an angel named grace.

My husband believes in the golden rule through and through. And with this whole hearted belief comes a heart of gold, really. He is a giver with a mind so open and accepting- I learn from him daily.

Since the day I met him, he has always volunteered his time to someone or some organization. 

For the last 5-6 years, he has been the volunteer coordinator for Kentucky Harvest, a very small non profit who's mission is to take the 'wasted' food from grocery stores and restaurants and give it to the homeless. So much good food is wasted and so many are hungry.
In the last year, I have taken over his Thursday morning pick up at Kroger. 

Not gonna lie, I didn't start doing it with a generous, open heart. 

When more responsibility came to my husband's job and he was finding it hard to make his volunteering work in the middle of the week- I stepped in because I had to. And the first few weeks I made the pick up, I complained. I complained because Kroger is on one side of the city and the Salvation Army is on the total opposite side. It takes over an hour to make this excursion happen. A WHOLE HOUR! 
But lo and behold, as I continued to make this a part of my weekly routine, it became something I actually looked forward to. And now- it is my daughter and I's time to give back in a way that feels natural and good and inspiring.

I say inspiring because there is a woman I have met through this opportunity that inspires me every single time I pull up to the donation dock and see her smiling face and head of curly, white hair. Her name is Grace and she works at the Salvation Army.
When I first started showing up, she just knew me as "Matt's wife". She loves my husband and I know she missed him at first. But gradually, she took to me and I to her. Each time I walk in to find her- she is always knee deep in work. But lifts her head up with a great big grin, stops what she is doing and helps me load the food into the bins. She always has a story, always tells me how cute my daughter is, gives me advice on having two children, and always always expresses how much they appreciate and need the food I have brought.

A couple weeks ago, I asked her how many children she had. She told me she had four children, but two died young from drugs. As she told me this, I felt this overwhelming sense of connection to her- a raw connection that casts away the difference in our skin color, our age, our backgrounds, our religion. We were just empathetic humans.

It is embarrassing to admit that I once dreaded this incredible opportunity. But it's crucial to the whole experience because it is a reminder that when things make us uncomfortable or we feel dread towards something- often times, those experiences teach us great lessons in the end. It is truly important to wade through the feelings of uncomfort or fear sometimes- it could change your life. It could provide you with necessary answers or inspiration. It could be just what you need.

Grace, who spends her days showing GRACE to others, without needing anything in return, has certainly been just what I need. 

Blooming today because: 

*t-minus 14 days to due date

*quality family time this weekend!

*i got a massage tonight!

inspiration from the back of magazine.

Finish each day and be done with it. You have done what you could. Some blunders and absurdities no doubt crept in; forget them as soon as you can. Tomorrow is a new day. You shall begin it serenely and with too high a spirit to be encumbered with your old nonsense.

(Ralph Waldo Emerson)

I read this quote today on the back of a local magazine while I was waiting for my yoga class to begin. I have read it before, many times but it struck a chord in me a little more intensely this afternoon.

I am really good at holding on to things. For instance, I will leave a situation and replay something I said over and over in my head and wish I said it differently or said more or said less. And it will stay with me until FINALLY, I just let it go. But that letting go takes a while.

I go to bed at night and often times replay the day in my head. I have thoughts like: I should have mopped the kitchen floor, I shouldn't have been on my phone so much around Gentry, I wish I had made a better decision for lunch, did I let Gentry watch too much TV? I question my decisions. And I let the negative parts of the day take on a bigger role than the positive parts. 

Some days there are certainly more pressing issues that I struggle to let go of as I curl up into bed. Things that really upset my soul but I have no control over like reading about a little girl just a few months older than my baby girl in my community who has cancer and is fighting for her life daily. 

So much happens within a day- it is a constant give and take and push and pull. Smiles turn into frowns. Frowns turn into smiles. How are we not all crazy lunatics with the amount of emotions one can feel in just a day's time? 

I am extra sensitive to these emotions lately. I have 4 1/2 weeks left until my due date. One of my biggest feelings right now is an anxiousness over how my daughter is going to handle the change of having a new baby brother. And how I am going to handle it. I am worried about being in the hospital for 3 days without her too. We are together all day everyday except for those pockets of time that she goes to her grandparents or spends quality time with Dadda riding bikes and going to the park in the evenings. I am told I need to let go of control but it is so hard. I know her routine, I know her moods- we do things a certain way. She's my little partner and things are about to shift drastically for our relationship. At the end of the day, this is what keeps me from finishing the day completely.

But delicious reminders on the back of local 'zines telling me that tomorrow is a new day and I've done what I could is inspiring. It was a little push to get back to my breath and my prayer practice. The doubt and the worry and the regret and the crap of the day will always be there- it is about ending the day knowing we did what we could and beginning the day knowing it is fresh and we can start it with a peaceful spirit. The way I am able to do this is to be aware of each breath that brings me back to the present and to surrender all of it to God. I owe it to my soon to be family of 4. 

(I haven't blogged in a while. I blame pregnancy. I also blame trying to figure out how honest I can be without crumbling or offending someone- so bear with me, readers. I am dedicated to this writing but extended time may pass between blogs because I am battling the emotions of the day.)

Blooming today because:
*Fall is officially here.
*The neighbor kids came to play with Gentry and she was so happy.
*Baby boy will be here next month.
*My husband is the most understanding man I know.

a birth story.

gentry gayle, 1 minute old.

With the birth of my son quickly approaching, I have been thinking a lot about the birth of my daughter. I have yet to put her birth story into words so sixteen months later- it seems it is time.

I have to preface this by saying that it took 2 years, thousands of dollars, many miles driven, a lot of hormone medicine, and several uncomfortable procedures to FINALLY become pregnant ... Naturally. God works in mysterious ways. We were a couple months out from taking the huge step of doing IVF (invitro fertilization) when BAM! I got pregnant without any meds, any help from a doctor. So needless to say, we were shocked but oh.so.ready. 

I had already decided I wanted to have a natural birth. And was already seeing a midwife throughout the infertility daze.

We quickly signed up for a natural birth class series. I started doing prenatal yoga. I was ready for this. And even though I was sick those first 20 weeks, it hardly mattered. I had fought hard for this feeling of having a baby grow inside me. It was and is magical.

Our due date was April 11, 2013. On April 12th, my husband and I decided to go on an impromptu date. We decided on burgers at Sidebar and a movie at the Kentucky Theater. 

We made it home pretty late that night and I was so ready to dive into bed and get a good night of sleep. But as I started to doze into a state of sleep, I began feeling some tightness in my belly that felt different than the Braxton Hicks contractions I had been having the weeks leading up to this moment. 

I moved to the couch around midnight and spent the night watching TV and dozing in and out of sleep while labor began. By morning, I knew it was real. My contractions had been about 20-30 minutes apart all night and were slowly getting more frequent. Our plan was to labor at home as long as possible so I had no intention of heading to the hospital anytime soon. We stayed in contact with our midwife as I utilized our home during labor. 

At one point, I was outside walking around our backyard and our sweet neighbor came out and asked what I was doing. She couldn't believe I wasn't racing to the hospital but I knew it was not time.

As the day went on, the contractions became even more frequent and more painful, just as they are supposed to. I relaxed in the bath, I ate snacks, watched some golf and then at about 5:30pm, I had a contraction so painful- I knew it was time. I was leaning over the side of our love seat and I yelled out in pain.

The car was packed. Let's go! 

We arrived at the hospital and I had to stop several times on the way up to the birthing center to breathe through contractions. We finally made it and discovered they never received our registration papers. So they start asking me questions much to my dismay. I just wanted beyond those double doors.

After a couple minutes, we were admitted to the one room with a tub. YES! 

I walked in as nurses swirled around me, preparing the room and swoosh! my water breaks! Good timing. I cried to the nurse, "I think I just peed on myself. I can't stop!" She reassured me I did not, in fact, pee myself, my water had just broken.

I anxiously waited for the tub to fill so I could maybe get some relief. They monitored me for a bit and things seemed to be healthily progressing but when they checked my dilation progress, I was only at 3 cm. 3 cm!? I wanted to throw a childish temper tantrum. The contractions were too close and too painful for me to only be at 3 cm. 

I made my way into the tub and stayed there for what seemed like hours. My husband by my side the whole time. Never wavering. Consistently telling me what a great job I was doing.

father and daughter, a new kind of love.

By the time I got out, my body was a prune. They checked me again. No progress.

My patient, amazing nurse and friend, Rachel, was in contact with my midwife this whole time. My midwife eventually decided to offer me some morphine to ease some pain. They were afraid I was getting too weak and tired, having already been in labor for over 20 hours.
I remember rocking back and forth on my yoga ball, my head resting on the edge of the bed, my mind starting to doubt and saying several times "I don't know how much longer I can do this," with tears forming in my eyes. And then my darling Rachel who just so happens to be a doula and massage therapist, suggested I get in the bed and she would rub my feet. I dug deep into my soul and decided the morphine was just not an option for me at this point. But a foot massage, I can do! I got into the bed and she massaged my feet for a while. To this day, I am convinced this was the magic potion I needed. 

I laid on my side to see if I could get some relief. I was checked again. 7 cm this time! Things are happening! And literally, a moment later I felt the urge to push. I told Rachel I was feeling pressure and I couldn't resist the urge to bear down and try to push this baby out. 

The next thing I knew, Rachel and another nurse were preparing to deliver this baby. My midwife was on the way but there was no time to wait for her- this baby was on her way. As I lay on my side, husband cheering me on, holding tight to the side rail of the bed, screaming in a way that I never had before and seemed so out of character for me, Gentry Gayle flew- yes, flew out of my body at 11:57 pm (3 minutes from tax day). I went from 7 cm to a baby in my arms within 40 minutes. If you don't know a lot about birthing rates, this is very rare especially for a first time mama. I pushed maybe three times and there she was. The sweetest little face I had ever seen.

WE did it.

I accomplished what I set out to do- have a natural birth. I felt strong. But I also felt BEAT. Many women told me about this immediate relief/euphoria they felt in the moments after birthing their babies. I didn't feel that so immediately. It wasn't until I was moved into my new room, holding my baby with my husband sitting on the bed with us that I felt ease. My family was a unit of three. It was perfect. And I felt proud of all us.

mother and daughter, a dream come true.

mystery mama to be

One of my greatest pleasures in life is getting a massage. It can be an expensive venture but it is so worth it. I look forward to those appointments like a kid on Christmas Eve. 

My massage therapist, Lauren, is a magical, gorgeous human with such an intuitive spirit. I made an appointment with her about a month ago and could not wait for the day to come. My body was desperate. 

This past Monday came and 6:15 pm could not come quick enough. My husband got home from work in the nick of time for me to leave and I hurried my way across town. 

When I arrived, the woman at the front desk asked if I had come from school. This made me giggle. 'Oh no, I've been out of school for a while and pregnant with my second baby' I replied! Shew, I'm almost 31 years old, I thought. I appreciated her comment. 

Lauren came out to get me and as usual we sat down in the room and began discussing how I was feeling. I told her about my aches and pains. We talked pregnancy and yoga for a minute and then she told me the most amazing thing: A fellow 'mama to be' had paid for my massage. HUH?!?! I mean, someone called and paid for my massage? I don't remember even telling anyone I was getting a massage. A wave of emotions came over me, I wanted to cry. I could not believe in that moment that such kindness had been shown to little, ol' me. 

I had been saving up for this massage! I was prepared to pay and you're telling me it is taken care of?

Mama, who are you?

After my massage, I posted something on Facebook, hoping the mystery mama would come clean. But no such luck. I still do not know who this angel is. And I'm discovering that maybe that's okay. 

I recently gifted someone anonymously so I am extra shocked that the same thing has been done for me. I guess this is when karma isn't a bitch. Kindness is contagious. 

I am inspired to carry on this precious spirit of goodwill in a big way. 

Thank you from the bottom of my heart to the mystery mama to be who paid for my massage. You are a true angel, whoever you are. 

my greatest, little teacher.

My 16 month old babe, G, has recently started showing the sweetest nurturing nature. She grabs her sippy cup or her plastic teacup and feeds her dolls, her stuffed animals, her wooden butterfly puzzle pieces. She hugs and kisses them. It makes my heart a flutter everytime I witness her caring spirit. I'm sure a lot of kids do this- I know she's not the only one but it has caught me by surprise because I did not teach her to do it. It comes from within her. I see this little mama in her and it lights me up. I don't believe every female is destined for motherhood. But I do believe that all people have a desire to nurture others in some way or another. 

Not everyone acts on it all the time though. I don't. I don't even nurture or take care of the people I love the most 100% of the time. Sometimes I am annoyed with them, sometimes I disagree with their actions, sometimes I am just too lazy. But being a mama and learning to bloom in the moment is teaching me that those are excuses. You can disagree, you can be frustrated with loved ones, but that should never mean you stop nurturing them in the best way possible. 

I have been having some pretty excruciating hip/back/sciatic pain during this pregnancy- so much so, it leaves me crying at times. In those times, G looks at me, curls her lip under, drops her eyebrows and cuddles up next to me. She shows me empathy in a way that I have never experienced before. At just a little over one year old, without complete verbal and communication skills- she shows me she cares because that is in her soul. It's in all of our souls, we just have to choose to act on it.

My daughter is proving to be my greatest teacher.  I am so proud of her already.

Why I'm blooming today:

*In my third trimester!

*Had a great yoga session this morning

*Get to support a dear friend in opening her new business tonight!

authenticity and the #mywritingprocess blog tour

With such kindness, I have been invited to participate in the #mywritingprocess blog tour by my adorable, sparkly, yogini friend, Meredith. She has a blog too, you see, www.meredithmusing.blogspot.com. She always leaves you feeling a little more shiny, a little more at ease. I am honored to hop on this tour with her.

With this invitation, I have been asked to describe how my blogging/writing process works, how it might be different than others, and why do I write what I do. So here goes:

Let me begin with a little history of my writing. In 7th grade, I wrote a book of poetry as a project for my English class. I still have it. I wrote about not wanting to grow up, about God, about saving manatees. It all kind of began there. Fast forward a few years later and I received a bachelor's degree in English and Creative Writing from the University of Kentucky.  I seriously learned from the best while I was there- the likes of Nikki Finney, Jane Vance, and Erik Reese. Throughout all this disciplined writing, I also kept a private journal.

When I graduated from college, my writing all together took a backseat in my life. 

And then I finally decided, after years really of debating, to start a blog- it just felt right. I missed writing. It is something I had always done and I missed it like an old friend. I needed it back in my life. And I found that becoming a mama was the perfect life event to get me back into it. 

I feel like the phrase, writing "process", is way too formal for the way I approach writing. My "process" is more like a smorgasbord of thoughts floating around in my mind that are best transferred through my fingers to my MacBook by way of coffee and a comfy seat in my recliner with feet propped up. I don't brainstorm before hand or write it out on paper first. I definitely don't ponder any idea for too long before I start writing. I just go for it. And the inspiration usually comes from an epiphany I have had in the car or while changing my daughter's diaper or while, of course, having an emotional meltdown. For me, this process of putting my thoughts into visual words is the purest form of therapy. And I venture to say that most bloggers would agree.

In becoming a mama, I have found much peace and inspiration in other's blogs. The honesty people are putting out there, the acceptance that we all are human and fail, the idea that life isn't perfect and that IS OKAY, has rocked my little, self-doubting world and sent it into a spiral of confidence and super-woman-y feelings. I don't know how my blog is really different than anyone else's but I do know that I strive to be real and honest with myself and my readers. It is most important. And it is how I can remain true to myself and in turn, to the people in my life.

For such a long time, I kept a journal and one day, I started reading old entries and wanted to cringe. If I were to leave the world tomorrow, I would NOT want anyone reading those journals. It was all boys, sadness, striving for perfection. My thoughts weren't coming from a place of sincerety- they seemed contrived. So I stopped journaling. When I started to get the blogging buzz, my first thought was that it had to be honest- none of this "life is perfect over here in my family. your's isn't?" bullshit. And secondly, if I couldn't be completely honest about something, then maybe it is so unworthy of anymore of my energy that it needs to be let go. This is why I blog- to be authentic, with you and myself.

And lucky for me, I know some other fabulous women allowing themselves to be authentic. So I'm passing the blog tour torch to them... One of them is my yoga teacher turned dear friend, Sharon. The other, a long time friend (think 20+ years), Lauren.

Sharon Tessandori: A life coach, yoga instructor, & spiritual hillbilly. 

Find her @ www.sharontessandori.com

Lauren Metelski: I am a Russian major turned doula turned labor and delivery nurse. I strive to be a minimalist, I strive to teach about women's health and get my kicks having fun with birth!

Find her @ www.birthisfun.com

Blooming today b/c:

*This weather!

*Getting up early to bake muffins for a playdate

*My husband's new job and spending more time together

4 a.m.

I awoke yesterday morning around 4 a.m. which is pretty typical these days. I get up a lot because sweet baby boy pushes on my bladder and I gotta pee. This particular morning, I went to the bathroom, got back in bed, TRIED to get comfy, and laid there with eyes open. Sleep, where are you?! Instead of sleeping, my body and mind decided to get anxious. Middle of the night anxiety is the absolute worse! It's a dark place, literally. 

I thought about baby boy, about going through natural labor and delivery again, about being in the hospital away from my daughter for several days, about how she is going to feel when she sees me holding her brother for the first time, about my children sharing a room (where is all their stuff gonna go?!), about wanting to buy expensive bedding for boy's crib from etsy but it seems so unnecessary, about the months left before our due date and what needs to be done and bought, about my husband and how I'm so annoying to be around right now because my body aches and I'm so tired all the time, about how my midwife told me that my iron is low and I need to be eating leafy greens and fish! But do you know how hard that is when you are pregnant? I want ice cream and donuts and Chik-fil-a breakfast sandwiches. I thought about the unknown future and the feeling of being in limbo, about how I hate the nights my husband has to work and the loneliness I feel sometimes, about how I wished I were better at being a 'housewife' like they were in the 50's, like my mom was when I was growing up, about how I wish I didn't let people get in my head and I listened better to my own intuition.

There is so much to think about at 4 a.m., isn't there? 

So I get on Facebook feeling groggy, knowing I probably won't get any fulfillment by doing so but do it anyway and see this:

This screws me up a lot. 

And it's why I wake up in the middle of the night worrying about every detail of life because everything is supposed to be a lot easier than this, right?

Well, no. Life isn't supposed to be any certain way- it's supposed to be how we make it. We have the choice to let go of the worries and take it all as it comes. Easy huh? :)

P.S. This quote was posted by Glennon Melton of Momastery. If you don't follow her- I highly suggest you do. She's crazy honest and has inspired me beyond anything I could have imagined. She rocks my world. http://www.momastery.com

This is making me bloom today:

*A walk with a BFF and her brand new babe

*Dinner with my girls last night that left me feeling complete and cared for

*This cup of coffee in my hand

*70 degree weather

*Good news