This stigma stinks

I feel like a stigma is following me around lately. And I can't seem to shake the stink of it.

Miscarriage. It's an awful experience that about 20 percent of all pregnant women suffer. Think about that. One of every five women who conceive lose their child. Unbelievable. And supposedly most women miscarry at least once in their lives without even knowing. (Ever have a period that is unusually heavy? That's one of the many signs.)

And since everyone at work knows that Brent and I lost our first child together, every so often someone comes up to me with those pity-filled eyes and asks in a low voice, "how ya doin?" Don't get me wrong -- I know they care and are only asking because they worry. But I hate being treated with kid gloves.


Yes, some days are better than others. But I'll make it through. We'll make it through. Because we're Team Burkey, you see.

Of course, every time I see a baby stroller or a pregnant woman, I always wonder what I did wrong and why that person deserved a child instead of me. In reality, I should be happy for them. After all, who knows what that family has suffered, how many lost children, how long it took them to conceive.

I should count my blessings, look up to Heaven and thank God for little Morgan Ashland. Our little angel who has changed our lives forever.

Garbage disposals and hayrides: Breakfast of champions

Finally, a kitchen wish was granted this weekend. Brent installed a garbage disposal. Small perhaps, but what a difference that makes! I wouldn't say I'm a self-described cook by any stretch of the imagination -- unless toast, dippy eggs and mom's special pasta count.

A dabble here, a chop-chop there. Well, the right side of the double sink has been clogged for the better part of a month. Yes, disgusting. Although the worst part was when the dishwasher ran. The gobbley-gook backed up into the sink.

*shudder*

So, needless to say Brent got out the never-leave-his-side Leatherman tool (a glorified pocketknife) and went to town. Three hours, a lot of sweat, less swearing than I thought later, voila!

Then, on Sunday, we went up to Pap's farm in the middle of Pennsylvania. (Not quite, but it felt backwoods.) With mom's secret pasta in tow, we arrived to lots of homemade Pennsylvania Dutch cooking, lots of Pennsylvania Dutch accents and two hayrides. That's right, folks. Two.

Oh, did Lucy have a blast! Mud + rain + food on the ground = one dirty little girl

A quick explanation

Before I go any further, I want to explain the name of the blog and the URL first.
Brent and I came up with Team Burkey when we first were engaged and it stuck now that we're married.

Whenever the going gets rough or the seas calm, we look at each other and say "high five."
Stupid and corny, I know. But it kinda gives us that feeling of possessing something with each other that no one else has. Almost like that secret you shared with your best friend from middle school -- think back to all of those notes passed and all-nighters giggling in your room.

Anyway, the name "highfive" was taken, of course. So, "highfivable" it became. I guess it isn't rocket science after all.

Sometimes, it's easier to just sleep

We lost Morgan on Sept. 5 when I had a D&C at York Hospital. I thought I was around 11.5 weeks, but the ultrasound showed eight weeks and six days. So, that puts Morgan at eight weeks and six days old.

After the shock/horror/devastation wore off, now I'm left empty with a lifeless empty womb. It's amazing how wonderful those nearly nine weeks were, though. We planned and dreamed and cleaned and slept and ....

But now after the drama is over, the funeral is finished, we're just left alone. And the world keeps spinning on its axis as it always has.

And sometimes, it's easier just to sleep away the pain. And hope the sunshine brings a better tomorrow.

Welcome aboard

Team Burkey.

That consists of my husband, Brent, my 4-year-old beagle pup Lucy and our late child, Morgan Ashland.

It's been a rough year for our little family, but I welcome you aboard as we continue to embark on our miraculous journey.