I was raised in a small town in New Mexico, then moved to Albuquerque to major in dental hygiene at the University of New Mexico. At the time, I met my now husband, Jonas. We both moved to Tucson, Arizona to find a new chapter in our lives. Jonas is a talented jeweler at DeSantis Jewelry Artisans. I enjoyed cleaning up my patient's smiles as a dental hygienist for a corporate dental company.
Jonas and I wed on a rainy day in April, 2011. Before we had any children, we, of course, practiced with our loving dogs, Muska (pit bull mix, no longer with us) and Hercules (English bulldog who is still with us and is as stubborn as can be). Fast forward 9 months, our first child Carli was born (all natural might I brag!). She changed our lives as we had known it. Her loving nature is her best feature.
Later, we decided that Carli should have a sibling, as my husband and I each had siblings of our own. I got pregnant in September, 2013, and we had no idea that our lives would change in such a dramatic way. I had a beautiful pregnancy with no morning sickness, did yoga every Friday, went on a beautiful vacation to Hawaii, and had some other road trips to go to a wedding and visit family.
The last week of the pregnancy, I was not gaining weight. I had an ultrasound and the sonographer (unfortunate lady) had to give me the gut-wrenching news of not seeing a beating heart. The doctor came in the room and told us that we needed to get the baby out that day. We found out the baby was a boy, and my husband named him Bodhi Vincent. I had delivered him with the help of pitocin and an epidural (both of which I did not want to do originally, but under the circumstances, I agreed).
Days and nights were long, thereafter. Grief struck us hard. I was frightened to sleep by myself at night, so I often needed my husband's company. My pillow was wet from tears every night, tissue boxes were everywhere, and the flowers kept coming to our door from friends and family. Cut flowers, although nice, died after a while, and served me as a reminder that all things die. The living plants served a better purpose for grieving ones, I think. Funeral plans were arranged. My milk still came in after three days post-birth. Post-pregnancy belly still showed, which brought strangers asking when the baby was due. All painful reminders of my boy who never lived.
I resigned my dental hygiene job (although I loved my long-time patients, I didn't think I would have been that productive if I had returned). I decided four months after his birth, that my postpartum moods really affected my attitude in life. I needed to express my feelings to someone who was a professional in handling depression. I sought therapy through counseling which helped. I joined a perinatal loss support group, too. I started to exercise consistently. I did what I needed to to get me to the point where I can focus my attention on raising my daughter, instead of drowning in my sorrow. I needed to live again.
I had more time in my hands after my daughter started a new daycare. I started to paint like I did when I started painting in high school. I did it for the practice. I especially did it as a therapeutic way to keep my mind moving forward. I do it for the unconditional love I have for my children, living and not living. I do it because I have a loving husband who supports me. I do it for myself. I do it in hopes to inspire others who have gone through hard times as well.
Thanks for reading and feel free to comment. Have a great day!
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