I know something you don’t know…

As a child, if I heard the saying “I know something you don’t know”, I would often take it as a horrible taunt as if the other person had a valuable secret and was holding it over my head without ever sharing it. In the world of FertilityCare, the connotation is different. Very different.

In the 7 years since I began this work, I noticed that many of our referrals have come from the clients themselves as they generously pass their knowledge on to other women who are in need of authentic reproductive healthcare. The relative…the friend…the coworker…the woman at church. The heart that longs for a child, a natural means to space her pregnancies, or an understanding of the craziness that she faces with irregular cycles. Upon learning the Creighton Model FertilityCare System, a common statement is made by our clients: “Every woman should be taught this. My life would have been so different if I knew this a long time ago!”

They’re right.

Every woman should be taught to appreciate her fertility. Why this information isn’t widespread is still beyond me, but we absolutely have to get it out there. Sometimes the conversations can be difficult. Approaching the people around us about such a sensitive topic can be quite harrowing; however, the opportunity often presents itself by those who need it the most.

In the sorrow of a woman who lost her child to miscarriage. In the anguish of the one who has spent far longer than she would have liked trying to conceive. In the complaints about PMS or the negative side effects of her current birth control.

And there’s also the newly engaged woman who is preparing for marriage (I don’t know what I would have done if our priest never required us to learn this!).

It amazes me to see how quickly trends arise, especially in recent months. We see it all over social media – leggings that feel like butter, skincare that makes us look like we’re aging backwards, glamorous lipstick of every shade that lasts no matter what you eat. Women want only the best for their bodies, and of course, they deserve it! So what are we doing to take care of ourselves in regards to everything that makes us unique as women in the first place?

Let’s talk about the beauty and power of our fertility, and spread the good news that most people don’t know. You just might be changing another woman’s life for the better.

On so many levels.

To find out more about the Creighton Model FertilityCare System, click HERE. If you’d like to recommend a FREE Introductory Session to someone you know, click HERE!


“It’s okay, Mommy. It’s okay.”

(originally published on May 22, 2014 at ashelovesministries.com)

Gary and I are going to speak at a retreat this weekend for couples struggling with infertility, miscarriage, and stillbirth. I personally have never had any problems getting pregnant; my issue has been staying pregnant.

We lost our very first baby. And our fourth…our fifth…and our eighth.

I wrote this entry on Wednesday, November 22, 2006 – the day after our little boy’s body left mine. He lived for about 5 1/2 weeks and I loved him with my whole heart. He was the baby who first made me a mother…

There is no pain greater than losing a child. It doesn’t matter how young or old the child was, or whether you ever got to see him or hold her. He was still your baby. She was still your child.

I knew there was life growing inside of me even before the test read “Pregnant”. And somehow I knew when that same life had gone, leaving me with an immense feeling of sadness I had never known before. I tried to stay hopeful, but I knew. We wouldn’t get to meet our baby in July. Our reunion would have to wait until the Eternal Someday.

Last night, the worst had passed. However, the events of the day unfolded before I even opened my eyes. It began with a dream – we were holding a baby boy, who looked much like my nephew Jacob…but after sometime I realized it was our baby boy, and I felt so complete with Gary and my son. We were together – so happy and peaceful, enjoying each other’s company just as any other family would.

Then I awoke to the symptoms I had been hearing of…facing the fear I dreaded the most…trying to prepare myself for something I felt would inevitably come. Gary and I had talked about it. We even gave the disclaimer when we shared the good news that there would be risk. But as much as you try to prepare, you really can’t. It still hurt. It still broke my heart, and it broke his, too.

At least we got a picture. Our doctor was able to find the baby in the ultrasound this time, but he warned us that I was probably already in the beginning stages of a miscarriage. He gave us a copy of the scan as a memento of our baby, and he said that we would look back at this time five years from now and be grateful for the support we gave each other through such a difficult circumstance.

We struggled with the painful emotions of loss throughout the day, trying to come to grips with the reality of it all. I cried. Gary cried. Our family had been crying tears for us, knowing what it felt like to also lose little ones. It came to the point where I didn’t think my heart could feel any emptier. I couldn’t help but be sad, even if I tried to be strong. Nothing anyone could say or do would bring the baby back to life, and it felt like this feeling would never go away. My insides were screaming so loudly but all I could do was cry, until I heard his voice.

“It’s okay, Mommy. It’s okay. Don’t worry, Mommy. Everything will be all right.”

His little soul spoke to mine because God knew that it was his voice I needed to hear at my deepest point of despair. The sobbing calmed as Gary and my niece Leilani held me close, and I told them that the baby was talking to me.

It was then that we named him “Little Gary”.


Our baby helped me through the emotional and spiritual pain so that I would be able to endure the physical pain that would soon follow just an hour later. For an hour and a half, I waited and prayed through the whole ordeal under the care of my family and the specialized coaching of my sister Emeline. Everything she said would happen did. I don’t know what I would have done without them all.

After it was all over, Gary and I sat with each other on the hallway floor and thanked God that it was done. As hard as it was, the whole day couldn’t have gone more smoothly, considering. And we attribute it to the mercy and love of God poured upon us through the prayers of our family and friends who have lifted us up every day since they found out about the pregnancy.

I realized last weekend as I sat at the funeral Mass of my cousin’s friend Audrey, her husband Damian, and their two little girls Elise and Gianna (who Audrey was carrying in her womb), that life on earth is so temporary. There’s nothing about it that we can completely control. In the homily, the priest said that sometimes you find a rose that buds but never blooms, as so it is also in the garden of souls. We never understand why a life doesn’t get to run its full course but we can only trust in the grace that God has given for that life to live at all.

I had long looked for roses as signs throughout my faith journey, and it comforted me to hear Father use St. Therese’s expression of the “garden of souls”. It was on that Saturday that my heart was enlightened to know…

Our baby – Little Gary – is our rose.


And what of the other three? Garrison, Mercy, and Christiana… I have nothing tangible to hold on to and remember them by, except for the distinct signals from my body and the deep knowing in my heart that they were here with me…alive. And then suddenly they were gone.

Our oldest daughter Meleana (now 6) is very aware of her siblings in Heaven. She talks about them, draws pictures of them, and understands that we will see them later on when God calls us home.


I recently told her about the new sister she has who also waits for her and prays for us every day, just as the others do. So there is yet another little Dyogi soul – the one I couldn’t deny when I sat teary-eyed watching Heaven is for Real as Colton Burpo hugged his sister who had no name.


A million questions run through the heads of family members, friends, and strangers alike about the size of our family. “Aren’t you done yet?! How can you handle them all? Are they all yours? Four?!?!”

If they really want to know, I smile and answer: “I don’t know. By the grace of God. Yes, they’re all mine. And actually…I have eight.”

Some people just don’t understand what it took to bring into the world the children that they see…