If I could be completely honest, I'd tell you I'm not okay. I'd tell you I'm tired of throwing up nearly every day, sometimes multiple times a day. I'd tell you I hate being exhausted constantly and feeling so zapped that I'm finding myself in bed by 7 on the regular. I'd tell you I'm… Continue reading Honestly, I’m fine.
I’ve written half a dozen or more unpublished blogs on this new wave of grief that has enveloped me. It’s almost shameful that the world seems to have a “one-year” expiration date on grief, yet mine seemed to attack most debilitatingly in this second year without Mira. The first 6-12 months after she died were… Continue reading Running in the right direction.
Today is one of those days. I didn’t know it when I woke up, but it didn’t take long. This morning, I got ready, ate breakfast, helped Jake get the baby ready to take him to the doctor since he’s got yet another ear infection. Pretty normal kind of day. Mira wasn’t, particularly on my… Continue reading Mira Days
I’ve always found the way strangers ooh and aww over a stranger’s baby to be odd. Perhaps because I’ve never done it. Having walked the path of infertility, miscarriage (six times for that matter), then child loss (after our five month old daughter passed away), I have spent most of my adult life avoiding babies,… Continue reading To you he’s just a baby boy, but to me…
I'm one day into my week long "adventure" as a single parent. My husband is out of the country for the next seven days, and I'm already missing him terribly. I already feel battered and exhausted. This is the second time Jake gone on a trip out of the country and has left me for… Continue reading Solo.
There’s something about kids, babies, and pregnancy that leads to a lot of counting on the fingers. We find ourselves counting weeks down and weeks to go, marking special dates and anniversaries, planning out appointments, and anticipating milestones. Optimism and faith after my first miscarriage helped me get past my fears, and I bravely scribbled… Continue reading Faith to write in ink.
Dear PICU (or CVICU or NICU or any other ICU) Mama, You are a Warrior. When a child is critically ill or injured, it is impossible to describe the suffocating feelings of helplessness, fear, and frustration that rip through a mother. Beyond that, it is impossible to describe how the experience will change your identity.… Continue reading Dear PICU Mama, You are a Warrior.