I’ve been working hard on this e-Book “Self-Care for Exhausted Mamas” for the past few months and today is the day I finally get to share it with the world. My intention with this e-book is that you will be empowered as women and mothers to thrive in your mothering, to get rid of exhaustion […]
Exciting Day! Self-Care for Exhausted Mamas E-book is Out! Read More »
A poem for pregnancy loss awareness month about my recent miscarriage of our twin stars, our last embryos from IVF we lost due to an unjust mental healthcare system
On Christmas day, after an agonizing two week wait following in-vitro fertilization (IVF) treatments in New York, I’ll find out whether or not I’m pregnant. I didn’t plan it this way, my heart palpitating with anxiety during an already tender time, and yet like so many things with infertility, it was outside my control. For
4 Coping Strategies for Infertility During the Holidays Read More »
This entire year has been a year of clenching. Body curled inward, tight. Neck stiff, shoulders closed. Like many of you, it began with a move. Transition. That cavernous word. As global nomad’s, we call many places home and movement seems to be our mantra. Whether welcome or unwanted, whether reentering after living on the field, being
Sometimes I can forget. How long I fought for him. How much grief I endured. This morning I held my son against my chest and breathed in his blonde hair, as if trying to inhale him into my body. He’s 17 months now, he’s a toddler tottering around on beach paths and mouthing words, throwing fits
Motherhood isn’t what I thought it would be. I hate even saying that. Eight weeks in and I’m dreaming of a Mexican beach. Completely alone. No tiny fingernails digging into my flesh. If you’ve seen my Instagram feed then you know I had a baby. A long awaited, long fought for baby. A baby I
I got to see my baby today. He’s eight weeks and the size of a wild strawberry, tiny as a jelly bean with little limbs. The heart is already flickering at 172. I’d never seen my baby’s heartbeat. I’d never had a happy ultrasound. On the black and white screen this rainbow baby was hanging out upside
I haven’t been writing much lately. Life happened. I’d wanted to fall into summer’s sandy shores and slowed time with abandon. But mostly I got anxiety and tumult. I’m not a busyness lover, I’m a stillness lover. I always know I’m not doing well when the ink from my pen dries up. I hit a deep soul weariness
What to do with all this longing? All of us are longing for something. We’re longing for a husband, we’re aching to have children, we’re aching for the ones we lost, we’re longing to be seen and known by our friends, to feel successful, we’re longing to feel like we’ve finally “made it.” (Whatever that means.)
This year is six years, six years since we lost our first baby, six years since the toilet clotted blood. Last week was National Infertility Awareness Week and it pulls me back to the memories like my eyes to the scene of a car crash. I can see myself on the floor. Praying. Begging. Being willing
I’ve been ruminating recently on the idea that there must be a secret that can get us through hard times. There must be a secret to healing along the way as we pick up wounds in our daily living so they don’t pile high inside us. I’ve been looking for ways beyond the obvious practices, the things we know
Surrender. It seems too delicate a word for me to understand, the syllables lilting off my tongue like failure, like giving up. Surrender seems cowardly, a tiny white flag of acquiescence. The signal that a battle is done. I’ve never been one to release control lightly. I’ve always been a fighter. I’ve always fought for what’s
