It has officially been a year since I CHOPPED my hair! What a year it has been! Cutting my hair so drastically has allowed me to get re-acquainted with my hair, which has fostered a deeper appreciation of my curls and coils.

In my culture, a woman’s hair is a BIG deal and typically, the longer the better, so when I told my lovely and talented hairdresser that I wanted a big chop her eyes opened wiiiiide and she let out a concerned/disgusted/shocked WHY?!?

Before the Chop

Without waiting for a response, she proceeded to bombard me with questions as a way to figure out if I had lost my mind… Is it giving you trouble? Is it taking too long to style? Is it falling out? is it tangling too much? Your hair is so healthy and beautiful, why are you cutting it? You have great length, why do you want to cut it?  In essence, what she was really asking without using words was “what could possibly be driving you to make this absurd and insane decision”?

I wanted to answer truthfully and say that a person I love with an intense passion left me too soon, that the one we were waiting for finally arrived but is now gone. However, I knew that neither of us was prepared to handle what I wanted to unpack. I wanted to say that the immense pain inside was driving me to make a change. I was no longer the same and I needed my physical appearance to match that change.

To change my furniture, the color of my walls, and my wardrobe wasn’t enough. The change also needed to be reflected in the luscious curls I pride myself. Those curls and coils of my Dominican hair passed down through centuries of African, Taino, and European genes, those curls that were an extension of me needed to be cut.

Somehow I was able to bite the tears back into my eyes and simply whispered that I needed a change and wanted to try something new but she had no clue how deep and heavy my answer was. Cutting my hair was an opportunity to express and show what was missing me.

A year later and I don’t regret a thing because I look DARN good!

My first social outing since our loss. #curlsbepoppin

That length tho!

first Salonaso

Highlights for the win

There are two conflicting thoughts. The one that you know is a lie but feels like truth and the one that you know is true but feels like a lie.

Oftentimes it feels easier to walk and live in the lie. The lie does not often require us to grow, believe, or to be challenged. The lie helps us be complacent and stationary. The lie becomes familiar and we choose to accept it as truth. I am not comfortable with that anymore.

Truth No. 1: I am NOT ashamed of my grief! It is not an easy topic to talk about and people sometimes treat me as if I am someone that needs to be “fixed”. I am not. I am going through the grieving process.

Truth No. 2: People treat me different because I am vocal about my grief and how I got here.

Truth No. 3: I will no longer let people’s comfort level dictate how I share nor how I process.

The truth may be harder to walk out, but in the words of Jesus, “the truth shall make you free”. Truth requires growth, movement and sometimes a leap of faith. Accepting and living in the truth may bring about elements of things unknown and take us places we never dreamt of. The truth regardless of how uncomfortable it may seem is where I want to be.

One year… one year can make a world of a difference. One year ago, I had just found out I was pregnant and valiantly walked through the doors of my fertility clinic not knowing what to expect. That first pregnancy appointment was a routine appointment. First, they had to ensure that I was indeed pregnant, so they ran some bloodwork and performed a diagnostic vaginal ultrasound. After confirming my very early pregnancy I was static. Everything seemed different, brighter, happier.

I NEVER would have imagined that exactly one year later I’d be walking in through those same doors, sitting in that same waiting room empty handed and trying to figure out when to start the process all over again. But somehow there I found myself again. Fighting back tears comparing the two parallels. In one alternate universe, I would be walking in, baby in tow excited for all the (amazing, fantastic, caring) nurses, nurse practitioners, and doctors to finally meet the fruit of their labor. In the real universe, we would be talking about the game plan to get me where the alternate reality is.

The CNY waiting room, a place I’ve become too familiar with.

There is a form of bravery that comes with any type of loss. The bravery to wake up and face the day, the bravery to get dressed, the bravery to sit in the front row during the funeral services, the bravery to go back to work, the bravery to stay home a little longer, the bravery to go grocery shopping, to cut your hair, the bravery to laugh again, to cry, the bravery to live. With loss comes the bravery of adopting a new way of living. For me, bravery comes in the way of not giving up.

In this moment, while I’m was sitting in the CNY* waiting room I did not feel brave. I want to crumble, I want to hide, I want to run away, I want to cry. In this moment I can’t believe the life I’m living, just one year ago I was walking in here because the home pregnancy test read positive, today I sit here knowing that the road we will soon embark on will be similar but different in so many ways. Today I sit here knowing that with my loss comes the bravery of not giving up on something I want so bad. And who knows, one year… one year from now things could look completely different.

-JT

Disclaimer:  my appointment with CNY does not necessarily mean that we are currently trying to conceive. Before we get to that step there are a series of tests and bloodwork that need to be done, this appointment was just the first of several diagnostic appointments that will follow.

CNY: CNY Fertility is the clinic we have been going to for the past year and a half. They are amazing and if you or someone you know is struggling with getting or staying pregnant give them a call, you will be in great hands!

Part of #MicroblogMondays Click here to learn more.

Most of us have probably heard the old African proverb “it takes a village to raise a child”. Well in our case it takes a village to have a child. If you have followed any of my most recent posts then you know that my husband and I recently took a trip to Chicago.

As much as I would have liked this trip to have been strictly for fun and pleasure it wasn’t; this was a trip that was borne out of medical necessity. During my last pregnancy, I was diagnosed with an incompetent cervix (IC), which resulted in my preterm labor and ultimately in the death of my baby boy. Once you have been diagnosed with IC, you have it for life and all of your following pregnancies will be affected by it. If you have IC you typically have a vaginal cerclage* placed after 12 weeks, vaginal cerclages can still fail and doctors will not place a vaginal cerclage for pregnancies of multiples (2 or more babies).

Due to the low success rate of vaginal cerclages, I knew I needed something more, something that will give me a greater chance of bringing a baby home. Enter the Transabdominal Cerclage (TAC). I found out about TACs via a young woman in a grief support group that I attend, her story is similar to mine and she gave me all the details about TACs and Dr. Haney, the doctor who did hers. I went home SUPER excited (and extra cautious) about this new piece of information, talked to my boo, and did hours of research about the surgery and its success rate.

In my research, I found that not many doctors place TACs and that Dr. Haney was one out of a handful of doctors who does the open method and is the nation’s leading expert. The only downfall is that he works in Chicago and I would be cut open C-section style. I didn’t care I want to have the best fighting chance.

After about a week of non-stop research I scheduled a phone consultation and the next day I was able to schedule my surgery. Soon after I booked my hotel, made arrangements to stay with family and researched local restaurants and the best routes to get there.

I knew that this trip wouldn’t be cheap, so first I had to pray for a few things:

1. That the $8,000.00 procedure would be covered by insurance
2. That we would find a cheap hotel to stay the night before
3. That we could stay with family the day after
4. That gas would be the cheapest ever or that God would provide the gas money

Let me just tell you, time flew! From the moment I found out about transabdominal cerclages to the day of my surgery, all I did was blink and suddenly I was getting prepped for surgery. In the short time that passed, God answered our prayers.

1. My out of pocket expense for the surgery was $15.00!!!
2. A couple we are close to completely paid for our very nice hotel!
3. We were able to stay with family until I felt better to travel!
4. Two couples we are close to decided to pay for our gas and other travel expenses!

The physical aspect of the surgery was huge (it’s been 4 weeks since and I’m still not 100% back yet), the incision was made right above my bikini line and was WAY MORE PAINFUL than I could have imagined. The pain was absolutely terrible, I had never felt pain like that. The incision was right above my bikini line and about 7 inches long, but that wasn’t what hurt. My abdominal muscles were severely bruised and sore, according to the doctor my muscles were so strong that the surgery took an extra 2 hours just to move them out of the way (I’m the Hulk). I was discharged the next day and we were supposed to head home the day after but due to the pain we had to stay an extra night, thankfully our Illinois family received us with open and caring arms and helped me recuperate enough to make the 12-hour ride home.

Deciding to have this surgery was a massive decision for us. Mainly because getting this surgery meant we were moving forward on our journey, the surgery signified a physical change and move, and an emotional move forward. It’s been tricky as emotions usually are. The surgery was the first step in starting trying to conceive (TTC) and everything it brings. But we knew we needed this, I needed this. However this is not to say that we are TTC right now, we simply took the first step in a 10,000 step journey.

I wrote all that to say that had it not been for my village our first step would have been so much harder. Those around me made it possible to have this surgery. I’m grateful for my family those that are local, those in Illinois, those that prayed, those that gave, those that took care of me. To each one of you: THANK YOU! My surgery was successful because of you.

So although it most certainly takes a village to raise a child, for us it takes a village to have one.

JT

(if you haven’t done so already follow me on Instagram @jer1110)

we made it to ChiTown                      

Before my surgery

Part of #MicroblogMondays Click here to learn more

After 4 hours, I couldn’t be happier