When my husband and I announced our fifth child was on the way, a friend asked if we knew what caused that.

I told him I suspected it had something to do with my practice of washing my underwear with my husband’s.

I regretted the snarky comeback immediately, but I know why I unleashed my frustration.

The misconceptions, prejudices, and near-constant scrutiny of our choice to have a large family is tiresome and often grounded in ignorance. Only slack-jawed rubes from the sticks, religious zealots, or those taking advantage of the government and natural resources have large families, right? Sometimes, people who see our family assume all of the above. I’m thinking we should start carrying banjos and moonshine jugs around, just to complete the effect.

The questions are relentless: Read on …

Editor’s note: our regularly-scheduled Boot Camp updates will resume next Friday.

I just heard some news about my college roommate. Horrible news. Last week, she and her family were involved in a car accident while en route from Colorado to Utah. Her oldest daughter was killed.

How does a person ever recover from the death of a child?

When my son Bode was nine months old, I dreamt he died.

As if the end result was not painful enough, within my dream, I had a dream about how it would all unfold. How he would get sick. How I would have to watch him slowly deteriorate. And I foresaw how and when that exact moment of his passing would occur.

And I painfully waited, heart broken, relishing every last moment with him.

I awoke at 3 a.m. in a flood of tears. My husband Jamie consoled me by suggesting we sneak into Bode’s room. I was touched at his thoughtfulness as we crept in there to hear the comforting cadence of his breathing.

“He’s OK,” I whispered, relieved, and reached down to remove his bottle that he had drunkenly thrown to the wayside.

And then he woke up. Forcefully. And very loudly objected as if to say, “What da freak? Just let me sleep, woman!”

And never before have a baby’s cries provided such peace.

How does a person ever recover from the death of a child? Read on …

Every pregnancy ends.

Ideally, a pregnancy ends with an ice-chip-fueled marathon of contracting, pushing, or with the flash of a scalpel in an operating room. A bundled baby with goopy eyes and a little hat is placed into welcoming arms, at last. Cameras capture, footprints are rocked onto scrapbook paper, a name is given. When you want to have a baby, this is the dream come true.

Unfortunately, 25% of pregnancies do not have a happy outcome. They end too early, in miscarriage or stillbirth.

I have had four miscarriages. My most recent pregnancy loss was this past March, so it is still fresh and the wound slightly raw. I’ve found that many people don’t know what to say. Why should they? While a lot of women have found themselves in this club, most have not.
Read on …