This evening, MJ has his first ever soccer practice. I played in school and have coached little ones before. When I realized I could sign him up this summer, I figured since I have to be there for everything anyway, … Continue reading
This evening, MJ has his first ever soccer practice. I played in school and have coached little ones before. When I realized I could sign him up this summer, I figured since I have to be there for everything anyway, … Continue reading
I feel that as of late, I haven’t had anything I could brag about. Well, now I do. So I’m going to. We have awesome neighbors across the street. He is always outside, doing something in his yard. The lawn … Continue reading
Ever since I discovered Goodreads, I have stopped writing book reviews here and leave them on that site instead. I am pretty good about doing a review for basically everything I read. I figure, if I want others to do it for me, I have to return the favor.
The book I just finished April 30th has left me so frustrated that I needed to vent here; even after leaving my review on Goodreads.
On Goodreads, I try to leave objective reviews. Of course I avoid spoilers, but then I try not to overly sway others with my view while at the same time being honest. This book was difficult for me to not go into great detail about why I almost gave up on it. This is why what I said simply writing there didn’t fulfill my need to complain about this book.
When a series sets up certain parameters, it really bothers me when they don’t stand by them. This can go for plot, character growth and development, rules of the established universe, or even narration style.
In books one and two of this series, the female protagonist is the only point of view we get to read from. In this third installment, a new narrator is added. Then ANOTHER on page 318. But that one we will come back to.
The two narrators we have for a majority of the book, I feel are terrible choices. One is imprisoned. She was whiny and intolerable before she had this to content with. Now she was worse. The second does not want to be where she is. This leads to severely harsh, biased, and SELECTIVE narration. One can only tell us what she overhears. Two can only tell us what she chooses to hear. Neither of them SHOW us anything. I hated how all the battles and intrigue where dictated to us instead of displayed.
The addition of the third narrator was frustrating as it further broke an already broken stricture. Just because you’re the author and it’s your story, doesn’t mean you can do anything you want. I mean, you can. But you can’t.
So, the part of me that longs for structure didn’t like the addition of this narrator, but the reader in me was excited because this point of view had to be better than the others. Third’s first few chapters were meh, but her last was just like the others. Whiny.
I just can’t feel sorry for these girls. They are both progressive and regressive, depending on what could cause the most conflict. This lead to a host of inconsistencies. Also, for all their complaining, none of these girls made active choices to change their circumstances. I felt as if thy just didn’t care about themselves. And this made me not care. How am I supposed to want to keep reading if I couldn’t care less about what is happening to them?
But now that I have put in the time and effort of reading and reviewing three books, I suppose I will have to read the fourth one anyway, just because now I will need to know how the story ends. Hopefully this fourth one will end the series like the third was supposed to. This was not the first time I read books that were meant to be a trilogy.
It’s a good thing it’s not meant to be out until February though because I have made a promise to myself and to you, my readers. I will not start reading a new book until the current draft I am working on is complete. It is close to being done and I want to avoid the extra excuse for distraction that an intriguing book can be. I will be posting updates on my Twitter and my Facebook page. I am thinking of having a contest for beta readers, as I do not have enough at the moment. Getting excited!
Today marks three weeks since we buried Riley. Some days require less pretending than others. Some days, I am able to embrace the moment, experience it, then move on. Some days, the sadness brings me to my knees. I am a work in progress.
Last night, one of my girl friends took me out to see Beauty and the Beast. We had a nice time before and after, but during the movie, I wasn’t sure exactly how to feel. As you know, I had already seen this movie when my sister and I took our girls to see it. I was still pregnant then. So at first, this was all I could focus on. Then I could only focus on the jerks who came in late, couldn’t find their seats, and interrupted the prologue.
The flashback scenes in the movie are sad and they hit me so much harder this go-around. Many of the musical numbers caused me to cry.
I talked about this with CJ when I got home. Beauty and the Beast has been my favorite Disney movie since I was a child. I have seen the musical many times, including on Broadway. I have all the music on my iPod, even some sheet music from my playing days. I was afraid that all the emotion I felt during this most recent viewing might ruin how I feel about everything. But I told CJ, I think it may have actually made me love it more. Now it needs to hurry up on come out for purchase.
I started writing this post quite a while ago; before we found out about Riley. I decided it was finally time to go back and share this story because I have to still be able to see the bright things in my life.
Yesterday, I witnessed one of the cutest things I have ever seen. It was one of those moments where you wish you knew what was going to happen ahead of time so you could record it.
MJ had just gotten home from school, but he was already involved in playing with his sisters. I got his attention in order to inform him he would be spending the night at his aunt’s house, so he could play with his cousins. He dropped the toy he was holding, fell to his knees, and said, “thank you.” I don’t think I’ve ever seen him just so overwhelmed with emotion. This would have seriously been an amazing moment to record. (And to maybe lord over him later.)
Of course, once we were at my sister’s house, I attempted to say goodbye to him. He tossed a hand over his shoulder and called out, “yeah, bye, mom.” He didn’t even bother turning around. So good to know where I rate, kid.
I called my sister a little before bedtime to see how he was doing and to say goodnight. He talked so fast that between the speed and his speech impediment I could only catch a few words. But I knew without a doubt that meant he was having fun. My sister said he was also being good, so that was a plus.
The girls where home alone with their dad since I was working, so when I called to check up on them like I always do, I wondered if they where asking for their brother. They were not. Apparently those girls are just fine without him. I’m sure they appreciated the break, lol.
As hard as the past few weeks have been for our family, I try to continue seeing life for these moments. Simple bliss. Pure joy. Unconditional love. I know that they will get me through.
Today, the last of the physical proof of what happened to me ended. CJ cannot fully understand why I’m devastated by this. I am upset because besides my broken heart, this was the last of any evidence that Riley was real. It makes me feel even more empty than I already did.
I have been given the contact information of a few women who have gone through this as well. I know that talking to them would definitely help me heal; or at least help me move in that direction. However, I just can’t do this yet. I mean, what do I even say? How do you start that conversation?
I am having a hard time eating and sleeping. Especially sleeping. I know I need some help. Also, I can’t stop myself from going to the cemetery every day. When does that compulsion end?
Today I painted my face to hide my blotchy cheeks and puffy eyes so I could go out into the world. But I am empty. Literally. I am empty.
As heartbreaking as Monday was, Wednesday was horrific. I have never in my life had any sort of surgical procedure. My heartache over the loss of our child was compounded by the anxiety I felt over being at the hospital and this caused an earth-shattering guilt because I felt I shouldn’t be worried about myself at all. Then, as I was finally released from the hospital, I had to reconcile myself to the fact that instead of bringing my child home warm and bundled in a carseat, I was bringing my child home in a small container.
Today, I wrap my head around the fact I had to pick out a little box. Why does no one ever talk about the tiny coffins? It is the smallest and saddest thing I have ever seen. And then to listen to CJ on the phone with one of the men from the cemetery, giving the dimensions of the little box? …
There are not adequate words to describe this situation. I am struggling to find a way to survive a funeral for my own child. I have never been to one before. And this has to be my first.
Many people have already made comments about trying again, but how can I even think about that when I have to put a child in the ground? Even then, I’m not sure if I will ever be ready. This has devastated me. These few days since Monday I have been having a hard time controlling my tears and even my actions around the other kids. How could I ever risk this happening again?
I am still a mother of four. This baby will always count. We will always remember.
“Sorry, guys.”
A seemingly innocent sentence. But because of these words, I will remember a woman named Ashley forever. I knew her less than thirty minutes, but this woman changed my life.
CJ and I were expecting another baby, due in October, and we were over the moon about growing our family. MJ, being the only one who really understood, was ecstatic about another sibling.
Over the weekend, I experienced some spotting which in itself is not overly concerning, but I felt something was wrong. I thought it was mostly in my head considering a woman I know had gone through something similar quite recently.
CJ and my sister tried to keep me calm, maintaining everything was just fine. Even the doctor I saw this morning tried to convince me everything was fine. She tried to reassure me that although she couldn’t hear a heartbeat, she was positive she heard movement, so she sent me for an ultrasound just in case.
Enter poor, poor Ashley. I will always feel awful for her. The poor girl must have drawn the short straw to do my ultrasound today. The techs must have all know what was a possible outcome and I’m sure no one wanted me as a patient.
Well, Ashley found what we all hoped wouldn’t be true. There was no heartbeat. The only thing she could say was “sorry, guys” and then she made the quickest exit she possibly could.
As CJ and I waited for the specialist to talk us through our next steps, one of the things I couldn’t help but think was how awful I felt for Ashley. First, because who wants to have to deliver news like that ever, and second, because I will always remember her as the woman who told me my baby was dead and remember her for nothing else. And I feel sorry for that.
So today I joined one of the clubs no one ever thinks they will be a part of until they are. I am a woman who has lost a child through miscarriage.
No matter how many times I think that sentence or read it written here, it just doesn’t seem real. I don’t know if it ever will.
The past month and one half have been pretty rough around here. While we are experiencing some of our own problems, it seems like others want to make their drama ours as well. I fear I am getting to that place where I once again am willing to admit I am too old for something. And I am far too old for the amount of drama that I have been surrounded by lately. I am tired of feeling used and being taking advantage of.
So even though I planned on doing this blog today to talk about all these things, this post unexpectedly became a lot brighter after I checked the mail.
A while ago, I wrote a letter to my best friend in an attempt to make her feel just a little better after a loss. Today, I noticed a package in the mail and assumed the cousin who is staying with us ordered something. Again. But for once, it was for me! Not only did my girlfriend return the letter, she also sent me one of her amazing hats she has been crocheting.
So here I sit, with a toasty warm head, in a much better place than I have been in in months. Her handwriting is still the same. Her spelling is still horrible. And just like always, she’s able to make me feel loved.
I miss her so much sometimes that it physically hurts, but times like these, just knowing that we are still there for each other no matter what, make me think I can do anything. Especially with this awesome hat on. 🙂

Messy bun hat!!
As a kid, you hope that you will be the cool adult. You know the one I mean. The one with the house everyone wants to hang out at.
As an adult, you realize this actually isn’t something to aspire to. Why? Because a moment will occur where you notice you have forgotten what day of the week it is and you must rage-clean your house in order to have it ready in time for the horde of people you must soon entertain.
I don’t think CJ was at all happy with me when I had this moment yesterday. He was home, so I made him help. I wanted as much as possible done so I could just have some downtime today before I went in to work, came home late, and had guests over early in the morning.
Tomorrow will be a crazy day. There will be at least 12 people in my house, and that’s not counting any strays who may show up. Then I must feed and clean up after all those people before heading to a New Year’s Eve party at a girlfriend’s house. That I’m looking forward to because I will be able to just enjoy – without worrying about hostess or clean up duties.
Hope everyone has a safe and festive New Year’s. Have fun!