Five years ago today I got the call that would lead to the end of something that had started 10 months previously. Looking back, I think I can say that it was the day that I finally lost myself after the previous 5 years of fighting to find myself again. I suppose that I ought to give some background so that this makes sense to someone other than me...

In 2005, Peter and I agreed that it was time for a divorce. In June 2006, the divorce was finalized. Memorial Day weekend 2017, I left the house that we had bought together and everything I knew to move to New York. To say that I was lost is perhaps the understatement of the century. I left behind everything I knew and in some ways, my very identity. For the 10 years or so before that, I had been known as Peter's wife. Since 2000, I had been someone's mom. There was no me outside of those two roles. I didn't have any local friends. The only people I socialized with were online.

For the next five or six years, I fought to figure out who I was without being someone's wife or mother. (Of course, I was still the boy's mom but I had made the heartbreaking decision to leave the boys with their dad because he had the job, the money, the insurance, and the location where all of Ben's team were located.) I missed almost an entire semester of school due to a depression so bad that it crippled me and gave me panic attacks whenever I tried to get into the car to go anywhere. I ended up in therapy that was mostly useless because the therapist decided that my entire issue was that I was lonely. I wasn't lonely, I was lost.

I did finish that semester of school by some tiny miracle, dropping most of my classes, and having some incredibly understanding instructors. I finished the following year as well and while it improved, I never really shook that depression. Later, I would be diagnosed as Bipolar II. I graduated with honors with a degree in Psychology and was once again faced with the idea of having nowhere to go. The people I had been renting from wanted me out and I wanted out. The atmosphere was unhealthy on almost every level. In the end, I decided to "come home". I needed to be back with my boys. I found a house to rent in Sunfield, about 25 miles from them. It wasn't perfect but it was at least within driving distance. I threw myself back into being their mother. I drove (and still do) every day to town to do homework with one or both of them. I went (and still go) to all of their events. This was a me that I knew.

Slowly, piece by piece, I recovered from losing the world that I knew and I started to build up a new one. I was finding me again. I started writing again. I started crafting again. I slowly purged the things that I had accumulated and that I really had no need for. I felt as if I had close friends, even if they again lived nowhere near me. I started working out and eating better. In fact, I think I lost close to 75 pounds and for the first time in a long time, didn't hate myself when I looked in the mirror.

My Grandparents

Then, my world started to crumble again. The only person who I had ever felt loved me unconditionally got sick and suddenly everyone was leaning on me for strength and acted as if I could somehow magically fix it. I should have been stronger. I should have said no, but I didn't. They knew what cards to play. They reminded me how she'd taken me in when my own parents didn't want me. Before I knew it, I was spending almost every weekend at her house cleaning, organizing, purging, sorting and with my poor boys in tow. It wasn't fair to me and it wasn't fair to them, but the guilt laid on me was too much for me to say no to.

I stopped working out. I stopped cooking because I was tired and stressed and I was starting to crack around the edges. I was trying to keep everything normal but nothing was normal and the guilt of the fact that I was dragging my children into it added to everything. Five years ago today, my grandmother died after being sick for 10 months. I'm not going to lie. I was glad. I was glad that she was no longer suffering and I was glad that it was over. Except, for me, it wasn't over.

For the next six weeks, my family would guilt me into going through ever box that had been packed and sorting it into things they could sell and things they could toss. I was exposed to their greed, their hypocrisy, and their selfishness. They were allowed to mourn but I was expected to work. During that six weeks, I was pushed to my breaking point and at the end, when I finally had the strength or perhaps the desperation to say no more, it was too late. I had lost myself again. I had lost myself and I had lost the few close "local" friends that I had thought I'd had. I went home and buried myself..literally.

Boxes and boxes of her things had made their way to my house either because I'd brought them there or because they'd been dumped there. On top of that, I had started to surround myself with stuff in a desperate effort to feel some sort of security. In the years that followed, it would only get worse. There are very few who know the true conditions that I was living in and in some ways, still live in. I wish I could explain how this was "okay" to me but I can't because it wasn't. The worse the house got, the worse I felt. The guilt, the anxiety, all of it overwhelmed me until I was crippled and frozen by it.

Five years ago, I lost myself again and I'm just starting to find myself. Some of you have seen the tag Reclaiming Me either here or on Facebook. That's a very real thing for me.  Just over a year ago, I started purging my house again. I've backslid at times and made huge strides at others. Eight months ago, Nick convinced me to work with him on a book series. When he brought it up in exchange for doing something for me, we both knew that it wasn't a fair deal but neither of us cared. I think he knew I needed to push myself, that I needed a challenge and as for me, I felt ready to take that challenge. Oh, I've had major bouts of anxiety and self doubt since that agreement, but I finished book one and it's had good feedback.

Five years is a long time and I'm not back to the place I was before it happened. I wish that I could say that I was, but I'm not. Every day is a challenge on some level. Today, I woke up and my power was still out because of a wind storm yesterday. I was cold, tired from waking up repeatedly because i was cold, emotional because of today's anniversary and while what I really wanted was to have a message saying I love you, I had one that felt harsh...harsher than it really was but a tired me is a vulnerable me. I'm not going to lie. I laid on the couch for an hour and just cried. The world felt like it was just too much for me. Just thinking about it has me in tears again. This morning I relived the loss of everything that mattered to me and it's still in my head... but I got up, changed into jeans, and drove to someplace warm that had outlets so I could recharge things in case there's still no power when I get home tonight.

Five years is a long time, but it isn't forever and today I'm a little bit stronger than I was then. Today, I got up off the couch. Today, I walked out my front door. Today, I wrote this. Tomorrow, I will write more. Two years from now, I will make a final decision on where I'm moving to and hopefully, I will have the courage to do it. I know where I want to be at that point. It's not just up to me though, but today, under the fear and the emotions, there is hope.



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For the past few days, I've had this post in my head and yet, as I go to write it, that same mind is completely blank. This happens when the fog of depression begins to lift. The things that I had thought about while it covered me seem to dissipate with it. Still, I want to put down what I can and I hope that by sharing it, it will help those who care about me and those who may be having similar struggles or know someone who is. So...let's see what my brain wants to share...

Last week was absolutely horrible for me. You see, I was supposed to be spending the week near someone that means the world to me and a few weeks ago, that trip had to be cancelled. I'm not sure that I realized just how much I had been counting on that trip as a chance to recharge. At least I didn't until Monday.

You see, for as long as I can remember, I've set targets...points to get to...when I drive, I mentally break the trip down into little chunks so that it doesn't seem so long. When I have a period of time where I'm insanely busy, I find some point to get to. I tell myself that if I can just get to that point, it will be okay. It helps me keep going when I'm tired, rundown, and just want to give up. This trip was that point for me. If I could just get to the hotel, everything would be okay. I wouldn't have any responsibilities or anywhere I had to be.

Then, that was snatched away from me and I fell apart. That's the only way to put it. I woke up Monday morning and all day, my brain kept track of where I should be on the last stretch of the drive, of what I'd be doing in the hotel room, how long until I saw my friend...I mentally tortured myself and no matter what I tried, I couldn't stop it. Bipolar brain was fully in control and the more I fought it, the harder it got. I spent so much time in tears just wanting things to be different but knowing that there wasn't anything I could do.

Then, it got worse. When I wasn't thinking about what I "should" be doing, I started thinking about death. No, almost obsessing about it. I wasn't at any risk of killing myself then. I kept thinking about what would happen to various things if I were to die...my websites, my belongings...I became obsessed with the idea of creating a Death file on my laptop. I wanted to fill it with files laying out what I wanted to have happen...how I'd want Nick's original drawings returned to him because I truly feel that I'm only a temporary caretaker of them...how I'd want Geek-o-Rama offered to Brian and then if he didn't want it, I'd want a post placed on the site and left there for 6 months before shutting the site down. Every 30 minute drive in and out of town for 3 days, I obsessed over this.

Something changed on Wednesday evening...around the time that my friend would have been leaving me to go home...the fog started to lift. You see, in my head, the week had been planned out and when it reached a point where I would have been alone again, somehow it started to get easier. In some ways, it was as if I was living one week out loud and another in my head. At that moment, I came to some realizations and they've been floating in and out of my head since then.

Two paragraphs I said that I was at no risk of killing myself then, but that's not really true. I wasn't going to slit my wrists or take all of my medication at once, but I was killing myself...just slowly and in a way that nobody would realize what I was doing. I was going between starving myself and eating so horribly that it would eventually kill me. I stopped taking care of me and was so lost in the fog that I didn't notice. I was wandering blindly, desperately hoping that someone would reach out and give me something to hold onto.

It didn't happen though. Even though I pretty much disappeared from social media, didn't do the site's work for the week, or talk to anyone, nobody noticed or if they did, they didn't reach out. I was lost and there was nobody looking for me. Please don't misunderstand...I realize that other people are busy or just may not have been aware. I don't blame anyone. I'm not upset with anyone. It just hit home that the only people who said to me, "You matter" were on a Facebook post. It brought home just how isolating the fog is.

So here we are...a week out from the fog...and I'm not quite okay, but perhaps I'm no longer lost. I found my way through and I did it by myself. It was harder than if I'd had someone there to hold my hand but it shows that it can be done. I know that more dark times will come but I also hope that I can remember that I'm stronger than I seem and that I can be brave.




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Edit: This was written a week ago, but for reasons..yes, reasons...I waited until today to post it.



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I should probably apologize for falling off the face of the Earth, but all I'm going to say is that the past few months took on a life of their own and everything came to a head last Tuesday.

I'm not going to get into a lot of details here because on some level, they just don't matter. What matters is the end result.

As most of you know, I deal with a multitude of mental issues every day...bipolar 2, ptsd, anxiety, ocd...and most of the time, I manage. This time, I didn't. In the midst of a depressive cycle, the man that I had fallen in love with decided that he wanted to pursue a relationship with someone else. It was too much. I've been fighting my own demons for months and I was emotionally exhausted. I had nothing left.

So, last Wednesday, while driving into town to do homework with the kids, my brain wouldn't stop ticking. It wouldn't stop thinking about everything and suddenly, I had this moment of clarity..the kind where everything seems to fall into place. I didn't want to live anymore. I wanted to die. This wasn't just one of those passing thoughts. It was as if a lightbulb had gone off in my head. There's no reason for me to be on this planet. I could die and life would go on for everyone else and it would be okay. Everyone had someone. They didn't need me.

I did homework with Ben. I tried to spend time with Roger. I tried not to cry. The one person who I had trusted more than anyone on this planet reached out to me and I told him. Even though just seeing his name caused me physical pain, I told him. He reached out to others who tried to contact me. I ignored them all. I didn't want to be talked out of this. The decision felt right.

When it was time to leave the school, I sat in my car saying goodbye to my children, to those that I love. I sat there crying for a while, the pain raw and consuming. Then, I started my car and headed out of town. As each car passed me, I prayed that it would hit me and I would die. I scouted places where if I drove my car off fast enough, it might roll or hit a tree or cause enough damage that I wouldn't live. As I got closer to home, a truck stopped a ways up in front of me and for a few moments, my foot didn't reach for the brake. I thought if I ran into him, it might kill me and I almost didn't hit the brake. In the end, I did...simply because I wanted to come home and finalize some things...then, the next night, I would do it. Some would say this was me looking for a way out, but it wasn't. I wanted to die. I just didn't want to leave more chaos behind me than was going to happen anyway.

In the end, I made it home alive and since I'm here writing this, you can guess I didn't go out the next day and off myself. Some tiny thing shifted and while every day has had its battles, I'm still here. Still, I'm tired and I'm fragile. Sometimes I'm living minute by minute, not day by day. Mantras that worked in the past are now contorted by what has happened. My brain changes you are loved to you are alone. The battle with myself is one of the hardest that I've fought.

Is there a moral to this story or even a point? If there is, I'd say that it's a simple one. Take care of those you love. Don't accept I'm fine as a response to how are you? Get details. Care enough to listen. Be there for one another and if nothing else, hold someone's hand so that they don't feel as if they're alone as they struggle simply to survive.



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Yesterday, I wrote about my friend dying on Tuesday. Sadly, he wasn't the only person who died that day. The internet was filled with people mourning the death of author Terry Pratchett. I know numerous authors who write touching tributes, including how it was his fearless writing inspired so many others.

That got me to seriously thinking (a 30 minute drive all by yourself is great for that!). My friend is gone. Mr. Pratchett is gone. What legacies did they leave behind? What legacy do I want to leave behind?

If you talk to me on any sort of regular basis, you've heard me say that I don't want my boys to remember me for having hoarding problems or any other number of negative things. I've never really stopped to consider what positive things I want to leave behind for them...so today, I'm going to.

I want them, and anyone who knows me, to say she wasn't afraid to do things, even when she was afraid. You see, fear is a natural response to the unknown and as someone who has found stability to be essential in her life, rocking the boat with some unknown is a big deal. I want my children to see that even when things get uncertain, I didn't give up. I kept going and was all the better for it.

Really, that's it. That's the legacy that I want to leave behind. I want people to say hey, her life was crap at a lot of points, but she not only survived, she created a life where she thrived. So, to honor both my friend who lost his battle to cancer and a prolific writer, who even when diagnosed with Alzheimers, never gave up, I'm going to do more things afraid.

I know that it won't always be easy. Depression will try to slow me down and at times will slow me down. Life will get in the way. The universe will throw an amazing amount of crap at me (like this past week, for example). That's the way things work.

I'm going to be honest...and this may be a bipolar upswing talking...but as sad as I am, I'm also happy. I'm happy that I get the chance to seriously dive into life. I still have life left to live. I have the ability to sit down and write and create. I have the ability to record my stories (which has been a request). I've been sitting on my butt and making buttprints in the sands of time. It's time that I make keystrokes and roads and love and all of the good things.

What are you going to leave as your legacy?

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.
As part of my doing it afraid, I've decided to seriously dedicate myself to my writing. It's time that I stop fearing what may happen if I try to publish and just do it. Unfortunately, my laptop has literally started melting and it badly needs to be replaced. Yep, sometimes the universe just throws things at you. Instead of sitting here and using it as an excuse to not write, I'm asking for your help. I've setup a GoFundMe and the funds collected will go towards buying a new laptop and getting some much needed repairs to our only vehicle. If you're interested in donating, please check  out the link below.

A Hand Up, Not a Handout



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As some of you may know, I found out yesterday that a friend of mine had passed away the afternoon before. His passing shouldn't have been a shock. For as long as I've known him, his health has been out of whack.  Still, when you lose someone who is so young, it throws you..it threw me..There is a part of me that still can't believe that he's gone...

And he's not the only one. In the past few years, I've lost track of the number of people who have died at an early age. I won't say far before their time because who am  to judge when someone's time is. I will say that they left this planet before those who loved them were ready to let go. Maybe before people had a chance to tell them that they were loved...

Which brings me to why I'm writing this post...I don't know if Darrin knew that I loved him. I sure hope that he did.  I hope that he knew just how many people loved him. I've been on his Facebook page today and the outpouring of memories has been overwhelming. If he were here, he'd be overwhelmed..of course, if he were here, it's entirely likely that none of these posts would have happened.

Does that seem wrong to anyone else? Why do we wait to share our love and our happy memories until after a person is gone? We've all seen the meme things on Facebook that say, "Hey, share a great memory of me...or of how we met."  We roll our eyes and move on by. How many of us stop to think about the fact that by simply taking 5 minutes out of your day and answering one of those, you could be changing someone's day? I've had a really tough time of it lately and I posted one of those because I thought it might be a fun pick me up. One person took the time to answer it. Granted, he made up a seriously ridiculous story, but it made me laugh and it brightened my day and it made me feel special that he had taken the time to come up with it.

When I was 15, my grandfather died. What most don't know is that the last words I spoke to him were in anger. I was a teenager who didn't feel that life was fair (and it wasn't) and I wanted things to change, but because I was a teenager, I had no idea how to make that happen. So, we fought. We fought and a few hours later, he died without us ever fixing that. I've lived with that for 23 years.

Over the past few years, I've lost friends...some I've lost to death and some have just simply drifted away, but after losing my grandfather and a couple other people suddenly, I never wanted anyone that I loved to not know that. I have friends who grew up in homes where love was shown by helping out, etc. The families weren't touchy feely or vocal about their feelings. That's fine. That will never be me. If you're close to me, you'll know it and I will never walk away from a conversation without telling you that I love you. Should something happen to me or to you, I want us both to know that you were loved. After all, it takes mere moments to share that with someone...so why don't we?



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I know some of you must have been wondering what happened to me and where I've gone. I *think* that I posted here about my grandmother's passing. It's been a rough time since them around the homestead. I've been juggling far more than I realistically thought I could and while it hasn't been perfect, we've been surviving. I've been running back and forth to Corunna to help deal with her house. My mother and my uncles have decided to hold an estate sale so there's the process of sorting out what's worth any money and what's just worth something to me. It's exhausting but it has to get done.

Then, to add insult to an already painful time, my poor laptop decided to give up on me. While in the middle of something, the video card just said goodnight and refuse to wake back up. I am thoroughly blessed to have a man who felt this was unacceptable and after our replacement card didn't work, ordered me a new laptop. He's a pretty laptop, all blue and shiny.  We're still getting to know each other but I think it's going to be a good relationship. ;)

So, that's it. That's where I've been. The boys had their spring break last week and it was nice to have them here for an entire week. We didn't do a whole lot but it was nice to spend time together. We watched movies and played games and yes, did more than a little housework.

I wish I could say that everything was sunshine and roses, but it really isn't. I've been struggling and those closest to me know just how much. I've been really blessed though to have some amazing people in my life right now who just refuse to let me give up. Granted, I don't really want to give up but on those days where it just feels like I can't do anything right or the whole world hates me, they've been there to push me along. I can't begin to tell you how much the Facebook messages, ims and text messages have meant to me. They say that in times of dire need you find out who your friends are and it makes me sad and happy all at once to say that's true. I've discovered that some that I thought closest to me really weren't and those that are more recent friend finds have been the most amazing.

Which brings me to today's announcement! I won't be home this weekend! Ok, I know..you're hoping for more than that brilliant revelation. Well, there is more. I won't be home because I'll be in Chicago! That's right, this girl right here has a press badge (me? press? what?) to attend C2E2. I'm headed out tomorrow to go meet all sorts of amazing folks and I promise to come back with pictures, at least one interview and who knows, maybe even some prize giveaway type items. This will be my first trip to "the big city" all by myself and I'm a little nervous about the whole taking a train and multiple shuttles thing but hey, if they consider me press, I'd better darn well act all confident and stuff, right?

So, if any of you happen to be attending this weekend, drop me a line and let me know. Maybe we can meet up! Otherwise, keep your eyes open because I'm darn well trying to be back!




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 For the past 24 hours or so, I've had a need to write this post. Of course, this morning, I woke up with a rotten head cold and so my words don't flow as fluently as they might normally. I hope you can forgive me and muddle through the best you can.

Life is hard right now. I know that this, in itself, isn't news to anyone who knows me. What I have noticed though is a certain lack of love and support coming my way as I deal with this. I'm sure there are at least a couple of reasons for this.

1) You don't know what to say. I'm dealing with the upcoming death of the woman who raised me and when there's death involved, people don't know what to say. I'm sorry doesn't seem enough and death is an area so many are afraid of. It's as though if we acknowledge it, it makes it more real. It's an uncomfortable topic and so instead of saying anything, we say nothing.

2) This isn't new news. On some level or another, I've been dealing with this since May when she first got sick. Perhaps people think that when you deal with something like this over months that you become numb to it and no longer need the support and love that you did originally.

Here's the things, folks..death is real. Death happens to all of us. Most of us have experienced the death of a loved one by the time they reach our ages. It doesn't matter if death takes 10 months or 10 minutes, it hits just the same way. Some people feel that if you have time to get used to the idea that it's easier. I'm here to tell you that they're wrong. You cannot prepare yourself for the pain that comes with losing someone. When it's something that takes longer, there's an entirely different grief of watching that vibrant person disappear before your eyes. It's heartbreaking and tragic and it's something that we will all go through at one point or another in our lives.

I know that some of you don't know how to handle what's happening to me and for you, I write this list entitled..What I Need:

1. Random text messages - Just out of the blue, drop me a line. Ask me how I am. Tell me you love me. Tell me you're thinking about me. It doesn't have to be a novel, just a quick note to remind me I'm not alone.

2............................................................................................................

Right now, there is no 2 because I started to write this on Thursday night and everything in my life changed on Friday morning. At about 7:48am, I got a phone call from my uncle saying that my grandmother was going downhill and they didn't think she'd make it more than another 5-6 hours. I was there in less than 2 and in less than 1 more, she was gone. She went peacefully (thank you, morphine) but she left a hole that will never be filled in my life.

So, tonight, I start a new What I Need list:

It's really quite simple. I need your everything. I need your cards, your letters, your texts, your calls, your flowers, your ham love and your attention. I need to be reminded that while it feels like I just lost my world, I'm not alone. I'm still loved. I'm still cared for.

There is so much going on right now. So much that I want to tell you but the timing just isn't right. Trust me when I say that things have gone way too close to how I predicted they would. It makes everything ten times harder. It's been 3 days and I still haven't been able to just sit and cry. I know others have. I know every time I think I might be able to just bleed off some of the emotion, I get a phone call and I have to fix something. It's exhausting.

Quite honestly, I'm running on fumes right now and the little recharges I get come from all of you. They come from people like Kate who setup a special livestream last night  and spent hours upon hours coloring pieces just so that I wouldn't be alone. People came in to watch and we laughed and joked and were weird and silly and it was wonderful. She didn't have to. She could have sat at her geekily fantastic workstation and worked without all of us and our commentary, but she did it for me. She let me feel special. The people who came in and laughed and joked with me made me feel special. I was one in a group not one standing alone.

They come from friends who tell you to come see them for the weekend because you shouldn't be alone. They come from Facebook messages that say I love you. They come from all of you.

I know that talking about death is hard. I know that it's one of those things that most of us sheer off to one side to avoid. It's ok. I understand that. I don't need to talk about death. I just need to talk sometimes. Sometimes when I'm busy holding up the world, I need folks to help hold me up. I can't be a super hero all the time. Sometimes, I am very human.

So, whether you're someone big or someone small, remember that your part in this is very important. Your part is to love me and to show me you love me. Your job is to remember that right now I have a need to be selfish and about me. In some areas, I'm the only one protecting me. Y'all are like the squire who straps his knight into his armor. You help prepare me for the battles I have to face.



** Please don't send sandwich ham. 20 years after my grandfather's death and I still can't look at those rolled up pieces of meat and want to eat them. **

~.~.~. Some have asked about funeral services. There will be a private family graveside ceremony on March 13 and then a public memorial service to come later. ~.~.~.

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Image from caramdir.at

Today, I woke up exhausted. Today, I feel like the world is closing in on me. Today, I want to be happy. Today, I want to curl up in someone's arms and be protected from the world. Today, I weep. Today, I mourn for the loss of one so small.

Today, through the pain, I am thankful. I am thankful for his brothers. Today, I am thankful for the beautiful souls that surround me when I allow them near. Today, I am not alone. I am never truly alone.

Today, I will cry. Today, I will look towards the heavens and wonder why. I will always wonder why. Today, life stands still and yet, life moves on. Today, I say farewell all over again..



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Life is too short. There is never enough time. Those are the words that keep running through my mind. I want to introduce you all to someone. This is my friend Joel. He was a beautiful soul, sometimes trapped within a tortured body. I say was because Joel passed away recently. It doesn't seem fair but then again, does death ever seem fair?

I met Joel what seems like a million years ago. He lived in England and I lived in Michigan. Perhaps some would say that we had nothing in common and yet somehow, we clicked with one another. As time went by, as too often happens, childish things get in the way of friendships and even though you're still friends, you allow life to get in the way and you lose touch. Then, out of the blue, you get a phone call that you never see coming. Your friend is gone. It seems cruel and unfair. It doesn't seem real. How could this larger than life personality be gone from this world? Then suddenly it hits you and you're dropped to your knees, tears running down your face as you fight against the pain that has gripped your heart and a part of your soul.

Then slowly, through the haze of your tears, you see a hand reaching out to you. Together, you draw one another to your feet and you hold on. You hold on and you remember this beautiful soul that ties you to one another. You hold on and you know that he wouldn't want you to have regrets. He would encourage you to grab ahold of life and to grab onto all the opportunities that you have in front of you. He would want his death to serve a purpose, not just to have been a flash in your life.

So, Joel, I'm holding onto your memory. I'm holding onto your friends and we're looking to the future. You may not be with us in person, but your spirit will remain here in our hearts. We won't let go. Trust me, my friend, when I tell you that you've changed our lives. You've changed them for the better with your sweetness. You've given us the gift of you and it's allowing us to look at our lives and to make the changes that we need to. I will forever thank the gods that I had the chance to know you. This is not farewell but save me a spot at the bar.



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You never really know what life has in store for you until it's staring you right in the face. In October of 1999, after over 2 years of trying, I discovered that I was pregnant. As any mom out there can tell you, I was beyond excited. I was only 23 and never expected any sort of complication. Nobody did. We were all surprised and devastated when I went into early labor at only 16 weeks pregnant. By the time I convinced my doctor's office to see me (they thought I was being paranoid), I was already over 3 cm dialated. By early the next morning, my water had broke and they'd induced the labor that had just as suddenly stopped. What they discovered is that I have an incompetent cervix. It can't handle the weight of a pregnancy like a normal one would.

What I also wasn't expecting was my own reaction to the loss of this precious child. I don't know if I considered myself a strong person before this but I know that losing that baby brought me to my knees. Sadly, in some ways, I think this was the beginning of the end of my marriage. We stayed married another 7 years but the truth is that our different reactions to the loss of this child drove a wedge between us. While I desperately needed to talk about what had happened and the horrible heartbreak and pain I felt, he locked it away and acted as if it never happened. Once his week off of work was done, he went back to the office and ignored the fact that he was leaving a devastated wife who was still deeply in mourning at home. He expected me to just act as if it had never happened, to take down the nursery by myself and to go back to being this happy, carefree girl. I don't know if he ever understood that I wasn't that girl anymore. I was a woman who had gone through one of the hardest things a person had ever gone through.

Because he didn't deal with his own feelings, he became cruel to me at home. He would never come out and tell me that he blamed me for what had happened but his actions quite often spoke louder than his words. Sadly, his words weren't always very pleasant either. It was an incredibly difficult time for me and it's only now, 11 years later, that I can look back on that time without wanting to curl up into a tiny ball. Peter and I are both in better places now and we were blessed to go on to have 2 more children over the next 2 years. Those two boys are the brightest spots in my life. I know that if we hadn't had lost Austin, one or both of those boys wouldn't be here today. That doesn't make me thankful for what we went through, but it did make me realize just how fragile life is and makes me cherish every moment I have with my boys.