"I dreamt we walked together along the shore...."

"I dreamt we walked together along the shore.... We made satisfying small talk and laughed. This morning I found sand in my shoe and a seashell in my pocket. Was I only dreaming...."



I feel lost and frantic...I hear you crying... I am trying my best to get to you. I run and run and no matter how hard I run...I can't find you. Every direction I turn, your cries seem to get more and more distant...I feel pain in my side, my legs burn, my chest is tight and I can't breath...I am gasping for air....but yet I continue to run....I vow to myself that I will find you. It feels like I run for hours until finally my legs collapse under me...I have no idea where I am but when my knees hit the ground I feel like I have failed...I have failed you. I can hear you still...very faintly...but I hear you. Tears start to fall and sob uncontrollably. On my knees, a complete and utter wreck...I feel so lost.


I hear a voice that says "Get up"...I say out loud "I can't...I have nothing left in me..." The voice commands again..."Get UP"...This time the voice is louder and more stern..."I reply again "I am trying...I can't...My body is weak, my heart is weak...I have failed..." The voice replies "GET UP! Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be frightened, and do not be dismayed, for the LORD your God is with you wherever you go!"  It takes every ounce of strength I have left in my body to peel myself off my knees...my feet start to move in a slow walk...then a slight jog...with every step I feel my body start to strengthen...something has been renewed in me...I am in a full run by this time...sprinting toward the unknown. I hear your cries...as I move they get louder and louder...I am going to find you...I just know it. Arms pumping, feet pounding the ground, heart beating...I burst through an opening...and the crying stops...complete silence. All the darkness has faded...and I see sweet sunshine. I look up at it and feel the warmth on my face...taking a moment to catch my breath....my eyes scan this field that I have found myself in and they stop on a sweet, small baby carriage. I hesitate for some reason....almost scared of what I am going to see....Again, I hear this voice... "Go on...." I  begin walking towards the carriage, quickening my pace as I get closer...

As I reach the carriage and peek inside.... I see a bundle of pink....I see a sweet baby girl with a beautiful pink dress on and a white bonnet...as my hands touch her hand she grabs my finger and I pick her up....I cradle this precious angel and hug her as close as I can get to my heart...I breath in her scent and the try memorizing the feel of her in my arms....I don't want to forget a single second of this. I have this complete sense of calm come over me....and I sit. I sit with my sweet baby girl in my arms and rock her...I tell her I love her....over and over again...I tell her I am sorry...and I continue to rock....

And then I woke up.....and smiled.

Right after I had my miscarriage, I started having the first part of this dream....I would run and run and could never find her...and I would wake up with my heart pounding and have such a panicked feeling. Many times I have cried myself back to sleep with the feeling of loss so heavy on my chest it was hard to breath. As the months went on...I had the dream less and less....would even go months without having it....but ever so often....it would creep back in and I would wake up with tears rolling down my cheek.

On July 30th, which was supposed to be my due date....The day I was supposed to meet my sweet baby. The dream resurfaced again....only this time, I found her. I met her....I found out that out that my sweet baby was indeed a girl....and this time when I woke up, I was smiling. I was excited....and I couldn't fall asleep. I wrote down every detail of that dream I could because I didn't want to forget a single thing. I wanted to relish in the feeling that I had at that very moment.

I have no idea what you believe....and I honestly don't care. You may think I am crazy...and again, I don't care.

 I on the other hand, believe that God knew my pain...he felt my pain....and he gave me the peace I needed. I believe that I met my baby girl that night in my dream....that he gave me that. I can't remember her face...but I remember the feel of her hand in mine...I can close my eyes and I can remember what it felt like having her in my arms and rocking her. I haven't had the dream since that night....Oh I have longed for it...hoped for it...wished for another opportunity to see her again. But I know it probably won't happen....and I am ok with that. As the 1 year anniversary comes up on January 8th, I think about her more and more. I was asked the other day if I felt like I have healed....In some ways, yes....in some ways, no. I think about her often...and I think I always will. As I set out to run Huntsville again this weekend, I can't help but to think about should I have ran last year....Is that what caused me to miscarry....and even though I will never know the answer to that....I still carry that guilt around with me.

God may not ever allow me to have that dream again....but I am thankful for his grace...for his love...for his understanding. I am thankful that he understood my pain and allowed me that moment to touch her face and see her....to sit with her...to tell her how much I love her. I am thankful for the ability to dream...

Until the next time I see you baby girl....I love you....

Read more...

"Grief is a tricky, stalking thing..."

“She heard him mutter, 'Can you take away this grief?'
'I'm sorry,' she replied. 'Everyone asks me. And I would not do so even if I knew how. It belongs to you. Only time and tears take away grief; that is what they are for...” 

Grief is a tricky, stalking thing...A shaded presence in my peripherals...breathing on my neck...walking beside me...behind me....and some days suffocating me. You can't always see him...he doesn't show up all the time...he is an uninvited dinner guest...he sneaks up on you...and when he is there...he sits down and makes himself at home for a little while...and then he is gone...giving you the illusion that he has left for good...only to return when you least expect it....

I woke up Monday morning with a heavy heart...there was a a heavy stone sitting on top of my chest making it impossible to breath....I put my running shoes on did the only thing I knew to do...I ran until I literally couldn't breathe...I ran hard...and fast...I ran until I had tears streaming down my face...until I had the biggest hitch it my side and the pain was so unbearable that I had to stop...I sat beside the road and I sobbed...not for the pain in my side...the burn in my lungs...the ache of my legs....but for the pain in my heart...the feeling of loss...the feeling that I had worked so hard to overcome the last 8 months. I got up...wiped my face...took a deep breathe and ran back to my car...

July 31st...that is the day I was supposed to bring home my precious angel...I dread this day...every hour of that day....and everyday leading up to it brings a deeper sense of dread...I feel like I have reliving the day I was told there was no heartbeat over and over and over...A day that was supposed to be filled with such joy will forever be one of sadness. Instead of counting ten perfect tiny fingers and toes....smelling that sweet, perfect newborn smell....marveling at how this tiny being was in my belly for 9 months....Instead of all these wonderful things, I will wake up to a heap of dread...

Two of my dearest friends got to experience motherhood for the first time last week...on the same day...and on my birthday. One is adopting a precious baby girl....She has dreamed about being a mother and has had more than her share of heartbreak...more than anyone should. She is such a strong woman and she always continues to strive...heartbreak after heartbreak. I have watched her from start to finish on this journey and to see her with that perfect little being in her arms...that look of unconditional love in her eyes as she looks into that beautiful baby girls face...it makes me heart so happy for her...

The other girl is part of my soul...the moment we met we clicked...and I knew it was a special friendship. I have watched her grow from a college kid, to an adult with her first big girl job, to a wife...and now a mother. I wasn't able to be there but the pictures she shared and gave me the first "sneak peak" into that special day...were beautiful. You could see the look of pure joy on everyone's face...the picture that stood out to me was a single teardrop rolling from the Mother's eye as she looked down into that perfect face...So much emotion displayed in that one teardrop. I think it summed up the day perfectly...

I feel selfish...because while I am thrilled beyond belief for these 2 ladies...my heart hurts...my arms feel empty...and I feel envious. While looking at their pictures brings a smile to my face...it also brings tears to my eyes. 

I read a blog post a while back that was sent to me from a dear friend...it was stated perfectly that "It's okay not to be okay sometimes..." Today, I am not okay...I long for the baby that was supposed to be mine...I long for the dream of what she or he was going to accomplish in this life....I long to see that face....to feel those tiny fingers....to lay his or her head on my chest and take it all in...I long to not grieve anymore...I long to be okay... 

I am not okay today...and I may not be tomorrow...but someday....I know I will be....and grief won't walk so closely by me....

Read more...

"The very least you can do in your life is figure out what you hope for...."

" The very least you can do in your life is figure out what you hope for. And the most you can do is live inside that hope. Not admire it from a distance but live right in it, under its roof...."


It's hard to believe that almost 3 month ago, I was waking into my doctors office getting ready to hear my little one's heartbeat.... Like the other significant events of my life, it seems like yesterday and it seems ages have passed...

I’ve healed a lot during the couple month, physically and spiritually, thanks to the love of my family and friends and some significant amounts of dark chocolate, pizza and running...My running shoes have honestly been the best listener...

The truth is, I’ve had a really hard time writing this, partly because it’s sad and I didn’t know how much to share and partly because for the first time in my life...I didn't have the words.  These are some personal observations I made following my miscarriage. Some of them are blunt and raw but I included them because I've learned quite a few women I know ran into these situations and words after miscarriage. Hopefully, including them here will help us all to be more thoughtful about how powerful our words and actions can be when directed toward a person who has lost someone they love....

I discovered that the “silent pain” of miscarriage is silent for several reasons. Sometimes, it’s easier to just put one foot in front of the other and keep going. Less messy. The pain of losing a child is deep and personal and almost too physically draining to discuss. Second, there is no ceremony, no ritual that marks the passage of an unseen child which would make talking about it seem normal and offer people the freedom to offer their condolences without wondering if they've crossed a line. Lastly, an unborn child is held inside a place of blood and water inside a woman's womb, a topic that seems to be kind of taboo in our culture...

Without a funeral, grief feels illegitimate within a very short time. We’re supposed to put on our happy face and act like we feel better already even though we actually feel like our lives have hit a brick wall and you are left sitting dumbfounded while everyone keeps moving around us. I felt self conscious writing about this again. What would people think? Should I be over it already? Stop feeling sorry for myself?

Even though I said I would allow myself to grieve, I soon discovered it was harder than I thought... The common greeting, “How are you?” usually asked in a social manner, became difficult to answer. A few people asked with genuine interest but most expected the typical “Good.” Especially when the latter was expected by people who knew what I'd been through, I felt like saying, “Let's see, my baby died and I feel horrible" Of course, I clung to the social norm, looked at them with my polite smile and asked, “How are you?” I found that most people wore the all to familiar face of relief...it's not their fault really...They are just as uncomfortable discussing an event that you yourself can't even put into words...

After awkward moments like this, I was even more grateful for kind friends. The best friends didn’t just say, “Let me know if you need anything.” That’s so difficult when you’re usually an independent, strong woman. How does one ask for help? I felt relieved and thankful when friends went out of their way to call me and ask how I was doing, bring a meal, or just grab my hand unexpectedly and give it a squeeze...there were many texts messages telling me "Have a good day"..."I love you"...and the best texts were from my friends who knew me best saying "Have a great day Hot Momma"...They will never know how much that meant...

Some other people in my life tried to “fix” what had happened by offering words they probably hoped would diminish my chances of depression... While I understand their intentions and appreciate that they meant well, their comments still seemed to minimize the grief I was feeling. Some were probably trying to be comforting while others were just uncomfortable with what had happened and didn’t want to talk about it or didn’t know what to say. These kinds of comments often came from the people closest to me - but I realize they were just at a loss for how to help.

“Thank God you’re ok. Now you can just move on with your life and focus on the beautiful children you already have.”

“Well, the important thing is, you’re ok. Now you can just move on with your life.”

"These things happen for a reason..."

"At least it happened really early..."


Catching a theme here? I’m sure these people were just saddened by what happened and wanted to save me from depression by pointing me to the wonderful things in my life. But, I needed a moment to catch my breath and grieve for the dream of the sweet baby I had lost. The truth is, an event like this becomes a part of who we are. I am so thankful for Khristian and Bailey and the Joy They bring to my life daily...But, I loved this baby. I dearly wanted this baby...and when I think about my children as a whole...I will think about this baby...because for a brief moment in time...it was a part of our family...There was a heartbeat....There was arms and legs...and he lived below my heart for 11 weeks....I know at first I was in shock and thought about how we would take care of him... but in the end...I already loved this baby.... And he or she will always occupy a place of love and grief in my heart....he's a part of me now...

Someone said to me, “I know you don’t want to hear this but you’re now a statistic.” You’re right. Didn't want to hear that. But...

This event connected me to a new group of people who have lost children. After my first post, an incredible number of women contacted me with their own stories of loss and grief. Their words were a balm to my heart as I realized I really was not alone. I cherish every message....every story....every single broken heart that that understood and let me know I was not alone...

I kept having this dream...over and over again...this dream would keep me awake at night the first month...not so often now...but every once in a while it will still creep in and steal sleep from me...

This last couple months have seemed so long and so short. I learned a lot about life and myself I didn't realize I needed to learn. While I have felt the normal sadness, anger and depression that comes with loss, something else has taken over my current mood....Hope.  I woke with a hope in my heart that sort of squashed that sad/numb feeling that had previously surrounded me. It was strong enough for me to choose to smile through my tears...

The reason? I know 2 wonderful couples that have suffered loss and disappointment...and more heartache that should be allowed. Both of these couples are getting a sweet sweet baby soon....and it does my heart so good to be able to watch them on this journey. I know its sounds strange...but in a sense watching their joy has diminished my sadness. I couldn't have my angle for whatever reason...but they will....If you are reading my blog (and I know you are)...Thank you...Thank you from the bottom of my heart...and I promise you, the day you hold that sweet baby...I will cry those tears of joy with you....

I still have sad moments and I’m sure they will continue to come at times but for now, I’m willing to take the pain along with the joy...I hold my sweet bailey a little closer at night...I hug Khristian tighter and cherish those sweet peeks on the cheek....and I know there is a sweet angle in heaven that is waiting to meet me one day...and because of these things...I smile.

Read more...

"Sweet Sweet baby..."

“Every morning, I wake up and forget for just a second that it happened…But once my eyes open, it buries me like a landslide of sharp, sad rocks. Once my eyes open, I’m heavy…like there’s to much gravity on my heart…”

 

 

My dear sweet baby…


Yesterday was 1 week since I was told you had no heartbeat...I woke up feeling like my heart was to heavy for my body...and even though I knew that you are safely being rocked up in Heaven every part of my body ached to have you safely back in my tummy...

 

My heart is hurting so bad for the things that I will never get to do and I can’t even begin to understand how to process this. I will never get to meet you…lay my eyes upon you…hold your tiny little hand in mine…count your toes and fingers…tell you over and over how wonderfully beautiful you are...rock you... You will never get to meet your older brother or sister....or the huge family that was excited to meet you... Most of all, I will never be able to tell how sorry I am…

 

 I thought that as the days went on that I would make sense of things…that I would see things clearer…but as the time drags on day after day you consume my thoughts and I can’t get one thought straight from the other. I think back to the day in the doctors office when I found out I was pregnant...I cried…not out of joy but out of selfishness. All I could think about was how were your daddy and I going to afford another child…another mouth to feed…and then I thought about how much I was going to dread breastfeeding for another year. Dread…I actually remember thinking that exact word….How incredibly selfish was I? I wasn’t thinking about this gift from heaven that God was giving me…or how much Joy you would add to our life...


Dread…that is what I was thinking...Ashamed does not even begin to describe how I feel...

 

My thoughts revolved around me...How I had worked so hard to get my body back in shape after I had your sister....How little sleep I was going to get...Was I still going to able to run my marathon I had trained so hard for....How I had to give up things for 9 months...me, me me...selfish, selfish, selfish....


While at the Dr’s office, I asked him if I could still run the marathon that I had trained for…seems so unimportant now…but he said yes…as long as I stayed hydrated…so I ran. At mile 23, I started to cramp so I backed off…walked and ran the last 3 miles. Was that you telling me something was wrong? I can’t help but to think “What if” I had not run that weekend would I still have you safe in my stomach??

 

In 1 month’s time, your dad and I had gone through the several stages....Shock, acceptance and finally excitement. We were making plans and coming up with names for you…We were figuring things out and I was starting to see a tiny baby bump and I would smile when I looked in the mirror...You already had your first nickname thanks to your Uncle Adam…”Frank the Tank” Jones…this came about because your dad thought you would be a boy and said that a boy named Tank Jones would be a force to be reckoned with…he was kidding but none the less…the name stuck. I was finally starting to think that this was going to work…that we would be ok…

 

I went in for my 11 week check-up…I was giddy because I was going to hear your heartbeat...Dr. Logan came in the room and checked everything...tried to find the heartbeat as I anxiously waited to heat those tiny little thumps….she was having difficulty finding one and I remember thinking "Stubborn already"... She assured me that this was common at 11 weeks…she didn't seem at all worried something was wrong.....I was sent in for an ultrasound where the nurse took some several pictures..5 minutes of no words being spoken she grabbed the pictures and said she would be right back.


 I knew…I felt it… something was wrong… that word again…Dread…Except this time is was with complete different feelings. This next part I have replayed over and over in my head…from the facial expressions…to the words. Dr. logan walked in with a grim face and said “There is no heartbeat…”  I sat there unable to fully process her words…No heartbeat? How could that be? Why would God allow me to get pregnant when there wasn’t supposed to be a chance of it…then allow this to happen? What was the purpose? The reasoning??

 

I sat there in shock for a moment…I felt tears but they didn’t drop…She talked for a few minutes…I am sure it was reassurance…words of comfort…but honestly, I don’t remember. She gave me a moment by myself to collect myself…I called Travis and asked him to meet me at home… walked through the motions of the D&C appointment…got my next appointment…a few hugs…and walked out the door and into my car where I called my parents…and only then did I cry. I sat in my car…in that parking lot and sobbed like a baby…for the baby that stopped developing at 9 weeks…for you. Was this my punishment? Did God deciede that I was to selfish to give you to me? Of course, I know that our God is a loving God …and has a plan for us….but why this plan???

 

The guilt I feel is crushing me…I feel like I can’t breathe at times. Night is worse…I lay in the bed consumed with thoughts that wont go away. I can’t make heads or tails of anything and all I want is to go back to the first doctors visit…I want to hear your heartbeat. I want to change my reactions…my thoughts…I want to try to change the outcome…I feel that I failed you as a mother…I was supposed to be your protector until you came into this world…and I didn’t do that.

 

I am sorry little one…the only comforting thought I have is that you are playing in heaven with all of the other heaven babies…you have seen the beauty of heaven and will never know the ways of this selfish world. I hope that when the day comes and I finally meet you…that you forgive me….and know that I love you…

Read more...

"Sweet, perfect Hands..."

“Then suddenly she reached out and took my hand to steady herself.... sometimes we just need someone to hang on to until we find our footing...”

 It seems as though when Bailey was first born, her tiny little hand instantly found mine... Her new little fingers grasped my finger tightly...I wrapped her small fist with my remaining fingers and held on....I can remember thinking to myself “I will always hold your hand....as long as you will let me...I will hold your hand."

Last night, I sat and rocked Bailey in the rocking chair in her room at bedtime...I rarely do this but the times I do...I love it. It is such a quiet, peaceful time. The house was silent...Travis and Khristian were at football practice...the TV was off...it was just me rocking her. As I sat there with her in my arms she reached up and grabbed my finger with her tiny little hand and brought it to her chest....I held her just like this until she fell asleep. I sat there and studied her little face...the curve of her eyes...the tip of her nose...and my eyes settled on her little hands...

My mind wondered to earlier in the evening as I was holding her by her hand and letting her walk around the house...she is learning to walk but is still very shaky and not quite confident enough to let go. It was probably the third trip around the living room when she stopped...looked up at me with her big beautiful blue eyes...smiled...and let go...

 She walked half way across the room before I saw those blonde little curls turn around to make sure I was watching....I urged her to keep going. She clapped and walked about 7 more steps before she lost her balance and fell to the floor. I ran over to her, scooped her up and gave her the biggest hug all while telling her how proud I was of her. In that moment, I was so proud of her...but as I sat there rocking her and staring at those beautiful, precious hands...I realized that this was only the start... there would be many moments in her life that she would turn to me with those same blue eyes, smile and let go...

They'll grasp a pencil as she clumsily but surely learns to write her name... They'll grip handlebars with a mix of joy and horror as her Daddy runs behind her on her bike, almost ready to let go...In the teenage years those hands will wipe away many adolescent tears and slam many doors, but maybe, if I play my cards right, they'll still reach out for mine every now and then...They'll pack her belongings as she leaves home... And they'll open our front door again as she comes back to visit...They'll wear a diamond from a handsome young man, and they'll loosely hold her daddy's tuxedoed arm, eager to reach out for her future at the end of the aisle...Those hands will clench in pain as she experiences childbirth, and they'll tremble in joy when she holds him or her the first time... They'll feel little foreheads, apply band-aids and hold open books.... And then, one night, she'll rock that sweet baby to sleep, and she'll stare in bittersweet wonder...at its sweet perfect little hands...

I slowly removed my hand from hers...placed her in her crib...and prayed. I prayed that whatever those sweet, perfect little hands accomplish in this life...that they're helpful hands... and merciful ones, and I pray they always have many, many other hands to grab onto...and I pray that those hands are often clasped in prayer themselves.

I pray that when my hands are old and weathered...that she will look at them and see a lifetime of love...that these hands will always be there to steady her...until she is ready to let go...

Read more...

"Yes, I got a tattoo..."

“If people are honest with themselves when they choose a tattoo, the art will represent them better than anything that will ever come out of their mouth. The things that are most important to me are represented in the art that covers my body. My God, my family, my friends, my job, my social and historical beliefs and the aggressive or even violent nature with which I will protect all of them.....basically in that order of importance. Is it scarey or repulsive to some people? Yes. Does it change who I am? No. If anything it works as an outward conscience that will forever remind me of who I am and what is important during times of trial or long after my mind starts to fade due to old age if I'm blessed with a long life..."


Yes, I got a tattoo....

It was my 30th birthday present to myself...and I love it. I look at it when I wake up...when I run...as I get ready...several times a day while I am working...and at night while I am playing with Bailey and she points at it on my wrist and say's "Pretty" ...it makes me smile...because yes, it is pretty. In fact, it is beautiful...

So, let's go ahead and play the "Questions & Answers" game....easy ones first....

Of course, everyone's first question is "What did you get?"...My children's initials encased in an Infinity sign on my wrist.

"Did it hurt?"....Yes, some places more than other's...but it was not so intense that I wouldn't do it again....I mean come on, I have had 2 children...I can handle a little bit of pain. I'm not going to lie, I was scared...and really nervous...like REALLY nervous...but I knew what I wanted and was confident in my decision...

"What does Travis think?" ....He loves it...and I am happy...so that makes him happy. Believe me, he would tell me if he didn't like it or didn't support me. He has no problems what so ever telling me when he doesn't like one of my outfits of choice...so something that is permanent on my body would be a piece of cake.

"Doesn't the bible say you are not supposed to get tattoos?" Getting a little bit sticky here...yes, it does.

"Do not cut your bodies for the dead, and do not mark your skin with tattoos. I am the Lord." Leviticus 19:28.

I asked myself that question time and time again...I thought long and hard about my decision to get a tattoo. I knew some people would frown upon it...some would think I was disobeying God and going against religion...some noses would be stuck in the air...and ultimately, some people  just wouldn't see the beauty I see when I look at it. I am ok with that.. I did my research and instead of trying to explain to you why I finally came to the decision that I would not be disobeying God by marking my body with a tattoo I will copy & paste an article that I found. It explains it perfectly and I am content in my choice...it's a personal choice that everyone has to  make for themselves. Some don't agree with it, some do, and some just don't understand it...that doesn't make any of us wrong...that just makes us human...

To Tattoo or Not To?

This is a question many Christians struggle with. I believe tattooing falls into the category of "disputable matters" where the Bible is not clear. But wait a minute, you might be thinking. The Bible says in Leviticus 19:28, "Do not cut your bodies for the dead, and do not mark your skin with tattoos. I am the Lord." (NLT) How much clearer can that be?

It's important, however, to look at the verse in context. This passage in Leviticus, including the surrounding text, is specifically dealing with the pagan religious rituals of the people living around the Israelites. God’s desire is to set his people apart from other cultures. The focus here is prohibiting worldly, heathen worship and witchcraft. God forbids his holy people to engage in idolatrous, pagan worship and sorcery which imitates the heathens. He does this out of protection, because he knows this will lead them away from the one true God.   It's interesting to observe verse 26, "Do not eat meat that has not been drained of its blood," and verse 27, "Do not trim off the hair on your temples or trim your beards." Well, certainly many Christians today eat non-kosher meats and get haircuts without participating in the forbidden worship of pagans. Back then these customs were associated with pagan rites and rituals. Today they are not. So, the important question remains, is getting a tattoo a form of pagan, worldly worship still forbidden by God today? My answer is, this matter is disputable, and should be treated as a Romans 14 issue.  If you are considering the question, "To tattoo or not to?" I think the more serious questions to ask yourself are: What are my motives for wanting a tattoo? Am I seeking to glorify God or draw attention to myself? Will my tattoo be a source of contention for my loved ones? Will getting a tattoo cause me to disobey my parents? Will my tattoo cause someone who is weak in the faith to stumble? In my article, "What to Do When the Bible is Not Clear," we discover that God has given us a means to judge our motives and weigh our decisions. Romans 14:23 states, "...everything that does not come from faith is sin." Now that's pretty clear!  Instead of asking, "Is it okay for a Christian to get a tattoo," perhaps a better question might be, "Is it okay for me to get a tattoo?"  Since tattooing is such a controversial issue today, I think it's important to examine your heart and your motives before you make the decision.


Lastly, "Why did you get that design?" ....My children are my greatest accomplishments in my life...I love them unconditionally... I have made a lot of mistakes in this life...and I am sure I will make a thousand more before my time on earth is through...but when I look at my children...I know...I just know without a doubt that I did something right.

My Grandmother had Alzheimer's disease....my fear is that one day I will develop this same thing. I saw my Grandmother deteriorate...and when I walked in and she didn't know who I was... it crushed me. My mother and I have an estranged relationship and don't meet eye to eye on lots things but I will admit, I saw the pain in her face when my Grandmother did not recognize her or remember certain things.....I fear that one I am going to wake up and my memories are going to start to fade...slowly, I will lose bits and pieces of myself...What if I can't remember Khristian's favorite toy was a screw driver just like his PawPaw.....Or that Bailey loved Bananas and Green beans...that Khristian loves going in Bailey's room every morning to pick her up and bring her to me. I fear that one day I am going to wake up and look into my children's eyes and think I am staring at a stranger...

I pray that one day if this happens...I can look at the beautiful tattoo on my wrist...no matter how weathered or tattered it may be...and be reminded of the two most important people in my life. Be reminded that no matter how my mind is fading...and my body is deteriorating...that I created two beautiful human beings that are going to grow up and do great things.

So yes, I got a tattoo...everyone has different reasons...and these are mine...

Read more...

"Mirror...Mirror...On the wall..."

"Mirror...Mirror...On the wall..."


When you look in the mirror what thought immediately runs through your head?
Is it: “Ugh... look at the size of your nose”...“I’m having another bad hair day”...“Geez... you are a fat cow”...

Do you ever say things like that to yourself? I bet you do...We all do..

Would you say something like that to your Co-worker...your friend...your family member? Could you see yourself going up to your someone and saying “Will you check out the size of your butt? Gross!” Of course not! Why not though...Because that would be rude and disrespectful, right?

So why do you say these things to yourself? Why is it ok to be rude and disrespectful to yourself?

Next time you look in the mirror and catch yourself saying something awful to yourself, stop... Just stop...and think, would I say this out loud to someone at work...to another woman...or to someone at the gym? If the answer is no, then don’t say it to yourself..

Believe me, I am battling with this internally myself...Every day it is a challenge to look in the mirror and not belittle my appearance...you see, its more important than ever for me now that I have Bailey...I want to teach her not to hate her appearance...I want to teach her acceptance...to show her that she is beautiful...If I look in the mirror and say how flabby my belly looks then sooner or later I will walk in and see her staring at herself in the mirror doing the exact same thing...and I can't stomach the thought of my beautiful little girl bullying herself because she doesn't think she is beautiful enough...She is going to be looking to me for guidance and acceptance...How can I teach her to love her body if I can't love mine? I know what it's like to hate your body...to hate the mirror...to avoid looking at yourself at all costs...Do I want to pass that on to my daughter? No. I want to teach her to live a healthy lifestyle...to exercise and not view food as the enemy...to treat her body with respect...so that she will look in the mirror and see how wonderful she is...and not depend on someone else to tell her those very words...

If you are having a bad hair day, don’t be disparaging about it... we all have bad hair days, instead just tidy it up a bit and move on, no biggie..If you look in the mirror and notice that your butt is bigger then it was last week...it doesn't make you a fat cow...it just means that you have to exercise a bit more and eat a bit less...

 Don’t beat yourself up over it, we all put on weight at different times, but weight can always be lost. Look at your butt, notice it’s grown and then resolve to do something about it...Easy as that...Don't have time? Make time...there is nothing more important than loving yourself enough to treat it well...

You are a wonderful person, amazing and individual in your own way, but not perfect, no one is, so cut yourself some slack. You wouldn’t let anyone else call you a fat cow or tell you that your nose was huge, that’s called bullying, so don’t bully yourself that way either...

If you hear someone doing this...stop them...give them a compliment...offer a smile...we need more of that in this world...

Respect yourself. You are amazing.

Read more...