When I was pregnant my weight peaked at 215 lbs. Insane right? I gained over 50 lbs. Honestly I stopped checking the scale towards the end.

To put things into perspective though, it’s normal to gain that much(ish) weight when having multiples. AND to top it off my pregnancy was complicated. The way in which my girls were conjoined made it difficult for them to swallow their amniotic fluid.

So I looked full term at only six months. Just imagine the pressure on my back. Every inch from sternum to pelvic floor was maximized.

Not to mention the rate at which I grew stretched my skin into a painfully itchy paper thin mess.

What gives me joy through my grief and guilt is picturing them swimming in all that fluid.

Can you picture it?

What was it like from their perspective?

A cosmic, warm, dark, squishy existence with seemingly endless amounts of time and space to float. And neither were alone. They had each other, and me.

Not to mention the beautiful coordination it took to move around as much as they did. And I felt every single kick from all four legs and every punch from their shared two arms.

I’m also incredibly proud of what I’ve accomplished with my body in just eight months postpartum.

I’m down to 175 lbs. More importantly though, I’ve gained my strength back, flexibility, and confidence after what feels like ravaging my body and putting it through hell.

That hell was worth every second and I wouldn’t change one thing.

But I didn’t recognize myself after the girls were born.

A deflated wrinkly stomach that I could completely disregard if I had my beautiful babies to cradle in my arms.

So, at 10 weeks postpartum, I decided to seek out a personal trainer. I needed a lot of help, and I didn’t have any background in the proper use of exercise equipment.

I still have many hurdles to jump but physically I have never felt better. I neither want nor do I have a need to be thin.

I want to be and stay strong.

I’m still working on the mental and emotional part of that equation.

But I’ll get there.

My heart still aches, and my brain is still coming to terms with what happened. So reminiscing is just plain hard to do.

The memory of them swimming will always stay with me and bring me so much joy in my darkest hour.

And I will always cherish the feeling of their kicks.

Join me on my path back to hope~

no comfort in the shadows

The feeling of being trapped has subsided, at least for now.

Ideally I would like to focus on all the positive aspects of my life instead of dwelling on what hasn’t been or never will be.

Because if I know anything about this life is that it is ever changing. It is fluid.

A constant swaying motion of give and take.

The energy I put into something will come right back at me.

The goal is to put my energy and attention into things that are important to me. Like expanding this blog, my art, and my family.

I have to admit, my grief has had a strange affect on me. The more stress I shoulder the harder it is to keep myself together.

I’ve been giving myself permission to express my emotions, but sometimes I cross the line and take that expression too far.

Its strange, I don’t really care how other people feel about it. It’s not my job to make everyone comfortable every second of every day.

My main concern is my family first and then self preservation.


Ok here’s the deal. I wrote this last week, and reading it now a week later, I was definitely stuck in my own head.

I’m not going to edit what I wrote because it’s a glimpse into parts of my psyche that I don’t want to share.

I really do care about people. When they act or say something to hurt me or others, even in a passive way, I notice.

I’m a little more vulnerable and open than usual too so that doesn’t help how I filter the world.

And I notice the subtleties of body language, word usage, and tone that give away a person’s intentions.

I have managed to power down my antenna and close off my heart a bit in an effort to not let every seemingly annoying thing or person get to me.

I’m really proud of myself for that. Too often I get stuck in my own thoughts and my perceived reality, thinking that everyone is “out to get me.”

I’ve pushed my sadness towards the back burner, which I know will have devastating effects in the future.

But its in my nature to lift the spirits of others and make silly jokes and comments to counteract how overwhelming work can be, which is where I’ve been spending most of my time lately.

If I have to spend eight hours, five days a week in one building, come hell or high water I’m gonna make the best of it. Sadness or not.

On another note, I intend on going back to one entry per week. The holidays, moving, prioritizing family, and working full time take up most of my attention these days.

This blog is one of the elements helping me to heal, so I need to make it a priority.

Being this hectic is only temporary, but unfortunately being scatterbrained is for life.

Join me on my path back to hope~

let the light in

I’m really enjoying all the green that has taken over every irrigation ditch and distant hill top in our small valley due to ample amounts of rain.

I’m soaking in every speck of beauty and act of kindness that I can gather in order to counter act the way I’ve been feeling lately.

I haven’t really told anyone exactly what I’ve been feeling, mostly because I don’t know how to explain it or if it’s just fleeting.

It’s a sense of being trapped. Of impending doom. Hairs on the back of my neck standing up while being afraid to look around the corner of what’s going to happen next.

My nerves are basically shot, and unfortunately it comes out of me in the form of sweat. I remembered why I don’t wear light colored shirts to work (so embarrasing).

What is supposed to be wonderful “sweater weather” is not for me. Doesn’t matter that it’s been below freezing either. What am I going to do when its actually hot out?

In the back of mind I’m pondering a change in hormones. I gave birth seven months ago, so its possible.

The thought of giving birth only 7 months ago is a stab in my gut. I meet people who have 7 month old infants and I think, that could have been me.

I have so much to be happy about, I know that.

And I am happy, but I still feel incredibly broken and just plain sad.

A sadness I just can’t shake.

I’ve opened my heart so much that closing it off some days is simply impossible. With every stitch I sew of joy and love a seam inevitably gets popped open exposing a technicolor emotional motherboard laced with bad hot-wiring.

Like I’ve said before, I’m not the person I used to be. I don’t handle life the way I used to.

I’m more open. I try to say what I feel instead of holding it in.

I have a shorter fuse. As I get older I’m taking less and less shit from people.

The girls have taught me that life is too short to be rude. Life is way too short to put up with said rudeness, but also know when to pick my battles and brush it off my shoulders.

The new year is upon us and honestly it makes no difference to me. I don’t live my life by arbitrary timelines of hoping that next year will be “better.”

I will do better and be better whether it’s the new year or not. The time is now.

I will always try to let the light in.

Many thanks to those who have hitched a ride on my crazy train back to hope~