Reclaiming the Morning

My husband and I have a long-standing arrangement on weekends. On Saturday morning, he sleeps in and I wrangle all of the kids. Up with Autumn around 6:00, breakfast for the older kids when they wander into the kitchen around 6:45… usually pancakes or waffles. By 8:00, I have left the house with Autumn in tow to go run errands for the week. The big kids have their morning screen time and Ger keeps sleeping. All of this lasts until about 9:30 when I return home from shopping, screen time is over, everyone is awake and the weekend day commences. Continue reading

The Rumbling

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The first book I read after Nelle died in September of 2015 was Rising Strong by Brene Brown.  It was exactly what I needed at that time.  Brown talks about three parts of the rising strong process:  the Reckoning, the Rumble, and the Revolution.  Of the rumble, she writes:  “The rumble begins with turning up our curiosity level and becoming aware of the story we’re telling ourselves about our hurt, anger, frustration, or pain.”  Continue reading

Practicing Gratitude in Many Ways

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I began seeing a therapist, Alexia, five days after Nelle was stillborn.  I remember making the phone call to a counseling services group that had been recommended to me and when asked for the reason for wanting the appointment I had to say the words out loud “Because… because my baby died.”  The person on the other end of the phone gave the immediate, automatic “Oh, I’m so sorry….” Ger and I went to the first appointment together but then I began to see Alexia alone. Continue reading

Ready to Launch

Somewhere in the middle of last year, I decided that I would write a book.  I had the content captured in my blog and my private writing, but knew that it needed to be organized and re-written and edited.  Still, it was something I wanted to pursue. Continue reading

Around the Table

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I took me over a year to attend my first SHARE meeting.  It was hard.  The passage of months hadn’t lessened my pain.  Speaking around a table of parents who had experienced loss did not bring me comfort.  Instead, I felt the weight of their stories and sadness.  The next day, I saw my therapist and it was her gentle suggestion that maybe the group was “too much” for me at that time.  I was carrying my own problems; how could I carry theirs too? Continue reading