Struck today.

I've been anxiously awaiting the announcement of Lucky Blue & Stormi Bree's baby. When it popped up this morning, I did not expect to have the reaction I've had. Full body sobs. In waves, I am rocked hard. I swear I can feel my heart breaking in my chest. I can FEEL it. Overcome with a grief, a love, and a special kind of nostalgia that only a mother can know. Like death, you can never understand birth until you have experienced it. There is a beautiful and devastating permanence in both. In the midst of my breakup, I grieve. I grieve the potential of what could have been. I grieve the incredible experience of the birth of my son. I look at this photo, at this moment, and I know that moment. I am sad that moment for me was so fleeting. This moment is precipice. A new life lies ahead. I am sad for those who will soon find out how hard it could be, and who will be crushed by it. I am envious of those who will stay together, and be strengthened by it, and those who will get it again. I have so many wishes. I wish he would have had patience. I wish he would have seen me through. I wish he would have comforted me when I needed it, and been a source of emotional strength. I wish I could have explored with him deeply and openly conversations of how I experienced pregnancy, childbirth, post partum anxiety, parenting styles, my mother's instinct, second babies, timelines, hormones. Hormones, who only let me begin my return to myself after a year. I envy you with men who don't claim to understand, but those who give you time. Who give you room. Who let you breathe. Who let you talk about, until it is all out, who make you feel loved, not scolded, or hurried. I see this photo, and I remember the feeling of having it all. I was full, I was complete. It is a stark contrast to how I feel these days. A new sense of freedom, yes. But also a strange loneliness. Our son now 16 months. And I still feel that it is so very much at the beginning. And that this is all such a shame. We only got 6 months in our new house together, 2 of which he spent moved out anyway. How was this an honest attempt for us? What is wrong with admitting fault? Working hard? Therapy? Communication? I am still trying to process and reconcile so much of the last couple of years. I will forever be haunted that the last time my former love and I were under the same roof, I was called names, scared, trapped, and I will never forget the way his face would change as he yelled. "I wish I had never met you" he said. "I am mad at him", he said of the baby. I will be haunted forever that he didn't want to try. To work through his demons, our marriage, and fight for our commitment. I will forever be haunted by baby Rosemary, who was supposed to come next, and never will. My body feels hollow now. I don't understand why this happened, as I am in the throes of it. I don't understand how I started with so much love, and ended with so much fear. I am left wondering if I was just something on a checklist as he rushed his way through, a hurried imitation of a life he thought he was supposed to have. I am open, wounded, and sad. I'd waited so long. To find the one person I ever wanted any of this with. For the point in my life where taking a break from work in order to be with at home with a baby was welcome. Loss. So much loss. It's enough to drive a weaker soul mad. I can't stop looking at this photo. There is a bittersweet universe that opened up in me upon seeing it. Of all I had, have, and will never have. 

To those who have been here, how do you get through?

How??

Mother's Day

It's a Wednesday morning. Middle of the week. I have a minute to myself, and I notice how present I am. Completely dropped in. I think of eighth grade, when I went away to camp for a week for the first (and only) time. I'll never forget how Wednesday felt. I hated the camp, the kids were rude, and I desperately wanted to go home. When Wednesday hit, I had such an overwhelming feeling that I was stuck. Time was at a standstill and I was trapped in the thick of it. This particular day of the week, smack dab in the middle, felt like a non-day. I was no longer at the beginning, but I certainly wasn't at the end. I was present then too, but years later, the difference is that I no longer want out.

I have a one-year old son. One. I have been made mother for over one year. One. With such a big birthday and with Mother's day approaching again I am swirling with feelings trying to make their way out in the form of words. 

I am now a mother, but I am still so many people. They are all very much alive in me. I am that little girl, heartbroken on a Wednesday, on the outside looking in. I am nineteen. I've just moved to New York City where nightlife will explode open, my heart will be crushed, and my teardrops will be left quite literally on the sidewalks. My passions will bloom, my artistry will grow, and I will leave there a real actor. I am a first grader, hurt by getting my one time-out over a complete misunderstanding, and losing my chance at the end-of-year prize from the treasure chest. I am in my early twenties, years into the wrong story. I change my fate. I meet the man who is designed just for me, we have a child. 

Now there is you, my boy.

You were born, and my soul hit the earth with a boom. Mother. Cracked open, everything fell away. Only my purest self remained. I'd had yet to met her.

You have reframed the universe, and restructured time. I have never been so in awe of a person. You, who upon first glance I thought, "who is this?" Looking nothing like I'd thought. Surprising me at every turn. I don't see much of me in you. You are your own little creature. This makes you even more magical. The Little Prince, and I am the curious one, having landed on your planet. 

You. You are everyone who came before and those yet to be. You, who after the most beautiful delivery suddenly got sick. They said to us, "if this happened 100 years ago, he wouldn't be here." But it didn't happen 100 years ago. Time was kind to us, my darling, and let us meet now. We are here, and I still can't grasp it. That you are mine, for keeps. But I've often felt that way about your dad. Six years since we met and I still have to pause and catch my breath. 

There is simply not time for anything that is not urgent. Or important. For time is liquid gold. If it takes me away from you it has to be worth it. There is no other option. 

You remind me that we are all perfect exactly as is from the second we burst into being. More than ever, I laugh at the labels we draw with the earth and with each other. We are all so much more than human and the silly rules we've made. I want such a much bigger, opened-minded earth for you, my boy. 

I saw you years before I knew you. I felt you close by just before you came to us. 

Life exploded into color when you arrived. I will be forever grateful for you, for making me a mother. For leading me my truest self. Little love of my life.

My boy, who shifted all of my selves into perfect harmony. Who taught me to love time, every second of the existence I've chosen (eternel retour) and even to love every Wednesday.


Previous post:  THE BOY 
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Content.

Content.

That's the word.

Today I told my husband that I had no idea how content I'd feel to be at home, be with our boy. You can't possibly know how you'll feel pre-baby, but I assumed I'd want to continue life as usual, with baby now added. But I can't.

I am so content to be Charlie's mom at the moment, that I'm finding myself turning down work. Me five years ago couldn't have done this. Work was the most important thing in my life. Staying "relevant". The thought of "giving it up" for a baby wasn't an option. It was hardly a desire.

Fast forward to meeting the love of my life and doing a complete 180 with my feelings about having a baby, and here we are. A little over two months in and I can honestly and wholeheartedly say I love being his mom. He awakened a patience in me I never knew I had.

I believe in reincarnation. I believe we have certain lessons each cycle. I know mine this round have been patience, acceptance, and being present. I believe life hands us these lessons again and again until we finally get it. I have been through so many life experiences, and had countless opportunities to learn these lessons, but it just never quite clicked. Until Charlie.

He made patience and being in the moment absolutely bloom in me. It happened so naturally that I'm only now realizing the way it snuck up and seeped in. I so aware of what a privilege it is to be his mom. I'm so aware that it's going to go by fast, already is. I am so aware of how much this tiny being needs me. I can't imagine putting anything in front of this time. It is so, so very precious. I know I'll never regret saying no to anything that will take me away from him. Not anytime soon. Not during this babyhood I'll never have with him again.

Recently I turned down a play. Having lived my new life for two months now, I see that it's mom and only mom who will be putting him to bed anytime soon. We've established our routine. And as it's just the two of us home during the day, we've become so bonded. How could I leave him every weeknight for over a month and most of every Saturday to rehearse when he's so brand new? I signed up for this, I'm showing up for this.

I don't mind being tired. I don't mind saying no. I don't mind having a hard time fitting in a shower, or realizing I've been in the same t-shirt for days. It doesn't matter. Nothing is better than him smiling at me. Or how he'll stop crying once he's in my arms. Every morning I wake up excited. I have butterflies all the time. 

I am truly content. I never thought contentment was something I'd feel so fully.

I can't believe how much this little soul has given me and taught me in the last 9 weeks. No way am I missing out on one thing he's here to show me.

Sure, I'll resume a few projects. But nothing that takes me away for too long. I'm going to be stingier with my time.

Charlie's mom first. Everything else, second.


xo

Deena

Milestones

In the last few weeks I've learned more than ever to appreciate the little things. Stolen moments of time to myself, bits of quality time with my husband. I've also learned just how big the big things are, like our baby reaching one month, and meeting his Great Grandma for the first time.

Becoming a mom is the hardest thing I've ever done. Nobody can prepare you for how hard and truly life-altering it is, no matter how many times you hear that it will be. But it's also filled me with more love than I ever would have thought possible. I ache for my baby when he's in someone else's arms. I miss him when he's across the room. I can't get enough of him. I can't imagine there's anything better than staring at his beautiful face. 

To my surprise, motherhood has brought out a new confidence in me. I've never felt better as far as being at home in my own skin. 

I've always loved documenting and sharing in pictures, especially at this time in my life. After the baby and I wrapped a photoshoot yesterday, I had to get out in the beautiful weather. I love spring.

This is the most significant spring yet. All is new. 

Necklace available at Got Beauty $14.99

Thanks for reading,

DM

A promise to my baby

A promise to my baby

Becoming a mother is a complete transformation. When I became one last month, I felt nothing short of having been reborn a completely new species. I even experienced inhabiting my physical body differently. I felt so fragile, small, and new. 

While I was pregnant I tried to enjoy it, but honestly I couldn't wait for it to end. I wanted my baby out, here with us. I'm better with what I can see with my own eyes and touch with my own hands. The unknown was stressful to me. All I could do was long for the future.

I'm a firm believer that we control how time passes. Just think about the way one day can fly, another drag when they have the same amount of hours. We spend a lot of our time reflecting on the past, or waiting for the future. Living in the present is the hardest thing we humans have to master.

After childbirth, the way I experienced time completely changed. 

Now that my baby is finally here, I understand the concept of time like never before. I have now lived through a pregnancy and birth, two of the biggest life-altering experiences a woman can have. I see that it's possible to get through, and that there's no way out but through. Above all, I see that all is temporary. Concepts I knew prior, but now run incredibly deep. Through my being, through my soul. 

I read a quote once that said something like, "everyone, everything, everywhere, ends." I don't want to miss a single phase of him. Everything else can wait. Life will resume before I know it. The days of hibernating with my newborn son will end. I want to memorize him him exactly as he is right now, and in each moment.

My promise to my baby is to always be present with him.

Time feels tangible. It feels urgent. It doesn't lag, and it doesn't jump ahead. I see how much my son has grown in just one month. With this new life comes the gift to truly see and experience living in the moment. That's him. And I promise to be present for every phase, every age, every day.


Special thanks to Walmart and Pampers for parenting with me for the #MothersPromise challenge.


Thanks for reading.

Oh, and moms! Since there's little time to go anywhere, and we run out of diapers in the blink of an eye, be sure to place an order for a giant box of Pampers from Walmart who will deliver them right to your front door. I just got my delivery and let me tell you, I'm so appreciative of the little things that can make life a bit easier now that I'm a mom!  Click here.   



Deena Marie




Sponsored Post. 

The Birth Story (Part II)

Click HERE to read Part I, which is labor through birth, and up to this point.

I ask that those reading tread lightly here. I'm not looking for advice, opinion, or judgement on my experience, I'm simply writing as I always do. With the intention to purge, to document, and with hope that someone who has gone through something similar finds comfort in my story.


The week after Charlie's birth. 

There are things I heard that week in the hospital that will stay with me forever.

If this had happened a hundred years ago, he wouldn't have made it.
He calmed down when his mom came in.
Things look a little different this morning.
It was bad.
He was sick.
The fevers were a big deal.

I don't know how we got through that week. I guess the same way we got through labor.
You just do.
You just get through.

After his beautiful one minute and thirty six second birth, came a nightmare. We were thrown into a completely unexpected and unnatural experience as first time parents.

I still don't feel ready to write about his and I don't think I ever will, but as we approach the one month milestone, I know I need to get it out sooner rather than later. It's not as fresh as it was while I was living it, but that's a good thing for me at this point.

Charlie had just been born. We had two hours of sacred time. I was put in my wheelchair, my newborn baby in my arms, and we were taken up to my recovery room. Room 319. I remember eating the turkey sandwich I had ordered. I'd been waning a turkey sandwich for months. I remember nurses taking the baby to the nursery for routine testing. He was supposed to be right back. I will never forget the look on my husbands face when he came back into the room, my mom following behind. No baby. I knew something was wrong. I feel the lump of sadness swell in my chest just thinking about it. It seemed like an eternity for my husband to get his words out. "Um...he has to stay in there tonight." Something with the word respiratory. Something about him breathing too fast. The next thing I knew I was being put back into the wheelchair so I could get in there. I didn't even get to say goodbye to my parents.

Later my mom would say, "You know what really touched my heart? I could see Matt through the nursery windows, they were talking to him, and his face just fell. Then he leaned over and kissed Charlie." 

My baby was crying. I put my hand on him and started talking to him. He calmed down. "He knows your voice" someone said.

My baby had just had an x-ray. There was fluid in his lungs. Could be amniotic fluid he needed to cry out, he hadn't cried much at birth, so they told us crying was a good thing. It could also be infection. There was talk again of our fevers at birth. There would be antibiotics. IV's. Poking and prodding. For one full week.

I don't remember a lot about the rest of that night. I could ask my husband to remind me of the details, but I'm not ready.

I do remember falling asleep on my back that night. It had been months since I'd been able to do that. I couldn't believe how abruptly pregnancy ends. There is no transition. Once the baby is out, it is done. No more heaviness in my pelvis. No more backache. No more side sleeping. No more craving chocolate milk and apples.

I had no idea this was the beginning of one of the worst weeks we could imagine. All in room #319. I had no idea I would experience the kind of anxiety and PTSD in this week that I had only felt one other time. In 2012. The most awful year of my life.

I think we were left with hopeful words when we went to sleep, but I was deflated. The plan was for our baby to never leave our side. This was supposed to be the happiest time. What was happening with our baby? I couldn't accept a "congratulations" from anyone after that. I didn't know what was in store. That's as much as I care to say about where my dark thoughts were drifting. We were woken by a nurse in the morning telling us that "things look a little different today." Even now, typing this, my heart sinks in my chest all over again as I remember what that felt like to hear. There was another x-ray. There was still something in his lungs. He was sick. Infection. Later pneumonia.

I could and maybe should have kept track of each day, but it would break my heart all over again to re-read and re-live it. I barely left one small hospital room for seven days. The nursery was right across the hall. I went back and forth, and nothing else existed. Eventually they let Charlie come back to our room, and sleep in #319 with us. Nurses would come in through the night. Pediatricians would come in each morning. Night, day, and life were constantly interrupted. They came in to flush his IV, for his vitals, and temperature. I soon found myself holding my breath as I waited for them to tell me the results of each. All day. Every day. He went to the nursery for his meds in the morning and the evening. Putting an IV in a brand new baby is hard. It came out often. NICU had to come up to put it in again. Poked and prodded. Poked and prodded. An IV in his hand with a diaper wrapped around to keep it safe. It still fell out. A dark bruise on his foot from an attempted IV. The IV in his scalp. No new mom should ever have to see her new baby like this.

By the end, it scared me how routine this was becoming. It also scared me how helpless I was feeling as I became dependent on another nurse or pediatrician to tell me things were okay, and tell me what to do. How was I ever supposed to trust my instincts now? How would I ever relax? How would I tell if he was okay?

There was the morning one pediatrician told us how bad it was, and how amazing of Charlie to let us know there was a problem so they could catch it. "Thank god for modern medicine. If this had happened one hundred years ago, he wouldn't be here. He'll be your little angel." I think this was day two. New mom. New baby. Day TWO.

There was the night the nurse took him to flush an IV and it took longer than usual. I went to look for him, and she was on the phone with the on-call pediatrician, asking what to do because he had a temperature. They had him stripped down to his diaper, rocking him, cooling him off. No. No no no. This can't be happening. This time I knew what it was. I trusted my instincts and I was right. He'd had his first bath. I had the heat up a little too high in our room and him bundled a little too much. Once he cooled down his temperature was fine. But this meant repeating the story to the pediatricians in the following days when they'd see he'd had a temperature and look alarmed. Then I'd start to get scared all over again.

There was the day when someone mentioned jaundice (false alarm). Meningitis (no meningitis). Him loosing too much weight waiting for my milk to come in. It was one thing after another. I felt like we could not catch a break, and I felt myself becoming crippled with fear. I can't stress enough how much the nurses came in through the night. Each time I'd be woken up from sleep, I'd wake terrified. I was waiting for bad news each time. My heart would pound. I'd feel sick. I was waiting for the unthinkable. I found myself with PTSD from that first night and the bad news.

And the dreams. I had three of the most vivid, disturbing, anxiety dreams. I was in a car, heading for a crash. I could see it coming and I couldn't avoid it. I was trying my hardest to stay in my lane but I was going into oncoming traffic. I woke up with my foot trying to slam on the break. I dreamt I was trying to run to my dad, trying my hardest to get to him in a straight line but I was so dizzy I started falling and tumbled away from him. The last dream I was swept away at sea.

I felt like I could lose my mind. My baby was constantly being taken away, and his sleep interrupted to be poked and prodded. I couldn't leave room #319. I couldn't fall asleep in my husbands arms. I was stuck with this tiny hospital bed, and he with an uncomfortable futon.

There was the day toward the end where two nurses saw me. Really saw me. Asked me how I was. They brought in little handmade hats and let us choose one. One nurse tossed me an extra on the way out. I was so fragile at that point. The gesture was enormous.

There was the night I was seeing things.

There was the day we walked to another part of the hospital and briefly outside. My heart pounding the whole time to be out of room #319, and more than just a few feet away from my baby. I truly felt I was on the verge of crazy. My life was now living in that room, waiting for nurses to tell me what was either wrong or right with my sick baby. My life was now going to the nursery for my baby's scheduled meds. How was there ever going to be life outside of this?

I'd look at my husband with him. He was so natural with him. I was blown away how his instincts kicked in right away. I felt so frozen with fear, I relied on him so much to help our son, and help me. He took the lead a lot. He was great with diapers, talking with the nurses, everything. I felt like he was so much better at this than me. I felt lost. I just didn't know what the outcome would be. But Id' look at him, and think, "this is his experience, too." Whatever was going to happen, he was going to go through it as well. And the unthinkable was just not going to happen for my Matt. It just wasn't. It just couldn't. Knowing he was living this too was maybe the only thing that kept me from truly losing my mind.

I cried all the time. I felt turned completely inside out. I also felt so full of love for both Matt and Charlie it hurt. Whenever Charlie was out of our room I physically ached. I've never known that feeling before. It literally hurt to be separated.

I could go on, listing all the jargon we heard that scared us. The traumatizing trips to the nursery, but I think I'm done. I'm just done digging it up over and over. It hurts too much.


At the end of the week I found myself so ready to be home and away from the interruptions of the nurses, that my desire to be done outweighed the stress I thought I'd feel to be without them. I was so worried I'd be dependent on them, but I was ready for it to be just the three of us. I was ready to figure out what that would even be like, one week late. I was ready to start to learn who my baby was outside of all of that, and let my own instincts kick in.

He'll be a month in two days. Now our week in #319 seems like a lifetime ago. I have my moments where I will feel a traumatic ping of something I experienced that week, but for the most part I'm doing great. I had to leave the rough beginning behind, and move forward. I had to let myself believe the doctors, that Charlie was healthy. That he would be okay. 

That week did leave me as an extra worried and paranoid mom. Each day gets easier, but there have been times when I have felt at a bit of a loss and some panic, still wishing there was someone to tell me whatever he is doing is normal. I've had a hard time with other people holding him at times, or wanting to visit. I can still ache when he's just across the room. A part of me wants to hibernate with him forever.

I can never go back to who I was before Charlie, I can never go back to who I was before Charlie. 

I can't even explain to you the hug between myself and my husband once we put the carseat in the car,  oncethe nurse left, and we were free.

I'll never be able to put into words the sadness I felt when we came home. The bed still unmade. Just as we'd left. Who knew what was in store that morning I woke up at 2:30 with contractions. I felt heartbroken for the version of me I now was, versus just one week ago.

That's where I'll leave that part of the story. It's just time to be done.

And now?

Charlie is great. He is okay. He is strong. He is healthy. He is so beautiful.

It's never felt better to keep moving forward.




xo Charlies' mom.

What's on the inside

I have sat down to write about my personal pregnancy journey this far (nearing week 34) a few times now, and it never comes out right. While it feels good for me to purge my thoughts, it doesn't end up being something I want to post. I suppose that falls in line with how I've felt all along the way. Tidbits are fun to share, but only to a point. This is such a private, vulnerable, and intimate time. I am reluctant to let the world in. I'm not even sure what I want to say today.

I saw this photo and it touched me deeply. The phrase that sprang into my mind was, "It's what's on the inside that counts." I giggled to myself, but these words have never rang more true to me as they do with pregnancy. This may be repetitive to you if you've been following my blog, but I've had a hard time with everyone commenting on appearance. Mine, and pregnant women in general. It's like it's the only thing anyone can, wants, or knows how to talk about. They compare you to others, or their former pregnant selves, they hijack your stories to talk of their own experience, and they offer unwelcome advice.

It's hard enough to trust your own body, which is now doing something it's never done before, and get comfortable in skin you've never lived in before. With all the information out there, books to read, the focus narrowed to our outward appearance of what our growing bellies look like, all that's sacred about pregnancy is easily lost in the shuffle.

I've had quite an internal struggle with the concept of trust. The further I get and can look back on my pregnancy, I see (knock on wood) it's been fairly smooth sailing. The problem is, I've spent the majority of my pregnancy afraid of what my body will or will not do. It's been a time of great stress for me. It's been eye opening to see that for most of my life I haven't trusted my own body. I've been waiting for it to fail me in some way, and for no reason. It hasn't done so yet.

Why aren't we helping to empower pregnant women instead? Why aren't we simply listening to whatever they choose to share about their experience, or expressing genuine happiness for them and leaving it at that? Why do we instead offer unsolicited advice? Or tell them they look bigger than her, or smaller than her? How is this helpful in any way? Why aren't we connecting deeper as not only women and mothers, but as fathers and humans?

This is the time to reshape the frame we hang any and all ideas of what womanhood and human life mean. 

I am reminded once again that life and birth are part of the same whole. Until you experience it (especially that earth-shattering first), there is no way you can fully relate. With both there is transformation. There is the deepest permanence. An end, and a beginning. A metamorphosis that can only come with life, and with death.

It's a rearranging of identity, and purpose, and intention of how we will now choose to live.

It can be fun to document through imagery a growing belly. For my sake mostly, but also for my family and friends. But that's just the external. Belly size, maternity clothes, and weight gain are the last on the list of what's interesting about pregnancy, not to mention what matters.

It's my journey of pregnancy, yes. But even more, it's his journey. It's his journey into life.

I'm merely a vessel. 

I prefer to concentrate on the depth of what this experience is as the two of us race toward the finish line. Our combined energy is palpable. I prefer to think about how I will explain the world to him when he is here. I'd rather wonder how sensitive, dreamy, and wise my little pieces may or may not be, and how no matter what he is I will never label it. I will never tell him he should be one thing, or should not be another, or should have any other interest or love than whatever he will innately bring into the world. I will teach him from day one that the universe is vast, the possibilities are endless, and the only right way is the right way for him. I'd rather focus on what it may feel like in six-ish weeks from now when my body, heart, and soul crack open in ways I can only begin to fathom. When I get to meet someone I somehow know, but have never seen.

This, this, all of this...

This is for him.



"There is no way out of the experience except through it, because it is not really your experience at all but the baby's. Your body is the child's instrument of birth."
-Penelope Leach 



xo Deena Marie

Avenues Adventure!

Last week I spent an evening touring the beautiful new homes at Avenues at The Station by Oakwood Homes. It was a small group of us invited for the night, and included two of my favorite girls!

Kat Romrell (left) Jaci Twiss (right)

Can you believe we all matched like this, completely unplanned?


Here's the funny thing about this event. My husband and I are already in love with Station Park. We go up quite a bit and since the weather has been particularly nice for this time of year, we've spent the last three Saturdays sitting outside on the cozy couches by the fountain, sipping a Fiiz drink and relaxing for a couple of hours before we shop and have lunch up there.

One of my favorite restaurants at Station Park is Twigs Bistro, I went for the first time last March for my birthday dinner. So I was excited to hear that our dinner at the event was going to come from Twigs. We met in the first of the five model homes we would tour, and started off with appetizers and placed our dinner order. Penne chicken pasta for me.

I've been to a couple of Oakwood events and this just may have been the best yet. The timing for this one was perfect. We are talking about a house fairly soon in our (hopefully not too distant) future what with the baby on the way, and it was fun to see what's developing in a favorite area of ours.

I'm always impressed with what is included in an Oakwood home as far as the various layouts, and the options. So many of the details are customizable. The options really are endless. Each of the five model homes we toured were stunning and impeccably decorated. Each varied in square footage, but the way they were laid out, they always seemed spacious. The high ceilings, windows, and decks also add to the feel of lots of light and room.

It's mine & my husbands dream to have a video game room! I died when I saw this!

And of course the first picture I even took was of a nursery! Look how cozy.


These definitely have more of an urban, city vibe. But you truly can design it to customize your needs. Young couples, couples with kids, empty nesters, mother-in-law-apartments, you name it.

It's so much fun to go get ideas of how you'd love your own dream home laid out, not to mention color scheme and decor ideas!

Our delicious dinner happened in the beautiful dining area of the fourth home, and by the time we got to the fifth home for desert, the feeling was mutual, we were all in love with the beautiful homes. We were not ready to leave!

The Oakwood team truly is incredible. They are so nice, they take time to chat and get to know you, and are nothing but genuine as they show off each gorgeous space. We had a blast with them. It was not only a comfortable way to see the homes, but a luxurious one as well.

The other thing that is still blowing my mind is the price! For such a great area (within walking distance to shops and dining at Station Park, close to public transit and freeways) and brand new homes, you'd think the pricing would be nuts. But guess what? Almost all are under 300K. WHAT?! Unheard of. Trust me, we've been looking!

I came away from the night feeling like the possibilities are endless for how we'll create our future home, and new ideas to define what the space of a home will mean for us and our future babe.

If it were up to me, we'd be up there in a heartbeat. Seriously. Now to work on the husband…

Than you, Oakwood for another amazing event!

Deena Marie

Pregnancy Boundaries

Before I got pregnant I blogged about how inappropriate people can be by asking when you're going to have a baby. I always found it offensive because A.) It's none of their business. B.) It's asking about your sex life, if your finances are in order, if you and your partner are mentally and emotionally ready and on the same page for a baby. C.) It assumes you are able to get pregnant at all. Maybe you have already have been trying without success, or maybe you have experienced miscarriages. People don't stop to think that those thing might be a possibility. Not to mention there's no way to know when someone (who even wants to) will get pregnant. Maybe the first try, maybe the fiftieth.

So fast forward, here I am. I'll be six months pregnant next wednesday.

I've talked a lot about being an HSP (highly sensitive person) and I think pregnancy heightens this a bit for me, but I do find myself easily offended while pregnant.

I may be in the public eye. I may perform. I may be on tv. I may be in magazines. I may have jobs that require an audience. However, this does not mean that I am always comfortable with all eyes on me. Especially outside of work. Especially when it comes to matters of the heart that feel fiercely intimate, and that I feel protective and private over. Having a baby, making a human with the one I love, growing him inside of my body feels like the most intimate thing I could ever do publicly. It's funny because we talk about acting as "doing something private in public" but this feels even more so. I didn't know I would feel like this. I didn't know how exposed and vulnerable I would feel.

The strangest thing is that it is a time of a woman's life where people seem to think all bets are off. It is a time of nonstop commenting on the body. You don't look pregnant, you do look pregnant, let me see, are you showing, etc. They give you unsolicited advice. The overpower your conversation to tell you what they or so-and-so in their family did or didn't do. They touch without permission. They compare what you look like to their pregnancies or so-and-so's pregnancy. You look smaller, you look bigger. Everyone has something to say about your body. Never (or rarely), at any other time of life would this be acceptable.

Could you even imagine behaving this way around any other woman who is not pregnant?

I have often felt on display, to be discussed, poked and prodded.

I don't like it. I don't like feeling like a spectacle. I don't like the unwanted comments on how my body may or may not be changing, or the touching. And some days I've just had enough and it becomes overwhelming.

Let me be. Obviously I'm pregnant. This we all know. I'm going to look however I'm going to look whenever my body does whatever it's going to do. I'm healthy, I'm happy, I couldn't be more excited about it. But just remember that it's mine. My body, my pregnancy. My baby with my husband. It's personal. My entire experience is valid, and my experience is unique to me. I don't need my experience or body discussed as if I'm not a human with feelings, nor do I need to be compared with anyone else.

Please remember that pregnant women are moody, hormonal, and have mama bear instincts kicking in already. If I ask you for advice, if I offer to show you how my tummy is coming along, then that's one thing. Otherwise, maybe keep comments (and hands) to yourself, other than just offering your words of general support and / or excitement?

Just as you would at any other time, and just like you would want at any given time, remember this one word.

Boundaries.

Right after I wrote this, I was sent an amazing article by a friend who is also expecting her first, six weeks after me. These words were perfect:

"… pregnant women constantly hear comments, often contradictory, about how big or small they are, says ob-gyn Laurie Gregg of Sacramento, California. "Patients never come in saying they think they're just the right size," says Gregg. "They always think they're too big or too small." Despite what her pregnant patients are hearing, Gregg says most of the time they're just the size they should be. "I'm fascinated that society can't tell a pregnant woman she looks just right," says Gregg. "We need to tell women they're looking good."

Full article here.  

Thank you for reading, and thank you for all the love and support you've shown me and my family! :)


DM

Christmas shopping AND a contest!

Want to win a $100 gift card to Trolley Square? I'll tell you how, keep reading! 

Last night I got to attend one of my favorite blogging events for the second year in a row at Trolley Square. We kicked off the night with dinner at Rodizio Grill. I went to an event at Rodizio over the summer and was nervous I might not find much I could eat, since I only eat chicken and turkey and I'm very picky about either of those. What I didn't expect was how amazing their salad bar was! So much to choose from, and so surprisingly vegetarian friendly that this time I was able to take my vegetarian husband with me, knowing he'd love it.

We loaded up on various salads, breads, cold pastas, and tasty sides like mashed potatoes and warm pasta. There was also soup, fruit, and many other things we didn't even get to this time. We probably should have stopped after the first plate, but it's impossible. The sweet and sour chicken they brought out was tasty, too. If you are a meat eater, you've got so much to choose from! Chicken, red meat, pork, shrimp, meat wrapped in bacon, the list goes on.

Once we were stuffed, it was time to shop! It's not hard to have a shopping spree at Trolley Square, although this year was different since we've got our baby on the way (in one week I'll be six months)! This time we went straight to Pottery Barn Kids, with the fun of shopping being first and foremost for the baby.

Neither of us had ever been in before, and we spent a good half an hour there. From day one, Matt has been so amazing and thoughtful at preparing for and picking things out for our boy. He is going to be one incredible dad. Look at some of his finds!

A sun hat & diaper cover for a summer vacation his family is planning.

A matching hooded towel.

I picked out the coziest blanket. And Matt also found the cutest sippy cup for when he's older with the initial of his first name on it. I haven't revealed his name publicly yet, so I'm not going to post that one.

We also have our eye on a solar system mobile. Unfortunately it was out of stock, and while they ship, we figured we'd wait and go back anyway. Such cool stuff for both boys and girls. Including some awesome unicorn items in the girls section I had to go peek at!

We also got a couple of things for us at Williams Sonoma. Matt got kitchen items and I got yummies to take with us out of town for Thanksgiving. Their treat samples and hot cider are ridiculously good. I can't stop thinking about the cider and might need to go back.

We finished off the night at Spark. I love the sweater and bag I got there last year, so I was excited to go back. I got another sweater that I can wear as the baby bump grows and a new necklace / earrings.

Trolley Square is all decked out for the holiday season, and it makes it super cozy to shop! Just look.

After last night I truly feel the holiday season is here! It was fun to get started, get excited, and also meet so many other fabulous bloggers. It must be baby season because so many were expecting babies as well! It was awesome to get to talk to them about how far along, boy or girl, etc.

We've only got a little over a month until Christmas. What?! I highly suggest checking out the completely different and unique shops at Trolley Square!


AND. If you head over to Trolley, snap and post a photo on your instagam or Facebook with the hashtag #mytrolleysquare you just might win one of the $100 gift cards they're giving away weekly now - Christmas! 


Happy Holidays!


DM

The women we don't speak of.

I've been thinking about this for awhile. This is probably one of the most personal entries I could ever write. The internet and social media is saturated with mommy bloggers. Women posting about their pregnancies, and what they're learning as they set off on the journey of new mom. It's a club you don't belong to until you become a mother yourself. Babies. Toddlers. Everywhere. Women sharing jokes, and advice, and parenting tips among themselves, all able to relate to each other. This isn't hard to find. You're probably a click away from finding one now.

Then there are stories of women who tried to get pregnant, but weren't able to. There are blogs and articles dedicated to infertility. There aren't as many dedicated to this side, but they're out there.

Lately, I've found myself asking the question, "what about the in-between?" There is a group of us who lie in the haze of the middle. The group of women currently trying. We are floating in the grey area, without belonging to one category or the other. It's a strange, anxious, and superstitious place to be. Half of the month you may be sure you aren't. This is either a hopeful or hopeless phase, depending, I've found. More on that in a bit. The next half of the month you are with, and without. You proceed accordingly, but what does that mean? You may treat yourself as though you are, but if you find you're not, it's back to square one. 

This is the hardest place. It's hard not to be frustrated. To scare yourself by wondering if something is wrong. To put pressure on yourself. The emotional roller coaster is constant.

I find it spills over into many aspects of my life. It obviously affects what I eat and drink, but also my mood, and what activity I may choose to do on a weekend. It affects conversations, and how social I may feel. You must dance around your conversations and plans because you don't yet know yourself. You can't plan something months ahead since you have this priority, yet you don't know for sure, and you don't know when. You can't really talk about what you're going through, so you try to adapt as best as you can to this new existence where it all revolves around trying. A couple of weeks of extreme hope, and a couple of weeks of extreme disappointment. How I'm going to behave that month purely depends where you catch me. I'd say sorry, but I'm not. My husband, my well being, and this future family trumps everything. That's why this is hard. 

When you tell someone you're trying, in hopes of some support, you wish you hadn't more often than not. Even other women, and women who are mothers, seem to forget that before they had their babies they too went through this fragile, sacred time. A time that will be short for some, long for others. 

They ask you when. When hurts. It's impossible to know. If only we had control of what month we could get pregnant. What month we'd like a baby to be born. If only. Some know you're trying, but ask when anyway. Some make jokes. Some tease you that you are, or going to be soon, when they don't know what you've embarked on, and what you've already been experiencing. I've already written about the insensitivity of this for YoU Mag (Are you pregnant yet? Page 13) . You don't know your ultimate outcome, and what if (god forbid) you end up falling in the can't category?

Why aren't there blogs or articles dedicated to us? Who live in half hope, half disappointment each month? Who don't yet belong to a can or can't category? Who buy expensive test after test, heart pounding as we wait for the result. Who are dying for this to be the time we get to tell our husband, "I'm pregnant!" Who can sometimes power through, with faith that it's just not our time. But who sometimes spend the day crumbling, fighting back heartbreak, sure it's never going to happen. Those days, and very well the days that follow, I retreat from the world. I feel I have failed. Again.

I know I'm not alone, and I'd sure like to hear the words of others who get it. We're our own club. There is more to it here in the club of trying than I'd expected. It's definitely different than life before. I'm no longer a woman existing as I did before we decided to join.

I am reluctant to write this. This means letting even more people in on my most personal plans. But I'm in the category of women that we don't speak of, so I'm speaking about us. I'd like to meet my others. This is it's own club and I'd like to know where my women are that exist this way each month, emotionally exhausted, and wondering when it's finally going to end. 

~DM