Courtney Lund Writer, Believer, Professor, Wife, New Mama Sun, 22 Jul 2018 11:02:44 +0000 en-US hourly 1 The First Year of Motherhood Fri, 01 Dec 2017 16:58:57 +0000 It’s been almost a year since I have become a mom and all I can think is: where did the year go?

To recap: I thought I was going to give birth around Christmas time in 2016, but our little angel would not come until January 16, 2017, Martin Luther King Day. Those first two weeks were difficult. Nothing could have prepared me for my little to no milk supply, the sleepless days and nights that rolled into each other, the post-partum mom bod, the hormonal imbalance. All of it was a shock to the system. The beauty, though, and the thread running through all of these things was the baby. His smell, his snuggles, the peace of him sleeping, his first baths at home, his joy of nursing, the tears in our eyes, when my husband and I looked at each other and whispered, we made that.


In my opinion, the level of difficulty that motherhood presented went like this:

First two nights: THE BEST. You are on an adrenaline high.

First two weeks: QUITE DIFFICULT. The adjustment period. Learning to (or not) pump and breastfeed and bottle feed. Adjusting to no sleep (you can never really adjust, you just survive, somehow).

First three months: THE LONG STRETCH. By far, as a whole, the hardest out of the first year. Hormonal imbalances are still there, and the questions of identity begin to creep in. Who am I in the world, now that I am a mother? For those who left jobs, you might feel either dread of going back or a yearning to be something more.

 First six months: DIFFICULT BUT DOABLE. As in, your baby will hopefully be doing things that excite you by this time. Maybe sleeping more. Maybe sitting up. Rolling over. Trying solid foods. You will see that all your hard work in the first 3 months are paying off in the second half.

Six-Ten months: THE CUTE PHASE. Oh, my goodness. These months are wonderful. Your little human can sit up, hopefully crawl, giggle, enjoy different flavors in foods. He is a joy to all and it’s truly a gift to see the world through your baby’s eyes.

Ten-Twelve months: STOP TIME. You feel the impending doom of the first year being over. You think, bring my baby back! Stop growing! You contemplate whether you will carry on telling people the age of your baby. Is he 15 months or Is he newly one year old? You get in extra snuggles because you know the beauty of parenthood stronger than ever, and you even consider congratulating yourself—as you should! You made it! You survived the first year!


Bennett is on his way to 11 months and I am absolutely glowing. I love him so much. And I am proud of the job Nick and I have done. We are looking forward to the future and holding tight to the present.


Happy first year of parenthood! Just know, YOU can do hard things. Every day is different than the last. You are capable of everything. As a mom or a dad, you are a superhero to a little someone. Own it.



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The Perfect Sunday Sun, 23 Apr 2017 21:14:43 +0000 Last night Bennett, Nick, and I attended our first wedding as a family of three. We danced with Bennett on the dance floor. And ate tacos and had some beer. It was fun to get out and celebrate new love. Last night, Nick said he would take the middle of the night feed, which usually comes around 3 am. My body and mind have been restless during this hour, and on most nights I cannot go back to sleep. It is a little torturous cycle. Sleeping for four hours, then not being able to go back to sleep in the middle of the night. There is a medical title for it – postnatal insomnia. After a few nights of it, I feel a little delusional, forgetful, and mostly anxious.

After we all climbed into bed last night, our bellies and hearts full, my mind unconsciously woke at the 3 o’clock witching hour, even though Nick had agreed to do it. But there was no fussing, no restless movements coming from Bennett’s bed. So I put my head back on the pillow and drifted back to sleep.

Bennett did not stir until ten hours after he went to sleep, at around 8 am. It was a gift, for all of us. The sleep.

Then as the morning unfolded, I made breakfast and watched a live stream of the Rock church while Nick and Bennett slept some more. I brought it to Nick in bed because dads deserve breakfast in bed just as much as moms do. Nick was happy, and sipped his coffee and happily ate the plate full of waffles, strawberries, and sausage patties.

After breakfast, the three of us laid in bed. Bennett did tummy time. We made him giggle. The sun crept in, passed the blinds.

Nick had to go study in our second bedroom and I took Bennett out to the family room. He played, while I finished my coffee. Once he started to get tired, I brought him over to me. I held him close to my chest while he breastfed. He was so comforted by it, I was happy. Breastfeeding has been a real test, a journey for all of us. I never had enough milk and probably do not make more than 6-7 ounces a day. But it is 6-7 ounces I want Bennett to have. Whatever natural antibodies I have, I want to hand over to him, a little gift. So even when he is fed up with me and my tiny offering, pushing away from me, waiting for his 4 ounce bottle, I tell myself today is not the day to give up. One bad moment doesn’t mean I quit. (I try to tell myself this for other things in life too – one bad day is not a reason to throw in the towel.)

As I sat with him, though, under the Sunday morning sunlight, beaming through the window, Bennett found comfort in breastfeeding. He placed his hand on my breast, and he fell asleep. His body sunk into mine. I smiled at the gift. The gift of him. The gift of motherhood. The gift of family. The gift of this moment.

Even if I do nothing else significant in my life, I have done love.

I peeked outside and dazed off into the lime green trees, a sign of spring, and watched a single engine plane soar in the pasty blue sky. Then I turned my attention back to the miracle in my lap.

There is something surprising, whenever I experience it, and that is the feeling of wonder. Wonder is often abstract – hard to describe, sometimes even hard to experience. But right there, in my lap, was someone truly wonderful. A gift from God.

I often hear people say they don’t want kids or don’t have them yet because they aren’t ready, they don’t have money, time, and et cetera. I had those thoughts too, but man, am I glad I didn’t listen to them. I’m ready because I choose to be ready. I have faith in God to give me the tools and the gifts necessary to complete such a feat that is motherhood.

We chase and yearn for these little moments of wonder – we travel around the world seeking it. We buy things to capture it (like check out this, you can actually buy “breastmilk jewelry” here).

But sometimes, when we least expect it, wonder is here. In our laps. On a perfect Sunday morning.

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10 Must Have Products For New Mamas Mon, 10 Apr 2017 21:15:05 +0000 Hi world! Becoming a mama has been an incredibly life changing journey. Every day I fall more in love with B — his coos, his smiles, giggles, the way he kicks, when he stares up and smiles at me while BF-ing. He is a handsome baby boy who is growing so quick. When I became pregnant, I was pretty much the first out of my friends. I knew nothing! I talked to my mom a lot — but when it came to what we needed, and what we didn’t I was kind of clueless. Now, 3 months in, I wanted to share some of my daily life-savers. So share this post with all your new or soon-to-be mama friends! I hope it can help. 🙂

To look more into and/or purchase the products, just click on the image and it will take you to

1. The Boppy: We have this blue whale poppy which we adore. It is great for BF-ing. B will fall asleep right on it. The cover is easy to clean. And it is also a great prop to help him with tummy time and to sit up. I give it a 10/10.

2. Carter’s Pajamas (w/footies): These are lifesavers! Seriously. They are easy to take on and off in middle of the night diaper changes. B LOVES them. Sometimes, when we are extra tired, we will have PJ days and just hang out and play and nap in our PJs all day. You need at least a few pairs for every size! Secret: The ones with the zippers are the best.

3. Infant Optics Baby Monitor: So we were on the fence about a baby monitor. But, when B stopped cat-napping anywhere, and he started taking naps in our bedroom, this was key! Sometimes babies can spit up in their sleep or seem uncomfortable. And without barging in and waking them fully up, you can always see what is going on with a monitor. I did a TON of research online and this one had the best reviews. We are happy with it.

4. Comotomo baby bottles: If you are unsure if you want to exclusively BF, buy these. The nipples best represent a human mama nipple, and they are anti-colic. Since I was not able to produce enough milk for B, we have had to supplement. B goes back and forth between BF-ing and bottle feeding so easily. And I have these gems to thank.

5. Bottle Warmer (to go with your bottle): This bottle warmer is super cheap. It gets the job done. And that’s all you need, right?


6. Pampers Diapers Size 1: In the beginning. You really cannot have enough size 1 diapers. You may only use the Newborn size for so long, so make sure you stock up on these! They rarely leak, and have the awesome blue line that shows up for when they are wet. The best. (Get Pampers sensitive wipes too!)


7. Milk Snob Car Seat Cover: It is the best for the summer months. Even the spring and fall. For BF-ing moms, this also serves up as a nice and cozy cover. It is lightweight, easy to put on and off, stylish, and overall a solid, must have.


8. A Bouncer: A great place to park baby while you get in a coffee or snack break. (Or, hey, maybe even a shower?!)

9. Graco Click Connect Strollers: These strollers are amazing. They are so easy to use. You can carry the car seat to and from the car. And then click it in the stroller to cruise around the neighborhood. Graco has a ton of options to choose from, so check them out.


10. Play gyms: Fisher-Price makes some great play gyms. At only a few weeks old, B LOVED looking around. (We have two different play gyms…it is all about options.) Play gyms allow babies to explore early on, kick and move their legs, and listen to music. It is a party for their senses!


I hope this is helpful for you! Tell me in the comments what some of your favorite products are. Some missing products in this list, but def need: breast pump, sling or wrap, bassinet, pack n play, boppy lounger, nice changing table, and et cetera.


Xo, Mama C

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HELLO WORLD: I’M A MOM Fri, 03 Mar 2017 22:13:38 +0000 HELLO WORLD, I am out of hiding. Kind of.

So, almost seven weeks ago I had a baby! A beautiful baby boy that Nick and I named Bennett James O’Neil. We are still working on nickname options. Sometimes I call him Benneeto Burrito. Because he is a burrito baby, a chunky boy. Nick sometimes calls him Pokey Jr. (My nickname with Jr. added on to it.) Not sure either of these are winners, but we are on the hunt.

Since I gave birth, I feel like I have been in hiding. Safe in the walls of my two-bedroom apartment. Bringing a baby into the world can be a beautiful, scary thing. And Facebook pictures that new mommies post (myself included) just don’t give the whole truth.

The truth is this: My labor and delivery was hard. I call it my near death experience. 28 hours of liquid diet hell. Literally how many bowls of Jello, gelato, and lukewarm chicken broth can one individual live on? And the pain of it all. Omigod.

Nothing could have prepared me. My birth plan was to have a natural birth. But by 41 weeks there was still no signs of baby, so we needed some help to push things along. The funny thing is that my labor started out natural — I even made it to 6 cm dilated. But then it stopped progressing and then it was downhill from there. I had to get my water broken, get the nasty Pitocin, then the very scary epidural that left me paralyzed from the waist down for hours. Like ten of them. When it came time to push my tiny miracle into the world, literally I could not feel one of my legs. At all. The other was fuzzy tingles only.

The pain of contractions was like nothing I had ever experienced. I had read they would be like intense period cramps. NO. They were like being slammed by a train, over and over. Again, much thanks to the Pitocin.

At one point I stopped breathing and they had to put the breathing mask on me. My mom and Nick, my champions were in the room. And they were holding my hands, screaming, “Breathe! Breathe for Bennett!” It was so hard to breathe at times, but when they said to breathe for my son, who I had fallen in love with already, I did. I closed my eyes, focused. I breathed.

Eventually, 28 hours later, he came. At 2:24 AM on Monday, January 16th, 2017. It was Martin Luther King day. And I think it was a good sign. My boy would be a boy with a dream — many of them.

The first few days were a daze. Nurses came and went into my room. I was bleeding everywhere. I had to get an episiotomy and that sucker hurt.

Healing my body after all this has been long. I am finally feeling “normal” at almost seven weeks.

The first couple weeks of being home were the hardest. We battled Jaundice and then my milk supply, which was and is extremely low. (More on this to come in a new post.) But the baby was and is beautiful. The love they say that you feel for your child is the truest of truths. There is nothing more pure than the love I feel for Bennett. And the life I want for him. I want to give him the world. I want to be the parent my parents are for me. The best gift I can give him is my love. And it is all his.

So friends, if you have felt ignored or alone from me over the past seven weeks, I have been healing. I have been learning to walk again. Walk as a new mom. Nick and I would love to welcome visitors soon. Especially if you bring food (and coffee if you are feeling extra frisky 🙂 ). Sometimes just an hour of a friend’s presence is enough to feel refreshed. It’s a new world and it won’t always be this way. I’m still your friend, I’m still here. I love you. I love you. I love you.

I promise to do what I always do here, on this blog. To be honest and true about this whole new motherhood adventure. The thing I hate most is when people don’t paint an honest picture of their truths, their lives. Because the worst thing someone can feel while going through something is alone. So I’m here for you, new and future mamas. I’ll give you my truth, you give me yours.

Xo, C

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Sisters and Brothers: Ali and James, Choosing to Love Mon, 09 Jan 2017 22:07:53 +0000 Happy 2017, lovelies. This year I am launching a series of stories that can better connect and bridge the gap between siblings of sisters and brothers with special needs. To join the community and to find out more about this project, join us on Facebook: Sisters and Brothers on Facebook

Our first story is by Ali, a student at Azusa Pacific University, sister to James. I know you will feel the love in this piece. Storytelling is so important because it reminds us that we are never alone, and that everyone’s life matters.



Choosing to Love

When I was eleven months old, my parents brought home a little baby boy. Little did I know how earth shattering this would be.

My brother, James, was diagnosed with autism at twenty-one months old. This radically changed our family’s world, and my own. Suddenly, everything revolved around him. We went from being a “normal” little family of four who did activities together and led a social life to spending all of our time on autism intervention. I spent most of my childhood sitting with my mom in waiting rooms while James was at therapy. We couldn’t go out much because most places were too over-stimulating for him and would trigger his inappropriate behaviors, like biting people or randomly running away. His actions dictated the course of the day. Simple, daily tasks became brutal trials. We would go to the grocery store and out of nowhere, something so small like the screeching of the shopping cart, would trigger his behaviors, cause him to have a meltdown, and result in us leaving. He didn’t have the language to properly communicate how he was feeling. His meltdowns were his way of saying that something was bothering him. People thought he was incapable and hopeless. Even the church shunned us and turned us away. They told us not to bring James to Sunday School. They told us his disability was a punishment for my parents’ sins. We became outcasts in our community because we had a boy people couldn’t understand.

But I knew he wasn’t hopeless. I knew he was capable of fulfilling his potential. There’s no event I can pinpoint to explain why I felt this way. A sisterly instinct maybe? I’ve just always loved him. I was only two years old when he was diagnosed, and didn’t have the ability to see or notice his differences. To me, he was my adorable little brother who made our family complete. And because he completed our family, we chose to embrace autism and everything that came with it.

Autism opened up our family to the world of special needs: autism, downs syndrome, Cerebral Palsy, and so on. I grew up amongst wheelchairs and extra chromosomes. The abnormal to most was normal to me. My identity was rooted in caring for those who were deemed unlovable, shameful, weird, and flawed. Society chose to ignore them. I chose to love and embrace them.

My family and I sacrificed a lot by identifying with the outcast and choosing to love our journey. My schoolmates and “friends” thought it was weird. They couldn’t understand why I would continually say hi to the child who couldn’t say hi back. And because of that, my social life was extremely hard. I found it difficult to express who I was because I, a typically developing girl, identified with those who were not typically developing. Apparently, that deemed me an outcast too. My dad hasn’t been able to share “typical” father-son experiences with my brother like watching a sports game together. My mom stopped working so she could take care of him and make sure he got the resources he needed. I didn’t do fun things with kids my age because I chose to sit with my brother so that someone would always by his side.

But I came to realize that I would much rather identify with those who were “different” than be amongst the most popular kids in school. People with special needs were beautiful in my eyes. I didn’t see disabilities. I saw special abilities. Lives bursting with potential. I saw beauty in brokenness, and lives filled with hope. James being in my life and brining me into this beautiful special needs population taught me so much more than I could ever imagine.

I learned that everyone can communicate effectively, just in different ways. I learned that it’s essential to celebrate every victory; whether it’s something as small as James surviving a trip to the grocery store, or James being on the principal’s honor roll in ninth grade. Every victory deserves to be celebrated. Every victory, big or small, is an accomplishment and a sign of growth.

James is different than most boys his age. He always has been, and always will be. It’s the reality of autism. But that doesn’t mean he’s any less.

On the contrary, actually. It means he is so much more.

Not just him, but the whole special needs community. They are all so much more. It’s a misconception that we need to teach, shape, and “fix” them. The truth is we need them to teach, shape, and fix us. We need them to open our eyes and show us the true beauty in the world. We need them to show us what it means to be compassionate and to give grace. We need them to show us the freedom of being ourselves, and embracing our uniqueness. I have come to find that the ones who are put in darkness are the true lights of the world.

And that’s what James has taught me. That’s my personal narrative. My identity is
rooted in loving the “unfixable” child who starts yelling in the middle of Sunday School. My identity is rooted in loving the boy in the wheelchair. My identity is rooted in loving the non-verbal, quadriplegic girl. My identity is rooted in loving the outcast.

My passion is to give a voice to those who can’t speak. To walk for those who can’t walk, and to hear for those who can’t hear. My calling in life is to shine light on those in the darkness, and help them find their own light. To show others the light that they bring, the light that they are.

All of us have the ability to choose what we do with the brokenness and hardships in our lives. We decide whether or not it’s truly broken. We decide whether or not we can overcome it. We can choose to either see something as broken and demand it to be fixed, or we can choose to embrace the cracks and see them as beautiful.







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I’m Still Pregnant: My Thoughts on 2016 and Hopes for 2017 Fri, 30 Dec 2016 19:19:38 +0000 I know there is a lot of negativity floating around for the year 2016. But I cannot help but soak in all of the good for this year. For me, good always outweighs the bad.

I spent the majority of this year pregnant. What I thought would be a hindrance, turned out to be a complete miracle, a deeply residing joy. I learned that I enjoy being pregnant. It centers you. It brings you closer to who you are. You have to sit with yourself, trust yourself. You can’t unwind with a glass of wine at the end of the day and you can’t chug 5 cups of coffee to start your day either. You are more aware of your body and mind than ever before. These were all things I thought would be off-putting, but they turned out to be blessings.

Pregnancy pushes you to try your best. This was the year I pushed myself to get an essay in the New York Times. I also signed up for my first half marathon to complete six months postpartum. Before, I wanted to try my best for myself, my family, for Nick. Now with a little bundle of life inside of me, I want to try for him. And I don’t even really know him. But I know he will be worth it.

I think pregnancy brought Nick and I closer together. There is something that runs deep about doing something big together. To make the choice. To be there for each other. Nick has been my best friend and greatest partner through this pregnancy.

For 2017, I feel that I will be doing a lot of leaning. Leaning into new things. Motherhood. Writing. New paths. I want to begin public speaking. On topics I’m passionate about. I never want to look back at my life and wish I would have done the things I didn’t. If opportunities present themselves, I want to say Yes. I want to take them. I never want to make excuses — that I can’t do something because I’m a mom or I’m tired. Or whatever. I want to keep growing, expanding, learning.

I’ll tell you what I don’t want.

I don’t want to try and lose ten pounds. (Such a common force of a New Year’s resolution.) If I lose pregnancy weight, cool. I probably will because I miss being active. But I’m not going to put that on my vision board. I want to wear less/no make-up. I want to stay closer to who I am. I want to grow my imagination. I want to be present. Put the phone down. When we are on our deathbeds we won’t remember the mornings of scrolling through our semi-friends’ Facebook newsfeeds. We will remember looking into the eyes of the person we love. We will remember the rain pattering outside our window, as our cat cuddled up on our bellies. We will remember surprising our spouses with an impromptu breakfast in bed.

For 2017, I want to truly live. To laugh hard. Cry easily. To see the beauty. To be the beauty. I think all of us could use a little more of this. We could all use a pregnancy (metaphorical or not) to bring us back to ourselves.

I love you. I love you. I love you.

Let’s stay friends in 2017.

Xo, C

P.S. I’m still pregnant. I’m not sure this baby wants to leave me. I’m 38 ½ weeks. I assumed that because my mom delivered my sisters and me at 37 weeks, I would too. Pregnancy has also taught me to assume less.

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Pregnancy: The Final Push Fri, 23 Dec 2016 19:32:46 +0000 I think it is safe to say that most of us have a small bit of trouble with the unknown. And there is nothing more unknown than your doctor telling you on a Monday morning at 37 weeks that you are 1-2 cm dilated, cervix 80% effaced, with the baby’s head right there. “Ready to go,” he said.

My husband, Nick, has warned me to not use Dr. Google. But sometimes, in the middle of the night, I can’t help myself to look at ghostly forums from years past of women writing out their stories and opinions, women whom I will never meet.

What I learned was that this information (baby ready to go) means I could have a baby in two hours or two weeks. “But just not on Christmas?” I asked. “Only God knows,” my doctor reminded me.

It’s two days before Christmas. Our house is clean. I have the best husband in the galaxy for all the physical labor he has put into preparing our home. We call this “nesting.” Old wives tales have said that there is a sign, before a woman goes into labor, that she will nest like no other. It’s her adrenaline and animal instincts that kick in. If you have ever seen a birth from a soon-to-be mother hamster, you will notice the little mama shreds toilet paper, and burrows a safe spot to birth her babies. Cats and dogs will go off and hide in a safe place. And according to Google, expectant human mothers have been known to rearrange their cabinets by alphabetical order and take a toothbrush to scrub the corners of their bathrooms. OCD has never really been my thing, so all toothbrushes have been spared. If anything, I’m lucky that Nick has more of that OCD thing, and the loose pine needles plaguing our new rug has been quite the hindrance.

People will ask me, “When will this baby come?”


Although I missed the OCD gene, I, at the beginning of pregnancy, had more of a desire to control outcomes. And if I have learned one thing, it is that I am not in control. Really, it’s up to God. It’s up to this baby. I’m just the vessel. Ready to hold this little man, whenever he decides to pick his birthday.

And to the people that have said, “Oh no, what if he is a Christmas baby?”

What if he is?

I’ve really changed my attitude on this. We all have that power, to change our attitudes. We can’t always pick the outcome, but we can change how we view outcomes, whatever they end up being.

If my baby were to share the day with Jesus, then I think that is a pretty good omen for his life. Part of the reason we picked his name, Bennett, was because of its meaning. It is derived from the Latin name Benedictus, which means blessed. No matter when our baby comes into the world, he will be blessed. Because he will be loved. He is loved. He has been loved before he was ever conceived.

Going into this Christmas, I hope we can all share our love for others, for ourselves, for our savior, Jesus.

Merry Christmas, lovelies. May we all experience a Christmas blessing.

Xo, C

…To Be Continued

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When We Found Out Sun, 04 Dec 2016 17:49:06 +0000 bostonOn May 5, 2016, aka Cinco De Mayo, Nick and I found out that we (or rather, I) were pregnant. We were visiting Nick’s family in Cape Cod. It was a blustery week, but a warm one because of all the company and family time. Before we left, my dad had made me a cocktail for before the plane, to celebrate the end of a school year — a tequila sunrise. I remembered him handing it to me, and thinking that the smell was overpowering. I could smell corners of grenadine and orange juice and tequila that I had never noticed before. And it was a little bit of a turn off. A few days before this, on the last day of my semester, I had put on a pot of coffee, and the aroma surprised me too. It was too much. Things smelled in ways I had never known.

Little did I know that a heightened sense of smell was an early sign of pregnancy.

In Boston, we enjoyed watching the Red Sox play at Fenway, along with an authentic Italian dinner in Boston’s Little Italy. And as the week went on, I felt that something was off. I bought a couple pregnancy tests a few days before my missed period, but was so nervous, half of them turned out unreadable. Literally, once fancy electronic one just said “Error.” The rare “successful” ones showed only one pink line (two lines mean you had a baby cookin’!). I was also taking the tests at night, when everyone was asleep, the opposite of when you were supposed to take them (bright and early in the morning). Maybe I was afraid that I would get two pink lines, and our entire world would change.

me-finding-outBecause, the one time I did the test in the morning, when I was supposed to, was on the day of my missed period. And there they were. Two parallel pink lines. Undeniably positive.

I remembered scurrying from the bathroom at Nick’s parents house, up the stairs to the bedroom we were staying in. I didn’t say anything to him. I knew he would come in, eventually. I told him I was going to be doing some writing.

I took the stick and threw it in a tissue and placed it on the dresser. When he came in, I awkwardly took out my phone  to begin filming him and said, “Go look over there.”

It was raining outside, and he walked over to the dresser and saw it. “Are you nick-finding-outserious?” he asked. His smile stretched long, across his face.

When big moments happen, the ones that excite me and change me, I am so filled to the brim with emotions, that I am often left mute, speechless. Where Nick can fill in the empty space with words, I can only listen and hope he continues talking.

This was that moment. We were both shocked and ecstatic — we had tried once. We were told that getting pregnant could take months and years and it could cause a lot of friction and pain in a marriage. But, with luck and gratitude, we were able to start off our journey positively.

So the rest of the evening, we found creative ways to tell his family. Nick and I were cooking everyone a taco feast, in celebration of Cinco De Mayo, and for our new news — we were going to be parents.

…To Be Continued.

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Hi Friends! Tue, 29 Nov 2016 01:20:39 +0000 Hi lovelies,

This is my new website. I’ll be blogging about all things writing, wife-hood, mama-hood, sibling-hood, and everything else in between.

Xo, C

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