Category Archives: love

{Infertile Me} Three steps closer, Three steps back 

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For three months I have tried and failed to get pregnant. My life has been consumed by Femera tablets, ovidrel injections, ultrasounds, IUIs, and progesterone. I’ve taken and done all of those things and I am no closer to motherhood than when I started. It is still eluding me. No matter how much money I throw at it or how much effort I put in the one thing I want most in life isn’t yet mine to have. 

Part of me wants to give up and throw the towel into the pile. I tried and it didn’t work. Then deep down I hear a little voice that says “keep going AJ, keep goin.” I listen to the little voice only to have my heart broken. By now I’ve seen and heard so many negatives that it no longer phases me. I am numb to the words “I’m sorry” and to a pregnancy test with no plus or second line.  If I ever see a positive I will probably throw thing on the floor like I did when I found out I was pregnant with baby E. 

It’s been almost two years since my last pregnancy and 7 since my first. The experts say my body is alright and they could not find any reason for me not to get pregnant. I’ve got good eggs and my hormones are good, it’s just unexplained infertility. There is no reason why I shouldn’t be able to get pregnant on my own. Yet here I am walking in the land of infertility wondering when my turn will come.

Lord knows everyone around my is getting pregnant. Even the weather lady on KARE11 is pregnant, I don’t know her but I can tell you she is having a girl, they announced it on Easter. It’s hard to live in a world where pregnant woman swish on by without a care in the world all glowing and happy. I wonder if they struggled, if it was an oops, or maybe they planned it perfectly. I’ll never know their story unless I ask. I am to polite to ask so that won’t happen.

Right now I am down but I am not out. Because of my insurance I have to switch to what they call a Center of Excellence Clinic. Part of me is hopping that they will find something that the other clinic didn’t find. All I want really is a reason, a reason on why it takes me forever and a day to get pregnant. This new clinic specializes in mini-IVF, I am hoping that they will agree that I am a good candidate and that they will let me try it. Hey IUI didn’t work out so why not try mini-IVF. Why not full blown IVF? Well because it’s not for cool kids like me and it’s expensive as fuck. Mini-IVF costs less per cycle and has comparable success rates to big kid IVF. 

I am taking a break. The month of May is sacred to me. May 13th is Lucia’s 7th angel birthday and May 11th marks two years since I found out that I was pregnant with Baby E. My babies they will always be. Deep breaths, me time, and joy will fill the month of May. I need to restore my soul and get mentally prepared for my appointment at CCRM minneapolis. 

Meeting a new reproductive endroconlogist is scary because you have no idea what they are going to say or what there ideas of treatment are. I am going into this appointment knowing I want mini-IVF, I want a science baby, a better chance at motherhood. If it doesn’t work at least I can take a seat on the bench knowing I gave it everything that I had. That I didn’t fail, because we only fail when we never try. 

{Go Red} My Father will always be why 

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In February we focus on women’s hearts. But this month isn’t just for me, it’s for my Daddy too. 

15 years ago I was in college in Ladysmith WI, I called home to talk to my Dad. My sister answered, she said “he’s sleeping.” I pleaded with her to wake him up so I could talk to him. She was persistent and uttered “Dad isn’t here, he’s in the hospital.” My heart sank and I hung up.

When I finally go through to my mom she told me it didn’t look good. His heart was sick. I took to my knees and prayed with every fiber I had. I asked God to spare my father’s life. At 19 I couldn’t imagine a world without my father. I needed him at my side to tell me that this to shall pass. My rock was fading and all we could do was fucking pray and wait.

When my dad arrived at Mayo he had a survival score of “zero.” His heart was beating so fast it just fluttered in his chest. Congestive Heart Failure and aortic fibrillation was to blame. The doctors prepared my Mama for the worst. She lied like all mothers do and told us he was going to be alright. I was a mess and couldn’t think straight in class. My body was in Wisconsin but my heart was in Minnesota. 

Two weeks later that zero walked out of the front doors of Saint Mary’s and he never looked back. Today February marks his 15th survuvior anniversary. With every beat of his heart he steals time from the sandman and keeps death at bay. We know each day isn’t spoken for and that only the good lord knows if we will see the next sunrise. He lives with faith in his heart and appreciates every second of his borrowed time. 

Borrowed years are a gift. My father has lived to see his daughter graduate from college, he was the proudest father in the arena. He walked his daughters down the isle and held me as I cried into his should on the day I found out my son had died. He’s picked up the pieces after our divorces and was the glue that our hearts needed. He stood by my side as I fought for my life and put his arm around me when we found out that I inherited his heart. I’ve watched him hold his second and third born grandchild for the very first time while morning his first. He is the ultimate road trip companion and dinner buddy. As long as a ride is involved he’s game. 

Borrowed time is all but rosy. My father looked on as doctors fought to save my life. Blood clots are no joke and strokes they are even worse. He taught me how to inject myself with blood thinners, “make sure you clean the area real good” he said. Little by Little I got stronger and I never looked back. My dad’s face lit up when he saw me on a billboard and in a TV commercial promoting heart health. He tearfully watched the video of my speech in DC, his surviving heart was so very proud. Those teary eyes looked on as I strutted down the runway and shared my story at the fashion show. All because his heart, it saved mine. 

My father’s heart saved mine. If it weren’t for his broken heart I never would have gotten involved with the American Heart Association.  If I hadn’t gotten involved I would never have learned that women have different symptoms than men and that cardiac events can happen at any age. In one moment I became the very surivivor I advocated for and I’ve never looked back. 

Because of my father I am alive today. Because he lived, his heart saved mine. Because of his heart and the research they are conducting my future looks fucking bright. I’ve followed in my father’s footsteps, he was 50 when his heart gave out, I am 34 and I am not afraid to tread down his path. For I know having high levels of C-reactive protein is no longer a death sentence, it allows us to go boldly into the night and wakeup to a beautiful painted sunrise. 

{Go Red} For Women’s Health 

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The  Go Red campaign focuses on women’s heart health which is the number one killer of women. I suffered a stroke, a stroke that came after my pulmonary embolism was discovered. Sure a blood clot is not a cardiac event, but it still is an event. An event that only 1 out of 5 survive.

If you ask me those odds are shitty. Fuck only one out of five people who have a P.E. will survive. That statistic is one I cannot escape and it haunts me to this day. I am the ONE out of FIVE. I’ve lived seven borrowed years on this earth and I’ve done my best to make every second count. I cannot undo the events of October 2009, I can only move past them. 

Five days before my 27th birthday I drove myself to the ER. My chest felt like it was being split open and I could barely breathe. I collapsed as soon as I got inside and woke up to a nurse telling me “well you are not having a heart attack and you can either help me take your clothes off or I can cut them off.” I opted to help. I was confused and gasping for air. Every breath I took ripped through my body. I’ve never been in labor but I imagine the pain I was feeling is on that level. The ER doctor told me that my oxygen level was below 50% and he was leaning towards an infection in my lungs. He was going to run some tests. As he headed toward the door he stopped and asked “are you on a birth control?” 

I uttered yes and he explained about the d-dimer test and that it checked for possible blood clots. He was certain it wasn’t that, he just wanted to check to be sure. The lab came in and took my blood. It would be a bit before the results came back. As I was being taken to x-ray the Doctor stopped us and stated “put her back in her room she doesn’t need an x-ray.” I thought this meant it wasn’t serious and I was on my way home. He calmly explained “the d-dimer came back positive. We need to do a CT scan to look at your chest to check for any blood clots. The contrast dye if you are allergic to it it could kill you. But it’s your best option.” 

I looked at him and said “I might die either way right?” And signed my name to the consent form. The Radiology Tech said it would take about an hour for the results to come back. I waited and listened to the clock tick the minutes away. Thirty minutes went by, I heard a phone ring and the doors voice in the hall. I only made out “shit! You have to be kidding me!” Followed by a page for extra staff to the ER. Then I heard foot steps, lots of them running towards my little room. The doctor popped in and explained “you have a pulmonary embolis.” I stared at him blankly and he explained “you have a blood clot the size of a ten cent gumball blocking the valve from your left lung to your heart. Blood and oxygen can’t get through.” 

Those words were a lot to process. In that moment I did not fully comprehend the shit I was in and how bad it was. He explained I needed blood thinners and that I would be in the hospital for a while. He stepped out for a moment to put in RX orders. And that is when I lost my words. My body felt strange, it felt like I was sinking and I couldn’t get my words out. The heart monitor started beeping and everyone was frantically moving around. My blood pressure was well above 200 and I was fading. Clot busters, TPA to be exact were ordered and given, my stroke was stopped right in it’s tracks and my life was spared. I live with the knowledge that I almost died 5 days before my birthday.

I became accustomed to my new life. A life of blood thinners, scans, diet change, and never ending doctors appointments. I was angry and bitter. I wanted to put a why behind the how. I wanted to know why this happened to me and how I could prevent others from enduring my fate. To this day the answer is still hard to swallow. 

Truth: my pulmonary embolism and stroke were 100% preventable. The blood clot was caused by the progesterone in the Nuvaring, my birth control. One week before this occurred I had my annual check up and I told my doctor that I was feeling unusually tired, had redness and warmth on my upper leg. She ignored my symptoms and told me “oh just go home drink some water and walk more.” Since she didn’t think anything of it, I didn’t either. Boy was I wrong. I now know I had all of the classic signs of a potential blood clot and that a simple d-dimer test could have caught the clot before it reached my lung and brain. My whole ordeal could have been prevented if only my doctor had truly listened to me that day. 

I go Red for women’s health. All of us need to realize that we know our bodies better than anyone. We know when something isn’t right and we need to listen to our guts. It’s time we put our health first and push for the answers that we need. Our symptoms are and will always be different from men, because hello we are not men. It breaks my heart to know that young women are often dismissed. We shouldn’t be, blood clots, heart disease and stroke do not know age and they can occur at anytime. Love yourself! Make a doctors appointment and make sure you are being heard. If one doctor won’t listen keep on pressing until you find someone who does. You only have one life, one heart, and you deserve the very best. 

Don’t be like AJ, she didn’t push for answers and almost died 5 days before her 27th birthday. 

{2016} Life Found Its Way In 

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2016 was about learning to let go of my single girl shoes so that I could walk comfortably in my relationship shoes. I no longer buy groceries for one, I actually buy vegetables and things that I have no intention of eating but I know Jay will. It’s about yelling “Cully stop trying to hump your brother (Dexter the bitchy cat) while making dinner for two. Doing laundry for two, watching Netflix while eating Chinese, and walking out to a light house because why not. Sharing thoughts and feelings before you drift off to sleep only to be awakened by the snorasours who is inhabiting the left side of the bed. Coming home to surprises and finding the kitchen to be spotless when you open the door after a long day. It’s the little things in relationships that matter. The little things are what allow us as humans to smoosh two big lives into one life. 


2016 was the year the “mass engine failure” light popped up on the 2002 Prius dash board. The Prius barely made it to the shop. I was hopeful that my trusty sidekick could be fixed. I wanted it to be fixed because I am simply not me without a Prius to drive. Then the call came “its in the hybrid system and it will be expensive to fix.” Those words broke my heart. I called my dad about twenty times that day, we weighed out the options and he said “maybe it’s time for a new one?” I gasped at those words. A new one! A new one! I want mine, I haven’t hit my 300,000 mile goal yet. We still have some road trips left! My dad replied “it’s time.” Capital one sent me an email earlier in the week saying I was approved  for an auto loan. Though I’ve never had a car loan in my life or such a big responsibility. I window shopped online. I need a Prius, not a new one, but a new to me Prius. A used one. As luck would have it a 2013 seaglass pearl Prius popped up. The shade was just a tad darker than my original Prius. It was meant to be mine, I bought her, and she is amazing. 

What happened to the old one you ask? It sat at the shop for almost a month when I decided to throw in the towel and have them impound it. The title was in the ex-husbands name and well I wasn’t going to get the fine and fees so I didn’t care. But then my phone rang, the mechanic, his name is Fred asked if he could have it. Knowing I would get practically nothing for a trade in or resale, I handed him the keys. I gave him my beloved well dented old Prius for free. Fred is smart and good at what he does, he breathed life into my old Prius and got it running again. I wave at it every time I drive by the shop and see it in the parking lot. Seriously people I do! It’s like seeing an old friend. 

Sophia turned four and Jack turned one. Being an auntie is a gift. I get to watch this two Little’s grow into tiny humans with heart and guts. Also Sophia loves riding in auntie’s new car, mainly because she thinks it talks. She doesn’t realize the voice she hears is Siri being projected through the speakers to tell me where to go. One day she will figure it out and my car will loose its magic. 

Jay and I took the kids to the county fair and watched their faces light up as we walked around looking at animals while noshing  on funnel cake and hot dogs. Sophia found her brave shoes at the fair. She and I road down the big slide. As we climbed up steeper and steeper she said “auntie I don’t think I can do this.” I said, we are going to do this tongeher Sophia. She happily sat on my lap as we raced down the slide. When we hit the bottom she immediately wanted to go again and we did. 

Kids have been on my mind a lot this year. We tried with no luck. In the fall I finally put my big girl pants on and sat down with a reproductive enocrnologist. We made a plan. Our plan didn’t work and now we move on to level two. I am still trying to wrap my head around sperm washing and inter uterine injection. I picture the nurses picking up the little sperm to wash their bellies and putting them back in a tub. I know this isn’t exactly what happens, it’s science. In away I’ll kind of be like the Virgin Mary, I’ll get pregnant without bumping the uglies. Stay tuned for further updates in 2017. I think 2017 is totally going to be my year. I can feel it in my soul. Fingers crossed! 


In 2016 I found my travel shoes again. In the spring I took my Dad to Southwestern Iowa and Omaha Nebraska. We spent the weekend looking at World War I era planes and touring distilleries. Jay and I returned to Wisconsin Dells and took a trip to the north shore in September. My mom for years has been bugging me to take her to Madison County Iowa. We went in October and spent the weekend touring the covered bridges and drove down to Omaha for a day. In December I took a work trip to Ohio and Kentucky. It felt good to travel again, to explore, and tick of miles on the new to me Prius. 

2016 had a little red in it to. In February I was invited to walk in the Hearts For Fashion Show at the Mall of America during the Go Red Expo. I didn’t trip and I owned that run way! Well I feel apart a little inside when I looked over to see the misty eyes of my parents and Jay. Sherri was there too! Did I ever mention that I have the worlds greatest best friend!? Truly I do! Every survivor needs a confidant in life and she is mine. We’ve been friends for almost 10 years. The show was fun and I had a blast walking in it. Sharing my story allows me to heal. 

2016 is the year my life actually felt like a life. I have a career that I love and I admit I think riding the bus to work is fun. I have a boss who appreciates me. I’ve changed zip codes. I’ve settled into relationshiphood and our home in the burbs. Though my crap is still hap hazardly stacked in the garage, I’ll unpack one day. Motherhood is no longer a mystical thing, but an actual tangible thing that is within my reach. It’s just going to take a little work. Life feels good, I have the life that was always waiting for me and I am never looking back. 

{Cora} Amber Yellow 

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It’s no secret that I have a Pioneer Woman Collection addiction. After I put Cully’s food in my cart I find myself drifting over to the homegoods in Walmart. I know exactly which isles hold the quirky magical and brightly colored items of the Pioneer Woman’s collection. I have everything from the measuring spoons, to the butter dish, sets of plates, and the Adeline Glassware. At first the only colors in the glassware were, plum, clear, and turquoise. I purchased the turquoise right away, 6 of the tall tumblers to be exact. Jay and I love them. 

Photo credit: Walmart.com


As if I couldn’t love her collection anymore, she came out with a whole new product line in the fall. Full of deep tones and prints that were perfect for fall. I was eyeing the new plate designs when something caught my eye. Low on the bottom shelf sat the Adeline tumblers and goblets. The color was different. A color that marked my childhood. As I ran my fingers across the amber yellow tumblers, I was instantly five years old again sipping lemonade from Cora’s amber yellow depression ware juice glasses. Four tumblers and four goblets found their way into my cart. Bonus, I got them on sale. 

Amber Yellow Depression Ware (the real deal)


In our cabinet the amber yellow tumblers sit perfectly next to our terquoise ones. They make me smile. I don’t think Ree ever thought how much amber yellow would mean to her customers. To me, it means a lot. In away even though they are not Cora’s, the color brings a piece of her into my kitchen. It reminds me of lazy summer afternoons in Cora’s sea green kitchen with the splattered linoleum floor sipping lemonade and playing dominos. Of stories from a far away time where women made dresses out of flour sacks and collected stamps to get glassware from the grocery store. Mostly they remind me of the best friend a little girl could ever ask for. Cora was mine and I was hers. We were an odd pairing, but she didn’t care. 


Cora would spend her afternoons telling me stories about the depression, the wars, what it was like to be a telephone operator, and a spinster. She didn’t marry until her mid thirties which back then was scandalous. Today we call it normal. In between the stories Cora taught me how to be a lady, to be outspoken, and to always look put together when leaving the house. To this day I still cannot bring myself to wear sweat pants or pajama pants in public, I always look somewhat put together. I was the closest thing Cora had to a child and she was the Grandmotherly influence that God planned for me to have. She was mine and I will always be hers.

Cora was with my until I was 11 years old, she died at the age of 97. My mother very carefully told me that Cora died, my heart instantly broke and I cried for days. My whole 11 year old world was shattered, I had lost my best friend, my confidant, and soul sister. I loved her more than words could ever describe and that love has never ceased to end. One day if we have a daughter she will be named Cora, in honor of the oldest woman I ever knew. Because of the Pioneer Woman’s amber yellow Adeline tumblers and goblets I can share a piece of Cora’s legacy with my future children. 

It’s funny how one single color can send a flood of memories back and make you smile every time you touch it. Amber yellow was Cora’s color and now it’s mine too. 

{Christmas} With Angels 

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Christmas has and will always be my favorite time of year. There is magic in the air and in your heart you know anything is possible. People are kinder to one another and for a little while all is right. 

In the stillness my mind drifts to the land of wonder, the place where what ifs live out there days. My tree is decorated, presents are underneith, and the villagers are content on the mantel. Yet between all the lights and sparkles, an emptiness remains. If you look closely at my tree you will find two ornaments,  “sleep in heavenly peace” for the babies I didn’t get to keep. 

If all were right in this world I would have a six year old son eagerly awaiting Santa’s visit and decorating cookies with his cousins. And an almost one year old baby should be sleeping in my arms. Jay and I would be hanging “baby’s first Christmas on the tree” and Lucia would be hanging up his 2016 ornament. Instead I am doing my best to deter Dexter and Stiffy from destroying our tree and wrapping presents for children who are not mine. Children put the magic into Christmas, their eyes are filled with wonder and hope. Children are the reason for the season. 

I believe in protecting children from death. Sophia has no idea that Lucia came before her. In her little mind she is eagerly awaiting for me to have a baby so she can help. Jack doesn’t know that he should be 6 months older than Baby E, right now he is busy chasing Cully. When motherhood slipped through my fingers I became the best Auntie possible. At Christmas I go over board. Their every whim is answered, presents are piled high and cookies are aboundant. For I want them to enjoy the season that my children  never got to see. 

My children are celebrating with their heavenly host. I’d like to believe that all the children are the reason behind the brightness of the Christmas Star. That somehow the veil gets lifted on Christmas and they are allowed to sit in the empty seats at our tables to be with the ones they love. 

My christmas whish is that one day we will have a “baby’s first Christmas” ornament to put on our tree right next to the “sleep in heavenly peace” ornaments,  and that our home will be filled with child like wonder at Christmas. Until that day comes I will leave an empty seat so that I can spend Christmas with my angel babies. 

{Engaged Life} Boxes in a new zip code

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Life moves on. 

My zip code has moved too. I hung up my single uptown girl shoes, only to put on a comfortable pair of committed relationship shoes. It took almost 6 years but I have finally found my zen, my happy, and that happy is a townhome in the suburbs. I know, I know I said I would never go back.  But hey when the man you love lives in the burbs you go to the damn burbs. 

My things are hap hazordly stacked in the garage. Trust me, I am slowly working on unpacking my shit and making the townhouse a home. Right now our home is in disarray, but in a good disorganized way. One that lets you know that two lives have smashed into one big life. Cullen is no longer an only child he has two brothers, an orange bitchy cat named Dexter and a gray cat named Stiffy. For the most part they get along.

At night I make dinner for two instead of one. I feed three animals instead of one. Everyday I get to come home to my best friend. I get a little giddy when I hear the garage door open and Jay comes bouncing through the door. His face lights up when he sees me cooking away he tries to get in a hug, but I brush him off. You can’t break your woman’s focus while she’s cooking. Breaking focus equals burnt food and no one likes burnt food. To me the key  to a good relationship is eating dinner together every night and we do just that while watching Super Girl on Netflix. So yes I can say that we are a couple who Netflix and chill. 

We are building a life together. A life with two cats, one of which is bitchy and a muppet like dog at our side. One day we hope to be parents to a two legged child. Fertility is a mystery, you either have it or you don’t. One thing I do have is Jay and I wouldn’t want to go through this journey with anyone else. Jay knows what I’ve been through and that men have the smaller part in fertility. I’ve been poked, probed, scanned and prodded, while he just gave a sample. The odds are against us, yet we have hope that deep within the blueprints lies a room called parenthood. We know that rainbows are hard to catch, but watching him/her grow will be worth it.

In Jay I found home. He can make me laugh at the drop of a hat, then again we all know I crack my own self up. We have a running joke of hiding a light saber on eachother’s side of the bed. Most nights I make it through without cracking up until he finds it. Plus there are running stories of Dexter and Stiffy’s adventures behind Walgreens. Laughter makes a home. Jay reminds me to not be so serious and to live life to the fullest and to take chances. Life is different, different in a good way. I’ve found my human, my grove, I’ve change my zip code and I’m never looking back.

{Lucia & Baby E} Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month 

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October is many things. For me it’s my birthday month and more importantly it’s where my second story began. I get lost in the details, counting days, writing posts, and reflecting on the year before me. No one ever said survivorhood would be easy. No one ever said “not all babies get to come home.” 

That is something we keep from little girls. We never tell them that not all babies come home and that not all women get to be mommies. That some women have to fight harder for motherhood than others. We keep the darkness out of their eyes and fill them with hope, hope that one day they will hold a baby of their own. 

For me I wish someone had told me “not all babies come home.” That would have prepared me for the worst. We know it’s possible, but our hearts never wonder to that place of “what if.” Instead we live in the land of preparation and anticipation. You get so wrapped up in that land, that when you hear six little words they cut through you like a knife. No woman wants to hear “I’m sorry there is no heart beat.” Those words are a sentence to a life time of wonder and what ifs.

You are left wondering “could I have done it differently?” Followed by why me. You struggle with your faith and become jealous of the swelling bumps around you. Yet somewhere along the way you realize “you never get over the death of a child, you just learn how to live with it.” It’s been six years since I’ve said goodbye to Lucia and I can tell you that a day does not go by where I do not think of him. The same goes for Baby E. A piece of me will always be in heaven and I have to live the best possible life, because they never got a chance to live theirs.

After you lose a child life goes on. People will tell you “oh you will have another one.” Those words are spoken easier than done. No one ever tells you that “some women struggle.” I fall into the category. I am struggling to catch my rainbow. In the quiet of the night I pray that my turn will come. Fertility clinics are expensive, yet our reward will be worth it. I have faith that my third time and Jay’s second will be the one that sticks. I want so very much to bring a baby home, to hold them, and love on them for the rest of their lives. 

For my heart knows what it’s like to let go and she is ready, she is ready for a baby that can stay. 

{Road Trip} Wisconsin Point 

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I have a long standing love affair with Lake Superior. For me it’s not just a lake, it’s a part of my soul and the story of how my family began. My extremely great grandfather Basile Hudane Beaulieu was a voyager who sailed the Great Lakes and landed on the shores of what we now call Minnesota. He being a frechmen did not speak the Annishenabe language, yet somehow they understood each other and he fell in love with Chief Skywoman. An that is how one side of my story began.

As a child I walked her shores collecting sea glass and rocks. She drew me in like an old friend each crashing wave comforted my soul. As an adult on my drive up north, I get giddy knowing that as each mile ticks by I am getting closer and closer to her shore. When my blue eyes meet her, my worries melt away and I feel at peace. Superior has this affect on people, she is powerful and calming in one full breath.


For Jay’s birthday I took him on a mini road trip to the north shore. I took him to my old college haunts The Anchor Bar, the S.S. Meteor, the UW-Superior Campus, and Wisconsin Point.  He listened to me chatter as the memories of college came flowing back. I explained how we use to walk to the mall to see movies, the grocery store to get snacks and beer and the other things that we did. Ahh college was the best time! My fondest memories are of the bon fires we would have out on Wisconsin point, those were good times to be had. 



When we pulled up Jay was instantly drawn to the light house and for some odd reason we decided it was a good idea to walk out there. Walking out to the light is no easy task. There is no walk way, you just jump from bolder to bolder and hope for the best. On our way out to the lighthouse we encountered a snake and to many spiderwebs to count. 

One might think “oh that looks like an easy feat.” Trust me it is not. It takes a lot of effort and balance to get from rock to rock and it’s about a mile each way. Jay and I high fived as we hit the light house steps for we had made it and in that moment we didn’t think about our return journey back. 

The light house has not been used in years and she has seen her share of storms. Most of the windows have been bricked over and some pricks are filling the broken windows with beer cans and other trash. Little graffiti was seen but you could tell that this little light had seen her hay day. 

It was starting to get late and we did not want to get stuck at the light so Jay and I decided to make our way back to shore. When we reached land Jay declared that if he had a bucket list the lighthouse  would have been a bucket list item. He loved Wisconsin Point as much as I do and asked that we return next year. I said of course, nothing can keep this girl from Superior. For she has a long standing love affair with her deep blue waters. 

{Life Lessons} “I Am So Pretty!” 

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Shopping with a four year old is to much fun. I taught Sophia that her size is 5T and if she likes something she needs to find a 5T. It took her only a few minutes to find two dresses and then Auntie helped her find a coordinating pair of leggings for each dress. 

Like all big girls do we tried them on. Seeing her little face light up was magical. What was even more magical is that she twirled and looked in the mirror at herself and said “I am so pretty! This is so pretty on me.” I then realized that from the moment we are born we love our bodies, we have no idea that our body is different than the next one, we love who we are until someone tells us that our body is not perfect or pretty. When that moment happens our self confidence is snatched away from us and we rarely find it again. 

In watching my niece twirl I realized that all of us were once that little girl dancing in the mirror and that we loved ourselves. We loved ourselves until someone told us we were to thin, to tall, to fat, to dark, or to light. We had no idea that we were not beautiful until someone said “you are ugly.” Once you lose your zest it’s hard to get it back. My ex husband once told me “you are ugly, you are to fat for me.” With those words my zest left and I had to start over and relearn how to love myself. After I left my exhusband I remember the first time someone told me I was beautiful. It was in the grocery store, I said thank you and started crying as I walked away from him. That was the day my zest came back, it felt good to look at the girl in the mirror and she smiled back. 

I never want Sophia to lose herself, I want her to always love every fiber of her being. As she twirled in each dress I said “Sophia you are more than pretty, you are beautiful, you are unique. The dress doesn’t make you pretty, you are what makes that dress beautiful and never forget that.” I want my niece to grow up loving her body and feeling confident in her own skin. Those lessons start now, she is only 4, but my words will one day remind her that she is beautiful and she is unique.” 

Sophia has no idea that she taught her Auntie tonight. Her love and self confidence reminded me that I need to twirl in the mirror and say “I am so pretty.”