I heard a tiny, innocent giggle. When I looked down near my right arm, laying in the curve of my breast and stomach was a bright-eyed, curly haired baby boy. His hair was jet black. And he wore a emerald green onesie that had polka dots or stripes or some pattern all over it. They pattern was white. I smiled because he was kicking his little feet to get my attention. So I laughed, and he giggled. Then I heard a voice, and man came walking into the room and saying "I'm coming to take my son so mama can get some rest." I laughed and scooped the precious baby boy up in my arms and handed him over to the man. The baby cooed, the man smiled at him; then he leaned down, kissed me and turned to walk out of the room. The scent of Paco Rabanne lingered in the air. He looked rugged, wearing a white t-shirt, and his hair was jet black and curly. He was bare feet. He reminded me of WC.
If you believe God the way I do, you believe that nothing exist without purpose. You also believe that names tell us who we are and/or who we are to become.
Now that I know the meaning and origin of my name, from today moving forward, I will embrace who I'm meant to be.
Kareena is righteous. Spotless. Virtuous. Love. My love is not a curse, it's a gift.
P.S., next week we will resume the regularly scheduled programming.
It was June 2020, a few months in from the beginning of the pandemic. Yeap, life changed drastically for everyone that year. And I was not exempt.
During what I believed to be a regular conversation with my therapist (I no longer see this therapist, by the way), she asked me about my plans for turning 30 in a mere few weeks. I scoffed. I'm a self-proclaimed loner who would much rather curl up in bed at 2 pm on a Saturday and mindlessly scroll on her TikTok, and when that gets old, sleep.
She implored me to think about my future, telling me to set realistic goals and then be intentional about accomplishing them.
Well, I knew immediately what two of those goals were. I've always felt deep in my heart that I was born to be a mom. It's an innate feeling that swells from the depths of my soul and I get excited when I think about how I'd step into the role with ease. I also had a goal to be a wife. And yes, in my perfect world, becoming a wife first would be the ideal order.
I prayed to God often back then about those desires. I prayed to God and asked him to grant me the strength, discipline and tools to be have the exact life I wanted - a business owner, mom and wife.
It strikes me as ironic that while the entire world was in QUARANTINE, my therapist encouraged me to date intentionally, as much as I could throughout the summer. I needed to decipher what values and characteristics I wanted in a partner.
Eventually I took her advice. I set myself up on Tinder, Hinge, Bumble and BLK. What she didn't know was that I REFUSED to take this seriously. Why? Well, because it's DATING APPS! Do I really need to say more?
And less than 48 hours in, I cursed the fact that I ever even took her advice.
After a few weeks, I went out on my first date. Then another nearly a week later, and then another. All different men. All for drinks, or dinner, or morning coffee. Nothing earth-shattering. And for safety concerns, of course, I texted my girlfriend before and after ever single date.
It was early September that I met one gentleman (he'll remain nameless) and we clicked almost immediately. He was funny, hardworking, involved in lots of non-profit organizations in his city, and showed genuine interest in me. He cared about texting me back right away, you know?
However, after 3 dates over 4 months, I quickly realized my patience was practically non-existent. Well, let me clarify. I was tired of the games. I refused to pretend like I didn't have a goal. I was crystal clear that if at some point there was dating without intention, I'd block and delete faster than you can say "InanyformImgivingyousweetdreams". And so it was over - as fast as you could say "InanyformImgivingyousweetdreams".
As the new year - 2021 to be exact - quickly approached, I swore off dating. I deleted all my accounts, deleted all the apps. I shifted my focus to learning as much as I could about the process of becoming a business owner. I dived deep into research about LLCs, business plans, start-up funding, small business loans, website hosting platforms, and much more.
I rang in 2021 in bed, with a cup of hot cocoa, my fingers frantically dancing across my MacBook keyboard, publishing the last minute touches on my new website. My plan was to begin my lifestyle concierge services business, launching with the easiest division, and monetizing on my writing, editing skills, and digital design skills.
I slept as still as the night, peace in my heart, content with the fact that I very well might spend the next few years in solitude.
I didn't remember that I gave my number to another gentleman (I'll refer to him as WC). Sometime before 2021 rolled in, I did. On January 24th, I received my first text from WC.
I'll spare all the insignificant details of our early conversations. What I will say is that on January 29th, we went on our first date, which was brunch at Tapas in Bloomfield.
And, my, oh my.
I don't know where to really start. So, I guess I'll start with this: these shorts, I hope will help me find myself, again. I hope it helps me find my voice again. Find my happiness. Find love. Find comfort in healing and taking this journey by myself. Find a hobby, or hobbies for that matter. I'm writing this to find my inspiration. To find God. To find my purpose in life.
For a while I thought I had it all figured out. Hell, I lived in this state of ignorant bliss that all was well. I had a happy, albeit new, relationship. A fulfilling job (even though the pay was atrocious). For all intents and purposes, I enjoyed my care-free life.
After 1 year, swept into this new whirlwind relationship, I decided it was time to move in with my partner. Don't get me wrong, it was a great decision to make at the time. I truly believed I was right where I was supposed to be.
In my pursuit to finally connecting all the dots, and finally feeling like all the elements were falling into place, life threw me a curve ball.
In May, I discovered that I was cheated on. 2 months later, my OB/GYN called me to inform me that I needed emergency surgery to remove 4 jumbo grape-sized polyps on my uterus. Wonderful.
I experienced an extremely emotional summer - one that included me working countless hours, navigating a new space, new trust issues and deceptions with my partner, and doctors appointments to prep for surgery - I yearned for the fall to arrive. I needed the crisp air and the foliage because maybe, just maybe, I could finally start to feel normal again. I hoped that the puzzle would finally come together in the slowness of the autumn.
And so, I welcomed the fall season with open arms. Unbeknownst to me, peace would not meet me in the fall and in fact, it would be quite tumultuous.