Hi y’all, I’m Blair. You can usually find me over at Heir to Blair where I’m talking about cupcakes, my sex life, & this little blonde kid named Harrison. When Natalie contacted me & asked me to guest blog, I was BEYOND excited. We share very similar stories, but ones of hope, courage, & a happy ending for both of us. So we decided that I should blog about what we have most in common, what we both know & maybe help someone else have a little hope. Because as Natalie says, it does spring eternal.


On September 30, 2008, I peed on a stick & found out I was pregnant with our first child.

On November 22, just four days shy of the second trimester, I lost my baby.

I know – it’s a depressing way to start off a guest blog, especially with Nellie smiling so sweetly throughout this blog. But it is important to tell you that I lost my baby, that it broke my heart completely, because the key point is:

I SURVIVED. And so will you.

I survived. I survived the nights when I felt so empty down to my core that I wanted to rip out my uterus & stomp on it for betraying me. I survived the “black mark” on my fertility. & I survived the “sensitive cervix” stamped in red all over my chart – fighting back as only I know how with sarcasm & irony – with a cervix that refused to dilate even in labor.

I SURVIVED. And so will you.

Some days, I survived because my husband held me & told me it was okay to be sad & afraid. Some days, I survived because my girlfriends brought our faith to the conference table for a frank heart-to-heart. Sometimes, if we’re being honest, I survived with a fifth of gin & a plate of fresh chocolate chip cookies.

BUT I SURVIVED. And so will you.

When I became pregnant with Harrison, I had survived a miscarriage. But I wasn’t sure I could survive the fear of pregnancy – the fear of losing this new baby, of EVERYTHING being out of my control. I felt choked by fear that I wound not survive this pregnancy, even after two incredible ultrasounds.


& submitted to that truth. It didn’t matter if I stayed 5 feet away from all deli meat. Or if I never had sex with my husband after conception. Or if the pizza I indulged in had trace finger-tip-full amounts of feta in an entire slice. It was out of my control and there was very little I could do that would “shake a good pregnancy.” Harsh words, but true. & more importantly, there was very little I could do to keep a pregnancy that was not supposed to be viable. Even harsher words. The first time my mother said them to me, I cried. Until I realized, she SPOKE THE TRUTH. & slowly, I relaxed. I ate grilled hot dogs. I drank the acceptable amount of caffeine. I went for a few jogs. & on October 14, 2009, I gave birth to the most amazingly handsome blonde boy.

We survived.

& so will you.