Seeing Red

Ok, I might be going through an identity crisis with this new baby thing. Some might see it as acting out, as searching, as reaching - but I prefer to interpret my actions as brave.

That's right. BRAVE.

Finally, at 41 years old and after having a major mortality-checking life event shake all the cobwebs out down to my core, I feel BRAVE. Bold. Daring. Strong. Spunky!

And lately, every time something small happens that makes me ultra-aware of my own fragility, well, I just remind myself that I am still in control. That God molded me as a creative individual with free will and a free spirit, and as long as my spirit dwells in his (and remember that...ahem...HE is REALLY in control here) - then he's cool with expression!

OK, I'm reaching there. What I wanted to voice this time was red. Poetic as it might seem, one thing just led to another...

Bean

Bella (my 80 lb. German Shepherd) and I were playing lazily on the bed last Thursday night. She likes to talk (a lot), so it would be rude of me not to talk back. The conversation turned to me tugging at her poor teddy bear and telling her she needed a real baby to cuddle and protect.

"Belly-Bean need a Jelly-Bean?" I asked. That's one of my nicknames for her: Belly Bean or just Bean.

From then on, I couldn't get it out of my mind. While I miss my Nugget, I'm ready to try for Jelly Bean.

Hope Does Float (and stings a little, too!)

Acknowledging loss after my miscarriage was important to me. 

I experienced most of the mourning process alone and worked through it so quickly - too quickly - squeezing in rides on the emotional and hormonal roller coaster between rides on Southwest and United Airlines. Work obligations monopolized my time and lonely hotel rooms occupied my space. As the dust began to settle, I felt empty. I felt numb. I felt like a fake.