If you didn't know Jack...

If you didn't know our canine friend Jack, then you really missed out.

Pardon the mole on his face that is what happens when we age, weird things pop up on our skin, it's lovely. What is going to happen to me? I started these spots at age 3? Regardless, They say, I don't know who 'they,' are but they say it anyway, that dog's age 7 times faster then us, so that made Jack 91 this year.

When Jack was brought home to live with Mom Mom and Pop Pop they say he was a tyrant, so much so, that when they read Marley & Me, they actually said they thought maybe the book was written about Jack. Jack was actually given up by his previous owners at 7 months because he was, 'untameable.' They missed out on a great dog, but we are so grateful.

I actually don't remember any of this insanity. To me Jack was always a faithful dog. Ok, so he was a bit a nuisance to take on a walk, he actually walked you, and you would holler the entire time for him to slow down, and your arm and shoulder would be sore for days, but that is besides the point.

Jack was the first to greet you when you rode up the drive to the farm, and the last to see you out as he followed you to your car.

Most recently Jack took a particular liking to my little boy, it must be true when people talk about the relationship between a little boy and his dog. Although Jack was not Ethan's, he still followed him around when he was there, slept on the floor of whatever room Ethan was napping in, and was Ethan's loyal companion on the farm.

So Jack will be fondly missed.

Kendall says that he is barking in heaven at us to come play.

Thanks Jackie for being such a good friend, we will miss you.

'I talk to him when I'm lonesome like; and I'm sure he understands. When he looks at me so attentively, and gently licks my hands; then he rubs his nose on my tailored clothes, but I never say naught thereat. For the good Lord knows I can buy more clothes, but never a friend like that.' ~W. Dayton Wedgefarth

Perfectly Potty Trained

This is the universal sign that you have a potty trained little girl on your hands, because she now knows she has gotta go, doesn't really want to go at the particular moment, but knows not to go in her pants.

If you are a girl or own a girl, you know this pose. My day is filled with catching Kendall in this position. Personally, I love that it is instinctual. Because, if you are a girl, you know you've done it...lots of times. I never once taught Kendall that this is how we hold the pee. Of course I tell her when she yells, 'I have to go pee pee,' and there is no potty we can get to within 3 seconds, 'Hold it,' because that is just what you say, implying hold it in, this position is just what comes from having to hold it in.

I am not quite sure why it is thought that this might keep the pee pee in. Let me tell you it doesn't work like a cork on a bottle of wine. Kendall has been running across the lawn in this exact position and the pee has worked its way around and out. I suppose it is the idea that it might just hold it in.

I can remember standing in lines at grocery stores pleading to my mom in this exact position with the added wiggle, (me not my Mom), that I had to go pee. But would have to wait until all things were paid for, loaded in the car, and then we would go back in, if I was lucky. Otherwise I would have to 'hold it,' until I got home. I say my Mom is the lucky one, many a times I just made it. As a result, I can hold my pee like a grand master champion, but also, I now have major sympathy for my little pee-er. When we are in a store and she says, 'I gotta go,' we go. No messing around. Cart is left, and we run, hands assuming the position.

The funny part is, is that Kendall will, 'hold it,' legs crossing over one another, and I will ask, "Kendall do you have to go potty,' and will get a 'No thank you Mommy.' Then she will cross legs, do a little jig one more time, release hands and assume activity, 5 minutes later, 'Kendall do you have to go pee pee?' And all the potty trained girls that she plays with do it, there is no shame in 'holding it,' and doing the pee pee dance. Could you imagine if we as adults still did this, 'held it,' amongst our lady peers until the conversation was done and no one thought we were mental? I think it would be hilarious.

You say, take her anyway. I say, she is in control now. She pees in her pants after I asked her, she is inside. She is potty trained, she knows her limits. And I am telling you, much to our surprise, she makes it to the potty, on her terms, I guess. My strong-willed child. Pick your battles. Good Times.

Sometimes I ask her when she says no and we are not in front of peers, 'well then why are you holding yourself?' Here are some of the creative responses, which have nothing to do with having to go pee-pee, as she holds the expression, duh Mommy, that I have gotten.

- because I have an itch

- because I have a wedgie (perk of being a girl)

- because it feels like something is in there. (Oh, so just checking)

- because I didn't know if I had panties on

- ( My favorite, this was yesterday's) I was looking for my pocket

of my pants. (well it ain't there sister)

I suppose her peers will one day tell her that this isn't a cool thing to do, until then, do what you got to do, just don't go in those pants!

This will hopefull be my last post on Kendall potty training, what an adventure. After a break, I am on to the little man. For some reason, I think this one might be a little worse. Stay Tuned.

Photo. Explained.

My boy's bottom. I don't think there is anything cuter. I just want to pinch it. It is just perfectly plump. Is that normal to think your son's bottom is the cutest? I don't really care. I think he might later in life turn a deep shade of almost purple when he finds out I posted his cheeks on a blog, but for right now, they are just divine.

Do I normally let my children run outside with no pants on? Well even though we are somewhere in potty training land, we do not let them run outside pantless whenever they want to, nudists we are not, and you're welcome for that. This picture was taken during the week of rain where any excuse to escape outside was sought out. Talk about cabin fever. Andy had just gone outside to grab something from the car and Ethan raced to get out there with him. Fresh. Air. Must. Have It.

His bottom was bare because he was in the midst of getting dressed and I had been side tracked, most likely to find the set of keys for Andy. And Ethan loves being pantless, I am not going to go into all the man reasons behind this, but simply just acknowledge that he does not like to be held in by a diaper. So on this day I just watched as Ethan raced to the mountain of shoes, appropriately grabbed his wellies, opened the door and stepped right outside, not even showing any acknowledgement that his bottom and well, little man, was bare; he was on a mission. Andy grabbed, what else, the iphone, and snapped this cute pic. Loved it. Point one for the iphone.

On Being Mother

Sunday we celebrated a glorious day. The day is a day where the world stops buzzing and people recognize the wonderful woman that gave them life. That's right, whenever she makes you mad remember, she gave you life, what do you have on that? I asked for one thing, no tantrums. Now this would be an amazing feat in this house to accomplish. No tantrums? She must be absolutely crazy, no this time, she has officially lost it. That is like saying that I don't want the sun to rise. It is going to. Tantrums come to this home daily as sure as, well as sure as anything that is definitely going to occur on a daily basis. Now added is the 'tussle,' where if my two offspring are fighting over some random silly toy from a Happy Meal, they somehow end up rolling around on the floor screaming, screeching, and swatting at each other, legs, arms, hair, flying everywhere. I am left screaming, 'BREAK IT UP!!!!!!,' at least 25 times a day. Which by the way, forget fighting over the toy I spent a considerable amount of money on, they of course fight over the little penguin from Madagascar from last weeks trip to Mc Donald's, that in the midst of the fight is repeating, 'Just smile and wave boys, just smile and wave.'

But they did it. The grace of God was bestowed upon me, and my children not only did not have naps, they did not have one tantrum.

We spent the day with family, and this tends to sometimes overwhelm and overstimulate them to the point where sheer madness occurs, but the good little cherubs bucked up for Mommy, and were smiles and giggles. I may have started to think, 'what body snatcher took over my children,' however yesterday, rest assured all things were back to normal. Punches were thrown, screaming occurred, time outs were spent, and toys went flying off shelves.

On a serious note:

I eat, sleep, and breathe my children. As exhausting as they are sometimes, I would never, ever have it any other way. I am all consumed by them to the point that I miss them terribly when I am away from them for a shift at work. I rush home to watch them sleep, to make sure they are warm, and to kiss their soft heads. Who am I kidding, I miss them when I run to Target. Sure, it feels great to get away, but it always feels better to get back. The homecoming Kendall and Ethan give you is like no other, it as if you have been gone for a week, not 30 minutes.

Everyday is my Mother's Day, so cheesy, but a lesson I have surely learned. I didn't need one single gift, although they were lovely to receive, but having my babies, and having them near me, is more than enough. I am more in love with my husband for giving me these babies. He may feel sometimes as I rant and rave about how much I am enamored with my children like he is chop suey,but I never forget to give credit, where credit is due. He helped make me a mother and that is the greatest gift.

I learned from my own mom, the importance of being a mom and simply put,just being there. It is definitely simply said, but never simply done, is it? Oh and as frustrating as we are sometimes, the consistency of a mother and her daily love, affection, and direction cannot be matched or replicated. We are called to be a physical shelter and comfort for our children while here, to nurture and shape them, an overwhelming and probably the most difficult job ever, but again, we were chosen to do this. I was chosen for Kendall and Ethan, and it is my job, no one else's, to fulfill this task, it is my purpose to put everything I can into raising them. They don't stand for excuses or reasons to the contrary, and I don't get to try again later, I get one shot. Sometimes after a bad morning with them or an overall crap shoot day I want to double check this. Are we 100% certain that the right decision was made to place them with me, because I failed miserably on that day. And then Kendall will turn to me randomly and say, 'I love you Mommy,' or Ethan will say, ' I give you big kiss,' and wrap his chubby little arms around my neck and squeeze tight planting a snot and slobber filled kiss all over my face. There is no mistake and there is always a foundation of unconditional love between us here in house number 216, and that is the beauty of being a little family, and I love being the Mother Hen.

For dessert on Mother's Day my sisters had us make S'More's by the chiminea, how fitting because I definitely could always use:
s'more loving from Kendall and Ethan and s'more cuteness from their tiny little beings...and eventually s'more babies, just like them.

'Victory, Victory, Let's repeat it!'

I think that was a cheer from Junior High. I was never a cheerleader but for some reason I knew all of the cheers. I think it was because my friends that were cheerleaders would repeat the cheers incessently over and over again, as though forgetting one line of some chant would bring the team to defeat.

After some blood, sweat, and tears, well actually no blood, but that is part of the line, after sweat and tears, we have reached our own victory here at home.

I will let the champion share it with you herself...


Phew, we sure are glad that is over!

Channeling my inner June Cleaver

Seriously. Some people with children may think I have a problem. I like to straighten up. I like a tidy house, I cannot function without it. Seriously. Ask Andy after I work one of my weekends. If I come home and the house is a mess, he gets an attitude for that next entire day. If my house is messy I get cranky. But let me clear one thing up: I let it get messy. I am not one of those Mom's who freaks out about play-doh and finger paint, or follows my children around instructing them to pick up after themselves. But I will tell you one thing. If we are going outside to play after nap time, you better believe toys are cleaned up, dishes are done, and floors are vacuumed. If I come over to your house and my kids have been in your kids things, I will clean it up, and if I am comfortable enough with you, I will begin to reorganize as I clean. I sort, set up, take down...I think it might be becoming obsessive compulsive in nature. But on a positive note, it could be hand washing I could be obsessed with, and that would not benefit you at all.

My house is by no means immaculate. I have stains on my carpets, smudged walls, some chipped paint, toy overload, and a box of shoes by the door that is slowly becoming a mountain. My closets...don't even get me started, but out of sight, out of mind. Laundry. Another thing I hate doing. It is so terrible, this goes and in hand with the closet issue. I want a laundry room desperately. Next House. Like in 10 years or something, unless Barack has some magic wand.

I have a neighbor who's house is immaculate. She doesn't have children yet, and let me tell you when I go in that house, I am in a dream of cleanliness...and then my children come in and I freak out like they are in a china store. I figure if I can herd them into the basement, the damage will be minimal. It never is. Kendall has pooped in her pants 2 times now in one week in that house, both times coming close to a septic disaster in that house, and Ethan demanding to be a big boy, with no lid on his cup, spilled the sip of juice I allowed in his cup on her Pampered Chef seat cushions. I don't know what I was thinking. I am just going to go and buy her some air freshener and oxy clean, and send it over with a sympathy card. Sorry Sue. She will say I am crazy, but next time I go to her house, I will take pictures, and you will know exactly what I mean.

I don't readily admit things I am good at, I am usually the epitome humble with a small side of low self-esteem. But I am a good cook. I like to eat my food and so do other people. Perhaps that is also why I look at my jeans pre-child and get the urge to pray over them. When people ask me what I put in something, or how I make it, really I have no idea. I try sometimes to follow recipes, but I always end up improvising or improving, and never write it down. So I can give you an idea of how to make something, but not like I made it, and not because it is a secret, like Bush's Baked Beans, but because I really don't remember. However, I lack the supplies to become the Betty Crocker I truly have potential to be.

So as you can imagine in my own search for absolute cleanliness and extreme domestic abilities, I have become, gasp, a housewife.

And housewives have dreams. Dreams that will make them become the best in their craft. A Wish List per se, and you better believe I have one.

Here is a rundown, as a Housewife, again, gasp, of the things that I would like to readily accumulate.



You knew I would say it, I rant and rave about it all the time. I should have registered for it for my wedding shower, but I didn't think I would ever become a stand mixer connoisseur. It is the Kitchen Aid Mixer. The holy grail of all kitchen appliances. I love this new shade, so retro, but my kitchen would never be able to pull it off, I would have to go with Onyx Black. This mixer would sit on my counter with pride. It is like a right of passage to own a Kitchen Aid Mixer, and let me tell you, there is one particular person I know that has a Kitchen Aid Mixer and stores it in the storage section of her basement in the very very back. When I saw this sight I gasped at the horror. I marched right up her steps and gave her heck. How could she simply cast aside this honor of having the grand daddy of mixers? Her answer is simple, to her, she doesn't like it sitting on her counter and likes to use her hand mixer, it's easier. If you love or would love your Kitchen Aid Mixer, you have found a million things wrong with that simple explanation. I will leave her nameless, as this is by no way an intervention, just a simple reminder, covet your Kitchen Aid Stand Mixer.



Now moving on from the best mixer in the world to the best vacuum in the world. The Dyson. This is a cleaner's dream. Have you used one? I vacuum with one with the sole intent of marveling at what the dirt canister will have in it when I am through. I vacuum a lot. I definitely vacuum once a day, if not more. I have toddlers which equals crumbs. I do not have a Dyson. But when my vacuum is on the fritz and is sent to get fixed by Pop Pop, I get to borrow my Mom's. I have gone through a ton of vacuum's in my marriage. Andy says it is because I do not take care of them. No, I will tell you why they break. 1. They are not Dyson's. 2. I vacuum daily, that is a lot of miles on that engine. They blow up. Now have you seen the commercial for the new Dyson with the ball in the center? I just about drool. This new vacuum of fabulousness can curve around thing and get so close to edges, it is a mechanical wonder.

Moving on from the simple vacuum to the carpet cleaner. Could you just imagine being able to clean your carpets just whenever you wanted to without the hassle of renting a machine or calling someone? This to me would be a grand way to spend a Saturday morning. Carpet Cleaners are awesome. New Carpet is awesomer, that is not a word, but again,you can't get a new carpet every time your floor is dirty, and besides, seeing dirt extracted is just wonderful.

Now onto the Laundry Room. Have you seen Kelly Ripa in her new commercials, acting like she does the wash or something? Regardless, it is for Electrolux. These machines say that they can get an entire load done in 18 minutes. What in the world is that all about? I want to find out. And they come in pretty rad colors, so who wouldn't want that. I am pretty miserable when it comes to having to do the laundry and perhaps walking in and seeing a brightly colored washer and dryer, might make the task more enjoyable, or maybe not. Above is just the washer, the Dryer looks the same.

Then there is the task of ironing. I need a good iron, besides the Kitchen Aid Mixer, many items on this list are simply just fantasy, and will never happen, but this Rowenta iron needs to. I have a terrible iron. I have always wanted this iron, but could never justify the cost. But for more peaceful mornings, and a well dressed man, it is worth putting it at the top of the list.

Storage is an issue. With two children of different sexes, with one mother of varying sizes depending if i am pregnant or not, just had a baby or not, or just plain lazy or not, we have a lot of clothing. The storage is limited in this space, and I have been fascinate with this infomercial product when I see it. Think of all the space I can save with this vacuum powered sealer. Unimaginable.

To top it all off, who would not like a new Yankee Candle ready and waiting, season appropriate whenever they wanted. My other neighbor has this luxury, but she also has a serious addiction to Yankee Candles. You walk up to her door, and it has not even opened yet, and there are no windows even open and you can smell a Yankee Candle, it is coming out of the house's pores, she most likely has a few scents going at one time. One would be ok with me. I just love Yankee Candles, and I love this new scent...hint hint, Mother's Day, Sunday. Did you know that Yankee Candle sends out catalogs that have Scratch and Sniff Scents, like those stickers when you were little but now grown up? It's worth the mail. Some scents get stuck in your nostrils, mine is mostly poopy diapers, so when the catalogs come, I sniff away. It's like an air freshener for the nose.

Lastly, an apron from Anthropologie. You can't achieve true housewife royalty without one of these to clean and cook in, and this is so darn cute.


I realize some of these items are a tad strange, and trust me, I am doing just fine without them, and do not pain away my cleaning or cooking thinking, 'oh I wish I had this or that.' I am just saying that a girl can dream. And what is so harmless about that?

Here is one that is hopefully attainable in the near future.

Oh how I miss you. Life is so much easier with you. Come home soon.

When Infertility Issues Hand You Lemons...

Write about it.

WARNING: This post contains mentions of the deed, va jay jay's, but so sorry, not for fun, but for knowledge,just an FYI.

Andy and I always hesitate to tell people when we become pregnant. This time was no exception. We learned the hard way the first time. We were married for just a few years when pregnancy #1 occurred We told everyone and their mother that I was pregnant.That pregnancy ended in a flat out miscarriage. We were scared out of our minds, not sure what was happening. My doctor at that time, who has no beside manner what so ever,came down to the ER, examined me, called it a miscarriage and said, 'well this happens a lot with first time pregnancies, just keep trying, you are healthy.' So then came the job of telling everyone, and telling them what happened, over and over again. Not fun. You relive the entire situation every time you speak about it, and no one means to cause you pain, but reliving it is definitely painful.

So the next time it happened, we told each other, not a word, with the exception of close family, until 12 weeks. It wasn't to shut people out, but to protect our hearts.

Except, it wasn't happening. I wasn't getting pregnant. I guess the protocol is a year; after you can't get pregnant for a year, you are stamped as infertile and herded onto an Infertility Specialist. It's an awesome title, let me tell you. My then OB/Gyn referred me to one individual who will remain nameless. After an examination, and some brief blood work, and being treated like a science experiment, and not a patient unable to conceive, he deemed me fine, and that there was no found reason I couldn't conceive. I think I could have paid someone $10 to tell me the same thing.

My aunt recommended her fertility specialists. I won't mention who they are, but if you ask, I will give you raving reviews, and refer you right away. This was a completely different experience. We were sat down one on one with a doctor on the first visit and reviewed everything, the tests, the options, the emotional ups and downs, recommended to 'take breaks', from the whole process once in awhile. Finally, I felt like a person, and not a lab rat. I went through a battery of tests, which I could give you a further explanation on, but would only make this post longer, and you don't want to sit for too long. My 'cycle,' was followed closely. And when I tell you I knew everything about what it took to make a baby, believe me, I knew every single detail, I was a walking Infertility Encyclopedia.

Turns out for Andy and I, thankfully there was nothing seriously wrong with us, his men swam wonderfully and plentifully, and there was no set diagnosis that would prevent me from getting pregnant and having it stick. Phew. But the hitch was this, everything has to be perfect for you to get pregnant. Your temperature, your hormone level, your fluids, the day, the egg, your uterus has to be a friendly environment at that time,(I know right, can it be unfriendly, turns out it can),and when it is laid out just like that, it is a complete miracle people get pregnant so often.

That was just it for me, things were not lining up perfectly, particularly down to the ovulation and my hormones. They rarely matched up to meet perfectly on the same day. They did sometimes, and it was on those sometime moments we would be able to conceive and have a viable pregnancy. i.e., bring home a healthy baby. On top of all of that, I am a carrier of the cystic fibrosis gene. Thankfully, Andy, again, was not and so the chances of us having a baby with this, was slim to none. Recently, I found I was also a possible carrier for Tay-Sachs, another typically fatal auto-immune disease. That. Is awesome. No really, it sucks, obviously. So as you can see, having a baby, as mentioned previously is a miracle, being able to study and know every single detail that goes into that scientifically, is a medical miracle. And for us to bring home a baby, was also going to be a miracle.

So what do you do? You get blood tests once a week every week. When that blood test showed that my levels were getting close to ovulation I went everyday for blood tests and ultrasounds on my ovaries, until the levels were just about perfect, and was told to go home and, well you know.

I think a couple of months into it, I got pregnant, sadly, the hormone levels were not rising like they should have been, and the pregnancy was found to be ectopic. Which is simply, the fertilized egg gets stuck in the fallopian tubes, and does not move to the uterus. This is never ever a viable pregnancy, and the pregnancy will either dissolve, or surgery will have to be done before the fetus starts to grow and burst the tube. Scary stuff. So I was monitored, and again, on a happy side, did not require surgery.

We then took a big break from all the fertility stuff.We were told treatments would have to become more aggressive for it to work. When all you think about is the perfect timing to make a baby for three years, and having people examining your va jay jay becomes second nature, and to have that end in another loss, a vacation from it all is needed.

I then returned about 6 months later ready for the aggressive stuff.I was placed on Clomid, and told I would have to get artificially inseminated. Simply, Andy supplied the goods, which is another story all in itself, and on the day I was going to ovulate, found again, through blood tests, I went into the office, and through a baster, literally, Andy's men were shot inside of me. We did this two times with no success. My Clomid was upped, the chances of twins went up again, we were set to go for an appointment on the 10th of May 2005, for another round, we were in the city, and running late, and so I knew I would never make the appointment, and so instead of wasting a month, we well, you know...and 2 weeks later we found out, Kendall had been made.

I was placed on Progesterone Suppositories for the first 12 weeks, which would only bump the hormones a bit more. I went in for ultrasounds every week until 12 weeks, and labeled 'high risk.' At one of the ultrasounds, when Kendall the Fetus had moved, another sac was revealed, but there was no baby in it. Turns out I had conceived twins, but one had not moved on past fertilization. This I could handle, as long as the other one stayed put, two at one time, was not an option. Kendall stuck around, and at week 12, I was discharged to my, new and bedside manner induced, OB/GYN.

Kendall Anne was born healthy as a horse on February 13, 2006.

So what do you do about thinking about another? We didn't. We had our little girl, and I thought, well if we are going to have another we will go through the same testing all over again. When Kendall was 4 months old, I found out things had lined up perfect again, and I was pregnant with Ethan. Same protocol though, suppositories, weekly ultrasounds, and then released to my OB/GYN, but this time at 10 weeks.

Ethan Thomas was born healthy has a hog, he was a big boy, on March 25, 2007.

Time for a break, right?

So we took one.

Being naive and thinking nothing could go wrong, 2 successful pregnancies in a row, perhaps the worst was behind us, we decided to start trying again. I didn't even think to refer to a Fertility Specialist. And also thinking it might take awhile, I was surprised when the body sent me the message, 'You are pregnant.' I took the test, it was positive. This time I was much more relaxed, called the fertility specialist, but thought, oh I don't even think I have to go to them. They thought it was best for me to come in and get things checked out. Turns out they know best.

I started blood tests, suppositories, and my levels were rising. The first ultrasound was scheduled and went good. The baby was measuring a week off, but my cycle was always off, so what's a week? I went back the next week and this doctor was concerned. There was a blood clot, the baby was not growing like it should have been, and she couldn't find a heartbeat. I was sent to another doctor in the practice for a second opinion. I went to see him the next day. It was true, there was a blood clot, the baby wasn't measuring what it should be if my cycle was on, but it never was. He then was doing some more exploratory stuff of the uterus, and then turned to the nurse, and asked, 'Liz what is this?' I immediately thought the worse, I looked at her and thought, 'not only am I losing a baby, they found a tumor and I am going to die.' After a few moments, she said,'well that looks like a heartbeat.' Sounds like a happy ending?

Well I was told to be on as much bed rest as I could possibly be, not to lift the babies, and to take it easy. This baby had a 50/50 chance, and to come back in week. Of course, it wasn't as brief as that, and they were kind, and told me the reality of the situation.

Yesterday was my appointment, and it was not good news for us. The heartbeat was slowing, the baby was still not growing, and the blood clot was bigger. I was ready for this. The blessing and the curse of going to a fertility clinic and knowing all the facts and figures, and being able to see the pregnancy early on, is just that you know what is happening. I knew that a blood clot was a bad thing, and that a baby not growing was even worse. You still pray for a miracle, but it isn't always delivered.

A lot of people say, well you have 2 healthy babies, a boy and a girl at that, for some reason, that doesn't make it any easier, my reaction and my grief is still the same. I get angry when I have miscarriages and I sit on that for awhile. I get angry at myself, at God, at my body, luckily all of those things can handle the anger I am throwing out. I cry and get quiet, but fortunately this time I have my blog. I get frustrated my clothes don't fit because despite losing a baby, the progesterone still makes you bloat, and gain weight, and I have nothing to show for it, and now have to watch what I eat instead of burrowing my sorrows in eight hot fudge sundaes.

The reason is simple and I know it, I knew it the first time. The reason God puts me through this is because he gave me a voice, and it is really loud. Since the first miscarriage, since the first hormonal issue, God has put people in my way that are going through the same thing and can either uplift me, or I can do that for them. This is His refresher course, a hard one, but again, His. Of course, today, my fingers are doing the talking, but a lot more people read this on a daily basis then I talk to.

On top of this, this time I get the added lesson of appreciating the babies I have more. If you don't already know, let me throw it out there again, I put everything into Kendall and Ethan, but it still gets frustrating, tiring, and some days you just want to go and hide. But to get hit with the reality, that I was given two miracles to shape and nurture, that there was no mistake in it, I saw the hormone levels when the doctor said, 'it's now or never.'

Despite that and knowing, I know it is normal to be sad, which I am. I know I will be jealous when I see or hear of a pregnant woman, but it will go away. I am allowed to be sad, I am allowed to be angry, but I am also called to hug my babies a little tighter, and to share it.

So this is my Lemonade.