Trying for Baby Hogg

Hey everybody, in case you did not know, my last name is Ayers.
No, it’s not my maiden name; it’s Justin’s last name. When I married him at 20-years-old, keeping my maiden name didn’t even seem like an option. I’m not sure why. Maybe because I was so young and I was told, “it’s tradition.”


But even without that added pressure, taking Justin’s last name was never an issue for me. I was down for it and excited to become Mrs. Ayers. Looking back, I would not change a thing. Mainly because it felt right, and Justin had a cooler last name than me. Taking Ayers felt like an upgrade.

I did not take Don's last name: Hogg

Let’s go ahead and get the controversial cat out of the bag: I did not take Don’s last name. I realize that this might sound disrespectful to some like I’m giving Justin priority over Don. But know this — it had nothing to do with Don or his last name. The only reason I decided to keep Ayers instead of Hogg was for my child.

Widow and widowerhood are not the same as divorce. They are especially not the same when offspring are involved. For 9.11 years, my last name was Ayers. The day my son was born, my last name was Ayers. The day my husband died, my last name was Ayers. For so long, I identified as “Ayers,” and losing Justin did not change anything, mainly because I had just given birth to a child with the last name: Ayers.

Understanding the situation

Long before Don proposed, we discussed getting married and what that might look like. I told him up front that I would never change my name. He shook his head and agreed, “that’s your last name, and I would never expect you to change it.” After he proposed and we started planning our wedding, we immediately realized how strange we were for not joining our identities.


These days, you need a hashtag that combines your current last name or one that will be your new last name. #Hogggettinghitched would have been good. Or, maybe, #HappyHoggs or #Hogginghappy. We thought about doing this but felt like frauds. We were not becoming a house of Hoggs. Instead, we would be two Ayers and one Hogg. Therefore, instead, we created our hashtag, #jessanddongetiton.

It's weird not sharing a last name

I’ll admit that I sometimes feel a little left out in the marriage world because I don’t share a last name with my hubby. We cant put on our Christmas cards “The Hoggs” or make a Facebook post on Easter that says: Happy Easter from The Hoggs. Instead, we say The Hogg/Ayers clan.


Some might think this is dumb and that maybe we should move forward with changing all of our names to Hogg. But Don and I both disagree. Jax is not Don’s legacy; he’s Justin’s – literally. To rob Justin of his legacy would be straight up WRONG.

Baby Hogg

During our IVF journey, Don and I have been sharing a hashtag: #babyhogg. There is a reason for that. When Don and I agreed that I would keep Ayers to match Jax, we also decided on something else: if we ever had a child together, their last name would be Hogg.


This might be odd to some: having four people in a family with two different last names. But, for the sake of legacies, we are here to normalize it. We are happy, healthy, and in love as Hogg/Ayers or Ayers/Hogg. Whichever way you want to phrase it. We can’t wait to have a second Hogg in the house. Hey, maybe that’s a good hashtag: #hogginthehouse.

15% Off Your First Order with code: COSTUME15

Nursing my Infant in the Midst of Death

Breastfeeding — it’s how we feed our infants when their bodies are still shifting from the womb to the world. It’s often debated about, gawked at, and frowned upon when done in public. But, it’s nature and motherhood in their most natural state. 

My breastfeeding story is different than most.

I didn’t struggle to produce milk, and my infant latched on just fine (with a nipple shield for the first month). I wasn’t forced to pump and go back to a job. I was able to stay home with my son and nurse him on demand. 

Instead of dealing with these struggles, I mourned my husband. I cried every 5 minutes and wondered why God made me a widow with an infant. I envied moms who complained about common postpartum issues. 

The night Justin died, I got no sleep.

Mom and I sat in two recliners and stared at the ceiling tiles. Jax cried all night long. I can’t remember how many times I nursed him that night because mom would just bring him to me and stick him on my boob. Before Jax was born, I was so excited to breastfeed. It was something that I took very seriously. But the night of Justin’s death, I was ready to quit. The task seemed too large. 

But then, two days later, something happened.

I realized that my son needed me and, even more so, I needed him. I decided to make nursing him my short-term goal. Instead of looking at it as an impossible task, it became my purpose. God spared me so my body could nourish this child. So that’s what I did. 

I breastfed Jax for 20 months. To some, that might seem too long, but for us, it was normal. I’ll admit, it was hard to stop because nursing him, somehow, made me feel close to Justin. 

Bonus Story

Eventually, I did have to pump and go back to work. But I wasn’t pumping in an office, I was pumping in an SUV while 1,000 music fans waited for my band to return from a break. That’s right; I pumped on tour. That’s an entirely different story for next year. 

15% Off Your First Order with code: COSTUME15

THE TRUTH AND THE TRIGGERS BEHIND PTSD

The Flight Attendant is a typical pop-culture portrayal of PTSD (or Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder). Cassie Bowden, played by Kaley Cuoco in the HBO Max series, is deeply disturbed, haunted by daily flashbacks, and self-medicating with alcohol. Without giving away any spoilers, let’s just say that Cassie is not handling her past trauma very well. Instead, she’s drowning in it.

While this is often how the media portrays PTSD, it isn’t the most accurate depiction. Not everyone who suffers from the disorder struggles with rage, substance abuse, or even debilitating flashbacks. Sure, some do, and some more than others. But it’s also true that many people with PTSD also go on to lead happy and fulfilling lives.

Since June is PTSD Awareness Month, we asked two trauma specialists to help us better understand the disorder, its stereotypes, its triggers, and why those triggers can be utterly unattached to the trauma itself.

Click here for the full story on House of Wise

15% Off Your First Order with code: COSTUME15

IVF-ing Hell, Here We Come

It’s no secret that my journey to motherhood has NOT been easy. Ten minutes after Jax was born, I encountered a significant complication that required the entire medical staff at Bay Med. to come to my aid. Then, three days later, a convicted felon shot and killed my husband. So in addition to joining the lovely young widows club, I lost my home, career, stability, security, and the father of my child.

Infertility feels a bit familiar.

As Don and I struggle to give Jax a sibling, it brings me back to how I felt seven years ago when sadness consumed me; when motherhood coincided with death. What does a joyful and chaotic postpartum life feel like? I’m sure I don’t know. I never got to rock my son inside of his nursery. I never got to stress over having to go back to work. I don’t understand what most new mothers go through because my husband’s death stole the thunder of my son’s birth. As soon as my relationship with Don started getting serious, we discussed having a child together. As far as I was concerned, not wanting one was a deal-breaker because I believe in the power of the sibling.

The power of the sibling

I grew up with a brother, and not only was he my playmate, but he was also my partner in crime. Sure we fought as most siblings do, but we also had each other’s back. As an adult, I still feel a connection to him. He’s the only person who remembers our Christmas mornings and crazy vacations. He’s the only person I can laugh with about the nutty dances we used to make up or terrible music we liked.

But also, in addition to wanting my son to have a sibling, I need a do-over. I want a chance to enjoy becoming a mom. I want to savor the special moments instead of surviving them.

When you think you know your body

After tying the knot, Don and I wasted no time. I told him that it shouldn’t take long. After all, I became pregnant with Jax on my first try, and this time would be no different. But, as one can glean (from my post title) — it’s been very different. It’s been hell! And now, we’re ready to enter another portal of hell, the one called IVFing hell. 

By the time we implant (September), Don and I will have been trying to conceive (TTC) for three years. Except for our surprise pregnancy in November (that ended in miscarriage), I have not seen “positive” on a test since Jax was conceived. That stings! Especially when the desire to have another child is consuming my heart.

A few friends of mine have done IVF, and they were all successful. So that gives me hope, hope that we will be too. But we have no guarantee, and that’s the scariest part of all.

As we approach our first IVF cycle, here are my biggest fears:

  • The needles
  • The intense drugs
  • The egg retrieval
  • The emotional toll
  • The possibility of failing
  • The financial strain
  • Did I say needles yet?
  • The chance of another miscarriage

When I miscarried in January, Don and I were devastated. We felt like we’d been tricked. After two years of trying to conceive, we finally saw “positive,” and we were in disbelief. Then, two months later, it was all over.

But as we approach our first IVF cycle, here are my hopes:

  • We’ll get 5-8 healthy embryos from our first retrieval
  • I’ll get pregnant on the first try
  • We’ll have a successful pregnancy
  • We’ll finally have our baby

I’m sure some couples (who have gone through IVF might read my hopes and think, “yeah, right, she’s living in a fantasy world.” But if I’ve learned anything from Justin’s death, it’s taught me that you never know where life will take you. In one second you can change from wife to widow. Now, as I begin sticking my body with long needles and injecting massive amounts of hormones, I will remind myself that it is possible to transition from a life of infertility to a family of 4 in just one second. 

Follow along for more updates as we pray for our rainbow baby.

RSS
Follow by Email
Facebook
Facebook
YouTube
YouTube
Instagram
15% Off Your First Order with code: COSTUME15

When You Have a Baby, Life is Full of So “Manys”

When you can’t have a baby, it’s full of "so many nots"

So many friends have conceived.

So many 'baby on board' and 'promoted to big brother' announcements. While scrolling on social, you see another birth announcement. It doesn't matter what social platform you choose, it's going to be on all of them:  Twitter, Facebook, Instagram, TikTok. The couple should expect a lot of likes and comments, maybe close to 300. The post will gain a lot of steam, a lot more steam than your sad, infertility, miscarriage post. New life is exciting. Babies are exciting; infertility is not..........So here we are, still trying.

So many baby showers. 

More tiny socks and adorable little clothes. More cake and veggies with ranch dip. Baby showers are a celebration of what's to come, of the beauty that keeps our world moving forward. They are a happy time — unless they hurt. They hurt because they aren't for your baby. Once again, you've spent money on someone else's baby. It's not that you aren't happy for them, you are just sad for yourself..........Because here we are, still trying.

So many ultrasounds.

That dreaded first ultrasound is here — the one when you hope to hear the heartbeat, so many of these come and go. The appointment ends with a 'Congrats, everything looks great." It doesn't end with tears of sadness (like yours), it ends with tears of joy. Then it's time to move on to the next.......The trimester we all look forward to — the second trimester. This week, they get to find out the gender. They get to decide on a name, and pick out nursery colors......they get to move forward to the next phase.....And then finally, they make it to that final trimester and that special 3D ultrasound. The ultrasound when they get see the shape of the infant's little face. They get to pretend like they know who he/she looks like. They get to move forward.......Only here we are, still trying.

So many gender reveals.

Saddle up, it's time for another gender reveal. These days, people don't do cakes or cupcakes. They don't release balloons. Instead, they shoot off cannons and fireworks. Ones that are filled with blue or pink confetti. Ones that reveal the sex of the future member of their family......Yet here we are, still trying.

So many baby introduction posts.

Now the baby is here. The mom had a c-section, a natural birth, a water birth. The baby was born healthy and the mom is doing great. You see the announcement online. You smile with joy for the family but your heart aches. It aches because you wish that mom was you. Maybe your birth didn't go as well. Maybe your baby didn't survive. Maybe you didn't even make it to the positive pregnancy test. Another baby has been born.........And here we are, still trying.

So many photo sessions.

Maternity photo shoots come first. The expectant mother holds her belly, and maybe even her other child on her hip. She is radiant, she is glowing, she is with child.......Infant photoshoots come next. The 8-pound newborn rests inside a fluffy white pillow. He's beautiful and looks like a doll. He looks like he could fit into the palm of your hands.......Family photoshoots are last. It's time to celebrate our family of three or four. Everyone is sitting in front of a tree or the ocean looking beautiful. The baby stops crying long enough to get a good shot, one that makes life look perfect. How could life not be perfect? They have added another family member......While here we are, still trying?

So many tears.

Tears of joy over baby laughs. He giggles at a rattle or a funny-looking toy. She smiles for the first time and mommy cries......Tears of sorrow over baby fevers and earaches. Mom and dad worry about their baby's health. Is it just her teeth? Or is it something worse? Mom and dad call the nurse or the Pediatrician. They call with tears in their eyes because they are scared.......Tears of exhaustion over sleepless nights and restless days. Two hours of sleep wasn't quite enough and mommy is tired. She cries in the shower as she breathes through the exhaustion. She loves her baby but she also needs sleep. She does everything she can to get through the day but her baby still cries. She nurses her until she bleeds. She changes so many diapers that she forgets to eat. She is happy but she is also exhausted......Yet here we are, still trying.

So many hours of worry.

Is the baby getting enough sleep? They cried for like 3 hours straight last night. Are they breathing okay? Their breathing seems a little lighter than normal. Are they growing right? The doctor says they are measuring okay but they are 8-months-old and still wearing small diapers. Mom and dad wonder, are we doing a good job? Should we be bathing her more? Maybe we should be massaging her before bed. Are we spending enough time with their sibling? Since she's been born, it's hard to divide our time. They feel guilty if they don't spend equal time with them both.........Yet here we are, still trying.

So many firsts.

Baby's first taste of real food. He didn't like the peaches so next time mom is trying pears. Baby's first steps. He never crawled, he went straight to walking. How cool is that? Baby's first tooth. The tooth came in rather quickly. It seems like he was just born yesterday. Baby's first Christmas, New Year's, Valentines Day, and Easter......But here we are, still trying.

So many birthdays.

Another baby has turned one.....now two.....now three.....yet here we are still trying.

So many months and years.

We thought six months was a long time. To us, it felt like 12. It felt like 12 until we were still trying after 13. Then, we thought one year was a long time, it felt like two. It felt like two until we were still trying after two and a half. Again, we thought two-and-a-half years was a long time. We thought it was a long time until we were still trying after three.....Yet once again, here we are, still trying.

So many emotions.

Hope: Will this be the month?....Excitement: Maybe I'm pregnant.....Grief: I can't do this anymore......Regret: I wish I had started trying sooner......Envy: It's everyone else's turn, when will it be mine?.....Sorrow: This never gets any easier......Yet here we are, still trying.

So many still trying. 

Trying is supposed to be fun, but for some of us, it's downright hard. If you are still trying, hoping, and waiting — welcome to the club. It's not a club anyone wants to join, but I do welcome you with open arms. Infertility is real, it's hard, and it isolating, but there are a lot of us. Our battle is making us stronger. It's preparing us for something much bigger in life. And it doesn't mean that we will never win the fight.

For some of us — soon, it will be our turn to have "So Many." And I hope you are next!!!

15% Off Your First Order with code: COSTUME15