Easter. How is it already Easter? I seriously feel like I was just extremely pregnant and exhausted finishing up our 25 days of Christmas. Now the December snow has long since melted and the trees are budding new life. Easter.
It was a beautiful spring day; the sun was shining bright and there was that fresh crispness in the air that only spring seems to be able to bring about.
When we lived in Kansas City, Brad worked for a department that was short-staffed and overworked at the time. He was only 24 and I was still a baby at 22, we lived about 8 hours from all of our family when Marshall was born. The day we came home from the hospital- less than 48 hours after giving birth to our first- Brad went back to work leaving me alone with this new little life to figure out how to take care of. All while healing myself. He was disappointed that he didn’t get as much bonding time with his new son as he would like, but we needed the income and feared him losing his job if he didn’t return to work asap. We made it work, but it was hard and stressful on the both of us.
Today, January 21st, 2017, is a historic day. Today- all across the world- women and their allies marched. Continue reading
Remember, as a child, having snow days? Particularly the first one of the season? Waking up to hear that there was no school, looking out the window to see feet of glistening freshly fallen snow, smelling the hot cocoa and just knowing that today would be a great day?
I have to confess: I am a mommy thief. Allow me to explain. There have been a few past posts that have casually mentioned in passing how I don’t/ didn’t have a mother of my own. That’s a long, ugly, and dark back history that we won’t delve into today. Instead, let me tell you about the moms I have gleaned expertise from. Continue reading
My grandmother was a short little Italian woman, who lived through the Great Depression, and was a devout Roman Catholic. She was very poor for the good portion of her life, but she showed her love through food. One thing she would often say (after “mangia, mangia!”; Italian for “eat, eat!”) was that wasting was sinning. I often hear her words when it comes to various things, and pumpkin carving is no different!
Sometimes I struggle with what number pregnancy I should call this. At every doctor’s appointment and ultrasound I’m asked “And what number pregnancy is this?” There, I know I am to include all my pregnancies. Even those I never got to bring home. “Six.” I say, it still stings every time the words fall from my lips. “And how many live births have you had?” Sometimes they say this with a smile, but most of the time when a person as young as me has had so many pregnancies they know the numbers won’t match. “Two.” why can’t I look them in the eye when I say this? I still carry some shame, still blame myself. I know it’s ridiculous, I know it makes no sense but grief- even when healed- doesn’t make sense. Continue reading
Just hours from Canada, summer is definitely winding down. The heat and humidity has started to waver in favor of high 60s to low 70s, even some of our small trees have decided to start changing colors in preparation for fall. This is my favorite time of the season, this is bliss.
Brad and I are planners, we have always known we wanted a big family and have names for each gender- and in order of use- since like 2009. Being planners mean we don’t wait for birth to find out gender.