The Very Real Whiplash from 2020 to 2025

Today, Delta told me I flew twice in 2024. Two flights. Total. One to Florida and one to Denver. I sent a screen shot to a friend: it’s a sign of the times, I said. There was a season of life when I flew at least twice a month to see friends and family, not to mention work travel mixed in. There was a time when most of my paycheck went toward purchasing airline tickets. When I even had, dare I say it, status :)

But now, I’m very much in Zone 8 (or Zone 27, if you’re flying Delta through Atlanta). Between having babies, nursing babies, and Covid putting a major pause on our auxiliary travel, it stopped being something we did without thinking.

Around the new year, I saw people posting about the “major whiplash” of 2019 to 2025. The pandemic warped the years; we all lost track of time and were left a little unsteady on our feet. What year is it?

In 2019, I was desperate for a second baby. We’d had two miscarriages, three D&Cs and a chemical pregnancy. I started 2020 so weary that, at many points, the pandemic felt easier for me personally than 2019 did.

Here we are in 2025 (right?), and the whiplash I feel is real. To hold Annie, our fourth baby, leaves me humbled in a way nothing else has. At times, I can barely begin to feel the depth of gratitude - it’s like the anecdotal iceberg - I can see the tip of it, but there is so much more to process below the surface.

For a long time, I’ve wanted to write about hanging in there if you’re going through it like we were in 2019. But how can I do it without feeling trite? I’ve struggled because I know there are people who have been in the depths of infertility for years and did not enter 2025 with four babies. I am humbled and grateful beyond words that we did and I believe, so deeply, that each person’s story is written for them - no pain will be wasted. But when it comes to infertility, I know those words can feel like platitudes, bandaids. So I’ve waited and stayed quiet.

The last time I blogged, Mac was still in his crib. I was just beginning my third trimester of my pregnancy with Hank. I was holding my breath every day, begging the Lord to give us this baby. With each pregnancy I breathed a little easier, especially as we passed the first trimester.

Here we are, at the end of our fertility journey. Doesn’t it feel good to know this is our family? Chris asks me. And it does. It absolutely does. I’m purging baby clothes. Each time Annie and Hank grow out of something, it’s on to the next family as fast as I can get it off of their little bodies.

It’s bittersweet, of course, but I anticipated more of an ache with it. I think I’m so overwhelmed with gratitude for all that we have, that there is hardly room for anything else.

Annie is sleeping through the night and napping well and, for the first time in a long time, I can see through the fog a bit. In March, I was laid off from my job due to a restructuring. Before that, Chris had switched jobs. We’d also moved houses and, to be honest, in every year of our marriage since 2016, we’d made a major change - new city, new baby, new job, etc. I’m feeling my shoulders drop for the first time in a long time this year. Who knows what changes 2025 will bring, but I’m so grateful for be asking questions I have not had capacity to ask in recent months. What do I want to do for income? For example.

My blog (can I even call it that, five years later?), is riddled with spam comments. My pageviews are at an all time low and this is certainly no longer an income source. But, today, Delta’s overview of my travel made me laugh out loud and felt like a writing prompt. Just as Delta intended!?

In case you’re still here all of the years later, I’ll leave you with this:

What I’m cooking: I have the Defined Dish cookbook and we cannot get enough of her baked crunchy tacos. A crowd pleaser for adults and kids alike!

What I’m reading: I just finished Listen for the Lie and One Perfect Couple. Both were non-scary page turners. Right now I am reading The Last Time I Lied and Family Discipleship. I am enjoying them all!

What I’m loving: My new 64 ounce water bottle. It’s so extra, I know! But it helps me stay hydrated while nursing Annie. I love that it has no straw and has a handle. I wish the mouthpiece was silicone instead if plastic, I must admit.

Thanks for reading :)

Summer Favs

It’s officially summer, my friends. Though it’s been summer in my heart for at least a month now. Here are a few of my favs so far this season.

For me!

Shark Freestyle Watch // My sister introduced me to these watches and they are my jam. I love to lose track of my phone in the summer and knowing the time helps me do it. I love the bright colors!

These shades // I loveddd my Diff sunglasses and wore them for three years, which, in sunglasses years, feels like 10. But they were super heavy, so when they broke, I decided to explore other options. After trying multiple pairs under $30, these are by far my favorite. Neon, polarized, lightweight. What more could you want!?

SuperGoop Unseen Sunscreen // Worth. Every. Penny. It’s so light and really protects your face. My summer makeup routine (which I can hardly call a routine) is this screen + BeautyCounter Dew + Thrive Causemetics mascara. Quick and easy, but I feel pulled together.

These Target tanks and shorts // In the tank, I got red and white striped and red and blue striped. In the shorts, I got black and grey. I wanted coral but they were sold out in my size. I have worn this combo every day since I got the shipment. Obsessed! The shorts are not maternity, but I just wear them low.

For Mac!

BeautyCounter spray sunscreen // We used BC sunscreen the entire time we were in Greece and never got too much color! Putting it on my baby felt like a no-brainer. Mac loves that it sprays; he thinks it’s a game. He always asks for more, which is music to my ears.

Splash About Nappy // Mac was required to wear this for his swim lessons this winter and I became a believer. It’s a swimsuit with diaper built in. So convenient. Also, this tight suit on his tiny buns kills me! It runs large - he’s 2 and is in the 6-12 months size.

These shorts // So soft and lightweight - and adorable. Part of his summer uniform for sure.

Sandals // Mac got these in camo for his birthday and they’ve been perfect for summer. We stomp around in the creek by our house a lot and they always stay on.

RuggedButts rashguard // Reaaaalllly wish they would have named the company RuggedBums, especially since they print the name on everything. But I must admit, the products are great. Mac wore this one all summer 2019 and it held up so well. Probably in good enough shape for baby #2.

Thoughts on Motherhood, part 2

Mac is in his crib, singing at the top of his lungs. I'm working in the office, a light, warm wind blowing through the room. It's nearly 90 degrees outside but the breeze is making our house bearable. 

This morning, Mac must have sat on my lap 10 times. He walks up with a book or toy and sits right down, unaware that my space isn't his space, too. Today, as his full weight fell upon me, my lap getting smaller as the baby gets bigger, it hit me that, someday, he won't think of my lap as an extension of himself. He won't sit on it as the rightful owner, unaware that my body wasn't only created for his use. 

The baby is kicking now, as I type away. Mac's singing, this sweet kicking, these moments - I hope I don't forget them. I hope I never forget the feeling of Mac's weight upon me. I hope I never forget the way he sings, with so much confidence and certainty, "Now I said my A-B-SONG!" 

Last week I decided that two is my favorite age, which I also said at 6 months and 12 months and probably not 18. :) When I hold another newborn later this year, will I say it's my favorite, too?

There's this beauty in motherhood that each season can feel like the very best one, which fills me with joy and also anxiety - why does it have to go so quickly? Motherhood is constantly knowing you're going to miss it when it's gone, paired with an inability to do anything about it. It can almost make you crazy. 

If a genie really did grant me one wish, it would be to have a little bottle where I could go back in time and see Mac at various ages whenever I wished. A little sip of him as a newborn. A hit of him at 12 months. Moments, here and there, to taste a little bit of the past, while staying in the present, still moving forward. 

Someday he might be taller than me (though I'm pretty tall!). With arm hair and facial hair and a manly voice. Someday he won't sit on my lap or lay his head on my shoulder when I sing to him at night. Someday he won't say, "One more squeeze?" with the biggest smile at bedtime, already knowing one more hug is coming his way. It brings tears to my eyes just to type these words, to know these days are not forever. 

I know it's all about sinking into the present and enjoying each moment. I know it's about being grateful for each day that we get. I know all that. But today, I feel especially nostalgic for the sweet moment we're in, just the three of us Saxons with one - whom we've yearned for so deeply - on the way in 16 weeks. 

So here's to today, for what it is and all that we have. 

Pregnancy After Loss

Last week, I shared on Instagram that Chris and I are expecting a baby in September. We are thrilled, overjoyed and feeling so very grateful.

I wrote this post at 17 weeks. Today, I’m almost 21 weeks and, although I still have moments of anxiety around this pregnancy, I do feel more reassured. I wanted to share this post to tell you: anxiety after loss is so normal. But, it does get a little better each week.

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After our second miscarriage, I became convinced I’d have a third. This wasn’t some sort of premonition or divine knowledge, but, instead, anxiety, masking itself as self-preservation. So when we did, and my sister, Ashley, said, “Well, now you’ve had your three. You’re done. No more,” it felt like intense relief. I whispered her words to myself over and over as we began to try again.

I knew I was pregnant even before I missed my period. It was my fourth time getting pregnant in 11 months; you get to know your body pretty well. We were in Florida and all of the signs were there, but I willed myself not to think it, not to even dream that dream. I’d prayed so hard to have a baby in 2020 and felt vulnerable to the idea that it could come true.

When we got home, I waited days to take the test. I wanted a bold, solid line. No questions, no faint blue. When I finally took one and saw those beautiful lines, I was filled with instant gratitude and joy, followed by instant fear.

I wanted my body to hold on to this baby like nothing I’d ever wanted before. I willed this one to last, not to slip through me like its siblings did in 2019.

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When Mac was born, my niece kept calling him a “born, born baby,” thinking she was calling him a newborn baby. We all got a kick out of it and started calling Mac our born, born baby.

When I went the doctor this time and they confirmed it was my “fifth pregnancy, one born, three ‘spontaneous abortions’” (aka the worst term ever for a miscarriage), I thought of Della, her words more accurate than we knew. One born baby. I sat there praying, hoping 2020 would make two.

I still feel confused as to whether I should call this our fifth baby or our second. It feels disloyal to the ones before it to say it’s our second. But it would be confusing to call it our fifth. I mostly avoid it altogether.

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Trying to get a bump pic, Mac just trying to go swim :)

Every night, when I get in bed I lie awake and wait for the baby to start moving. Chris is always asleep first and it’s my time, my moment, to be alone with our baby. I feels it’s tiny flutters, a gentle reminder that it’s in there, still growing. 

In a lot of ways, this is what this pregnancy looked like: me, seeking confirmation that the baby is healthy. Me, needing reassurances and reminders daily that this precious life will really be joining us. Am I sick I enough? Exhausted enough? Showing enough? 

Each appointment, especially in the first 16 weeks, had me terrified. Before each one, I’d practice hearing the doctors say “We’re so sorry…” I’d look at my schedule, wondering how I could fit in another - a fourth - D&C in the coming days. I felt so disloyal to the baby inside me as I thought these things, but I couldn’t stop my mind from racing. I almost always cried each morning before an appointment, telling Chris I was upset about something random, when, in actuality, I was terrified for the appointment.

I kept waiting for the anxiety to go away. When would I simply celebrate this little life in the way it deserved? Every breath of joy felt shortened by the anxiety chasing it down, swallowing the words.

Good friends who have walked through similar stories told me the truth: the anxiety doesn’t go away. You’re on your knees, every single day, praying for this baby. You don’t stop looking for signs of confirmation. You don’t stop worrying.

But I know now, at 17 weeks, what I didn’t know at 7 weeks: the anxiety does lessen. But only with time.

At 13 weeks, I thought there would be a magic switch and, ta da, the anxiety would be gone. But it wasn’t like that. It is a loosening, a little each day. A hose slowly turning off. What was once a full blast becomes a steady stream. My hope is that, eventually, it will become a drip, drip, drip, a quiet background noise you can almost ignore.

At times I feel guilty, for still worrying. Is my faith not strong enough? Other times I feel sad for this baby. Why must this little one’s life be preceded by loss and worry, when Mac’s was only joy?

I’m trying to honor my feelings, letting them soar through me, without judgment. I’m trying to recognize life’s truth, that loss does not lessen joy, that they can coexist.

At times, I’ve mourned the simplicity of Mac’s pregnancy and who I was before 2019. When I found out I was pregnant last March, I thought, “I am the luckiest girl in the whole world.” It felt like we’d pressed an easy button. A sibling for Mac, 19 months his junior, and we’d barely tried! It felt like we’d won the lottery.

As we walked through 2019, waiting longer for this second baby, the process becoming harder and harder, I realized I’d never have that pregnancy innocence again.

I know, when I hold this baby in September, I will feel like the luckiest girl in the world. To touch its tiny fingers, to smell its sweet skin. I don’t doubt that it will feel like winning the lottery. But I will never again walk through a pregnancy with so little doubt, so little worry as I did with Mac.

I’m learning, though, that life isn’t about ease and simplicity. It’s not about feeling lucky. It’s about growing, changing, becoming more empathetic and going deeper into who you are. It’s about honoring the journey and recognizing every step helps us become stronger and wiser, going deeper in our faith and more able to connect with one another.

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My due date for this sweet baby is September 29. We ask with so much hope, vulnerability and gratitude for prayers for this little life. For prayers to hold this sweet, rainbow baby in our arms in 19 weeks. For its lungs to be filled with breath, its healthy body to be filled with life. To hear its cries as it enters the world, unknowing how long we’ve been waiting for it, how much we’ve prayed for it. How deeply, deeply it is wanted.