My unborn child has most certainly “popped.” There is no hiding this belly any longer and it won’t be going away anytime soon. Looking back, I am tempted to wonder when it happened. When did I become noticeably pregnant? For weeks, I waited to “show,” wanting my external body to model my internal reality. As my husband took weekly photos of my “bump,” I grew increasingly convinced that my pregnancy was obvious to the random onlooker. Now, however, when I look back on those early photos, I . . .
Happy Friday, good people! I hope this finds you at the tail end of a good week. I, for one, am finishing up the second week of a monster cold. Currently, my biggest pregnancy craving is a barrel of Nyquil with a straw but apparently that's a no-no. Not fair, right? In the midst of my coughs and sniffles, I did manage to begin a new post but I did not manage to finish said post and so, this week, I want to share with you some work I've been doing over at iBelieve. I really enjoy writing for . . .
My best friend is due with her first child (a girl!) just six weeks before my first child (a girl!) is due. I remember calling her shortly after finding out I am pregnant to tell her the news. “Oh, Mal,” she exclaimed, “This is the dream!” And it was. We’d been talking for months about potentially entering motherhood. We were both very aware that after all the conversations we’d had with our spouse and emotional energy we exerted to make a decision as huge as this one, there was still the . . .
Hi friends! Here is my latest piece for Red Tent Living: Several years ago I really wanted a Stretch Armstrong doll for Christmas. The doll’s marketing team must have known what they were doing because they targeted me through catchy commercials and it worked. Once I saw the rubbery doll stretch to incredible lengths, I was sold. Wouldn’t you know, my consistent Stretch Armstrong-focused pleas worked—he was waiting for me under the Christmas tree that year. I was mesmerized by Stretch’s . . .
Last year, my husband and I had grand plans for New Year's Eve. Don't get me wrong, we had no intention of leaving the house, but maybe that's why we thought it was all so grand. We bought a couple of quality steaks and planned to pop open a bottle of red wine we had picked up in Napa Valley the year before. We would have a warm, quiet, delicious ending to 2016. When the day came, however, my husband wasn't feeling very well. His head cold grew worse as the day went on and we ended up . . .
As you know, my husband and I moved across town just before Christmas. The apartment we left was the first one we shared together as husband and wife. We moved into it freshly married—6 weeks, in fact—and 2,000 miles away from what we considered “home.” Two years later, we’ve left that apartment with a dog in tow and a baby on the way. Our lives expanded in that little home. We began the lifelong adventure of figuring out how to love each other well and how to respect one another’s quirks. We . . .