Sharing the Event of Mother’s Day

I may not be rich. I may not be successful. I may not be gorgeous. But I make a darn cute kid, as is evidenced by the photos I’m including. Yes, I’m showing her off today. That’s practically my sole reason for blogging. She’s cute. Indulge me. Eddie treated me to a brunch at Montelle Winery in Augusta, MO, Sunday. If you know me, you know it’s one of my favorite places. To top it off, he even coordinated with my mom, and she came along, too! Three generations of Tracy/Adamson/Strimel girls noshing on good food. What could be better?

In spite of the wonderful parts, Mother’s Day was bittersweet this year. It was our last day in St. Louis and my brand new pregnancy–just confirmed last Wednesday–began miscarrying late the day before. Kind of a kick in the pants for a day devoted to mothers but, hey, stuff happens. I figured I could sit around all crampy and sad or just buck up and get on with business. I got on with business, and it was a nice day. Now I don’t advocate miscarrying and moving 700 miles in three days, but it taught me about strength and the human mind. It’s a load of crap that happiness is what you make it but…big but…you can do a lot to turn things around just with your head.

So my sage advice that I like to offer along with these philosophical pieces is this: take care of yourself, take care of those you love, and remember that you are stronger than you think you are. I don’t care who you are, what’s wrong with you, or what you’ve been through in the past…you will surprise yourself by what you can handle. And if you need to sit down and cry once it’s all over, that’s okay too.

Oh, and if you’ll permit me a couple of seconds…I think this little one was a boy. I just want to tell the world that he existed even though it was just a few weeks. If there’s a heaven somewhere, I hope he’s with his little sibling and all the little ones like him.

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Lobsters, miscarriages and mid-life crises

As my first post, I think a little “about me” is in order. Taboo subject or not, I lost a baby about 6 months ago. You have to understand that I’m very pragmatic and, on the outside, I was taking it very stoically. It wasn’t until I sat crying in my ob/gyn’s office at 16 weeks pregnant and right before an inevitable D & C that I realized I was a little messed up by the whole experience. And trust me, being 36 years old wasn’t helping anything. A miscarrying embryo, surging hormones, a little mid-life crisis…what a cluster. My ob, or should I said Ste. Karyn Fowler (who is no longer practicing sadly), gave me a tissue and said “I have a story for you. It’s weird but don’t stop me. Just listen, my friend.” And right then she calmed me. Whether it’s true or not, this is what I heard (in my own words)…

A lobster is never more vulnerable than when it molts its exoskeleton. Eventually, though, it has to as it begins to feel cramped, stifled, and uncomfortable in its own skin. It realizes that there’s no other option than to molt…dangerous or not. In order to molt, though, it has to find a safe place to settle while it’s without protection. When the lobster knows it’s time to molt, it begins surveying the sea to find this safe place. Once found, the lobster molts and begins growing a new shell that fits, that feels comfortable, and works for the lobster.

With that, she laughed (and hugged me so tightly I felt like I could let go for a minute) and said “you’re molting.” And boy, am I ever molting. The weird hormones are gone (along with my little one who is resting peacefully, I hope…mama loves you, my dear)  but I’m still searching, trying to better myself and find the real me. My reason for starting this blog is because I guarantee you I am not the only one in my boat. I am a mom, a fashionista, a driven working woman (who is taking some time off), and I’m exploring my options for a safe place to molt as well as how I want that new shell to look. Hell, I’m not even sure what’s going to happen when I molt. I just know there’s something big afoot. Explore it with me, won’t you? I’m putting myself out there. Let’s see what happens.

And because textbooks tells you that you must define a blog, I can tell you that you’ll see some cooking, some drinking, some crafting, some parenting, and a whole lot of fashion-inspired topics in this blog. In the words of my ob/gyn (who is probably my guardian angel), “listen, my friend.”