I’ve shared a lot of my story here on this blog. My story about grief, anxiety, letting go of control, and living with gratitude and compassion. But there’s a central part of my story I haven’t told because I always believed most people wouldn’t want to hear it. But omitting it feels dishonest. And so here it is. Nine months

“Motherhood is a carnival mirror in that you see, at times, the absolute worst version of yourself, and at other times, the absolute best,” writes blogger Erin Loechner. And she’s exactly right. Because being a mom is HARD. And sometimes we don’t want to do it, don’t enjoy it, don’t feel we are cut out for it… and feel immensely

When’s the last time you felt the startling realization that you left your phone/wallet/car keys in the store/restaurant/taxi? That familiar stab of adrenaline, the quickening heartbeat, and sinking stomach? You don’t think rationally in those moments. You’re capable only of disbelief, fear, and anger. If you’re a parent and you’ve ever lost sight of your small child at the park

The Women I Know

The women I know are spread out across lands and oceans, mountain ranges and prairies. I haven’t yet figured out how to make up for the hugs that cannot be sent three thousand miles. But there are words and photos, tears and laughter. The women I know are stronger than they realize. They embody love to an extent that will

It’s my 30th birthday, and I’m not sure that I’m any closer to figuring how to be a person in this world. That said, there are a few things I believe I’ve learned from three decades of life. I guess this isn’t a real blog post. It’s just a collection of learnings I’ve picked up along the way, which I’d

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

You know the ones I’m talking about. At least, I hope you do. The nights that feel overwhelming, the busy weeks that leaving us scrambling. The nights the couch calls our name so loudly we can almost hear it. Oh wait, that just the four-year-old, scream-singing our name from his bed, two hours after bedtime. The nights we don’t feel

This blog was born out of big things. Specifically, one big giant thing that enveloped lots of smaller big things. It’s coming up on three years since I first choked on the word “widow;” since I saw with my own eyes how grief overshadows everything. C. S. Lewis wrote in the wake of his wife’s death, “Her absence is like

I was one of those lethargic teenagers who groaned when we had to run the mile once a year at school. I ran the straights and walked the curves, simultaneously intimidated and bored by that black hot track. It was torture. But then, sometime around the beginning of college, I casually decided to go for a run. And then I

It was 3am, every single day of my pregnancy: I would wake up sobbing, convinced I was going to be a terrible mother. All the mistakes I’d ever made came flooding back to me, and I imagined my child making the same regretful decisions, simply because it was I who made him. When he was first laid on my chest,