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A Daughter That Knows His Love (Ella's Birth Story)

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When our first child was born, I was so excited to share the story of how he made his way into this world. His birth went so smoothly and the process was full of so much joy. However, I’ve held off sharing the full details of our daughter’s birth for several reasons. Firstly, because parts of it are hard to relive. Secondly, because I never want anyone to think that I’m sharing the story in need of sympathy. Despite her birth being incredibly difficult, perhaps even traumatic, we are so incredibly grateful that we were able to bring our baby girl home. We know that this is not the story for everyone, and so I feel almost shameful even telling her story. However, I know that so often mothers come home with their babies greeted with fanfare and excitement, but what they feel deep down is sometimes completely void of joy. I feel for these mothers who are expected to revel in gratitude when they have just overcome both physical and emotional trauma. To those mothers, you are not alone
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Coping Mechanisms

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As someone who struggles with anxiety and depression, I’ve never been very comfortable with my own negative emotions. I often feel like I’m one sad thought away from a monsoon. I was always the emotional one picked on for my sensitivity and lack of strength. Although I’ve come to terms with this vulnerability and the strength that comes from sympathizing with both the joy and sadness in this world, it’s not easy to feel the weight of the world on your shoulders. One moment of stress feels like a boulder on my back stacked on top of the various other rocks that have attached themselves to me throughout a typical and seemingly mundane day.   I say all this not to identify myself as someone who bears more than their fair share of the world. I’m sure many of you feel it too, but have found that you are able to fully detach yourself from the stress and woes of being human. We all have our coping mechanisms. After a tough day it’s not uncommon to have glass of wine to wind d
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God's Big Breadcrumbs

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Before I even knew God, He was placing people in my life like breadcrumbs leading me back to him. There was James, who despite my reputation of being a cactus in high school (prickly and unapproachable) he opened his arms to me when I transferred to the same college. I thought a popular guy like him would never remember a quiet, unlikeable girl like me, but he welcomed me at a time when I knew no one. He couldn’t miss me walking through the otherwise empty parking lot. He stopped and hugged me. I don’t remember our conversation, but I remembered thinking there was something different about James. Now I realize that he shined the light of Jesus into my otherwise dark world. James is now a missionary in China. At the time I didn’t even know he was a Christian, but now I know he was a breadcrumb. There was Caitlin. We transferred in at the same time, took classes together, did projects together, and sat next to each other on graduation day. Caitlin on the other hand always had Jesus on
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Someone is Always Doing Worse

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I’m probably one of the most laid back first time moms. Especially in this millennial, organic, non-dairy, peanut-allergy ridden world. My approach to parenting is that somebody is always doing a worse job than I am. That sounds like a free-range parenting disaster, but don’t worry I’m not headed down that road. In fact I’m a hands-on discipline approving mom, but I’m also not willing to live in a world where I’m never good enough. Don’t get me wrong I’ve spent many nights googling all the side effects of the many mistakes I’ve made as a parent. In fact, I’ve googled so many things I could probably write a book. Yesterday’s search was “What to do if your baby eats a leaf.” Someone actually posted that their kid ate a dead bug, so my mission statement stands true… someone’s always doing worse. First time moms often fall trap to the heart wrenching reality that how they parent this little being will ultimately have life-changing effects, and while that’s true I want those effects to in
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Motherhood Without the Filter

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     Disclaimer: I wrote this post months ago, and never published it because it sounded so selfish, but I do think it's important that women see the reality of motherhood, not the filter that instagram provides. So here is a real look into motherhood, not an attempt for you to feel sorry for me, but in an attempt to show you authenticity. I have probed the internet for all the wisdom I can gather in regards to motherhood. Everyone just seems to be doing a stellar job with stellar children that have stellar temperaments. It's all nonsense. How these women manage to work from home and go to the gym astounds me. I can't seem to get my hair done without overlooking the wailing in the background. Let's be real, motherhood is tough. Here's just a glimpse into motherhood lately: 1. I can never manage to wake up early enough.  JW is the only necessary alarm clock in the house. Despite my attempts, I can't seem to get ahead of him. Once this week though, he gr
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Motherhood is a Balancing Act

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I truly believe that I was predestined to be a mother. I've had a longing in my heart since I was a young girl. My mother often called me the child-whisperer because I frequently caught eyes with babies in restaurants and grocery stores. My role as teacher gave me the opportunity to be part-time mom to dozens of kids who I like to believe I helped grow into better people, but nothing prepared me for the transition into actual motherhood. Over the past month I've realized that motherhood is a balancing act that years of child development training and personal research could never truly prepare me for. The Balance between Research and Instinct I had spent 9 months researching breastfeeding tips, sleep schedules, and parenting techniques. After compiling article after article, I even put together a daily schedule for my newborn who hadn't even entered the world yet. It is a trademark of my personality. I thrive off of routine. Everyone laughed when I told them I already
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The Birth of John Wayne

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No, this is not a biographical story about the late, great western actor. It's the story of how our son came into this world. At my 38 week appointment my doctor reluctantly told me that statistically speaking I would probably go past my due date. I knew that first babies often come late, but I kept hoping that my physical health prior to pregnancy (and the excessive amount of squats I'd been doing) would lend themselves to an early birth. As the week went on my husband and I were on a roller coaster of selfish desire. He had been gone several weeks and weekends over the past 2 months, and we were approaching the only uneventful week all summer. Not to mention I was counting the weeks left until school started knowing that taking time off would be an act of congress. On Sunday, July 16th, Eddie and I lay in bed discussing just how much we'd like our little man to make his debut. Not only would the timing work out nicely, but we felt ready. (Whatever that means.) We he
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