Our First Dance | 31/08/13


I Won’t Let Go – Rascal Flatts
It’s like a storm

That cuts a path

It’s breaks your will

It feels like that
You think you’re lost

But your not lost on your own

You’re not alone
I will stand by you

I will help you through

When you’ve done all you can do

If you can’t cope

I will dry your eyes

I will fight your fight

I will hold you tight

And I won’t let go
It hurts my heart

To see you cry

I know it’s dark

This part of life

Oh it finds us all (finds us all)

And we’re too small

To stop the rain

Oh but when it rains
I will stand by you

I will help you through

When you’ve done all you can do

And you can’t cope

I will dry your eyes

I will fight your fight

I will hold you tight

And I won’t let you fall
Don’t be afraid to fall

I’m right here to catch you

I won’t let you down

It won’t get you down

You’re gonna make it

Yeah I know you can make it
‘Cause I will stand by you

I will help you through

When you’ve done all you can do

And you can’t cope

And I will dry your eyes

I will fight your fight

I will hold you tight

And I won’t let go

Oh I’m gonna hold you

And I won’t let go

Won’t let you go

No I won’t

Simple Self Care


Today is Tuesday and I work a twelve hour night shift tonight. My toddler is at day care and since we all slept pretty well last night I’m not overly tired and yet I realize I have to somehow stay awake all night.

So I decided a soak in the tub would be the perfect way to relax and do a little self care. I’ve been journaling and that’s been super helpful but sometimes you need to pamper yourself.


I started with an Arbonne Sea Mud face mask and Lush butter bear bath bomb (thanks SG!).

I also added a little essential (massage) oil and lavender sea salt for the spa smell.


Sometimes you need to take a little break from everyday life and do something that truly makes you happy. Soaking in a hot tub and blogging my afternoon away – I couldn’t think of a more perfect choice.

👩🏼‍💻😘

Our Miscarriage Story

Our Miscarriage Story

“The bleeding doesn’t look like it’s coming from your cervix.”

“There is probably about a 50/50 odds that this pregnancy is viable.”

“I’ll tell you, because you’re a nurse, but I don’t see a fetus.
There’s just a small gestational sac, and it doesn’t look quite right.”

“I’ll have to check with an endovag ultrasound.”

“No, he can’t come in the room.”

“There’s no baby.”

“I’m so sorry.”


It’s been two weeks since I miscarried our baby.

I typically really love to share my life and my family through social media and this blog. I love to write and I like looking back through old posts and reading about what was happening or how I was feeling through different stages of my life. I love sharing recipes and foods that I’m obsessed with. I love writing about parenting and talking about the different milestones of our two-year-old baby bird. And I love to write about babies and pregnancy and share my weekly “bump dates”.

But then I had a miscarriage.

Since the pregnancy itself was not even the slightest bit a secret, the miscarriage couldn’t be either. So I shared online that something not-so-great had happened, and I knew I would want to write about it here.

But what do I say?

I would love my words to inspire hope and help other grieving families but this loss is still so fresh that I’m not sure I can really do that. I’m still trying to find my own hope.

What do I share?

Do I tell you, chronologically, how this whole horrible thing happened? Do I talk about how I felt and what I did? Do I spare you the details? Isn’t that what I fervently “Google’d” in the midst of my agony?

How am I doing?

This is the question I am asked the most. From family and friends, amazing coworkers, acquaintances and people who have “heard what happened”. I want to look everyone in the eye and honestly say, “I’m doing fine!”. I don’t want to be weak, or sad, or make people uncomfortable.

But I spent 35 days thinking I was going to have another baby. We surprised our family at my daughter’s second birthday party with the news of another baby bird on the way! For 35 days I felt sore, and nauseous, and I was anxious about delivering a second time. I craved cheese slices and McDonald’s chicken nuggets and I would lay my hand on my belly at night and dream about our daughter meeting her sibling. I worried, about having another +MSS, and pregnancy complications, and horrible perineal tears and that first poop after having a baby. I worried about taking more time off work, because I really love my job. And I was so beyond thrilled that I was having the summer baby I always wanted, due on August 8th, 2017.

And my husband, every once in a while, would look at me with this ‘look’ on his face. This loving, tender, sweet and sometimes goofy look and say, “Babe! You’re pregnant!”. And I would laugh and shoo him away and get back to whatever I was doing. But it made me smile.

Then after days and days of bleeding, bloodwork, ultrasounds, cramping and waiting, I had a miscarriage. I was home alone, sitting on my bathroom floor, crying and wondering why I couldn’t stop. Wondering why I wasn’t handling it “better”. Why I couldn’t seem to put on my ‘nurse face’ to deal with this. Crying into the phone, trying to catch my breath. Begging someone to help me. Wondering for the millionth time why this was happening.

Now, two weeks later, I’m doing okay. Kevin is back to work. I am back to work. We are talking to each other and not arguing or fighting. I am writing in a journal and talking to family and friends and leaving the house to do normal and fun things. I am coping well and trying to move on. I seem to have this huge army of amazing people surrounding me with love and understanding. We are talking about when to try again.

But every now and then I feel a tsunami of sadness wash over me and I never seem to see it coming.

Kevin and I have never hesitated to share our exciting pregnancy news with the world. We have always felt that, regardless of the “what ifs”, we would celebrate every day/week/month of pregnancy with our family and friends.


In the spirit of honesty we would like to say that the last few days have been a whirlwind of awful. We did not see the healthy heartbeat of a 9wk fetus at our ultrasound yesterday. And we are SO thankful to the nurses and OBs in L&D who have taken care of us, above and beyond their job description. Taking some family time over the next week, but I’m sure I’ll have more to say soon. 👣

Thoughts on Life Stress

“The greatest weapon against stress is our ability to choose one thought over another.” – William James

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When you’re young, adults spend a lot of time telling you not to rush your aging. Don’t be in a hurry to grow up, and don’t wish your time away. What they fail to mention is the enormous amount of stress that accompanies adulthood. I suppose it really is a sort of trap. The stress, the responsibility, the work.

And this morning, I started thinking about stress. There is so much going on – world events, new challenges at work and financial hiccoughs – that I started to feel overwhelmed. And then I reminded myself that this is a short period of time. That I’ve been through periods of great stress before and this too will pass. I chose to think positively and focus on all the good that surrounds me. I took a moment, holding my coffee and looking around my little nest and I told myself, look at how lucky you are.

And I want to share the message today. We are all facing challenges in life, whether great or small, and it is important to maintain perspective. You are allowed to feel down, to have dark days, and to be upset. But the important thing is to remember your goals, remember where you started, and to look to brighter days.

A Letter to my Best Friend: Before You Have Your Baby

A Letter to my Best Friend: Before You Have Your Baby

sashamebabyshowerwatermark

Dear Sasha,

I’m writing this as you are nearing the end of your first pregnancy, but I’ve been thinking about it since the night you showed me photographic proof of that positive test. The truth is, I’ve kind of procrastinated writing this letter. I kept changing my mind. Should I fill it with advice? No. What about tips and tricks of the trade? No. Should I tell you all of the things that will change or all of the things you will gain? No. You know all of that. You’ve seen your sister raise beautiful babies and you’ve heard all of my horror stories. You’ve seen the Pinterest boards and the mommy forums. You know what you’re doing, and you will be an amazing mother.

You don’t need me.

Through these long months of being pregnant, seeing the changes in your body and all that comes with growing a baby. You don’t need me, but I’m here.

When you feel that first contraction or your water breaks. You and Jack will be so excited, nervous, and in a big rush to meet your little man! And you won’t need me, but I’ll be here.

When you are sitting at home holding your newborn for, what is it, 39 hours straight? Dropping toast crumbs in his fine hair while you both eat. You won’t need me, but I’ll be here.

The first time you want to go out without your baby. Or with him. The mall? Yoga? Coffee? Anything. You won’t need me, but I’ll be here.

And when you have to cut cake for ‘first birthday party’ guests, I’ll try to take photos of any cute moments that happen. You won’t need me, but I’ll be there.

When I had my baby, I was so glad and grateful to have you there by my side. What I’m trying to say is, everything you did, and everything you were for me when I was going through this whirlwind of being a new mom..I will give it all back to you. Love. Acceptance. Stretchy clothes. Hugs. Space, when you need it. And when you surface out from under the pile of diapers and dirty clothes I’ll still be here.

You are going to be great, you don’t need anyone or anything to tell you that.

And I can’t wait to be there to see it.

💙 B

Raising my daughter to just be.

  
“It’s a girl!”

My husband and I both teared up when we heard those words during an ultrasound when I was almost 20wks pregnant. I don’t know why we cried, we would have been overjoyed regardless of the gender of our baby.

And then we kept it a secret for two entire months.

The original plan was to keep it a secret until the birth. We wanted people to be excited that our baby was healthy and growing well, instead of focusing so much on the gender. We hoped to buy and potentially receive many gender-neutral items for our baby. We enjoyed keeping our little secret between the two of us.

But eventually we gave in to all of the pressure, the questions, and the badgering. We announced the gender of our baby to our family and friends at our house-warming party.

But I vowed to raise her to just be.

I am not an activist. I know very little in the way of politics or human rights. But I have very strong beliefs about the kind of person I am, and who I want my daughter to be. I believe in gender equality and try to model that in my personal life. My husband and I shared the parental leave, after having our baby, nearly 50/50. Our baby is co-parented 100%. We both work and it doesn’t matter to either of us who makes more money. I watched Emma Watson’s HeForShe speech to the UN, twice. But still, most of what I know about anything LGBT+, I learned from The Ellen Show, Caitlyn Jenner and some acquaintances and friends I’ve met over the years who haven’t been heterosexual. I’ve recently stumbled across Trans Canada (My Way) and after reading about AJ for a couple hours in reverse-chronological order I have reached the realization that I know absolutely nothing. I am a white woman in a heterosexual marriage who really has no weight in a global conversation about gender and sexuality.

But that is also exactly why I can change the world. I am a white woman in a heterosexual marriage who is openly accepting of anyone of any gender or sexual orientation. And I am raising my daughter with the hope that she can be a positive force to help build a society where ALL PEOPLE ARE ACCEPTED. Imagine if we all raised our babies like that.

We call my daughter ‘princess’ every day. She wears dresses. We speak a language (French) to her that assigns a gender to Every. Single. Freaking. Word. But I also tell her how smart she is. How strong. How brave. I dress her in clothes that make the old lady at the drug store tell me that my ‘little guy is so handsome!’ I smile, say thank you, and don’t correct her. Because it’s okay, to look like a boy. Or to look like a girl. It’s okay to act like a boy. Or act like a girl. Because all of what makes someone a boy or a girl is really just what makes us human.

And someday Emmy will tell me what she wants to wear, and it won’t matter to me what she chooses. And someday she’ll tell me she met someone, and I will say ‘I can’t wait to meet them’. And someday I hope she will realize that we loved her from the moment she was conceived – gender unknown. Future unknown. Unconditionally.

And maybe, if more and more of us can just bebe accepting. Be kind. Be caring. Be compassionate. Be empathetic. Well, maybe those who feel different or ‘other’, maybe they can start to just be, too.