Tuesday, March 16, 2010


My aunt sent me a link to this site:

It inspired me to write this post.

I haven't lost my baby weight. I have stretchmarks lining my stomach and breasts. My stomach is not flat or smooth. My thighs jiggle a bit. My breasts are big and I will never fit the cute little bras I have sitting in the back of my closet again.

But the stretchmarks show where my babies grew inside me. Like a map of the world, they show where I felt little kicks, punches, rolls and hiccups. My breasts are full of milk to give my daughter the nutrients she needs. My arms may not be trim but they are strong enough to carry my children and a diaper bag and the phone all at the same time. My legs carry me quickly when I hear my child calling for me and can still run up the stairs when my son is scared by the monsters in the dark.

I may never fit into my wedding dress again. Or the clothes that I have sitting on the floor of my closet, beautiful clothes that make me sigh when I see them. I will not be twenty pounds lighter when I am a bridesmaid in May, like I tricked myself into thinking was more than doable, it was "healthy". I will NEVER wear a bikini, no matter how many ads tell me I can.

This is me.
If I lose some more weight, fine. I do not need to drive myself crazy to do so.
If not, my husband still loves me. I am healthy. I am alive.
I need to stop comparing myself to others and be happy that my body let me carry two beautiful, healthy, perfect babies.
Those that cannot get pregant would gladly take stretchmarks and saggy boobs if it meant they could carry a baby.
So I will rejoice in my body. The body that God gave me. I will eat healthy food and run around with my children but I will not obsess.

Psalm 139: 13-16

For you formed my inward parts;
you knitted me together in my mother’s womb.
I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made. Wonderful are your works;
my soul knows it very well.
My frame was not hidden from you,when I was being made in secret,
intricately woven in the depths of the earth.
Your eyes saw my unformed substance;in your book were written, every one of them,
the days that were formed for me,
when as yet there was none of them.

Monday, March 15, 2010


This morning my son and I had to have a conversation about how Papa won't have any more birthdays or birthday parties because he is dead and in Heaven. He kept asking, "Cause Papa's dead?" and I would have to say, "yes, Papa is dead."
Did we not tell him this crucial piece of information? I still choke up when I talk to him about his Papa. He's always been told his Papa is in Heaven now, and we've read books about Heaven and what it's like, but did we forget to mention that Papa died? Those days after my dad died are a blur, but I hope one of us sat down with my son and explained it to him. He was only two years old but toddlers are a lot smarter than we give them credit for.

We recently celebrated my brother's birthday and then shortly after that, had the little celebration of my dad's life. Soon we will celebrate my aunt's birthday.

I think all of this is confusing my son, thus all the questions about Papa's birthday.

I hope and pray that I am answering these questions correctly and won't further confuse my son.
Parenting is exhausting and I feel at a loss these days...

Thursday, March 11, 2010

A whole year

Tuesday is over and I am glad. It wasn't as bad as I had thought it would be though.

We had a family supper with all of my dad's favorite foods. Corn and clam chowder, farmer sausage, homemade bread, ribs, greek salad and for dessert cherry cheesecake and ice cream cake.
After supper we all sat down and shared some favorite memories. Some family that live far away sent their stories to my mom so she read those. I heard some stories I hadn't heard before. My dad was a pretty funny guy. He also got up to lots of trouble with his brothers.

When he was four, his two older brothers found a case of beer stashed in a barn. They loaded it up into a wagon with my dad sitting on top and went all over town selling the beer. Apparently my dad was the one who ended up selling it to an old bachelor.
My Grandpa was the high school English teacher as well as the Sunday School superintendent and did not drink beer.
He was not impressed.
(My dad is the smiley guy in the bottom left. I think my son resembles him quite a bit. I showed him this photo and asked him who the smiley boy is and he said, "ME!")

My dad loved to laugh. Christmas 2006 sticks out in my mind, my aunt and uncle gave my little sister and niece whoopie cushions. They thought that was the best thing in the world and we spent that whole Christmas laughing at the farty noises. My dad most of all, because that's the sense of humor he had. So, my husband and I gave whoopie cushions to all the kids the other night. They thought it was hilarious and it made everyone laugh. It was nice to remember the good times.

It was sad and we all cried while watching the slideshow from the funeral. But it was also nice to laugh about the good times.

I cannot believe it's been a year since he died. It has gone by very fast. That awful day still seems like yesterday sometimes. But hopefully the painful memories will recede and we will start to only remember the good stuff.

Tuesday, March 9, 2010

One year

Miss you Dad XOXO

Sunday, March 7, 2010


It's been a year since the last time I saw my dad.

We went to visit him in the hospital after his surgery. He was in a really good mood for being in lots of pain. We laughed and joked around with him like normal. To this day I wish we had brought our son so he could have seen him one last time. We stayed for almost an hour, I gave him a hug and kiss and that was it. I would never get to see him again.

He was supposed to come home two days later. Instead, a blood clot developed and killed him.

It will sound weird but I don't really want this year to be over. Because it means that now it will be over a year since he was here. Can't explain it any better than that.

I feel like a bundle of nerves these days. Memories are coming back, and with them feelings of dread and extreme sadness. I really hate reliving the day he died. I hate the fact that I was the one who had to call my brother. I hate the fact that I was the one who had to tell my little sister that our daddy was dead. I hate that day.

I am not looking forward to March 9th. But it will come and then it will be gone.

I am telling myself that things are going to be okay. He really wouldn't want us to be sad on that day. He would want us to laugh and joke and tell funny stories about him and to celebrate his life.

Tuesday, March 2, 2010

What my husband does in his spare time: