Bad kids, all my friends are bad kids.

Sometimes there’s this yearning in my heart for that true intimacy that I used to have with my very close knit group of friends in high school. We are all still in contact, for the most part, but we’ve all grown up and life has happened… And after a while it becomes no longer appropriate for you to spill your whole life to people outside of your immediate family.

In order to understand the closeness of this group of people that my heart yearns for I feel like I need to give some back story. Imagine if you will a group of teenagers, let’s say 12 of them, who never want to go home. All for different reasons of course. Whether it be a mother who is dying, a father who is abusive, parents who are emotionally distant and could care less, or for the simple fact that they’re hungry and there is no food at their house so what’s the point any way? Those were my friends. We were not popular, we were strange, we wore weird thrift store clothes… not because it was cool, but because that’s the only thing our parents could afford. We drove hand me down cars and beaters (if we had a car at all), and we were with each other every single day from the time school let out until we could not possibly stay away from home any longer without getting into trouble. We spent our time in a garage of one of our friends… and maybe we stayed there because his parents didn’t care or maybe we stayed there because they constantly fed us frozen pizza. We would sit, listen to music, smoke, and talk for hours. We were there for each other when someone lost their mother, we were there for each other when another one of us lost a father, there when someone ended up pregnant, someone’s house burnt down, and when someone ended up in jail. Because we were a family then. Chosen, yes, but family. Any time serious shit went down we were all there. Someone did bad drugs, they were being watched as they vomited up their insides by us. Someone drank too much… It was us. And we were all we had.

Sometimes when I get down now I yearn for that closeness. That togetherness. That us against the world mentality. I yearn for pennies thrown at my window for me to let them in at midnight. I yearn for hours of talking. I yearn for the screaming and dancing and destroying. I yearn for Saturday night Punk Shows and sneaking out of sleepovers. I yearn for us to be young again…

Today, I miss my friends.


I have seen you in various stages of undress… in various stages of sadness.

  I have known this man for 11 long years. Honestly when I met him he was just a young kid trying to figure out where he was going in life. And I was just a dumb girl who didn’t care where she’d end up. In those first couple of years we were apart more than we were together. He had decided that joining the Marines was the direction he wanted to take in life and I supported him one hundred and ten percent in following that path. I stayed behind, 750 miles away from him, to work in a warehouse, driving a forklift, and paying my sick mother’s bills. I remember when he called me to tell me he was going over to Iraq. I remember waiting for the letters and the phone calls that would come once in a blue moon… just to hear his voice. Just to know he was alright. It was a natural choice for me to move down South to be with him when he returned from the war. It was a happy time for us. We had our first official place without our parents, and we were free to do as we pleased. Three months after I moved down there my Mother died. And it felt like a piece of me would be missing for the rest of my life. She was the person I turned to with everything and I physically did not think I could live without her here on Earth. 

In true fashion… Jason and I always make huge decisions after something tragic happens… 7 months later, on my birthday, he asked me to marry him. Of course, I said Yes! 5 months after that we were back home in the dead of winter saying “I do” surrounded by friends and family. When I look back now and I know what I know, I can’t believe how young we were. In years and experience. 9 and a half months later our first son, Jack was born. I remember Jason looking at me like he was so, so sorry when I was trying to push him out. And then…. 72 hours later after the doctor finally took him out surgically I remember Jason looking at me like I was pure magic. The love I saw in his eyes was one of the purest and strongest things I had experienced my whole life, up until that moment I wasn’t sure that it was possible for one person to love another that much.

You see, in this past 11 years I have collected so many different looks from that man. I think that one was my all time favorite. I think the reason I’m writing about this now is because I received a new look from him this week and it may have topped that one. When we lost Ben, our second son, full term, the look I received was complete helplessness and sadness. But that is a story for another day.

This time, with this loss, everything has been different. I think partially because of everything that happened after we lost Benjamin, also apart of that other story. And everything we’ve had to overcome since then.

I think marriage, in itself, is choosing to fall in and out of love with one person over and over again. Because it is a choice. And he has chosen me just as many times as I have chosen him.

Late Saturday night when we were in the emergency room waiting to know if our baby’s heart was still beating or if this was all one big fluke, we were hopeful. Neither of us said anything. I think we both mentally just wanted to know so we didn’t have to worry or think about it any longer. The doctor came in and told us what I already knew in my heart, that the baby had stopped developing and that that was what was causing all of the troubles. I am not one to cry. At least not at appropriate times when other people normally cry. But after the doctor left I started feeling sorry for myself and uttered “My fucking life.” through muffled sobs. And he was there just like he always is when something tragic happens to me and he let me feel sorry for myself in that moment.

The new look I received came two nights later. We were laying in bed talking about our future and if we even wanted to put ourselves through the mental struggle of attempting to create another child and bring it into the world. He looked at me again… this time with strength, love, and compassion. And though he only said “I think it’ll be okay.”  His look said I believe in you and us and no matter what happens we will be okay. 

You choose love. And each other… even when it hurts like hell.

levels of grief.

The house has been quiet but busy the last two days. People coming to see me to give me sad looks. It happened again. Why did it happen again? yesterday I had to tell my 6 year old son for the second time that the baby he was going to be big brother to, was dead. Aw, that’s sad Mom. Why did it happen again. Everyone is looking at me like I might break. Our last loss was with baby B. That was different. We were full term and he was stillborn. Born sleeping. There are different levels of grief in this life and people who have never experienced this loss do not understand what I am feeling. Keep trying. Don’t stop trying. Here’s the deal. I might and I might not. But yesterday I lost my baby in the toilet when I was alone at my house because it was little and the doctor’s office doesn’t open until Monday. Talking to my husband late Sunday night, trying to decide what we’re both comfortable with for the future. Next time we need to be more careful. He’s not posting blame, or saying there was anything we could do, he’s saying “Hey, next time we shouldn’t tell anyone about the baby until we know it’s going to live, K?” He’s not saying that, but he is. And my response is this… Now we’ve lost one at the end and now we’ve lost one at the beginning… so when is a good time to tell anyone about our baby? Is it not proper to celebrate the life of a child that a mother is carrying that is known for not succeeding with live babies. Is it proper to pretend like they don’t exist… Because I feel like that’s what I fought so hard for with baby B, for the acknowledgement that he was here and he did exist. But you’re telling me now, that if I were to get pregnant one more time… I should not tell anyone as to not inconvenience them if something were to happen to that baby. Yeah, I’ll let you know how that goes.

Memories and Milestones

We’ve joined the official big kid club today. For as long as I can remember J has been a baby to me. Just recently, this year really, I have found myself looking at him differently. Who is this kid? Where did he come from and where did my baby go? J is a sweet kid, who tries so sincerely to be a “good boy”. He also has a ton of energy but can read people’s emotions and moods pretty well in order to know when to tone it down or step back. I find myself struggling with him getting older. He’s going to start big kid school in the fall and he won’t be coming to “little kid school”/ mommy’s work with me anymore. I understand that most working mother’s don’t actually get to spend the day peeking in on, or getting to catch glimpses of their child’s day, but I have and well I know that I’m pretty lucky because of that. But as he’s growing and turning into a fine young man I find myself wanting to spend more and more time with him. I want to slow down time to keep him little for a while longer. To keep him from saying more things like “duh?!” or “Actually.” or rolling his eyes with a “whatever…” I want him to be my baby still. Today my baby lost his first tooth. Seriously though, babies don’t keep.

Tiny things, budgets, and realistic expenses.

Our third child will be here by/ near the middle of February next year. So if you do the math that means I am freshly pregnant. And by freshly I mean leaving my second month of pregnancy at the beginning of next week. This baby and pregnancy is so very different from the last two for tons of reasons. One of which is that with this one we are finally in a home with a room that we can make “the nursery”. With our first child my husband was in the military and we were only going to be living where we were for the first three months of our baby’s life so it didn’t make sense to waste time or money decorating a nursery. With our second child we lived in a drafty old rental where the heat didn’t reach the third bedroom as well as we would have liked so we had decided that baby would bunk with us. With this child we have a room! A perfect little room! I decided months before we even started trying again that when we got pregnant I wanted the baby’s room to be a woodland themed room. So after much searching online and in store for ideas and pricing things I have decided that most of the things I have found are just not in the budget. Honestly, 40 dollars for a print is a bit much for my taste. Have you seen or heard of the land of nod? They have AMAZING woodland themed items for the babies room…. But they are WAY out of our budget. So I have decided that along with my adventurous, outdoorsy husband and our little man that we are going to D.I.Y. woodland until we’re blue in the face. I’ll let you know how it turns out. 

I wake up.

To write or not to write; that is the question. In high school I kept a blog. It lasted for over three years and I loved every minute of it. Maybe I can do so again. I would like that I think. How about a little getting to know me?

things that I love: coffee, M.A.S.H. on Netflix, Netflix, our third baby growing in my belly, reese’s peanut butter cups, my boys, Penny, Radar, and being a hermit. Oh, and ice cream sundae parties.