The light keeps shining through.

It has been quite a busy few months. I finished up my last semester at Ensign in December, so I was extremely busy working on my schoolwork for the months prior to that.

In addition to that, Ricky and I have had an emotionally difficult couple of months, and though I am not sure I want to be sharing everything in detail quite so soon, I do think it is an important topic of conversation and I want to prevent others from experiencing the long, drawn out experience we had.

Content Warning: Miscarriage, Pregnancy loss, Grief

To make a long story short ("Too late!" ~ Clue), we did an IVF transfer at the beginning of October and received a positive pregnancy test two weeks later. We went in for an ultrasound at the clinic on the 24th and the doctor was a little concerned because it was measuring a little bit behind. He said I might experience a miscarriage if I encounter any bleeding in the next two weeks before the follow-up ultrasound. I did experience a tiny bit of bleeding the week of the appointment, but it wasn't as much as I thought it should have been for a miscarriage, so I was hopeful.

When we went back on the 7th, we were told that the embryo wasn't growing and was no longer viable. We were devastated, and I was given the option to wait for my body to handle the miscarriage, or I could take medicine to help the process along. I wanted to wait for my body to handle the miscarriage. The doctor recommended waiting two weeks and scheduling another ultrasound to make sure everything was clearing up safely. 

So I scheduled another ultrasound with a place closer to us and after a week, I was concerned because a) I hadn't experienced any additional bleeding whatsoever, and b) in my mind, the embryo had stopped growing even before our first ultrasound, which means it had already been about two weeks, so I should have started bleeding.

I messaged the clinic and asked if I should keep waiting til the ultrasound, and they said I should, but I didn't feel right about that. I was able to get my next ultrasound appointment moved up and be seen earlier. 

I thought I would be able to get the medicine prescribed at that appointment, but the doctor was concerned because it appeared I had a blighted ovum and she was worried about me hemorrhaging. So she recommended an OBGYN and I was able to see them on Friday–the day I was originally supposed to have the ultrasound anyway. She was able to prescribe me the medicine, and I took it the next day (November 22), and everything happened so quickly after that, I was grateful I didn't have to carry around the stress and weight of waiting for it to clear up any more. 

If I could go back and do it over again, I would ask for the medication upfront. If I couldn't take the medication first, I would make sure that I scheduled an ultrasound with an OBGYN. I didn't realize that the ultrasound place I had contacted wasn't an actual OBGYN office, nor that they wouldn't have an OBGYN in the office. 

I tried to fight for my health because from the first ultrasound to when I passed everything was just shy of 30 days. That is TOO LONG for my body to have my empty gestational sac inside when there was no yolk sac or anything else to be seen in it. I felt like I couldn't move forward with grieving and accepting I wasn't pregnant anymore until I was sure that everything was gone. 

I wanted to share my experience because I had no idea what to expect from this experience, and going back and forth from the clinic, to the ultrasound place, to the OBGYN office, made it really difficult for anyone to know exactly what was going on in the first place, but it also made it really difficult for me to be able to get any real answers. Next time, I will take the medication and go ahead and be seen by the OBGYN right from the start. 

So for anyone who experiences a miscarriage in the future (myself included), I want you to know several things:

1. I am here for you, always.

2. You can take the medication–it's okay.

3. Make sure that, if you need to schedule an ultrasound, you schedule it with an OBGYN office.

4. It's okay to take a day–or two, or three. However long you need. 

5. It wasn't your fault.

6. YOU ARE LOVED. 💜

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

On December 30, 2025, I posted this to my Facebook page, but I also wanted to share it here:

One of my favorite movies about grief and loss that I think is a great depiction of grief and loss is The Starling, which can be found on Netflix. It stars Melissa McCarthy and has comedic elements but isn’t a comedy. 

My favorite quote from the movie reflects exactly how I’ve been feeling: “‘Cause everybody’s rolling along, living their lives like nothing happened, you know? And I’m saying, “Stop.” ‘Cause I wanna get off for a little bit.” 

My miscarriages were early, and we didn’t get a chance to know our babies, but our loss is still real, and I loved the way this movie shows the ups and downs of grief. 

Moments of productivity and determination. Moments of pain and despair. Every day is different. Every moment is different. Sometimes it feels like one step forward and three steps backwards. Trying to find connections. Trying to keep moving forward with the world when all I want to do is sit and cry and stay in the moments when I didn’t know it was over. The moments when I could plan for our baby’s future. 

I have more to say but am still thinking about how I want to say it. I just wanted to be honest about how HARD the last two months have been for me and how I’ve been in a fog but I’m starting to see some light. The fog keeps coming back but so does the light. I’m trying and want to thank everyone who has been so kind and loving. I don’t really want to end (or start) the year sad, but it’s how I’m feeling. I’m doing a lot better than I was, but I’m still healing. Thank you for being so kind.  #grief #loss #love

This past holiday season was more difficult than I anticipated. At first, the season was perfect. We read about the different names of Jesus each day of the month, watched fun Christmas movies, and shopped for each other. Christmas Day was lovely–we spent the morning opening presents from each other and then we went to spend the rest of the day at my parents'.

When we got home, Ricky went out walking, and I stayed home and crocheted and watched more Christmas movies–I was having such a great time. 

But at some point...I just got so sad and mad. I was looking forward to announcing our pregnancy. I had such a cute idea planned. I was also upset because I should have had a toddler, too. It would have been their first "real" Christmas. I watched my nephews have such a fun day and my heart ached because my baby should have been there, too. I should have been watching MY baby play with their cousins. 

So, to help me heal and finally make something FOR my babies, I decided I wanted to make them stockings that we can hang every year to remember them. So I made one stocking at the end of the year and started the second, which I finished this weekend. I want to put their names on them, but was having trouble figuring that out the way I originally wanted to do the names, so I have to do some more thinking about that first, but their stockings are done. 💜

Stockings I made for our babies.
Pattern: Bead Stitch Christmas Stocking

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Here are two poems I wrote today–one takes pieces from my Facebook post, and the other is kind of a chiasmus poem that I'm really proud of. 💜

Moments

Life is full of moments–

moments of pleasure and delight,

moments of productivity and determination,

moments of pain and despair. 

Every day is different. 

Every moment is different. 

Every day that passes

shapes us into who

and what we are meant to become.

But some days feel like

one step forward, 

three steps backward. 

Trying to find connection.

Trying to move forward with the world

when all I want

is to sit and cry–

to stay suspended in the moments

before everything changed.

The moments when I didn't know

it was over.

The moments when the future felt certain,

when I could plan your life

before I ever held you.

Those moments still live in me–

tender, unforgotten,

etched into my heart

through grief.

These moments have passed–

as moments always will–

but live forever in my heart,

never far gone.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Yearning Moments

We wanted you

from the moment

you implanted,

before we discovered

you were lost. 

Every moment after

that positive test,

we wanted you.

You were not

long in this world,

but you live on

in loud hopes,

dashed dreams,

aching memories,

and yearning moments.

We never heard

your little heartbeat,

and we never saw

your little form,

but we still loved you.

Grief captured us

the way you

were supposed to–

quickly and loudly,

panicked and unexpected–

but it stayed 

longer than you. 

We wanted you

every moment after

that positive test.

You were lost

before we discovered

you implanted–

from the moment

we wanted you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

My plans and wishes for this year involve family history, temple work, and scripture study. I want to understand my covenants with God more, and I love that we are studying the Old Testament this year because the Old Testament is all about the covenants God makes with His children.

My word this year is "STRIVE/STRIVING". I'm striving to trust God, even when I fall short. I keep trying, even though it's been difficult. I'm striving to see the light, though the fog keeps rolling in. But I'm grateful that the light keeps shining through. 

I hope you had a lovely holiday season and that you have a wonderful year with your families.

I know that God is real, and that He loves us. Even when we feel lost and alone, He is always with us. I love you, too, and am so thankful for your presence in my life. I hope you had a peaceful Sunday. 💜

Xoxo

Mattie

He is already here.

"He is Already Here"
--Mattie Velasquez, March 30th, 2024

 I had this beautiful idea in my head Friday night after my orchestra concert of a meaningful image of the sacrifice and love of our Savior. I spent many hours working on it, wanting to get it right because this idea was too precious not to share. 

One of my favorite talks about Easter is from Elder Joseph B. Wirthlin from General Conference in October 2006. In his talk, he states:

"I think of how dark that Friday was when Christ was lifted up on the cross. 

On that terrible Friday the earth shook and grew dark. Frightful storms lashed at the earth. Those evil men who sought His life rejoiced. Now that Jesus was no more, surely those who followed Him would disperse. 

On that day they stood triumphant. On that day the veil of the temple was rent in twain. Mary Magdalene and Mary, the mother of Jesus, were both overcome with grief and despair. The superb man they had loved and honored hung lifeless upon the cross. 

On that Friday the Apostles were devastated. Jesus, their Savior—the man who had walked on water and raised the dead—was Himself at the mercy of wicked men. They watched helplessly as He was overcome by His enemies. 

On that Friday the Savior of mankind was humiliated and bruised, abused and reviled. It was a Friday filled with devastating, consuming sorrow that gnawed at the souls of those who loved and honored the Son of God. 

I think that of all the days since the beginning of this world’s history, that Friday was the darkest."

Not only was that day the darkest day in the history of the world, but that day was the darkest in the life of Jesus Christ. For the Son of God--who exuded so much light, life, hope, and love--that Friday was His darkest moment. And He endured it for us. For those who love Him and try every day to be better people. For those who know of Him but do not know Him. For those who do not know of Him. For those who do not care. For all of us, regardless of our relationship with Him or lack thereof, He suffered the most--He endured the darkest day--for us. 

Elder Wirthlin continues, however:

"But the doom of that day did not endure. 

The despair did not linger because on Sunday, the resurrected Lord burst the bonds of death. He ascended from the grave and appeared gloriously triumphant as the Savior of all mankind. 

And in an instant the eyes that had been filled with ever-flowing tears dried. The lips that had whispered prayers of distress and grief now filled the air with wondrous praise, for Jesus the Christ, the Son of the living God, stood before them as the firstfruits of the Resurrection, the proof that death is merely the beginning of a new and wondrous existence. 

Each of us will have our own Fridays—those days when the universe itself seems shattered and the shards of our world lie littered about us in pieces. We all will experience those broken times when it seems we can never be put together again. We will all have our Fridays. 

But I testify to you in the name of the One who conquered death—Sunday will come. In the darkness of our sorrow, Sunday will come. 

No matter our desperation, no matter our grief, Sunday will come. In this life or the next, Sunday will come."

Grief is oftentimes the most overwhelming feeling to ever exist or feel. I think that is why there are five stages of grief: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. Sometimes, it feels like our grief is neverending. The depth of our sorrow is incomprehensible to anyone but ourselves. Except for Him. He understands in ways that no one else does. He understands in ways that we can't even describe or fathom. For He endured it all. He has walked through it with us already. He has been there and will continue to be there for us.

Even though the darkness seems overwhelming at times...the light will come. No matter how overpowering the darkness...how endless it seems...the light is there. The Son will come. Because He is already here. 

He endured the darkest day in the history of the world so that we wouldn't have to. 

If that isn't love, I don't know what is. 

Happy Easter, my friends and loved ones. I cherish you all and wish you all the best. I hope you know how much your Savior loves you and how much I love you. I think of you often and pray for your health and happiness. 

Xoxo

Mattie