Mommy Thievery

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

Baby Number _?

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

Acting for Everyone

“Hey!  Are you ready yet?!”  Ryan knocked on my dorm room door.  It was time to get going to our first day of college classes and I was just putting the finishing touches on straightening my hair.

“Yea, just a second!”  I had to check my make up and make sure it was just so.  Ryan sighed.

I was nervous but put on a confident front.  You see, I went to a kindergarten- 12th grade school in a small town in northern Minnesota.  I didn’t have to switch schools and get use to new buildings and new people when switching from elementary school to middle school and then again in high school.  At my small school, you simply moved down the hallway of the same building.   Continue reading

At Home 

Dark is falling and with it trouble arises.  The officer puts on his kevlar vest and holsters his gun as little eyes watch from the next room.

“I love you buddy, be good and listen to mom, okay?” The officer stands well over six feet tall, but his voice is soft and gentle as he speaks on a bent knee.

“I love you too papa, I miss you, be safe!” His son chirps back.  Be safe, a concept foreign to most four-year olds but not at all lost on this one in particular.  With a hug and kiss they part, the officer kisses his wife and the small baby she holds in her arms, walking out of the door- leaving his family behind. Continue reading