Life: Moving

It began when I huffed and puffed organizing the millions of books that were on the shelf. Zac instructed me that some of them were to go to Goodwill; however, I felt that even Great American Revolutionary Stories, British Literature during WW2 and How To Educate the Young books were relevant to my life. So far, the only thing I tossed in the Goodwill pile was an old devotional book I got when I graduated high school. 

I read it, I swear.

I have a thing about books. I love the smell, the touch, the thrill of telling myself Ok Mackenzie, you have to read this one this year. I love retracing my highlighted notes with my fingers and sitting quietly, puzzling over why I thought a particular quote was critical enough to underline.

I love rediscovering. That was until I stumbled upon some old journals. I have spent most of my life, even since I was about five, journaling. I struggled a lot with finding my way growing up and often felt the heaviness that comes with being an ENSF (Myers Briggs). I needed reflection time... constantly. Even as a little girl with pigtails, I would sit on the top bunk in the room I shared with my sister and write. I would write what I did, what I ate, who I saw, where we went... it was precious, timeless, effortless and my thing. 

It was the one thing I did for me.

Yet unlike my ocean and starfish journal of my much younger youth, This journal outlined 2006. A turbulent year and tumultuous year. 

A surprising year.

I opened the first few pages of the journal, skipped a few paragraphs, then skimmed the rest of the journal. It was about halfway full. In my every messy cursive I saw dates, March 3, May 17, almost everyday that summer and then nothing until December.

The paradox in reading an old journal is creating a safe place to do it. It’s like looking at a very old scab that has scarred over and trying to rip it back open again. It’s like walking the halls of the library to the scary back section where all the files are hidden. I felt myself walking in that direction.

I read the first couple pages. Mostly about the love of my life at the time, my high school boyfriend. About the joys and desires of wanting to go to CSU with my best friend Kellie. The magnificence of being a senior in high school. 

Blah blah blah.

But then. April.

I began to write on dysfunction I sense in my house. The unbelievable urge I had to get away all the time. The disdain I felt toward my friends who drank all the time... they obviously were not sensitive to the situation in my life. The fear of going to college and leaving my family behind yet I desired to be engulfed by an entirely different life. My words are messy and don’t make sense. I find myself reading the words fast as the sentences are short and caustic. Harsh even. 

Summertime. Broken up with boyfriend who I loved more than anything. Dad is moved out of the house. I’m going to start a new scary life and feel ill equipped and unprepared. My handwriting is messier reflecting the wee hours I would spend journaling and even at times wake up in the middle of the night to express my thoughts so my head would stop spinning. I didn’t know it then but I was drowning in grief.

I put down my journal and felt uncomfortable. It was an odd sensation considering it’s been almost six years since a lot of this happened...

But I do believe that the Enemy has a way of reminding us of pain. Now, I’m not talking about some silly old devil that laughs and pokes fun of us. No, I truly believe that if you have the hand and favor of God on your life, he’ll do anything he can to remind you of your pain. To literally grab you head and stick it in your old shit. 

My head... glued to the pages.

I continued flipped the pages and found myself longing to talk to this Mackenzie, encourage her, uplift her and give her some amount of strength to press on and keep fighting.

On July 16, 2006... I stopped trying to fight the battle. In my eighteen year old mind, I had lost my dad, my serious boyfriend, my identity, my mother, my family, my life, my school, my friends and my joy.

The only thing it said on the page was “I don’t give a f*** anymore.”

And I didn’t. Why should I? I was simply tired of pretending to be a sweet Christian girl who seemingly had her life all zipped up.

I read that statement over and over and over.

I didn’t write in my journal until December. I announced that I was pregnant and that I wanted an abortion. I wrote about how much I hated my life and how I’ll never get out of the “hell hole” I was in. 

I closed the journal. It felt like a trap in so many ways.


I looked around at the boxes of stuff, the pictures of my little family on the wall, the albums of weddings and birthdays, the dishes, the clothes.... memories.

Zac, Co and I are moving into my moms for 6 months. We are saving some money for the new baby as I will stop working when he/she comes. We are paying off debt and honest to goodness it’s just really expensive to live right now between everything.

I’m grateful for a place to go and for a healthy relationship with my mom.

That moment however, my mind let me relive a lot of the pain of those years long ago. Of feeling out of place and out of touch. Here I am... pregnant... again.... living at home... again! It felt cyclical. 

My day today reflected a less than happy Mackenzie. I moved 14 boxes, packed a dozen more, cleaned clothes, swept up crap, picked up, cleaned out... 

Moving... home.

I thought about packing up that journal. I thought about my face as I sat cross legged retracing and re-imagining my life. I thought about July 16. It seemed illogical and ill fitting but alas, it felt like that today.

I reminded myself of the lie that can so easily influence me. The lie that I’m just not enough and nothing will ever really change.

Yet, so much has.

And then there’s a part of me that’s still in grade school in my patten leather shoes climbing on top of my bed, sitting next to my polly pockets and writing in my journal... escaping.

Fifteen years later and now I can just type it all faster.

It’s always imperative to remember. To document. To express the extent of the circumstances that you find yourself in.

2006 journal found itself sandwiched between an old Bible and a novel titled Regeneration. I thought that seemed fitting. 

Closed the box, put it away and continued to go about my day.

Life stops sometimes, you remember, grieve, cry, get angry, then laugh...

I guess life doesn’t actually stop. That in fact it is just that.

Life.

No make up day, the best

How Your Life Feels

I was browsing through pinterest tonight and came upon this quote:

I couldn't help but be moved by this. I was moved by the way we often see ourselves as removed from ourselves. That our stories are "better" if we can put them on display rather than actually live them out. If we can spend two hours on pinterest pretending to be crafty but never leaving the computer. To research and talk about graduate schools but never ask for an application. To create a whole life that "seems" fitting. That seems "right" and "comfortable." 

How does your life look?

I have been on this emotional journey and granted some of it is hormonal but alas, I feel as if I am coming into my own. As my therapist says, "Mackenzie, you're getting to know yourself for the first time in your whole life, give it time." I have learned through my own process with her and my own reflection that I am really good at telling the story of my life. I can nonchalantly tell about my parent's divorce, about my unwed pregnancy, my sexual escapades, my poor choices, my great choices, my incredible opportunities all with the right Christian bells and whistles attached. My own verbiage often nauseating me. Is it real?

You get the picture.

What stunned me the most is when my therapist said to me (in my mine so cliche), "Now Mackenzie, how does that make you feel?"

Make me feel?

Um.... (searching for the right answer)

Good... bad... I guess. I'm doing great now though! I graduated school.... blah blah blah.

You see.... when we talk about our life as a status update, a step by step process or a detached action... we fail ourselves. 

You see.... I then retold my story using my feelings. How it made me feel. How it hurt. Where it hurt. Why it hurt.

Not just WHAT hurt.

You see... life is full of ideals. Everyone wants to have a decent life with little conflict, marry someone you love, have kids who behave, have money for vacations and die at 96 in your bed.

Right?

You see.... I'm still a seven year old kid who hides underneath her covers with a flashlight and a book. I'm a little girl who escapes the peril of the outside world. I'm a little girl who closes the door to true feelings, intimacy and trust. I locked myself in a metaphorical closest to escape the chaos of the world, I tried so desperately to control. A girl reluctant to speak her mind in fear of rejection or pain. A girl so intuitive and aware it brought tears to her eyes often. A girl burdened by her own personality and giftings. A girl who felt tolerated and judged for never being what everyone wanted her to be.

A little seven year old girl who grew up but never lost that mentality. 

A little girl who often saw her life as status updates.... "What can make me look good now? Because God forbid I actually feel...."

I get letters from girls all of the time who thank me for just being real. It saddens me. It saddens me that realness is equated with courage.

Sometimes my life feels in ways I wish it wasn't.

Another life altering discovery?

It's ok to feel bad about hard things that have happened. It's ok to feel sorry for yourself.

Yes, I said it. It's OK to feel sorry for yourself.

It's ok to not have it all together and do not ever believe the lie that "keeping it all together" equates to wholeness in your life. It doesn't. And that's ok. 

Feel it all. Soak in it all. Get up when you feel ready. As I told my therapist, "I just want to sit in my shit for awhile." 

Don't be superwoman. Don't make superwoman your ideal. You are perfect where you're at.

You're in the right place for the right reason. Don't fight it or pretend to be anywhere else. Authenticity creates peace. Even if your authenticity reflects a place that is difficult to be. 

Bread, Brownies and Baking

So I am weird about a couple things. One of them is healthy food and the other I'll explain another day in another blogpost. :)

I believe that we should all be able to eat healthy, nutritional food without added crap to it. Yes. Homemade brownies will always be better for you than boxed brownies. Homemade bread will always be better for you than bought at the store refined flour bread.

So, alas, I bake!

The first recipe came while I was looking in my cupboards for things I had. I am an avid bread maker.

It was freezing cold last night and the smell of baking bread was ever present in my mind as I watched How I Met Your Mother. So I grabbed a standard bread baking recipe and added steel cut oats, molasses and honey and out came the most delicious bread ever.

YUMMY RIGHT!!!! Here's the recipe....

Eat Your Heart Out Honey Molasses Bread

1/2 cup of steel cut oats

1 cup warm water

dash of sugar

1 packet of yeast (2 1/4 tsp if you have it in a jar)

3 tablespoons of unsulfured molasses

3 tablespoons organic honey

1/4 cup unsalted butter (I don't fudge with REAL butter on bread recipes)

1 teaspoon kosher salt

~4 1/2 cups organic and/or fresh ground whole wheat flour

Glaze:

1 tablespoon butter

1 tablespoon honey

handful of oats for sprinkling

Make steel cut oats according to directions. Usually it's 1 1/2  cups water boiled with 1/2 cup steel cut oats for about 25 minutes in a saucepan. Set aside when done.

Pour 1 cup of warm water (100-110 degrees) in a 2 cup measuring cup. Sprinkle yeast and dash of sugar over the warm water and stir. Let stand until yeast dissolves. About 10 minutes.

Mix together molasses, honey, cooked oats and butter. Add yeast mixture and continue to mix. Add flour one cup at a time until dough is moist. In my opinion it's better to underflour than overflour at this stage. You want the bread to pull away from the sides of the bowl. Beat on medium speed for about 3 minutes. 

Pour dough out on floured surface and knead dough until it is nice and elastic. Add more flour if you need to. About five minutes. Make dough into a large ball and place it in a buttered bowl. Cover the bowl with a wet towel and put it in your oven with just the light on to rise. I find putting it in a slightly warm oven (like turn your oven to 200 and then turn it off before putting your dough in) helps it rise faster. Let it rise for an hour or until it has doubled in volume.

Punch it down and knead it again for a couple of minutes. Butter (or crisco/flour) two bread pans. Cut the bread in half and place in pans. Spray the tops of the loaves and put wet towels over them. Let rise for another hour in the oven.

Bake bread at 400 degrees for 10 minutes. Then lower temperature to 350 degrees and bake for an additional 15-20 minutes. 

Top bread with butter/honey mixture and throw some oats on it.

DONE!

Ok. Brownies. Again, with the baking on cold nights. I'M HORMONAL AND CAN'T HELP IT.

Eat What You Want Brownies

2/3 cup raw sugar or splenda (if you don't usually cook with splenda, I don't recommend... only because there is a taste difference in my opinion)

1/3 cup olive oil, earth balance spread or yogurt butter

1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract

1 free range egg

1/3 cup cocoa powder (preferably dutch processed organic or all natural)

1/2 cup whole wheat flour

1/4 cup yogurt (I used blueberry, you can obviously use plain) or lowfat sour cream (I substitute these in almost all of my baking!)

1/3 cup finely chopped cherries or raisins (optional, gives it a chewy factor)

Mix wet ingredients until well blended. Add dry ingredients. Mix well. Put into greased pan (a smaller one) and bake at 350 for 15-20 minutes. Don't over bake!

I hate the dishes.

Final product. Amazing quality picture with my 3G iPhone. LAME!!! (hint hint Zachary....)

I love baking and more importantly I love eating healthy! I love taking a bite of the brownie knowing it's not all sugar and saturated FAT. Amazing.

This is my evening tonight.....

... no the Jim Beam is not mine. Just the ginger infused tea to help my ever present nausea. HA.

Counting Down! Week 8!

So I'm officially full swing into my first trimester.

So I thought I would give some answers to questions, as I've been asked... a few times. :)

When am I due?

July 4! I'm excited for two summer babies.... Cohen was born August 26. So I'll have this baby before it gets too hot! :)

When will I find out what I'm having?

Probably not until February! We absolutely are going to find out and I'm hoping for HEALTHY! Though for some reason everyone thinks it's a girl.

Is Cohen excited?


Yes. He is at such a fun age where he is very aware of what is going on. Though he's still confused how the baby gets out, "Mom, they're gonna slice you open and yank the baby out." I'm letting him believe that as if I told him the truth he may be horrified. One day he wants a sister and one day he wants a brother. We look at babies in the womb together online and he's super fascinated. He also loves to talk about when he used to be in my belly. He really is going to be such a helpful big brother.

Any cravings?

Pretty hilarious actually. I want guacamole, chips and lots of rice. Go figure. Anything salty sounds delicious! I have lost my sweet tooth too which is bizarre. Men's cologne, garlic, fish or anything strong smelling makes me want to throw up. Also, thinking about soft cheeses will also bring up the gag reflex.

How am I feeling?


This pregnancy has been ROUGH compared to Cohen. At least that's how I remember it. It's been  nearly 5 years since I've been pregnant. I've gained a couple pounds but I'm still fitting fine in my clothes. The all day nausea is really getting me but loving my complexion! My skin is clear and glowing!

How big is the baby?

The size of a grape. And the babe has nails, teeth, feet and hands!

What am I looking forward to?

Moving and getting back into a grove. With Thanksgiving, my birthday, Christmas, New Years, our anniversary and a big move.... I'm ready for things to settle down a bit. I'm also anxiously waiting until Christmas day as it's the last day of my first trimester!

What do I miss?


WINE! I miss my dark beers too especially on these cold nights... I've bought myself about 5 different teas and have been making my own elixirs thanks to Celestial Seasonings. I also miss having energy!

Do I have any names picked out?


Yes! And we won't be telling until the babe is born. I'll tell you that you will not find this baby's name in any of the top ten baby lists. Zac and I are pulling from literary heroic figures, countries, cities and good Hebrew names. So... we shall see! :)

Since this will more than likely be my last pregnancy, I am very excited for each stage. I can't wait to feel the baby start to move and though it's crappy at times.... it really is magical. I always wanted to have my kids first and career second so I'm grateful I have been blessed with this little pumpkin.

Still planning on my graduate work to be in clinical psychology... my dream is to work with victims of domestic and sexual assault, much like the work I do at TESSA.

Happy and content. :)

10 Ways to Survive Working, Schooling, Mothering, Wifeing....

In the last couple months, I have had at least a handful of young moms asking me the daunting question, "Ok Mackenzie, how did you do it?"

"Do what?"

"You know, school, work, be a mom, be a wife, clean a house..."

Typically, I answer with... "a lot of wine"

But all hilariousness aside, I feel that it is a legit question. There are many young mothers, single, married, getting all sorts of degrees, with all sorts of support systems that want to know how to make it work and stay sane.

I have ten tips that were helpful for me. Of course, they may not all be applicable to you but hopefully you can glean at least a few of them to encourage you!

1. Keep a positive attitude.
It's easy to forget why you are going to school. Your mind can swell up with horrible thoughts like, "I'm not seeing my babe as much as I should" or "I'm sacrificing family time with school work." Remember that going to school is a short term sacrifice for a long term benefit. Never lose focus or let your mind run wild with how you're corrupting your child. If anything, you're giving him or her the greatest example of hard work and dedication.

2. Pick Reasonable Classes.
No, do not pick Chemistry, Biology and Astronomy all in one semester. You are amazing but you are not God. Pick two hard classes. That is all. If you have more than that you will cry yourself to sleep most nights. Pick one class you're excited about it. Remember. You like what you're learning most of the time so enjoy it! It's ok to enjoy a class!

3. Pick Reasonable Times.
So you work full or part time. I suggest that if you work part time, pick classes on the same day as work. Although that seems to go against what seems to be normal scheduling, I highly recommend it. I find that the more you cram into one day the less outside "help" you need to receive. I would work half the day and go to school half the day usually putting in a 12-14 hour day. Or if you can, switch your hours to work 10-12 hour days during the week. That way you could work three 12 hour days for work and use the other two days to fill up on classes.

4. Yes, He's Old Enough for Preschool.
If you have the funds or if you have in-laws, parents or if you're a single parent (the government) that have the funds, put your child in part time preschool. When Cohen was a little over 2 I put him in halfday preschool. He would go to school from 8-12:30 so I would drop him off at 7:45am and then head to class from 8-1pm and then go to work from 1:30-9pm. My mom would pick him up Tuesday and my mother in law Thursday. That way I am getting in a lot of hours and school in one day. He loved preschool and it encouraged socialization. I loved that he had an authority figure that wasn't me!

5. Get You Baby-Daddy Involved
No matter if you are married, single or in a relationship. That baby has a father and should be involved. If he can't or won't be, find a friend to be your advocate apart from your family. Find a friend that is willing to take your child to school one day or pick him up. Remember, people want to help and if you explain to them your goal I GUARANTEE you they will help. Zac took Cohen to school two days a week. That's it! That way, I could go to the library early in the morning or I could work a 5:15-12pm shift and then pick up Cohen. You need advocates so surround yourself with people who respect your hardwork.

6. Stay Away From Nay-Sayers
I always found that there were friends that minimized my hard work when I decided to go to school full time and work full time. Not worth your time. Honestly, you barely have enough energy to have sex with your husband at night and wake up to change another diaper. You don't need to waste energy trying to get others to understand what you're doing when they don't care to begin with. Surround yourself with advocates. Accept praise, you deserve it.

7. Make One Day for Family
I always found that I needed one day that I did not have to go to a job or work on schoolwork. This is critical. I remember I would count down with Zac until our family day. Plan something exciting, do something special as a family. Cook with your babe, laugh with friends, go for ice cream, volunteer in your child's classroom, NAP as a family, take a bath, drink some (lots) of wine. Enjoy life. You deserve it.

8. Release the Expectation
You're not going to get an A in every single class. It's not that you're not capable, it's not that you're not as good as the next guy... it's that your life is a lot bigger than the next guy. There were days when I would look at all the reading I had to do and say "What can I get away with reading?" or "If I have only 4 hours to study where is my time better spent?" Sure, I'd rather read a great psychology that was recommended by my teacher but truthfully my time is better spent studying the difference between acids and bases for my big test on Friday. You have to learn how to "cut the fat" so to speak. Your time is valuable.

9. When to NOT Study
Do not. I said... DO NOT try to study at night after a long day of school and work. I highly recommend waking up early to study or work on a paper. Though you may be running on five hours of sleep... you have some sleep under your belt and the quietness of your house. I never tried doing homework while Cohen was awake. It's pointless... don't even try. Don't study or do homework at home if you can help it. If your husband, boyfriend, mom... anyone is home with your sleeping baby... GO OUT to study and do homework. If I didn't work that day after I put Cohen to bed, I would put Zac in charge and go study for 3-4 hours at the library. If you're at home you'll start doing laundry, putting away the dishes, watching TV... playing on the internet. Anything! There is nothing at the library but a goal. It helped me switch gears.

10. Pat Yourself on the Back
Don't ever minimize your accomplishment or sacrifice. Never say "it was nothing" when honestly, it was  everything. Do NOT skip walking across that stage and getting your degree. Wear your cap and gown proudly. Make your kid or kiddos a part of the whole experience. Invite everyone who has ever supported you. I always said that I had a lot of people lifting me up to grab my degree. Always be humble and grateful for the support you have received. Never take it for granted. Have a party for yourself, eat cake and of course... DRINK WINE!

Working full time, going to school full time and being a wife/girlfriend/sister/mother/granddaughter... is a lot of work. But it is completely doable.

And in those hard moments when you're staring at another white board feeling as if you're damning your child to attachment issues.... remember this....

It's a lie.

One day, you'll have an incredible story to tell your kiddos.

I am excited for the day when Cohen tells me he doesn't want to go to college and I'll get to tell him my story. That my friends is payday.

Your kids are watching you struggle and triumph.

It's worth it.

Do You Ever

Do you ever at times feel that you are floating somewhere between noticeable and forgotten? It's a rush that leaves you paralyzed. Standing in a busy street wondering when the next nonchalant car will forget your presence and crash into you. The floating does not bother me as much as the unknowing. It is easy to cascade into oblivion, easy to apathetically cast your cares away.... easy to let go of the painful. Arriving is what often leaves us blind, frozen, stiff to our own choices and our own deep woundings. Yes, arriving equates itself to fear. Fear of confronting a choice.

Do you ever feel that you were once a succulent tree? Bearing incredible fruit, overwhelming beauty and thick ripe branches that ache with nourishment. Does that ever feel so long ago? So painfully withered away it takes you closing your eyes to remember that season? Looking now all you see is a depleted parched person who aches to remember the fruit. To taste the overwhelming ripeness of life found in your own being. The heaviness that comes with floating. The irony of it all.

Do you ever feel undeserving? Given a gift more precious than the finest jewels the world can offer. A gift that came screaming into the world and given to a couple of teenagers. A gift that carefully takes his own soft blanket and covers his mommy as she sleeps. A gift that kisses for no other reason but adoration. A gift that waves goodbye and blows kisses for no other reason but love. A gift that whispers sweet nothings, laughs at sweet musings and caresses a mothers heart without even trying. A gift so undeserving tears roll down your face as you caress his face in the dusk of night. A gift that gives without trying. Who teaches without correcting. Who encourages without saying anything.

My gift.

My First Love

I knew someday that I would write what I’m about to write. That there would come a time when I would be married, Cohen would be older and I would become pregnant again.

Truthfully, many years ago, I was not sure if that would be with Zac, if I’d be almost forty desperately trying to conceive a child, or perhaps it would happen as it has. Being almost twenty four, married... cruising along in life.

I knew I would write about this someday because I have thought about it often. It ebbs and flows but truthfully it would rise up in me every moment I thought 

Could this be the month?

Is it happening again for real?

I knew I would write about it someday because finding out I was pregnant with Cohen was a traumatic and dreadful experience. It was two days after Christmas in 06’ that I found I was pregnant with Cohen. I had been black out drunk the night before and confessed to my best friend in almost tears that I thought I was pregnant. I was a week late and I couldn’t bring myself to buy a test.

But I did.

So at barely nineteen, I took a pregnancy test in a stranger’s bathroom. 

And at almost twenty four, I took a pregnancy test in my own bathroom.

In both cases, I bought the same kind of pregnancy test. I placed them on the bathtubs and turned around for a minute. 

Both tests, positive. A little plus sign. 

Yet the first time around, it was anything but positive. Breaking the news first to a best friend who was horrified, then to Zac who was numb and confused, then to my friends who felt sorry for me.

Then to my mom. Who asked me point blank if I was pregnant. I said yes. And with my honest confession she fell to the floor crying hysterically. 

I watched as my mother held her face and rocked herself back and forth. Pained by her own heartache of a messy divorce and now her oldest most responsible child... pregnant...

I hated my pregnancy. I would pray at times that God would just give me a miscarriage so I wouldn’t have to endure anymore stares. Anymore explanations. Anymore fake smiles. Anymore pain.

I never took a prenatal vitamin with Cohen. I would ignore his kicks in the beginning. I spent nine months wishing I was anywhere but in my own body. Crying myself to sleep at night carrying a child I hated and hating myself for feeling that way.

This is what I thought about when I took a pregnancy test a week ago. When I smiled at the result and Cohen knocked on the door wanting to be apart of whatever I was doing. I thought about Cohen the entire time I held that pregnancy test. Feeling ashamed for all the moments I spent cursing his existence as he grew inside of me. I thought about Cohen when I called Zac and declared my jubilant news. 

I thought about Cohen when my mom hugged me and smiled after I conveyed to her about the baby inside. 

I struggled with feeling that I cheated Cohen out of something. That he deserved to be loved even from the moment he was conceived. I obviously can not go back to those moments but I relive them constantly in my mind. The first time I felt Cohen kick was in my dorm room with drunk kids flying in and out of the room. I sat in a corner by myself and felt him move inside of me. There was no one there who could share that moment with me.

It was just me and Cohen for the longest time. I felt this growing entity inside of me and learned how to live and love.

I let Cohen into the bathroom after I put the positive test on the shelf. I looked at him in all seriousness, picked him up and held him. I started to rub his back and he nuzzled into my neck. He pat my back as I rocked him back and forth. I was pregnant with another but I realized how deeply in love I had fallen in love with a child I never knew I could truly love.

Tears ran down my face as I told Cohen over and over of the precious gift he was to me. I told him that I loved being his mommy more than anything in the world.

And I meant it. I would do it all over and endure more pain if I had to for that little boy.

I’ve decided that though I will (and do) love this child growing inside me, Cohen will always have a special place in my heart.

He taught a barely nineteen year old how to grow up, to love herself, embrace responsibility and let go of idealistic expectations of life. 

I rejoice in the coming of my new little one but feel that as I rejoice, I must also remember. Remember a bleak time in my life and the joy that came from it.

Grace has washed over me and engulfed me in it’s waves. Sinking never felt so good.