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I let it go…

Memories are a funny thing, aren’t they?  The way they can evoke such raw emotion, as if they are real enough to touch.  If you’ve been reading this blog for any amount of time you probably know that I struggle with PTSD from time to time.  At one point, it literally consumed me.  I’m fortunate now that it’s just a small part of who I am.   I’ve been incredibly blessed to have a large network of people, who love my family, and hung on tightly as I pushed and roared through that dark time in my life.  

Still, there is something about late spring that feels eerily familiar.  Every year, spring builds to the anniversary of the accident.  I subconsciously feel it every time the air turns warm.  And, as I acknowledge “the date” is getting closer, I also realized this morning that I will probably always refer to life as BA (before accident) and AA (after accident). 

I heard a helicopter landing at a local hospital when I was walking into work this morning.

It almost crippled me. 

Those blades, whooshing against the blue sky and crisp  morning air, they rattled my bones.  It took me back to that old country road and I’m there again, suddenly, at the scene of the accident.  All I can hear is a helicopter approaching in the distance and I keep thinking, “that’s not for my son, it can’t be.”  I feel so alone on that road, even with people and emergency vehicles coming in and out.   

I can still see the people rushing by me as I watch in horror and shock.  It almost felt like I was watching a tv show.  I wasn’t an active player in it.  Shock is funny like that, effecting all of us differently.  I can feel my stomache drop and then overwhelming desire to shut my eyes and push all of it away. 

All of this, from a simple helicopter.

I imagine this memory will always be that clear.

I can’t see a helicopter without stopping to pray.  This morning, as I struggled to breath I prayed to God that the person inside survived, that they are loved, that their loved ones are okay, that they aren’t a child, that the doctors that are going to care for them are ready and able, that they walk away from this with faith that can move mountains. 

As I walked into work  this morning I remembered all the faces of my family members and friends that stood in that lonely emergency room waiting area that night, when I finally arrived.  It was packed full of people who loved my son and my family.  I couldn’t believe how many people got to the hospital in such a short amount of time.  All of them with a different story on how they heard the terrible news.  I still tear up thinking about them, just sitting there, waiting for me to arrive, praying for my son, holding their breath. I could see the fear in their eyes as they faked smiles and hugged me and asked if I was okay. I could tell they weren’t breathing normally, either.  I can still feel their arms as they wrapped around me and promised he’d be okay, we’d be okay.   Many of them stayed into the night and some through his entire surgery, waiting on pins and needles with us as we prayed for the doctor to walk through the doors with great news.  Many of them were there with me in the depths of my hell as I waited, still in shock, not sure how to be or act.  I could still feel their prayers after they left the waiting room, too.  There were so many people during that time that I will never EVER get to tell how much they truly changed me.  I hope they know.

Even more, I wish I could tell them how they continue to help me.  How every time I get thrown into a memory left behind by that horrible day, they are still the ones that pull me out, just the way they did that night.  And the weeks and months that followed.

This morning, when I heard the helicopter approaching, I remembered all of their faces and I said a quiet prayer for the person hovering overhead and then I thought of my friends and family and I thanked the Lord, out loud, for my blessings.  I prayed for the people that carried me during that time when the world felt too heavy. 

And, I let it go…for now.

(62 days until the 3rd anniversary)


May 17, 2012   112 Comments

Is This Thing On?

ahem. Hi, friends.

Please forgive me.  I know I’ve been gone from this space for quite some time now. For no real reason other than I just lost the joy that I felt in writing and I refused to clutter the internet with mindless garble and forced sentences.  There is too much of that out there.  While I know that nothing I write is earth shattering, I still want what I write to feel honest and real.  And, when I couldn’t do that, I took some much needed time off.   

My, how I’ve missed y’all.  I’m sure most of the people I loved to hear from are long gone, but I pray a few of you are still out there.   I can’t say I blame them for leaving. They probably quit checking for updates long ago…and I’ll miss them.  But, I understand. 

I’ve been incredibly busy just living and it’s been so great.  Isn’t there something truly amazing about the first few months of face-warming spring weather?  I makes me feel like anything is possible, like all is well in the world and love will conquer all.  All of that in a simple 75 degree day.  I can’t tell you how many times I’ve turned my face to the sun and thanked God lately.  Even though winter was uncommonly warm, that first indication that it was gone sure felt good. 

We’ve been playing copius amounts of baseball. Seriously serious amounts, actually.  Tell me, is there anything more adorable than little boys in baseball uniforms, spitting sunflower seeds in the dugout and harrassing pitchers with quirky chants? I can’t imagine there is.   And, that scene is framed by little sisters who play in the dirt and cheer for big brothers with an adorable lisp and zest.  ZEST, I tell you.  Sister brings the ZEST.

We’re in up to our shoulders in Crossfit.  I’m sure you’ve heard of it by now.  It’s a lifestyle really.  And one that I keep praying I’ll fall head over heels in love with.  But, I can’t lie, it’s hard to carve out time with all the baseball.  ALL. THE. BASEBALL.  

I miss this space.  This blank page.  This empty canvas.

I’ll be back again. SOON. I promise.

I’ve missed you.


May 15, 2012   19 Comments

Becoming myself.

I intentionally won’t be posting my weight today.  Because, while my Medifast journey is ultimately about weight loss, (let’s not kid ourselves) it’s also about finding the person I once was…and I just don’t talk about that enough when I refer to what this program is doing for me. 

Since the beginning, this journey to lose weight has been about finding my old self.  Rediscovering that person that loved life and approached it full of passion, energy and zest. I missed the days when I bubbled.  When I was able to shine, in sweats and dingy old t-shirts.  The days where life seemed to be full of endless possibility and it was mine for the taking. 

I have since eaten that person.

And I now know that I am capable finding her. Being her.

When I started Medifast I just wanted to  feel good again.  And, through this journey, I have slowly reintroduced myself to running, I have discovered a passion for yoga and meditation that I never knew existed, I have watched my new “mom-bod” take shape, and I have embraced the mommy-scars that are evidence that I love unconditionally. 

I am beginning to feel good on the inside again.

And I know the outside will soon follow.

In 50 pounds, I can’t tell you exactly how I will feel, but I imagine it will be amazing.  I imagine it quite frequently, to be honest.  And, Medifast does a great job of helping me visualize my dreams.  They love showing me success stories to keep me motivated. Stories like the one of Jessica Westmoreland, who lost 85 lbs with Medifast and has kept it off for 3 years. Since her weight loss, she has become an athlete, opened her own law firm, and gotten engaged! She’s a true example of how you can “Become Yourself” again with Medifast.

Jessica is also the star of Medifast’s new commercial - how cool is that??  Just imagine, losing 85 pounds, changing your life and then becoming an actress!

Here’s Jessica’s new commercial if you want to check it out for yourself – Medifast Success Story

Interested in Becoming Yourself again?


Medifast recently introduced a new customer savings program! If you use my new coupon code, MOMNOM56, and sign up for Medifast Advantage when you order $250+, you’ll receive 56 free Medifast Meals and free shipping! Medifast Advantage also has a lot of perks, including free customizable meals and a free BlenderBottle® with minimum purchase.

Here are the details: For your first order of $250+, use my code, and enroll in Medifast Advantage to receive 28 free meals. Do the same on your next order and you’ll receive ANOTHER 28 free meals! This offer is only valid if you enroll in Medifast Advantage, and it’s limited to one per customer.
(It’s not valid with prior purchases, any other promotions or discounts, or for Medifast Ready-to-Drink Shakes.)

Check out Medifast’s website for complete details on program and discounts.


*FTC Disclosure: I receive free product in order to evaluate and comment on my experiences on the Medifast program. Medifast products and the Medifast program are not intended to diagnose, treat, cure or prevent any disease or illness. Any medical improvements noted while on the program are related to weight loss in general, and not to Medifast products or programs.  And, since this is my blog and I DO WHAT I WANT, all the opinions expressed here, positive and negative, are mine. And cannot be bought.

February 1, 2012   14 Comments

Past the Earth, through the sky…

My Dearest Boy,

Sunday, you turn nine. You’re almost two full hands, can you believe it? It seems like just yesterday you changed my life forever.  You came into the world, just as you have lived in it these last nine year, wild and full of passion.  Determined to do things your way.  Ready to be doted upon by the large crowd anxiously awaiting you.  From the moment I laid eyes on you, the world was yours to have, and it was our very first secret.  

And I?  I was just the 19 year old girl playing fiddle in your background.  And I loved it.  Even then, I didn’t understand how deeply and profoundly you would change me.  Laying in the recovery room, I knew at first sight that I would forever be yours and you would be mine.   The bond between us was different than I imagined it would be…you were my first true love and my new best friend. 

Son, those words have never been more true than they are today.  That bond has gone un-touched.  Words like proud and honored and humbled do not do justice to the way I feel about being your mom.  In fact, there are no words on this earth that embody what you mean to me.   Someday, when you’re a parent, you’ll know what I mean.

You are so very smart, son.  I can’t tell you how many teachers tell me how worldly you already are.  Wise beyond your years.  You understand the world and how and why it works the way it does.  It seems you came into the world with that knowledge, you’ve always grasped things just outside others reach.  You are passionate, child.  You do everything with such joy and desire and intensity that it’s easy to see why you have so many friends. Your excitement is contagious.  You are fierce.  Especially when it comes to love.  You know you are loved and you return that same love with the most wild and fierce emotions available to a nine year old boy.  And above all, you care. Just last year, your teacher told me that you were the most compassionate and caring kid in her class.  She told me how concerned you always are for other people and their feelings. I cried right then and there, at the parent-teacher conference.  She could not have said anything to make me more proud to be your momma. Or your friend.

You are going to do wonderful things with your passionate, fierce, and caring life. I don’t worry about that.   I know you will make magic happen wherever this one life takes you.  My only worry is that you don’t leave your momma too far behind and that you never forget our path. 

I love you son.  I love you more. I love you most. I love you more than most.  Past the Earth. Through the sky. To the heavens.

You are my love.

January 27, 2012   14 Comments


I’ve been thinking (a lot) about my house.  It’s cute and all.  It just…needs some work. Bless its heart.

To be honest, it mostly needs people with expendable income…but, it’s not going to get that until we sell it.  So, in the meantime, I feel like it needs some work in the HOME department.

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January 25, 2012   17 Comments

On Toddlers & Faith.

I have spent a great deal of time over the last few days thinking about my spirituality.  I feel like it just isn’t being fed, if you know what I mean.  I reflect back on when I really felt in touch with my faith and I am reminded of a time not that long ago when yoga was part of my weekly routine.  

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January 23, 2012   22 Comments