A letter to my friends having babies-you are not my trigger

A letter to my friends having babies—you are not my trigger.

The past six months have been challenging for my family. We live in beautiful, but sometimes overwhelming, chaos. Our two year old is strong willed and, when left unattended for a moment, he has figured out how to scale the walls and swing from the ceiling fan. Okay, so maybe that was a bit dramatic. More like shoving plastic Christmas berries up his nose, but you get the picture. Close behind him is our beautiful yet sassy one year old redhead. And let me tell you, redheads do indeed have an attitude to be feared. 

Along with our two children we have three babies who we have lost. Two miscarriages and one ectopic pregnancy within six months. Grieving is a process, but as a mother that process must often be put on hold, shelved for a later time. Thankfully I have an amazing support system who has been on this journey with me. 

This is baby season for many in my group of friends. A lot of them are welcoming their first child while others are adding to their tribe. One of my good friends is having her first baby the same month that I would have welcomed Haven, the first baby that I lost. Maybe this should be hard and I should be retreating.  Maybe I should be putting blinders on and just not participating in this celebration of babies. 

But I am here to say to you, dear friends—you are not my trigger.

We all grieve differently and we all have different needs through painful seasons, but I have found my safe Haven celebrating in this season with you. 

I absolutely love attending your baby showers.

I enjoy purchasing those tiny little newborn clothes for your newest addition.

I feel blessed to be able to sit on the couch with you and cry as you begin your journey with your newborn while also navigating postpartum.

I am overjoyed to bring your family a meal.

I am honored to celebrate with you. 

Dear friends, let me reassure you once again, you are not my trigger.

I am in the trenches of motherhood with you. When I welcomed my babies into this world you were on my doorstep with a meal, encouraging me with a sweet texts as I struggled through sleep deprivation.

Holding my baby so I could eat a quick meal.

Allowing me to cry tears of frustration during breastfeeding days (and long nights).

You reminded me that I was a good mother even when my toddler was throwing yet another major tantrum. 

Through each season you were there for me. Through infancy, toddler tantrums, and pregnancy loss, you were there.

I am honored and comforted to be walking with you into your new season of life. I am here with the numbing spray, bottle of wine, and open arms to help you along the way. 

Dear friends having children—you are not my trigger. You are a source of joy and celebration, of blessings. Of hope.

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Just Pick The Red Shopping Cart

I’m thankful for my non-judgmental mommy friends.

The sun is finally shining… goodbye frostbite, and hello itchy, puffy eyes! Spring is here!

Pack the diapers, fill the sippy cups, and everyone grab a toy… we’re venturing outside of this prison we call home. We’re going on a play date!

We’ve colored on all of the walls, torn apart every book, and used every possible inch of this house as a new time-out spot. Winter is hard for mommas. I’m just praying that my toddlers know how to act in civilization. I think I’ve managed to teach them proper manners, despite the chaos of our hibernation period, but can one ever be confident with a toddler?

We arrived at the park and, so far, things were going pretty well. My son was playing sweetly with his friend, my daughter was tolerating life, no one was crying. Okay, this is going well. I have the good kids today. Phew! I could have sworn that once my child started saying “you stop it mommy. Obey me” that embarrassing public temper tantrums would be in my future. After all-we’ve already had a few.

One time—yes, only one time—I decided to venture out of my household with two under two to the grocery store. I had a little chat with my children in the car (who were both too young to really understand or care about my bribes and begging to behave and not embarrass mommy) and firmly instilled in them who was in charge. I am mommy. You are little person. You obey me. I am their leader and they are my followers. Now let’s go to the store.

I walk in with my head held high. This momming thing wasn’t so bad. I got this. Maybe it’s even time to add another addition to this tribe.

That all ended the minute we started loading into the shopping cart. You know, barely a minute into our adventure. I idiotically chose the wrong color shopping cart car and my son was LOSING. HIS. MIND. He wanted the red one and not the black one. Tears were flowing and arms were flailing. I should have just switched to the red shopping cart but I didn’t. I was mommy. They obey me. I’m the leader after all. I stood my ground. We were riding in the black shopping cart. I walked shamelessly through the store with my screaming children. The network of mom shamers seemed to know I was coming and they were lined up with their judgmental eyes darting my way. Within five minutes I raised my white flag and ran out of the store with my screaming babies. Moms, choose your battles. Take the red shopping cart.

The husband got a text message with the grocery list later that day.

I digress. So here we are, again. I am out in public with my two children without backup. They start to get cranky so I call for lunch. I’m sure that will distract my son from losing his cool for at least another 45 minutes. My friend neatly takes out her picnic lunch and had a beautiful little spread for her daughter. Her meal is nutritious and she even remembered to bring a little place mat so her daughters food doesn’t get covered in dirt. I didn’t even know that was a thing.

I pull out our peanut butter sandwiches and gold fish and shamelessly(ish) set them on the dirty picnic table. My son starts throwing his sandwich on the ground in protest and my daughter begins to chew on the plastic wrapper. My son decides he wants his friend’s lunch so he puts his in the dirt, and now I’m having flash backs from the last time we ventured out without daddy.

In a desperate attempt to regain control I whisper in my son’s ear to behave. Listen and obey mommy. He loudly tried to take his place as leader and yelled “no mommy. You obey me!”

and ran off. Well… crap. My friend and her sweet, well behaved daughter begin quietly cleaning up their lunch while my children are finishing off their last few bites. You know, the ones my son threw in the dirt? Yea… those.

Later on at the swings I admitted to my friend that I was still learning how to parent my strong willed child and sometimes I just felt like I was failing. She quickly encouraged and reminded me that we are all figuring out this life as a parent. She never made me feel embarrassed, or looked at my son like he was the devil even though he was acting like one at the time.

I was finally able to relax and enjoy our time together. My son started feeding off my less-stressful demeanor and started playing sweetly with his oldest friend. They began swinging and sliding together and I was able to have good conversation with a human my own age. This scary task of adventuring out alone with two in tow became a little less scary.

Thank you to my mom friend who didn’t judge me or my toddler when we had a moment… or four. Thank you for offering sweet encouragement instead of the infamous “If you would do it this way they wouldn’t be acting like that” followed by the mom glare that we have all seen in a weak moment standing in the never ending grocery line.

These are the friends that I keep close in my circle. They make me a better mom and better person. They give me the strength to continue venturing out and trying new things. They give me the confidence I need to raise my children the best way I know how. I hope we can all become more like that mommy friend.

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Let Them Be Dirty

Let them be dirty

Easier said that done for Mother’s like me. I like a tidy home, clean hands, and no slime in my child’s hair. When I allow activities that come with a mess a try my best to keep it contained. But, I usually end up missing out on the fun or ruining the fun for my kids. So I vowed to let them be dirty.

We boil spaghetti noodles and put them in a baby pool. My children love the squishy textures.

We make ice creams cones and I allow them to drip all over the place…outside (Rome wasn’t built in a day, after all).

We make mud pies in the yard with the kitchen utensils.

After a rainy day I allow my son to go running through puddles of mud. Clothes can be washed and shoes can be replaced. His joy in those small moments have become more to me than clean finger nails.

I have become a fan of the five second rule.

Did my son just eat dirt? I guess what doesn’t kill you…

My way of living has changed since having children.

Certain home decor has been put into storage and toys have taken their place.

My signature look of dresses and heels have been downgraded to…well..whatever is clean (I need to schedule a laundry day).

Makeup items are purchased once a year opposed to monthly.

My new life required me to evolve with it. At first I tried to hang on to my old self. I always said I wouldn’t allow certain things with kids, but I was wrong. In order to truly enjoy them I had to let them enjoy life. Embrace the mess, the chaos, the unpredictability.

I had to make a few changes, a few downgrades-but the laughter and memories that took the place is true joy.

Embrace those dirty finger nails and the handprints on the front door. They have become my favorite part of my home.

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There is No Room for Shame

Healing begins here. I often forget that minor but very important detail. The moments that I feel like hiding away, feeling irritated and overwhelmed with life-this is where I should always be.

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Wednesday I started bleeding for no reason. Having previous miscarriages this triggered something in me. I felt tears starting to burn in my eyes and a vast amount of different emotions flooding my body. I did not completely understand the emotions that I was feeling. It was just irregular bleeding-that was all. I talked myself into believing this was just one of those trigger moments. Irregular bleeding that I was not expecting was just reminding me of my miscarriages, the two babies that I lost. I recognized my fears and I prayed that God would give me grace as I continue to heal from this past year.

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I went about my day but asked my husband to purchase a pregnancy test on his way home. I thought the visual of a negative pregnancy test would help me process through this trigger moment. I wanted to prove to myself that nothing bad was happening.

Again, this was just a moment that was triggering emotions from my past miscarriages. That evening I enjoyed the warm sun and ice cream with my family. During those tough moments that is where I feel most at home-with them. 

Through-out the night the bleeding continued and became more aggressive. I pulled out the pregnancy test and to my surprise it was a positive test. I was experiencing a early miscarriage. This pregnancy was ending before I even knew that it began. For a moment I shed a few tears, for a moment I panicked because of my experience with an ectopic pregnancy, and then the shame set in.

I felt embarrassed, obnoxious, stupid. How many miscarriages can one women have before people just grow tired of you? I have control over this situation. It clearly is not working for me, so we should just stop trying, stop hurting ourselves. 

That same day-Hilaria Baldwin went public about her own fear that she was having a miscarriage on her public page. She received much support but also much negativity. She was seen as someone that just wanted attention, someone who should have kept her miscarriage to herself until it was over. Someone made the comment that she already had children so her post was offensive. Many comments were made that I will not quote. 

It showed me how lonely this place is. How could someone believe speaking about your miscarriage publicly is for attention? How could someone make a comment to a mother losing her baby that was nothing but support? That is all we want, support. We want to feel less alone in this place that feels so dark. 

Reading those comments only made my own fears come alive in my mind. Maybe they were not just my own fears but how people would actually see me. After all, that is how they are seeing her. 

This place is lonely. Knowing your body is failing you, feeling like you are failing your family, experiencing another loss, feeling shame and embarrassment–no matter how strong of a woman you are this is a hard place. I know truth. I know this is not my fault. But I am still human and my emotions are running wild and I am unable to real them in. 

In this moment I am remembering that The Lord knows my heart and understands my emotions. He understands loss, He understands what it feels like to have others speak things about you that are untrue, He understands grief, He understands fear. He is the ultimate safe place.

During such a vulnerable time-there is no room for shame. There is no room for judgment. There is no room for negativity. There is no room for me to be placing those burdens on my own shoulders.

It is in your pain that God is closest to you, whether you realize it or not. The Bible says in Psalm 34:18, “The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit”

No matter what you are suffering through-He is near. His plan is good, His grace is sufficient, His words are truth, His love is greater than anything of this world, He is bigger than every circumstance. I will continue to repeat..

Even now-It is well with my soul.

Thursday night I chose to go on a date with my husband and a few friends. I chose to not speak about miscarriage. I needed to just be with people. They made me laugh, they reminded me that I can still feel human walking through this. They reminded me that I have loving friendships. They reminded me that I was not alone. They reminded me that, maybe, there’s nothing that a little Mexican food and margaritas can’t fix. They did this all without knowing. I am so grateful for the friends who love me.

This season is becoming harder than I ever imagined it could be, but I will continue to mourn my babies. I do not want to become desensitized to this loss just because it has happened so often.

“Come to Me, all you who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take My yoke upon you and learn from Me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For My yoke is easy and My burden is light” (Matthew 11:28–30).

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They Love Us Anyways

Sometimes I feel like I am missing out on you being little. I spend my days chasing after big brother, washing a load of laundry, and trying to make sure that everyone stays alive. I’m so thankful that you love me anyways.

You did not get the “first baby” moments-but you love me anyways

Instead of dressing up in mommy and me matching outfits everyday you have had to settle for comfy clothes-but you love me anyways

I still have not gotten your birth picture on the wall beside brothers-but you love me anyways

The used sippy cups have become yours, the infant toys did not come to you brand new and when you were born you had to work yourself into our routine-but you love us anyways.

Life is different when you have a second child. Less time, more chaos and everything becomes shared. We are not a picture book family. My home is a mess, my hair hasn’t been washed in a week and my children are still in pajamas-but that’s okay. They still love me anyways.

Enjoy the moments you have and don’t worry about the moments that you think you need to have. They will always love you anyways.

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Motherhood Is…

Motherhood is being ridiculed by your tiny human for picking the wrong color shopping cart-car at the store.

Motherhood is accepting the judgmental eyes that dart your way as your child raises hell in the local shopping store

Motherhood is cleaning the same toys up from the floor a million times a day while your toddler is secretly dumping the entirety of them back on the floor

Motherhood is washing multiples loads of laundry a day, sweeping under the kitchen table at least three times a day, picking up your husbands scrubs from the floor, and putting them in the clothes hamper all while preparing a hot meal.

Motherhood is accepting that the occasional frozen pizza is indeed a nutritious meal

Motherhood is staying up all night with your toddler resting on your chest because the flu has stricken his little body and mommy comfort is the only medicine that will give him peace.

Motherhood is sitting in the shower with a rag covering your mouth in hopes your husband won’t hear you crying because you are afraid your toddler isn’t getting enough attention since bringing home your newborn.

Motherhood is vomit in your freshly washed hair

Motherhood is yoga pants and your husbands sweatshirt

Motherhood is isolation

Motherhood is comparison

Motherhood is lonely

Motherhood is never being alone

But

Motherhood is seeing your babies eyes light up when you walk into a room

Motherhood is excitingly attempting to record your babies first steps for a month

Motherhood is kissing all the boo-boos

Motherhood is dancing in the kitchen while blaring baby bum music and rocking out

Motherhood is endless love

Motherhood is sacrifice

Motherhood is the sound of baby giggles

Motherhood is a refrigerator covered in “art”

Motherhood is the biggest reward

Motherhood is loving the simple date nights spent on the couch with a good movie

Motherhood is a different kind of sexy

Motherhood is being your child’s hero each and everyday.

Let us raise our glass in unity as well all navigate this season together. Let us cheers to less mom shaming, more Rosé, and a much needed nap.

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Life of a Mother

The days are long and the nights are short.

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The coffee is brewed but often never even makes it to the cup until the kids are down for their morning naps.

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I love this life but I’m also exhausted by it. I am a stay at home mom with two under two.

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I love waking up every morning being greeted by my toddler with his wild excitement to start a new day. I equally love walking into my little one’s room and peaking down into her crib to see her beautiful eyes looking back at me.

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But

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Being the one to make breakfast every morning, juggle booty changes, and meet the demands of little people constantly at me feet is also, at times, very exhausting.

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Daily I am searching google for indoor creative activities in order to keep the TV from coming on. Sometimes the activities are a success but often end in meltdowns because the new textures were a little overwhelming or they just want to eat everything.

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Often my toddler would rather eat the crumbs from under the table that is last nights dinner but won’t eat the homemade gourmet lunch that I placed in front of him (peanut butter sandwich with bananas and yogurt. So not gourmet, but not bad… right?)

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The baby needs a nap but is going to require a little snuggle time-I hear the toddlers feet running across his bedroom floor after I have told him to stay in bed for the millionth time.

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I spend my free time crawling under all of the furniture in order to find the pieces to each toy.

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We own a thousand pacis but somehow I cannot find a single one.

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I try to introduce a new bath activity by purchasing finger painting soap but all my toddler can focus on is the fact that the water is too cold for his toes but too hot for his booty.

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Is dad home yet?

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It’s dinner time and we are back to eating the crumbs from lunch that are under the table. (I thought he didn’t like his lunch?)

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My husband walks into the home as jolly as an elf at Christmas time. He walks up hoping for a kiss but in turn is handed a screaming child with a plate of leftovers that have been in the fridge for a few days now…I hope. Sorry babe.

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I often retreat to the car for a few moments of silence so I can return ten minutes later in a better mood for my poor husband.

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Once the kids are down I am depleted. I’ll take a glass of wine over a kiss, a clean house over quality time, a moment of silence over chatter.

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This is motherhood for my family sometimes, but it doesn’t mean I am not absolutely in love with my family and grateful for my life.

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It’s okay not to be picture perfect. I am no less a loving mother or wife. It was a stressful day but a life that I would choose all over again.

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