Packet of Wildflower Seeds

If I haven't said it already, pregnancy was not as glamorous as I assumed it would be. I mean, I didn't expect it to be a perfect experience, but it definitely threw me a few curveballs. There were some discomforts in the moment and some lasting souvenirs from those periods in my life... ...including stretch marks and loose skin. To be perfectly honest, I am jealous of those women who "bounce back" so well, you can't tell they were ever pregnant. My stomach bothers me. My sister once asked, "if it bothers you so much, why don't you get surgery?" Well, I have considered it. I've done a little research, looked at before-and-after pictures, hunted for less-invasive alternatives. There are several reasons I don't think I would ever go that route, however. First, it costs A LOT. The surgery itself is usually more than $6,000, and that doesn't include facility fees, anesthesia, etc. That much money could be spent on multiple nice vacatio...

I don't have a ton of memories of my paternal grandmother. Part of that is because she died while I was still in grade school, so I didn't have as much time with her as I did with my grandfather or even my other grandma. Part of that is also my fault. Being an anxious introvert, family gatherings made me somewhat nervous when I was growing up. (Actually, to be perfectly honest, they still do!) Whenever I could, I would retreat to playing with my siblings or the family dogs. My aunt usually traveled with her rescue dog TJ, and when she visited my grandparents' house, TJ would sometimes stay in the basement. Heading to the basement to play with TJ was ideal for me: I got to hang out with a dog while avoiding all of the people upstairs. Of course, my disappearance also meant that I missed out on interacting with my relatives. My grandmother noticed how much I loved dogs, though. One day, we were outside in someone else's backyard. She stood next to me and said, "I...

This sure is a strange time, isn't it? Somehow, it also feels very normal. Perhaps that is due, in part, to the fact that so many things need to continue as before. Many of us still have to do our jobs, even if those jobs look different than they did prior to the quarantine. For those of us who are parents, we also still have to take care of our children. And man, has that part been tough. My children are sent a daily list of recommended "enrichment" activities. The list itself is enough to fill a regular school day. Everywhere you turn, there are other suggestions about how to keep your kids active and engaged while they are at home. There are numerous live stream sessions involving art, music, dance, reading, fitness, science, and just about any topic you can imagine. You can take virtual field trips to national parks and museums. Plenty of other organizations have put together activities you can do with your family. Here I sit. I have anxiety. My own school has dec...

Awhile back I shared a poem I wrote about the experience of partner abuse. At the time I wrote the poem, I had a newborn, and I imagined that a woman might choose to stay in an abusive relationship because she felt she had no way to provide for her child otherwise. My child is now older, and as she has grown up, I have imagined how abuse might seep from a spouse to a child. Would the mother continue to stay in the relationship if she thought she had no other options? Would she see her children hurt and decide it was finally time to leave? How would she protect her children? Could  she protect her children? I wrote this poem to sort through my thoughts and feelings about the topic. As with the last poem, I drew from several sources. I digested news stories and imagined what I'd do in similar situations. I cried after hearing what friends have endured. Yes, I've been hurt, too - with words only and certainly not to the extent depicted here. As I sat with the pain, I wondered ...

If you have read even a fraction of my blog posts, you know that mental health is an important topic to me. That probably makes sense due to my own personal struggles. I also worry how my illness will affect my children. Does it impact how I respond as a parent? Is it something they will inherit from me? I have additional reasons to be concerned about the latter. I alluded to my husband's family history in a previous post, but I feel ready to share more fully his story (with his permission). My husband's father suffered (and, if we are being honest, died) from schizophrenia. I didn't know this when we first started dating. I didn't even know that his father was deceased. At the beginning of our relationship, someone mentioned to me that they thought his father was no longer living and asked if it was true. I had no idea, so I asked one of my husband's best friends about it. The friend actually believe his father was still alive. However, shortly after we began d...

Six years ago, a high school classmate reached out to me and my husband to see if he could stay at our house for one night. He and two friends from seminary were passing through the city on the way to Chicago; they were trying to keep costs low on their trip, and we were the only people he still knew in the area. We agreed that they could crash on our couches. Our collective history with this particular person was an interesting one. He transferred to our high school sophomore year. I got to know him a little bit in some of my classes, and he played soccer with my brother. He also became friends with my husband. At some point near the end of junior year, he admitted that he had a crush on me. I agreed to go on two dates with him, even though I didn't believe that the relationship would become serious - in part because he was moving to Massachusetts that summer. In fact, my husband helped him pack one day, and he later told me that the other guy spent a lot of time talking about h...

The following is a journal entry from my junior year English class: When people ask me what I want to do with my life, I usually have a response that seems certain, yet in actuality, I have no idea where I'm going. Sometimes I think that I know what career I want, but then I end up changing my mind. In the past six months I have changed my mind about these possibilities at least ten times. How am I supposed to know what I want to do when there are so many choices? First there is the desire for a creative field. I cannot imagine life confined to limitations. I often dream of becoming an interior decorator or a fashion designer because of the freedom of those areas. I actually draw some of my own fashions, but I do not have the artistic skill required for either of those careers. Then I move into considering jobs that involve writing. I love to write, even though I don't think I'm very good at it. Words give me a chance to express myself or to create a fictitious world...