Five years ago I was a completely different person. You hear people say that, and it seems very generalized, and a bit dramatic. But here I am- and it’s completely true. Then- I was still a full-time art instructor within the public school system. I had made the shift to try out the other end of the spectrum, coming from High School, to teach Kindergarten-2nd Grade level Visual Art. It was my second year with the little ones and I had already started my “escape plan” to leave public education all together. (That’s another story for another day, but if you haven’t thanked a teacher lately- put it on your to-do list.) In addition to working full-time at the school, I was also about 6 months into running my online boutique… and I had recently found out I was pregnant with our first-born, Declan. That school-year I juggled it all. Even in April, when I couldn’t see my toes anymore, I was working long twelve hour days. Fast forward five years. I no longer work outside of the home. I juggle plenty, but it looks a lot different. But the biggest difference that I recognize in myself is how little bandwidth I now hold. At first I couldn’t understand it- I’ve always been a go-getter, people-ly person, and could “do it all” without an ounce of overwhelm. Now though- I have to be very diligent in not overextending myself, and not over scheduling my calendar. I literally SCHEDULE off time/downtime each month. The difference? To many it may seem so obvious. But this is information I was just recently able to define and put into words. My bandwidth isn’t really smaller- it’s simply broken down much differently. I no longer have the same capacity to “do it all,” as so much of ME is now wrapped up in a journey of trauma, grief, and motherhood. Those pieces of me hold much space- really, the most space. In many ways it’s freeing to understand this about myself- as before, I would feel so much shame in not being to “achieve” as much, or not feeling “strong enough.” When I would struggle with anxiety, I couldn’t understand where it was coming from- as anxiety was something I’d truly never experienced. When in gatherings with friends, I would need to step away- breathe a bit before returning- I would be frustrated that I wasn’t having the same carefree fun as everyone else. And recently, at a standing room concert- I surprised myself that I almost had a complete panic attack and had to stand at the very back-away from everyone to even enjoy the concert at all. There’s so much talk these days about boundaries, and how we set boundaries with other people. But I’m recently learning how to set boundaries with myself. I’m learning what’s “too much” for me right now in this season, and I’m learning ways to cope- but also to thrive. A phrase I say often, to myself and to others- There’s power in knowing yourself. Self reflection is important. Do it generously, do it often. Because even if you don’t feel like you’ve changed right now, life can throw you a curveball. Life and circumstances shape and evolve us. It’s not selfish to devote time to setting personal boundaries that honor your heart and inner needs. Get to know yourself.

A couple of weeks ago a woman reached out to me on Instagram. Her story isn't mine to tell, but we share a common experience of losing our children at the hands of malpractice. Her message truly couldn't have come at a worse time, as I've been drowning in my grief for months. But, as any grieved parent knows- its the support of others that have walked similar paths that truly help you survive once your child has died. I listened. I shared. I hurt with and for this woman. No parent should outlive their children. When she first messaged me, I thought to myself- "I can't do this right now." And honestly, it was true. I was not in a place to receive someone else's story or be a support system for someone in the thick of their grieving. But I breathed it in, took a huge exhale and decided to show up anyway. In talking with her, out of nowhere, I remembered that when I shifted my website to include and continue our Blog, I never transferred over our previous posts. I went back and LUCKILY, they were all still there- but would have disappeared soon. I would have been heartbroken to lose such raw, emotional entries during a time that writing brought me such healing. As I was working to transfer those entries, I traveled through all the memories. I found that so much of what I wrote still rang true. And some posts speak to beliefs to which I no longer subscribe. But regardless of what worked for me then, what is working now- the journey is important. And I'm still here- growing, healing, and learning to live within this new normal. My purpose for writing the hard stuff was always in hopes to help others that may find themselves in a journey of loss, grief, and healing. I have now added all prior blog posts here to our new website. I can't imagine moving forward without being able to look back. Sending love to you all. Feel free to travel through the early posts, and I hope it reaches others who need validation, and to feel seen and heard.

There are times when grief will catch you unexpectedly. Often times, my body recognizes its presence before my mind catches up. This past Friday was my husband, Lane's birthday. We don’t do big birthday shenanigans, so instead of a big party or outing- Duncan and I met him and his coworkers for lunch. As he sits across from me at the table holding our son, I think- “I really hope his gift arrives today in the mail.” It’s a small gift- an adapter for our Keurig coffee maker he’s been wanting. I’m sitting there looking at him, thinking about this tiny gift, and all I can think about in that moment is how I wish so much I could give him the biggest gift of all- both our sons there in his arms. I can see them so clearly in my mind, both sitting there laughing with their Dad. The rest of the day is so heavy. I find I’m just at a loss for words, somewhat frozen, like a record skipping on the same lyric over and over. Broken. Birthdays are always so hard. There’s something about the act of moving forward, getting older, life continuing to push on that feels like a betrayal. And the more the light shines on a moment, the bigger the shadow. Lane and I are in sync more often than not, though we cope and process much differently. So it was no surprise to me that emotions got dark as the birthday weekend progressed. Things can seem so fine on the surface, and explode without warning. We are very blessed to have a tribe of friends that jump in headfirst, give grace when it’s not deserved and love us without question. Sitting here reflecting over the past 72 hours reminds me that the work is never complete after experiencing trauma. I’ve said many times, “There is no finish line,” and it proves to be true again and again. You don’t wake up one day and step over the threshold into a place of peace. Moving forward is messy. There are setbacks. But there is power in knowing yourself- your weaknesses, your coping strategies, and your triggers. And while it’s necessary to have a soft place to land, it’s equally important to have an environment of accountability. One strategy I’ve been working on the past two years is self reflection. What is working? What isn’t? (If you haven’t checked out PlumPaper planners, I highly recommend. Not only do I keep organized this way- but they offer Reflection Pages as an add-on. So at the end of each month I sit down and spend time reflecting, and setting intentional plans and goals for the next month. I’m not an affiliate for this company in any way, but I can send you a 10% discount for your first purchase- just message me your email address.) I find that when I’m more intentional, I don’t fall into survival mode quite as frequently. There’s no shame in placing safeguards in your day to day. In fact, I’d argue it’s necessary. Give yourself grace. Set the boundaries. Do the work. Reflect. Plan. Read, listen, and watch things that inspire you. Surround yourself with people who are willing to ride the waves with you, without judgement. Show up for those people. But most importantly, show up for yourself. There is no finish line.

After we lost our son, Declan, I found myself in a deep sea of grief. There was no escape then, and most days I would argue the same feels true today. I think you simply learn to tread the waters of grief more easily, but the sinking feeling never leaves you. My therapist suggested that I begin writing. My first reaction was dismissal- “writing isn’t going to change a damn thing,” I thought. I was trying so desperately to hold all the pieces together so with an exhale, I shrugged and agreed to try. It began as a handwritten journal- thoughts and entries I would jot down when I felt my heart might explode. There is power, I found, in being able to put words to paper. An exercise of control I guess. Even if I couldn’t control what was happening around me, I could control the act of documenting how I felt- capturing a moment in time. I wrote for months. But once we had Duncan, as all mothers know, life got busy. So busy that I didn’t have the mental capacity to formulate a complete, intelligible sentence most days. “Mom Brain” is such a real and frustrating thing. This past year I’ve had such a desire to get back into writing. Maybe it's the sinking feeling creeping up, or maybe writing has unknowingly become not only an outlet for me, but a means to survival. For the past five years, through so much of the tornado that’s become our lives, I have been running an online boutique. It has continuously evolved over that timespan, but one thing has always remained true- I don’t think that I would have made it emotionally without it. That might sound dramatic to some, but to me it screams truth. The online community gave me a distraction- something to focus on, something to build. But more than that, the space created there evolved into a tribe of women that gave me a soft place to land when life was far too harsh. In my mind, blogging was a separate piece from my boutique- and for the longest time I knew I couldn’t juggle both and do it well, so I put it off. But that’s silly isn’t it? Why does it have to be two separate parts of my life? Why can’t I combine these tools for survival? And not just to simply survive- but to thrive. So I made the decision that the rules were fake. I took time to rebrand my boutique into what I had always envisioned, making it community driven- a soft place to land for all women. A space to share ideas, struggles, just LIFE in all its messiness- and of course shopping ideas. So going forward, I will make time to write again. I’ll share more intimately the inner workings of my heart and mind and I’ll also share all the “boutique” goodies that I know my customers will love. It can be both.

The month of October has always been my favorite month of the year. I long for the cool mornings and evenings, and the feel of the Fall breeze whipping through my hair. Fall colors are mesmerizing, and the tree lines paint their own canvas. This morning, I'm sitting with my little guy, Duncan, sipping on some hot cider- watching him crawl around, playing with his blocks. He's so full of life, so inquisitive, and has started to reach the stage where he's beginning to test all of his boundaries. As much as that can drive me nuts, I also love his independence. This morning, like many mornings, I'm contemplative over our life together. These past few years have been the hardest, most rewarding, and most heart breaking. I often talk about the duality of our lives, and the month of October always brings big emotions for me. I have a hard time with Pregnancy & Infant Loss Awareness Month (October). It feels like a club, that nobody wants to be in- and I'm never even sure if our story fits the cause. (Our loss of Declan is so unique, it doesn't really fit into this month. I carried Declan for almost 38 weeks. By medical definition, he was considered full-term. Our pregnancy was textbook, no health concerns. Our birth was textbook in most ways. Declan entered this world not breathing immediately, which is very common- according to standard medical practice. His Apgar score was just under what the doctors recommended for him to stay with us in the hospital. Instead, we opted to have him in NICU as a precaution, advised by our doctors, for a few days. He was thriving. He was passing all the tests to come home. His death was not health related, but malpractice related.)  But while our son didn't pass away from natural causes (SIDS), he wasn't born sleeping, and he didn't leave us before we even got the chance to meet him, we still lost our boy. We are still here, another October, not getting to celebrate Halloween with him, dress him up, or watch him eat too much candy. We are still here. And he is not. With that said, each October I take time to reflect and acknowledge the huge losses for so many. I know this "club" of women won't mind me joining in- working through our grief and remembering our loved little ones. Our stories might be different, but our loss is relatable. We miss our babies. This month is so hard for so many. Just in my small friends circle I have fellow loss mamas that have experienced miscarriages, and infant loss. I keep my circles small, so this number is astounding. This realization prompted me to look into statistics related to this subject. Each year about 24,000 babies are born sleeping in the US. In 2017, 1400 babies left this world due to SIDS. Anywhere from 10-25% of pregnancies end in miscarriage. It would be my guess that every single person knows someone in their life that has been affected by Pregnancy or Infant Loss. This is very important to realize and acknowledge, so allow me to say it again. There is someone in your life that has lost a pregnancy. They prepared for this baby. They may have announced this pregnancy to friends and family, only to have to announce their loss as well. Walking through tragedy publicly is so hard. There is someone in your life that has lost a baby. They carried that baby for months, growing and bonding with their child. They named this child. They had a nursery ready. They may have gotten days together, or even months. But they may have only had minutes, and worse they may never have gotten a moment together at all. It is time that this subject is no longer taboo to talk about. Grief should be spoken. Mothers and Fathers should be able to grieve however they need to, and as long as they need. The truth is, the grief never ends, the pain doesn't leave, and the longing is always present. To help spread awareness around this subject please share this post using the hashtag #neverforgotten http://nationalshare.org http://futurefemaleleader.com

I stir in my sleep and look over to the window. " Dark outside ," I thought, " must still be very early ." I am so uncomfortable, and I know I'm going to have to get up to pee for the hundredth time tonight. We are past our "due date" by three days, and we've been experiencing prodromal labor for almost three weeks. I am exhausted . I do my little shimmy-scoot to try and get out of the bed- just imagine a sea turtle that gets stuck on their back. As soon as my feet hit the floor, something feels different. Very different . I let the dogs outside, and walk to the bathroom. I notice that it is 6:15 am. By the time I sit down on the toilet, I'm already messaging my doula, "...This is it." By 6:40, the pressure waves are coming at 3 minutes apart. I walk into the bedroom and wake Lane. “This is it, we are having a baby. Right now.” He shoots out of the bed like a Jack in the Box , it’s almost comedic. And by this point I'm already moving to the tub, taking one wave at a time. My doula and midwife are on their way. We only recently decided to have a homebirth. Prior to this, we were under the care of another Midwifery that focused on hospital births. (See Footnotes) They were wonderful, and through our pregnancy treated us with such care- both physically and emotionally. There have been two times in the last couple of weeks that we were all (Julie, my doula included) so sure I was going to have this baby. I would labor for hours, pacing the house. Lane, Julie, and I watching one of the older Batmans, with Danny DeVito until two or three in the middle of the night. But just as I would near transition, and there was movement to get the hospital bags loaded in the car- everything would stop . In hindsight- I see why this happened. We have a lot of trauma associated with hospitals, and especially the thought of having another baby in one. My body would shut down each time, as the subconscious fear and anxiety would rise from within. We found an amazing homebirth midwife (See Footnotes), who agreed to take us on. After this decision was made, in the last week of our pregnancy journey- everything felt right. Home was our safe place. Home was exactly where we needed to welcome our beautiful boy. There’s nothing like a homebirth. It’s pure magic. There are no fluorescent lights. No machines. No strangers. While our neighbors were loading their cars and driving to their workplaces, I was in our bathtub, in our home, in our neighborhood, bringing our boy earthside. It was intimate. I was surrounded by people that we had built relationships with, people that knew our hurt, who wanted us to have a healing experience, people that we will always consider family now.

It has been three days since you joined our family. You are perfect, and I cannot get enough of you. But Mommy is so tired. Mommy's body is very sore from carrying you these past months, and bringing you into this world. Mommy's breasts are so sore from your nursing. Mommy is very emotional, and feels a bit overwhelmed. But your Mommy loves you, and wouldn't have this any other way. You are everything. We will get through this together; we can do hard things. The first weeks of postpartum are a whirlwind of sleep deprivation, feeding, diaper changing, and trying desperately to care for your own bodily trauma from giving birth. It is truly a time of being in survival mode. This feeling can last for weeks, or even months depending on the circumstances surrounding your birth and how you plan to feed your little one. Regardless of these things, postpartum is HARD . But you are not alone. Lean into your support system. This may be your partner or spouse. It could be your family, or your circle of friends. There are many resources online for new moms. Three of my favorites are CafeMom, La Leche League, and Kellymom. While contemplating on my own journey during postpartum, I've come up with 5 Things to consider as you prepare for life with your new baby. Your spouse/partner is your life-line . Allow them to help you. (If you're like me, I have a hard time accepting help, even when I am absolutely desperate.) You are going to need your partner. Not only are you taking care of this little bundle of joy, but you're also taking care of your own body. You are physically healing from a very traumatic event. It is important to self care during this time, as you cannot pour from an empty cup. You will be fighting against your own motherly instincts, as your sole focus will be your new baby. But this is your gentle reminder to take a mental note- You need special care as well. (I want to add here- men are generally not great with knowing what you need without direct instruction. Don't expect them to "know" what to do, or pick up on hints- you will most likely have to tell them.) Be specific about what you need. Communicate with your circle of family or friends that has offered to help you during this transitional time. Be okay with sending people home. Be okay with asking for time alone with your family. Be okay with allowing others to feed you, do your laundry, or clean your house. If someone offers to set up a Meal Train, let them. You do not have to allow each person that delivers food into your home. It is perfectly acceptable to put a cooler on the porch and have a sign on your door. Have a folder that has all of your medical contacts in one place for you and your baby. Include pediatrician, lactation consultant, chiropractor, OB/Midwife, Doula, etc. Having this information easily accessible helps your partner in case you or baby needs care. Loosen up your expectations . Now is not the time to fret about a clean house, fresh homemade meals, or making sure everyone gets a chance to see your baby. This time is precious. The mess can wait. Have to eat take out or fast-food for a little while?- its okay. Enjoy those carbs. Need more precious, intimate time alone with your family? Take it. Everyone else can wait. Sleep when your baby sleeps. It doesn't matter if it is 15 minutes or 2 hours- sleep. For your own sanity, sleep . You are not going to get a full 8 hr night's rest for a while. (My little guy is almost a year old, and I've yet to see 8 hours!) But you CAN get 8 hrs in segments throughout the day. Sleep should be a priority in your postpartum journey. Give yourself some grace. Postpartum affects every woman differently. Some may think it is a breeze, while others struggle to survive. Tune into your body and your mind. Be honest with your healthcare providers. Don't try to "fake it 'til you make it." Seek help if you need it. You have done something amazing. You have shared your body with this baby for nine months. You have birthed this child into the world. Your body is going through a huge transitional time. Your body is healing. Your hormones are everywhere. You may need a little extra help. But Girl, you are AMAZING, and you've done AMAZING THINGS.

Well, I'm back. I took a hiatus from writing for a bit. Let's be honest... I took a hiatus from a lot of things. No shame. I've found that when you're going through deep waters, you don't have the capacity to do ALL THE THINGS. And some days I'm still sinking, but it is important for my journey to get back to my writing. So here I am Life. Thanks for the Welcome. My last post I was 32 weeks pregnant with our second child. Fast forward to now- I have an almost one year old. Duncan is amazing. He's full of life, laughter, cuddles, and the most smelly farts you could ever imagine. Yes, in this house we say 'fart' and the first time Duncan says it- I will die from laughing. These days I'm in a constant state of juggle. Taking care of Duncan, nursing, changing, bathing, cooking, cleaning, wifing, organizing, meal prepping, running my businesses, reading, writing, exercising, reflecting, grieving, laughing, and of course sneaking in the occasional fifteen minutes of alone time. Whew. With this post I want to reintroduce myself a bit. My name is Lindsey. I'm a mom to two boys. We lost our firstborn, Declan, at four days old. My previous blog posts go into deeper understanding of our loss. Our second son, Duncan, is a ball of fire. I'm married to the best guy, Lane. I know a lot of wives say this, but I really mean it. We've walked through the worst life circumstances together, and I know that we can pull through anything. Until 2018 I was a public school art teacher. I love teaching, but I found that the public school system wasn't the healthiest fit for me nor was it conducive to how I wanted to be a mother. In order to stay home with our children, I built up a small business as an Independent Retailer for LuLaRoe. That decision continues to bless our family even today. After losing Declan, I found myself reevaluating many things in my life. My beliefs changed, and my perspective on everything shifted. I did a lot of deep personal evaluation. 2019 brought about a lot of growth for me- and I don't just mean my growing pregnant belly. I really dove into my views of the world, and what I wanted my life to look like. 2019 was about 'becoming.' I'm still doing the work, every day. Life is short (cliche I know, but its true- and I recognize it more than most). I want to live this life to the fullest, diving into everything that makes me HUMAN. But don't worry readers, this blog won't be heavy all the time. Just like life, it will be a juggle of many topics- and any woman is sure to find something that resonates. We can walk this journey together.