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

I Didn’t Know

“Oh hunny, always put the tupaware up!  Never put it in a bottom cabinet.”  She softly instructed with a sweet smile and that southern drawl.

I returned the smile and sheepishly unpacked the box in the top cupboard, just thankful to be out of the car after a long move.

It was 2010, my then fiancé and myself just made the drive from Burnsville, Minnesota to a suburb of Kansas City, Missouri.  The effects of the recession were still being felt and this meant hiring freezes at city, county, and state levels- not great news for Brad as he sought out a job in law enforcement.  Finally, he was hired.  We picked up our budding life together to transplant in this quickly recovering town on the river. Continue reading

The Empty Box

image3 (1)

I opened the crisp envelope, just knowing that it would contain a glowing evaluation of my genius son.  Knowing that all the hard work he has put in will shine through.

I began reading it with a smile and ended it in tears, he did not meet one goal.  Not ONE.  His speech therapist wrote kindly of how hard Marshall works, how he is laser focused, how much he impresses her.  All the things you would hope to hear, yet no goals met.  Marshall’s speech is estimated to be 40% intelligible to those not familiar to him.  How?  He works so hard! Continue reading