Los Porchs

I'm taking a moment tonight to reflect on how quickly 21 days passed right by, in a blur, seemingly forgettable at first glance.  Sunday morning I took my last birth control pill for my prep cycle.  Listen, talking about birth control feels weird and foreign.  I remembered to take it every single morning because that's when I take my other medications. I've been taking medication for anxiety and depression and have been thankful since feeling them start kicking in months ago.  Of course there are still rough days but I don't find myself caught spiraling through them like bath water down the drain.  Slow. Cyclonic.  This isn't going be a big magical post about depression and anxiety because let's face it, for as many folks out there are struggling with fertility, even more are struggling with mental health.  I did what I had to be the best wife to Porch and the best mama bear for my Charlie bug and I don't regret a single moment.  Actually, I regret

Today, I am thankful that through science, my humble heart knows what it means to be a mama. <3 My heart is with those who find themselves wishing for just one more moment with their babies (or perhaps just the chance to meet their baby). My heart aches for those who struggle with infertility & fear not being able to start/add to their family -- though the technology is (may be) available and it may be possible, the financial burden may be too great. <3 (<3) I am who I am because of the tribe that supports me. I am so thankful for this amazing group of women who have been active in my life and have brought me to this season of motherhood. My mother who has been a fearless and steadfast leader of our family. She loved me, regardless of those asshole years. ;) She has taught me what faith looks like in action. Charlotte is forever impacted by this incredible Nana. I've heard horror stories about mother-in-laws. I am so thankful that I don

Charlie helped Porch put down grass seed on the dead spots today. Previous owner went a little nutso with weed killer & essentially killed our lawn in a zig zag pattern.

"Wrap me like a bubito?" Wrap me like a burito? I am absolutely going to miss that sweet mix of baby voice and big kid language.

C: My just pooped. It's a boy. D: Your poop is a boy? C: Yeah. It's a boy like Dada. D: Well, congratulations! R: Wait, did she just make the equation that all boys are poop? #justanotherdayinparadise