I am about to tell you something that I couldn’t tell my friends or midwives at the time. I couldn’t even tell my husband, because I was scared if I said it out loud that it would be true.

Before #MissVee was born, I was afraid I wouldn’t love her.

Now that she is here, I feel I can say it out loud. It was a big fear of mine. For those who believe our brains can control our bodies, it could also be why she decided to wait 9 days past her estimated due date to make her appearance.

In terms of big psychological hang-ups, this one was pretty huge.

Last July, an unanticipated pregnancy was confirmed by early ultrasound. Two hours later, I found out that my brother died in a tragic motorcycle collision. My husband and older boys were out of town at camp and on a Scouts canoe trip — unreachable by phone. I was alone with my 4yr old. Frantic with grief, I holed up with my youngest and waited for the rest of my family to come home.

That week prevented me from attaching to my pregnancy.

I didn’t even try.

With my history of recurring pregnancy loss, and this pregnancy following hot on the heels of traumatic miscarriage at 12wks, I didn’t want to try. I steeled myself for another loss and got on with my life. I drove to Nova Scotia with my childhood best friend, her two boys and my three boys (all in one awesome Suburban, I will add) for my brother’s memorial service and to spend some time with my parents.

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Vee and Me #MissVee is 3 months old now. It is hard to grasp how quickly these early weeks have flown by, but they have and now that we’re heading into month 4, my fitness goals move higher on my list of priorities.

It is time to take my body back.

At the zenith of my pregnancy, I hit my heaviest weight: 210lbs. Before pregnancy, my resting weight was around 150lbs, and before kids it was around 120lbs.

GOAL: I have set a goal for myself of 135-140lbs.

I feel better at that weight, I like the way I look better at that weight –I never want to be that sickly-thin 120lbs again — and after birthing four lovely children, it is time to take my body back. I turn 40 next year, and unless technology advances faster than I think it will, there’s no way to turn back the clock or slow down time.

I am not getting any younger.

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I am reasonably certain this is the mug that started the whole thing:



I am outing myself here, but I saw this mug at our local thrift shop a couple weeks ago and it screamed a certain friend’s name to me, so I bought it, wrapped it in tissue and dropped it off at her workplace for her to find.


Who DOESN’T need a cat mug with a wee mousie hiding inside?


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Last July, my brother died.

I haven’t written much about him because I didn’t have room to explore those feelings when stressed over my pregnancy. I had to focus on putting one foot in front of the other and, sadly, grief can always wait. Since MissVee’s birth in February, they have been slowly coming to the surface.

My feelings take me by surprise — their ferocity takes my breath away.

I still can’t write about him. I’m not ready. Someday I will be ready, but that day is not today. That day won’t be tomorrow. I need more time to process the finality — the “goneness” — of his death and the impact it has on me.

What I can do is tell you a little story about some glasses.

These glasses:

These glasses have a story.

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