Almost everything about Isaac has been unexpected. Six and a half years ago, I gave birth to my first baby, Nicholas. I was young, unsure, and overwhelmed, but he was a gift to me. I struggled, but I loved. I was challenged, but I grew. He was the first baby, but when his daddy left this earth, I realized with

There are some things it’s almost impossible to write about. These are things I can only live. Things that no number of photos or blog posts can do justice. Virginia Woolf writes, “One can’t write directly about the soul. Looked at, it vanishes.” What is true of the soul is true of other things. One of which is this: This

Birthday Wishes

I’ve found out over the years that I’m pretty good at killing things. Walk in my house and you’ll see the ridiculous number of plants that thrive in my home. But in reality, they are a mere fraction of all the ones I’ve ever owned before inadvertently killing them off. And it’s not just plants. I’ve lost count of the

“[There is a] universal truth that we are all are responsible for our lives — that we all suffer and we all need to find light in that darkness, strength in that weakness.” This quote from Chery Strayed is how I ended my last blog post. These words are still echoing in my head. I’m wondering what it would look

We’ve all heard the cliché saying, when one door closes another door opens. It’s optimism at its brightest, and when you’re in the depths of pain, these words almost always come from someone on the outside looking in. I’m not trying to be callous; I’m generally an optimistic person, and I appreciate these words of hope. But at the same

I’m still not sure what prompted me to sign up for a ballet class. I should probably mention that I’m not – and never have been – a dancer. I can’t even reach my toes. But it’s something I always wanted to try. Plus, I’ve been making a habit lately of embracing vulnerability. And somehow that includes making a fool

You love trains, puzzles, and peanut butter. Your laugh starts deep in your belly and is the most infectious giggle I’ve ever heard. You don’t go a day without singing, even if it’s Jingle Bells in April. You have my fair hair and your daddy’s round hands. And you still ask for kisses when you fall over. I dread the

When the snow blankets my world, swallowing up the sound and reflecting all the light, I float between the bed sheets, eyes shut, lingering in those last few moments of half sleep. My fingers entwine with freckled, callused hands; hands that walked me back up the aisle after the “till death do us part,” hands that cradled the tiny head