I tentatively placed my hands on the keyboard and willed myself to let go of the story that had been hiding in the recluse of my mind for months.

I watched as the letters under my fingers transformed into words on my screen, pouring out thoughts and telling a story I had never before shared.

I dared, much like I am now, to let the story unfold on its own, and present itself in its own way. Even I was not fully aware what direction it was taking.

I edited slightly, because when my mind speaks is doesn’t always remember to spell.

I published. I linked. I waited.

I held expectations no higher than a hope that this would be a prequel to my whole story and that it might allow me to connect with more readers in this wonderful blogging world.

And then it came. The brave. The transparent. The inspiring. The different perspectives. The outpouring of responses on a story I thought was my own.

I was amazed and humbled to discover that this story is not just my story. Parts of this reality had been experienced and felt and endured and coped with by many. People shared pieces of their own times of loss, their own times of difficulty, their own perspectives. People came here, to this small little corner of the internet, and shared their hearts.

To say I am honored is an understatement. I never knew that a simple post with a picture of a pumpkin would open the amazing dialogue created on that page. I cherish these bits of your lives you so generously intertwined with mine and savor them as though they are a decadent dessert. (Of chocolate, of course.)

This blogging world is still new to me. I am not even aware of all the things I do not know, as I have just started to climb this ladder and do not have the vision to see more than the next step in front of me. I am in awe of this community.

I have been lucky enough to find bloggers whose words float over the screen like a melody, whose descriptions entrance me, whose honesty both surprises and compels me. I have been lucky enough to read stories of people who break down the barriers of convention and instead allow the private of their lives to dance freely into the public. I have been lucky enough to find bloggers whose kindness surpasses many of those I know in “real life.”

Everyone has a story. It is what makes life so tragically beautiful. There is such artistry here in the intertwining of these hearts and voices. I see slivers and pieces of diverse stories slowly thread over each other as they weave their way into a part of the tapestry of shared experiences.

One of the reasons I started a blog was to finally share the birth story that I have never told, in full, to anyone in the past two and a half years since it happened. I have carried it, mostly alone, as I have walked this path of new motherhood. I started a blog to find you. To hear these stories. To know that I am not alone.

And to tell you that you are not alone either.

Thank you for allowing me the opportunity to share a brief overview and summary of my story. Thank you for not making me feel like I am crazy to have these musings. Thank you for giving me the courage to begin to share my birth story. I will tell you all of it one day.

Thank you for making me feel inspired.


Is that chocolate or poo?

It was a scene from the movies. Of course you’ve all seen the classic “Baby Mama” featuring Tina Fey and Amy Poehler, right? If not, stay tuned to TBS where it will replay about once or twice a week. In this hilarious film, Tina Fey’s character really wants a baby and Amy’s character becomes her surrogate. In an opening scene, Tina Fey visits her family where her sister grabs her son’s hand that is smeared with brown…something. “Is this chocolate or poo?” She asked of the little boy who smiles mischievously and gives no response. “Chocolate or poo?” the mother asks more demanding now. Still with no answer the mom licks the little boy’s hand and smiles and loving says, “It’s chocolate”. Disgusted, Tina Fey’s character responds, “What if that had been poo?!” The sister replies, “I told ya, messy. But it’s great.”

Ah, a lovely story placed in a fictional movie. And then it happened. For real. At my house.

On Christmas morning, after opening all of the presents, the hubs and I went into the kitchen to get our Christmas meal started. A little while later, our little boy, who we thought was content playing with the train table Santa brought, came running into the kitchen saying “Ew, EW!”  “What’s wrong?” I said, with concern, and a slow look down to his hand which was COVERED in brown……something. “Ew, Mommy!” my 2-year-old exclaimed. “Is that chocolate or poo?” I asked. My little boy smiled and gave me no response. “Chocolate or poo?” I asked, a little more demanding now. Luckily I could smell it before I made the mistake of licking it. It was poo. Smeared all over his hand.

Unlike the movie, our scene was resolved in a swift haul up stairs and immediate diaper change and a talk about how we don’t dig in our diapers if they are full of poo.

But just like the movie, after a new diaper was in place I smiled lovingly at my child. Because the sentiment is true to the life of a mommy. “Its messy. But it’s great.”

I couldn’t agree more. Next time I just hope there’s more chocolate involved.

Welcome to my world!