About Me

When I was fifteen, my mom unexpectedly passed away.
Of course, I missed her every day.
But the missing her turned into genuine longing when I had babies of my own.
I wanted...needed...to pick up the phone and call her.
Call her in the middle of the night when my babies were crying,
when I was exhausted, confused, frustrated.
I wanted to share with her the absolute joy I felt when my babies fell asleep in my arms
or when that tooth finally popped through, or when they laughed for the first time.
I wanted to celebrate with her when my kids took their first steps, said their first words.
I wanted her to cry with me and tell me she knew exactly what I was going through...
...because she had been through it too.
I needed her to just listen, and not try to fix it...but just to simply listen,
as only a mom really knows how.
At night, while singing my sweet babies to sleep, I would think of her.
I wanted so badly for her to love my kids, and I wanted them to know her.

When Ava was a couple months old, I found at the bottom of a dusty box my old baby book.
The one my mom had made for me.
Inside, the pages were riddled with, what felt to me as, love letters to me from her.
Handwritten notes expressing exhaustion and frustration,

detailing doctors appointments, feeding and sleeping patterns

sharing absolute, all-encompassing, unconditional love and joy. 

These short notes became invaluable to me,
somehow the only real, tangible advice I could receive from my mom directly.

I will be forever grateful for those "love letters" to me.

This blog is a love letter to MY babies.