Life as Amber knows it

"An adventure in the making…"

Monthly Archives: November 2012

It’s a book release promotion!

On Friday, November 30, 2012, I will be releasing my SEVENTH book of 2012: “11:59 p.m.” a collection of poetry exploring the end of love, the cusp of love, and the beginning of love. To celebrate, I’ve marked all my books down to $0.99.

How it works is simple: Click on the hyper-link by each book to hit it’s product page on, and enter the coupon code you see by the book’s title on this page.

I’m hoping you’ll join me, as well as passing the word on to your friends. And I hope, if you do buy and read my work? That it moves you and brings you some enjoyment.





“The Color of Dawn”  Coupon Code: EW48Y

A collection of poems by Amber Jerome-Norrgard, covering such topics as life, love, loss, healing and redemption.





“4 a.m., A Collection” Coupon Code: DN54T

A collection of essays and poems by a chronic insomniac covering topics such as life, love, marriage, parenthood, pregnancy, infertility, loss, grief, and healing.




“Wanting” Coupon Code: MM52A

Two new erotic short stories enmeshed with three recently released erotic short stories by Amber Jerome~Norrgard




“In the Gloaming” Coupon Code: GD46D

Amber Jerome~Norrgard’s second collection of poetry, written bare and wide-open about her experiences with life, loss, love, and true friendship.




“My Beautiful Jewel, Book One of the Miracles Trilogy” Coupon Code: RE69N

After being diagnosed with both Poly Cystic Ovarian Syndrome and Endometriosis, Author Amber Jerome~Norrgard believed she would never have a biological child. Instead, she was blessed in 2004 with the birth of a daughter. “My Beautiful Jewel” is the story of Amber’s journey to motherhood, told from selections from her pregnancy journal.




“The Allegory of Dusk” Coupon Code: NH26M

Life most definitely is not fair, and at times, it is harsh. What happens when the worst occurs in our life— when there’s no guarantee of redemption or of hope? When there is no ending in sight to what we go through when the bottom has dropped out? When everything we’ve hoped for, everything we have planned for has been ripped away painfully? ”The Allegory of Dusk” is an examination of the reality of life at its most painful and damaged.



Lots of love, huggles, and reading,

~Amber Jerome~ Norrgard

Happy Birthday Mini~Me!

Four years ago today, I was mincing around, a huge 190 pounds of boob and belly, thirty-eight weeks pregnant with my second-born.

I was also in a state of fear and anxiety.

In late July of 2007, after twenty months of trying to conceive, my husband and I had lost a baby we had both desperately wanted. You see, our first-born daughter, Amethyst, had been this beautiful, sweet, happy blessing in our lives, and we were so very much in love with her that we could not see anything else to do but have a second baby to experience more of that bliss of pure-white love that we felt for our first-born. After three rounds of the fertility drug Clomid had resulted in nothing but hyper-stimulated ovaries and tears of frustration and failure, we had decided to stop trying to get pregnant. And then became pregnant. We had been given such a beautiful gift. And in a cruel twist of fate, we lost that gift we had begged for. You hear people talk about their hearts being broken; our hearts were shattered. Because we had finally been handed a long-anticipated dream, only to have it cruelly ripped away from us.

For myself and my grief, the months following the loss of a child I had wanted more than anything in the world were long, drawn-out, and exceedingly painful. I closed off from friends and family members, and did what I could to keep things normal and happy for the child we did have. But shortly after that devastating loss, my brother and his wife announced they were expecting their second baby, due just one month past what would have been my due date.

How do you balance the emotion of joy with that of anger, hurt, frustration and loss? I some how managed, but looking back, five years later, I have no idea how I made it through. Because with each milestone my sister-in-law reached was a reminder that I myself would have just experienced it myself, had I not lost my baby.

Nine days before my nephew Tyler was born, and on what would have been my due date had I not miscarried, I found out I was pregnant. And my doctor as well as his staff were endlessly patient and understanding of the extreme fear I held. I spent my pregnancy counting down. How many days until the first sonogram when we’d see the baby’s heartbeat for the first time and the chance of miscarriage would drop?  How many days until the Ultra-Screen? How many days until I was safe in the confines of the second trimester? How many days until the week twenty ultrasound when we would find out if we were having a son or daughter? How many days until week twenty-six, when the baby could be born and potentially live outside my body with the aid of medical devices and medications as an ultra-premie? How many days until the third trimester? How many days until week thirty-five until our daughter could be born and not have to go into the NICU? How many more days until I’d give birth and finally hold within my arms the daughter we had so desperately wanted.

Every appointment brought with it fears, the largest that the doctor would not find a heartbeat and would have to turn to me and say, once again, “I am so very sorry for your loss.” Every twinge was cause for alarm. Any long stretch of time where there was little to no movement within my womb would bring with it tears and a panicked telephone call to my husband or my best friend.

At thirty-nine weeks and two days, I went into labor at 12:30 a.m., November 25, 2008, ironically enough, the day I had been scheduled for an induction. I spent five hours walking the floor of our apartment, whispering over and over again to my daughter, “Please, just please make it through today. Please let me hold you, please let me hear you cry.”

We dropped Amethyst off at my brother and sister-in-law’s house on our way to the hospital, and my sister-in-law hugged me and told me that everything was going to be fine, that soon I’d finally hold our daughter in my arms and see her face.

And labor went much as it should, until I hit six centimeters and we began losing our daughter’s heart beat. In a panic, I shouted at my doctor, “Just fucking cut her out of me, NOW! Just make her safe, please, just make her safe!” And it was a very close thing: I was actually shaved and ready to be rolled into the operating room when a position change in my body helped bring her heart beat back up.

Finally at ten centimeters, I began pushing, and for the next ten minutes, Brian held my right leg while my sister-in-law Catie held my left. Right before the final push that brought my daughter into this world, my doctor looked at me and said, “You ready for this?” And Autumn Morgaine came into the world, pink, screaming and so beautiful I could not take my eyes off her. I stared at her perfect, perfect face until the nurses took her to be weighed and have her APGAR test done. I had to fight against my urge to not let go of her when they brought her back to me, not even for her father who was just as desperate to hold his daughter as I had been.

Autumn approaches everything in her life, from food to the playground to arts and crafts with a passion and ferocity that I admire the hell out of. She charms the hell out of everyone she comes across with her gorgeous smile and her outgoing personality. She has her father’s blonde hair, and she is the only one of my three children to get my odd multi-colored eyes. And like her mother, she hates the word “no”, loves fiercely, and if she cannot find a way around or over an obstacle, she’ll blast through it in her determination to work for what she wants. She loves music, and wants to be about a million things when she grows up. She adores babies, and is fiercely  over-protective of her younger brother. She’s angry she cannot get her first tattoo for fourteen years, and loves it when I spray her hair purple or pink just like Mommy’s. She is loud, rambunctious, beautiful, and outrageous. And while I beam to see parts of her father and parts of myself shine through in who she is, I am elated when I see what is all her, and no one else.

Happy Fourth Birthday Autumn. I love you, just as you are, and not a day goes by that I am not grateful for the beautiful gift you are to me. Many more birthdays to you my darling, beautiful girl.


Why I WON’T be completing NaNoWriMo 2012

I’m a creative person at heart. I love doing arts and crafts, I’ve been known to bake a cake and then shape and decorate it into a three foot tall sunflower, and I always carry a pen with me in case the inspiration for a poem strikes me while I’m out and about. Give me a few moments and an idea, and I am going full-throttle towards completing a poem or a short story.

And while I love the idea behind NaNoWriMo, and even have several friends in the Indie Author Arena that have completed NaNoWriMo in previous years with excellent results, for me and the way I am? NaNoWriMo is the quicket way to not only stifle, but kill my creativity.

Too much pressure.

I had planned on writing a 50,000 word poem for NaNoWriMo this year. Because when I get going on an idea, especially one in regards to my writing, I can crank out poems and short stories very easily.  I very gleefully announced on a podcast I was a guest on in mid-October that my plan for NaNoWriMo was an epic poem. And I just as gleefully said on my own podcast on Halloween night that I’d be writing the poem, and it was going to be awesome.

But the reality is, while I could write a 50,000 word poem over thirty days, the idea of starting November 1 and finishing by November 30 did nothing but have me saying, “Oh fuck!” and being unable to write with my usual passion. I have often said I’ll never make creative writing a career. Because once it becomes a job for me, something I have to do each day, its no longer going to hold the same joy and pleasure for me. Writing has always been my escape from the hurts and heartaches in this world, and it is my way of doing something just for me. I’ve written countless poems and short stories that are just that: for me. They’ll never be released to my readers. I might show one or two friends what I’ve done, but in the end? Those stories and poems will remain on my computer or in a notebook, simply for my own pleasure.

So I’ve removed NaNoWriMo from my “to-do” list for the month of November. I’ll still be writing the 50,000 word poem, because I love the idea of creating a piece of poetry that tells a novel-length story. And if I finish it in November due to the fact that I took the pressure off myself? Then hey, great! I can say I wrote a 50,000 word poem in November of 2012.

And as for my friends who are slugging away at their keyboards? You have my support, and I cannot wait to read what you’ve written when it comes out. Drinks are on me come December 1, 2012.

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