To the Father of my Children – Letters Before Birth

I met you in the fall of 2016. You know the story, so I’ll spare the details.

But I most remember the way I scoffed to myself that you were not the kind of guy I needed to get involved with. I mean, I was just out of a long-term relationship, in the middle of my military training and living nearly 900 miles across the country from home. Not to mention, you had hair to the middle of your back, played in a band, and shared debatable political posts on Facebook that made me think to myself, ‘This guy is different. He’s not typical and his mind seems intriguing.’

But some part of me must have thought I was better than the hot drummer from a county over because I always swore to myself I wasn’t interested. I gave you the silent treatment many times and showed my sass early on.

Thank goodness you didn’t give up.

You were relentless and determined to get a response.

I finished my military training and came home- where you lived just a town over. At this point, we’d never met face to face, so you were really the first person I saw when I got back to Illinois.

And we’ve been side by side ever since. It’s like the world put us together; our gravities collided. I don’t know if I believe in fate, but I do believe in giving in to natural attraction, even if it’s scary and unexpected. Taking those journeys is what life is all about, even if you make a mistake or fall along the way. I think life will pleasantly surprise you in many ways; just by taking that leap of faith.

The spark between us is still very much alive today. You still make me laugh more than anyone and watching you become a father has been one of the greatest treasures of my life. I’m always cheering you on – whether it be your career or something as simple as watching you show our daughter the most sincere and affectionate love she could ever be given. I trust you and I love you forever. There is no one else on this planet that I’d rather share the adventure of parenthood with than you.

Thank you for showing me compassion throughout my journey into motherhood. I have no doubt the second time around will be just as amazing as the last.

Five more days til we complete the family we started five years ago. 🤍

For Years to Come

There is no handbook on how to deal with heartache

There is no medicine to cure the pain

How can the one you love most use words that pierce your heart like a knife to bare skin?

It’s not the first time

And won’t be the last –

Your words have such impact on someone who reads into every clue from your brow

I study you

My absolute favorite person

The one I know most about

The one I revolve my life around

Why do I feel I’m more in love with you than I feel like you’re in love with me?

You hide your true emotion behind words that sting like a hornet

Its harsh pain will eventually dissipate

But you’ll remember how badly it hurt in that moment for years to come

Odd woman out

66 days until I anticipate we will be bringing another human into this world.

Just 66 short days.

And I haven’t even started the nursery or bought much of anything.

I feel so alone in this pregnancy. Like I have to pretend to be something I’m not. Of course this is an “exciting time” and no doubt I’ll love the lil guy… But I have been so damn miserable it’s hard to even force a smile. I’m supposed to sit up straight and put on my big girl pants and fake smile and act like I’m a proud, glowing woman flourishing in pregnancy.

But I’m not.

I am in the third and final trimester of this pregnancy and I am still throwing up almost every single morning. Last week I was puking so hard that I popped a blood vessel in my eye. I could feel the veins in my face bulge as I hugged the toilet.

I fell in the rain a few months ago and definitely did something to my hip/back. I’m sure I just need to go to the chiropractor, but I’ve always been nervous about chiropractors (especially while eight months pregnant). Doc prescribed some muscle relaxers that don’t do much but make me sleepy, so sometimes I’m limping through the house barely able to move. Putting on clothes is a pain that I don’t even want to talk about. The amount of pain that I’m constantly in is taking every bit of happiness I have anymore. It just sucks it all out.

I’m looking at my ankles now and I can’t even tell where the ankle ends and foot beings. Swelling is taking over all of me.

So yeah.

It’s hard for me to pretend that I’m so pleased to be doing this amazing thing (don’t get me wrong, pregnancy is beautiful and life is an fascinating cycle), but I am so sick and so tired and in so much pain that I don’t have any fight left in me. I don’t have the energy to put on a fake smile. If you ask me how I’m doing, don’t get disappointed when I don’t glow and tell you all of these amaaaazing things – because it’s just not going to happen. I’m going to look at you point blank and tell you that I am not doing well and I feel like sh*t.

Period.

I am alone in feeling this way. I am trapped in this body of pain and un-comfortability. I am alone in my head trying to talk myself into pulling my leg into my pants saying, ‘it doesn’t hurt that bad.‘ But it does.

Everyone out there sees a pregnant woman and assumes the best and absolute happiness. But on the inside, I feel like a failure because I can’t resonate with that mom. I’m not the mom that loves pregnancy. It feels sad admitting that to people. I feel like the odd (wo)man out.

I love my children, but pregnancy is for the birds.

EOD Thoughts: 03.23.2021

When we were kids, my uncle would take all of us out to the garage to watch a big storm roll by. We just so happened to live south of what seemed to always be the path of the storms. So we would get our lawn chairs and flip cell phones out and have a fun night.

Times were so much more simple back then. We would laugh from the adrenaline running through our bodies – being so close to a storm yet so far away, you never know what could happen. We would gather around the weather radio and listen to where the rotation of a tornado was spotted. The garage was facing the right direction to see the storm go by and not have rain blowing in on you. There were no true worries back then. Those were the nights we were the closest. Those were the nights we came together. I wish I could get those childhood memories back. Now we’ve all grown up, split apart, and started our own families.

Tonight my own little fam sat in the garage and listened to the radio forecasts and watched the storm roll in. It was nothing too serious, but it did make me feel happy to share memories like this with the family I made. It connected me to my roots, and I’m thankful.

“I wish somebody would tell you you’re in the good ol’ days before you’ve actually left them.”

“Say Something” by A Great Big World

“Say something, I’m giving up on you

I’ll be the one, if you want me to
Anywhere, I would’ve followed you

Say something, I’m giving up on you

And I am feeling so small
It was over my head
I know nothing at all

And I will stumble and fall
I’m still learning to love
Just starting to crawl

Say something, I’m giving up on you

I’m sorry that I couldn’t get to you

Anywhere, I would’ve followed you

Say something, I’m giving up on you

And I will swallow my pride
You’re the one that I love
And I’m saying goodbye

Say something, I’m giving up on you

And I’m sorry that I couldn’t get to you

And anywhere, I would have followed you
Ooh, ooh say something, I’m giving up on you

Say something, I’m giving up on you

Say something”

Source: MusixmatchSongwriters: Campbell Mike / Axel Ian / Campbelle MikeSay Something lyrics © Reservoir 416, Ian Axel Music, Chad Vaccarino Publishing, Manhattan Astronaut Music, Songs Of Universal Inc.

A Rock

The wheels turn but I’m not moving

The landscapes are changing around me

But everything is the same

There is pink in the sky this morning

And it looks beautiful, like pink was meant to be in the sky all the time

It’s weird

How the uniqueness in life

Also entertains the feeling of belonging

But not everything is meant to change

Some stones lay perfectly still on the earth

Without ever moving position

I feel like one of those rocks

I’m begging to be skipped on top of the water

But no one picks me up

So here I lie,

Like a rock

Waiting for someone to give me life

Love is Hard

I don’t know how to love my mom. Or if I’m ever even going to be able to.

Some people can easily let the words “I love you” spew from their mouth, but I have never been that kind of person. Of course I have no issue pulling my daughter or fiancee in for a hug and telling them that I love them, but the words to people outside of that circle do not come as easily.

This makes me think back to growing up. My sister Victoria and I were five months different in age and we did nearly everything together. Strangers would even ask us if we were twins. Anyway, we both went through our own different stories of trauma in our childhood, which was probably part of the reason we grew to be so incredibly close. We both had sassy, smart mouths and often got in trouble together for running them when we shouldn’t have. We were close – and she is still one of my absolute favorite people on this planet – but we did not put that love on display. We even mocked displaying love to others. We rarely hugged, because we both never felt totally comfortable with it. When we said “I love you” to one another, we would say it and then immediately *gag*. We did this even into our twenties and now that we live in different states and both have a kid, we’ve kind of outgrown it.

My mom came to my house last week to visit. She has been clean for almost a year and I am super happy about that, but we still don’t talk all that much and being around her is just super uncomfortable for me. I can say, though, that having her around last week was actually very enjoyable. My daughter even let her hold her and they played on the floor together.

My insides were smiling, but then I noticed the gaping hole in my heart, realizing what could have been if drugs hadn’t taken her from us for so long.

She stayed and visited for a few hours and when she got up to leave I stayed sitting down. My younger sister got up saying, “Wait! I want to give you a hug!” When she said that I immediately got nervous because I knew that my mom would in turn expect the same thing from me. So I got up and gave her the hug, but when she said she loved me I fell silent.

I don’t know how to love her. I don’t feel comfortable just sitting across from her on the couch. There is so much water under the bridge, and I don’t know how to let go of what was and accept what is.

I’m not actively angry (I’ve said this before). I’m just simply unsure of how to heal from the past. I don’t know how to let her in.

I’m happy for her progress and I’m happy that she gets to see her grandbaby, but I don’t feel like that means that I owe her anything. I just don’t know how to love her.