A big lesson from a little potty

Sometimes God chooses weird times to talk to us. Mine happened to be while Mommy and Maddy were having Mommy/Maddy pee time. (Now that she's potty training, that's what we call it!)I was struck by how often I complain these days -- at least mentally. Complain that I'm not pregnant with Olivia. That babies die.

3 rays of light in an impossible day . . .

Yesterday was a very good day to open my mail box.Mixed in with ads, bills and insurance letters claiming to save me $100 a month on my coverage, I found 3 very sweet pieces of mail.The first was a thank-you letter for attending a friend's baby shower. It was my first shower after my loss.

Taking on the elephant in the room.

Well . . . hello.I guess I need to break the ice again . . . but I'm not sure how.I hate to say it, but for the first time, I think this blog has become a bit awkward for me. It's kind of feels like the social equivalent of getting drunk, totally humiliating yourself,

The pretty little (deadly) box

I don't know when it began. Was it when I was a child, and needed my room to be without mess or disorder after a traumatic move? Was it when I was in Jr. High, and became painfully aware of my acne and lack of fashion sense? Was it when boy after boy after boy

The misfit

In my first life (as in, life before my loss), I was what you might call a social butterfly.At church, my husband was constantly bewildered by my need to talk with one more person. "Honey, we are the very last people here. Who else could you possibly need to talk to?"I always kept my calendar