Life After Loss

September 2, 2025

Yes, we’re pursuing IVF to hopefully overcome a serious genetic illness and conceive a healthy baby. That’s what most people see. What many don’t know is that we also don’t have a choice not to.

A part of my story I’ve kept quieter is the decision I made during my C-section with Jack: I had my fallopian tubes removed. Jared and I were certain that Jack was the final piece of our family. I made that decision confidently, believing our family was complete. But after Jack unexpectedly died, that decision became one of my deepest regrets. The grief of losing him was unbearable. My doctor had gently warned me: “The one thing people don’t often think about is regret.” I didn’t understand her words until later. Now I do.

I thought I had control. I thought I’d made a wise, final decision. But life shifted in ways I never imagined. And what I had once taken for granted—I’ll never get back. That weight has lived on my heart, and sometimes it feels like others can see it too: the guilt, the regret, the loss.

But sometimes, I wonder… was IVF always going to be a part of my story?

Walking into my first IVF appointment, I felt like an imposter. How could I sit in that office, hoping to grow our family, when I was the one who took that possibility away? I haven’t experienced the years-long struggle to conceive. I haven’t been diagnosed with an illness that makes natural conception impossible. My heart aches for the strong women who face that battle daily. But I still wrestle with feeling unworthy of the kindness we’ve received—from doctors, counselors, family, and friends.

For a long time, I believed this was my punishment. That because I made a final choice, I would carry the consequence forever. I thought I must’ve done something to deserve this pain.

But Scripture reminds me of something bigger than my guilt.

“The Lord is compassionate and gracious, slow to anger, abounding in love… He does not treat us as our sins deserve or repay us according to our iniquities.” – Psalm 103:8–10

God is not in the business of punishment. He is the God of mercy, not retribution. I have to believe this journey through IVF isn’t punishment—it’s grace. It’s a path I never expected, but one that may still lead to healing and growth.

If I had not had my tubes removed—if Jared and I had conceived naturally again—there’s a strong possibility we would have faced the same devastating diagnosis Jack had. We would have had to make an impossible decision: continue a pregnancy knowing we might lose another child, or consider termination. After already saying goodbye to one baby, I don’t know how we could have knowingly faced that choice.

Maybe IVF is an answer to prayer.

IVF offers us the chance to grow our family without passing on the genetic disease that took Jack’s life. Not just for us—but for our children, our grandchildren, and generations to come. Jack may have been the catalyst that opened the door to understanding this condition—and perhaps, the one who ensures no one else in our family has to suffer from it.

And then… there’s Pete the Cat. (Yes—I’m a first-grade teacher. Stick with me here.)

Every year when we introduce subtraction, I read Pete the Cat and His Four Groovy Buttons. Pete’s buttons pop off one by one, and each time he says: “Do we cry? Goodness, no! Buttons come and buttons go.” Even after all the buttons are gone, he smiles and celebrates his belly button.

It may seem silly to take advice from a cartoon cat, but there’s wisdom there.

In the past five months, there have been days when I’ve felt like I had nothing left. Grief can do that—it hollows you out. But then I look around, and I realize: I still have so much.

This isn’t a “woe is me” story. This is my story . A journey of grief, resilience, science, and deep, enduring love.

I am so thankful for IVF.

I have my miracle girl, Nora.
I have my incredible husband, and a marriage that’s not just surviving, but thriving.
I have my friends, my family, and every single blessing that still remains. So I will keep going.

I will pick myself up.
I will pray—hard—for healthy family growth.
I will pray for financial peace as we take on this journey.

I will pray for patience.

But mostly, I will thank God for the miracles of Jack and Nora—and for a second chance I thought I had lost.