A single mom to three boys working hard to live my truest life. I hope as I share the beauty, the gratitude, the grief, the hard…you find inspiration + hope to show up to your life as honestly as possible.
All in Mama Bear
She dumped the Aveda dry shampoo into her greasy hair, added some mascara to yesterday’s, and rubbed the Mary Kay eye cream into the dark circles letting everyone know she was tired.
Just as she finished rubbing it into her skin, one of her two one-year-olds threw his dad’s book into the toilet with a splash. She stomped her foot and yelled at him for being in her bathroom when she asked him nicely to play in his room for just five minutes.
Growing up, it never dawned on me that I was white. I just was. It wasn't something I needed to notice or care about, it was just how I and my little world was. Everyone looked like me and if someone didn't look like me, it didn't matter much because I knew God created all people equally.
And then I was married and our world sort of fell apart—or so it felt—and we found ourselves moving from one town to another city and attending a church passionate about the Gospel and racial reconciliation. My husband started grad school and had documentaries to watch, like Eye of The Storm. We were in the adoption process and were reading everything we could regarding adoption, including adopting outside of our race. In the heat of an intense and discouraging election season, it seemed as though scales fell off our eyes and we no longer had the option of being blissfully ignorant to what our world was really like.
These are the days they all talk about, and to the bottom of myself, I do not want to forsake them or fill them with bitterness. I don't want to have sadness and feelings of unfairness shadowing the immense joy it is to be these boys's mama and this man's wife.
These three boys are my whole world.
I don't want to miss my whole world because I'm mad I have to pay my bills or be an adult. I don't want to miss my whole world, right in front of my eyes, because my husband is pursuing a dream and ideal way to provide for our family.
He has always only been supportive of me and my dream of writing, even though it's never been easy for our family. It's been a sacrifice for us all, and I want to be the beautiful soul I was created to be and excitedly support my husband through his new journey.
Here are our fall crafts!
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I continually find it is always through the tears and the pain I find the most growth. It's always through the transition from vibrant days to in-my-face confrontation that I evolve and relearn what it means to be humble. I never want to lash out and hurt others, as a defensive reaction. I never want to choose my comfort and protection of my heart over truly seeing a human for who they are and what they're crying out about.
The struggle is real around here and I battle blaming myself for not being a more structured, routine-oriented mom. I look at other moms who have an amazing routine, who have had their babies sleeping through the night since they were 3 months old and on a strict eating/sleeping schedule.
But I can't do that to myself—blame and battle and belittle—so I remind myself we are all different with different strengths and different personalities and different lives. Right? Those mamas who have it down are not perfect at something...right?
Im tired, much like the rest of you.
When she placed him in my arms, my whole body released a tension I didn’t realize it carried and simultaneously grew a necessary wound in my heart.
The gravity of a tiny life—which wasn’t tiny at all—shifted my whole world, changing me.
I breathed in his sweetness, only to exhale a gripping understanding of the sacred moments I was living.
The last two years have been filled with so much transition and all the blessings.
With all of this transition—going from a youth pastor and his wife to suddenly not working at a church and having two babies—we have adjusted pretty well. Now they are both one year old, I feel we are finally getting into somewhat of a groove. It's taken longer than some parents, but hey you know what? We do what we can. I'm sure another transition and change is about to be thrown at us.
Along the way, we have used some amazing products to help us transition and live life as a growing family of four.
Motherhood demands I reach out to Him, need Him more than I did the previous moment, and ache for His presence.
It is in the hidden and unseen moments of my motherhood journey I encounter Him fully. In the long nights without sleep, the books and toys sprawled out across the house, the food sticking to the walls, and the imperfect way I meet the needs of my two toddlers.
My morning arrived but it was birthed through a long, long night of labor. And just because I am currently in a morning doesn't mean I don't have marks of the night. The darkness in the night can scar us, sometimes leaves marks of trauma from nightmares.
I'd dare to say the marks of trauma have made me a better person. They've taught me how to sit on my hands, to listen better, to do my best to quiet my defenses and explanations.
I've learned I can grab ahold of the immense joy in the morning and continue to acknowledge the darkness preceding it.
It's this beautiful journey of pain and healing crashing into one another, continuously.
Whether motherhood came to you unexpectedly and too soon—without warning—, right on time, or far longer than you had hoped...the motherhood journey is not without loss.
But I'm wary to even post this blog. I'm wary because of fear: what if people think I'm complaining, when I'm not? What if people think I'm wishing we didn't have two one year olds, when I don't? What if people think I expected motherhood to be easy, when I didn't? What if people misunderstand?
I write for you, mama, who needs to know I see there is loss in the gift of motherhood. You have permission to acknowledge that loss, too—just as you have permission to acknowledge and grieve any other loss.
It doesn't make you less of a good mom, it makes you a whole mom. A human mom.
Two years ago we were waiting and longing and hoping; there were so many unknowns.
I still had to live the story needing written: the story of miscarriage after The Wait, our adoption journey, immense ministry + church trauma, and birth trauma. The story needed to be lived before it could be written.
I'm praying this book is a gift from Father to you,.
I ache in the deepest parts of me my story and words on these pages bring you THIS much closer to healing, wholeness, and loving bigger than you knew you could.
I pray my story shared in this book inches each of you further into His oceans of grace.
The importance of reading to toddlers is insurmountable:
Picture books are some of the very first visuals children get of our world in all of its diversity and beauty and variations. Books are filled with information, seeping into their subconsciousness as reality. We choose our books with intention. Reading with intentionality, seeing what the message in your kids' book is, will help shape our future generation.
So we make reading a priority.
Here are our favorite toddler books.
We like to do that, though. We like to compare and quantify.
When tragedies happen, we ask for specifics so we can gauge the tragedy of it: How many people were killed? How far along were you when you miscarried? How many foster homes has she bounced between? But was it physical abuse or emotional abuse?
But tragedy isn't to be gauged, tragedy is to be grieved. No matter the loss, trauma, tragedy, or brokenness, it is to be grieved and offered its space.
It is in the invisible and hidden spaces of grief I find Him. It is in the hard and pain-filled moments I experience His tender love for me.
Sweetest little Ira-
We have shared so many tears in the last year, you and me.
From the beginning of your existence, you invited me to live one day at a time. I learned the art of celebrating each moment I had with you, of finding immense grace in the unknown, in being forced to live moment by moment.
Your existence demanded me to my knees, hands wide open, yearning for miracles. You are a miracle, a rainbow.
---> Ira's first birthday theme was Dr. Seuss. There are OF COURSE pictures from his party + cake smash :)
When I began posting our birth story, I only planned to share the four parts already shared. I received countless emails and messages asking for more, wondering what happened when I woke up.
Here is the next excerpt from my book. If you want to read more, know more, and travel the road of grief crashing into joy with me, you're just going to have to buy my book which comes out this fall. Sign up for my bi-monthly newsletter to know when preorders begin - upon doing so, you will download my two ebooks and many other goodies.
One more note: the heaviest group of mamas weighing on my heart this week is mamas who have been forced to grieve the loss of their birth experience and their babies. I remember after our miscarriage, a mama told me her birth trauma story and I wanted to punch her. I went to my cabin and sobbed. How could she complain and be sad about a birth of a living baby? I wondered, angrily. And here I am.
I reached out to a dear friend who lost her son at birth. I told her she had all the permission to be angry with me. She was gracious and said this birth story has given her "comfort in knowing I am not alone in grieving my own birth story. I hate that you have the trauma, but am so thankful for women like you who share their stories to let women like me know that 'hey, we are not alone after all.' I'm glad you've shared your story."
This is part four to a four part series. These four parts are excerpts from my book being published this fall. My book is about varying forms of loss + giving them space.
Our birth experience is one of my greatest losses and I am learning how to give it space in my life. It is sacred, it is vulnerable, it is hidden. I experience triggers and PTSD. It isn't fun, but I am not going to pretend it is something it isn't: I'm not going to pretend like I am okay with how our birth unfolded.
Until today, this story has been kept quiet and hidden; it's raw. It has been one year since the arrival of my seconborn son. My book is overflowing with vulnerable stories and raw emotion...so I figured sharing this raw story would continue to prepare me for the launch of my book.
I write + share to give myself a voice, but also to give others a voice. Loss has a way of making us lonely; I hope to create spaces for connection and community. You are not alone.
This is part three to a four part series. Read part one here.
These three parts are excerpts from my book being published this fall. My book is about varying forms of loss + giving them space.
Our birth experience is one of my greatest losses and I am learning how to give it space in my life. It is sacred, it is vulnerable, it is hidden. I experience triggers and PTSD. It isn't fun, but I am not going to pretend it is something it isn't: I'm not going to pretend like I am okay with how our birth unfolded.
Until today, this story has been kept quiet and hidden; it's raw. It has been one year since our son's birthday. My book is overflowing with vulnerable stories and raw emotion...so I figured sharing this raw story would continue to prepare me for the launch of my book.
This is part two to a three part series. Read part one here.
These three parts are excerpts from my book being published this fall. My book is about varying forms of loss + giving them space.
Our birth experience is one of my greatest losses and I am learning how to give it space in my life. It is sacred, it is vulnerable, it is hidden. I experience triggers and PTSD. It isn't fun, but I am not going to pretend it is something it isn't: I'm not going to pretend like I am okay with how our birth unfolded.
Until today, this story has been kept quiet and hidden; it's raw. It has been one year since the onset of our labor and we are approaching our son's one year birthday. My book is overflowing with vulnerable stories and raw emotion...so I figured sharing this raw story would continue to prepare me for the launch of my book.
I write + share to give myself a voice, but also to give others a voice. Loss has a way of making us lonely; I hope to create spaces for connection and community. You are not alone.
This is part one to a four part series. These three parts are excerpts from my book being published this fall. My book is about varying forms of loss + giving them space.
Our birth experience is one of my greatest losses and I am learning how to give it space in my life. It is sacred, it is vulnerable, it is hidden. I experience triggers and PTSD. It isn't fun, but I am not going to pretend it is something it isn't: I'm not going to pretend like I am okay with how our birth unfolded.
Until today, this story has been kept quiet and hidden; it's raw. It has been one year since the onset of our labor and we are approaching our son's one year birthday. My book is overflowing with vulnerable stories and raw emotion...so I figured sharing this raw story would continue to prepare me for the launch of my book.
I write + share to give myself a voice, but also to give others a voice. Loss has a way of making us lonely; I hope to create spaces for connection and community. You are not alone.
![June 2: I Hate That I Missed Your Birth [Home Birth Cesarean]](https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/5850be0d03596ef94b5f7921/1495493040965-Q3BR5UTZLHZ17DUMHKO5/IMG_1985.jpg)
![June 2: Unexpected Twists in Our Birth [Trauma] Story](https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/5850be0d03596ef94b5f7921/1495492628156-HC2LFZMLW1YDGWMI92ZF/IMG_1832.jpg)
![June 1: The Never Ending Labor [A Labor Story]](https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/5850be0d03596ef94b5f7921/1495484618178-3QJG5RVEWKTZAQH4QMPC/IMG_1802.jpg)
![May 31: Ready to Conquer Labor [The Onset Of Labor]](https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/5850be0d03596ef94b5f7921/1495481919734-0BKH9JVMVCUR8GCM7JTE/IMG_1808-2.jpg)