February 14, 2014

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My evolution of Valentine’s Day

Time is a sort of river of passing events, and strong is its current; no sooner is a thing brought to sight than it is swept by and another takes its place, and this too will be swept away. ~ Marcus Aurelius

I remember standing and looking in the mirror when I was 18, 19, 20  years old and thinking, yet another failed Valentine’s Day.  I made jokes, called it D Day instead of V Day.  I wanted the movies, the fairytale, roses, candy, dinners, romantic overtures, that whole deal.  But I was the cool girl you were friends with, and perhaps to dig deeper I most often wanted to date the boys who were not an ideal fit for me.  I dated, I hooked up (sorry mom and dad), but I was also shy and insecure.

20 years later, Valentine’s Day is a totally different experience.  I don’t have time to look in the mirror and what I see is no longer that girl.  I see fine lines brought on by a life well lived and constant hum of stress. But those same lines become deeper when I smile. They fill in my face.  They show me, that they years, Valentine’s Day to Valentine’s Day have brought me joy . Happiness. Smiles.  My life has been full of family and friends, things I enjoy doing, and a career that gives me a place to explore what’s possible.

20 years later, Valentine’s Day is no longer about me. It’s about my Valentine’s.  Last night Q and I sat, as he at 4 years old, needed to make a Valentine for one of his classmates.  We sat at the table with the tiny left handed purple scissors, a piece of pink construction paper and a box of crayons. My insecurity came back. I am not good at crafts, what if whatever we make something ridiculous or Q looks silly or I screw up his Valentine’s Day. But then I remembered we were making this card for another 4 year old, and whatever we made would make her happy. So I folded the paper in half, which as I did it, Q told me, I need to fold the paper in half. He then told me we needed to make a butterfly. Little N would like a butterfly.  The hot pink marker created an easy outline and I held the paper as he navigated the scissors around the outline.  I then asked Q if he wanted to write N’s name on the butterfly. He said yes, and as I spelled her name, he wrote the letter. Big, long , oversized strokes, and then there was her name. Then he wrote his name, and “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

I watched and processed in disbelief.  Where is my baby? Who is the boy wearing glasses writing his name as articulate  the letters  for him to write.

The purity of the experience of making someone else happy. Of watching my little boy embrace the meaning of celebrating his love for his friends was yet another reminder that when we can focus the lens elsewhere and start to see and think about bringing joy to others, it can bring even more joy to ourselves.  Time is fleeting, next year will be different and there will be many times I marvel at progress, but always with the sweet sadness of watching my minis grow or becoming their own people. So Valentine’s Day is here and today I don’t worry about flowers, or candy, but I think about carving out special moments with those that I love, KSP, Q, E, and M, to show that I love them, to do something that will bring them joy and make today all of our ‘newfavoriteday.’

January 22, 2014


The path to possibility is paved with small steps (E’s walking debut).

“There is always one unexpected moment in life when a door opens up to let the future in.” ~ Graham Green

In many ways this happens to me every single day.  Some days it is a welcome breeze blowing through to clear out the cobwebs, and some days it is more like a typhoon compressed into just a single fleeting thought. A thought that then sits heavy on my heart and waits for the visions of what might be to subside.  But those times are fewer than the other times, most times.  The times that  the feeling is similar to that of fresh crisp air that nips into your lungs on a fall day. The feeling of rolling the window down as you drive on a backroad after being inside too long on a cool spring day while the sun shines in and your favorite song rises through the speakers.

The moments that drive these realizations are just that moments; yet somehow they are so packed with emotion I can feel them for days, months and even a year later.  It’s moments like E really walking, really showing that she will walk at some point on December 19, 2013 that move me even now beyond any boundaries I may have thought existed for the purest of joys.

This is when I see what’s truly possible. What the human spirit can do.  How sometimes the moments you would never let yourself imagine can happen right before your eyes.  How even though you have logged countless hours and watched the smallest moments as huge milestones, you find yourself in awe as you watch it all come together.  You peek through the door.  You see the future. Not the fearful future that is scary with the unknown, but the open hopeful future paved with possibility.  How whatever “can’ts” you have heard become “maybes” and “cans.” It is the most beautiful of recognitions and it can happen every day.

The smallest of things can bring the same awakening.  When Q yells at me from the doorway, “Mommy! Kiss and Hug!” even though we have already hugged goodbye twice. When baby M turns her head at the sound of my voice entering a room and gives me a huge smile as she wriggles to try to get to me.  Little tiny moments in each day.  If I didn’t know better I might let them pass, not giving them a second thought, but E has changed all of that. She has broadened my view, my perspective and my world. She has taught me that the seemingly smallest things can change everything and can be just the moment that opens the door to not only to let the future in but to remind me that each day can and should be ‘mynewfavoriteday.’

Cover image shared from http://www.barimed.com/universityofmiami

November 26, 2013


How to be Thankful…stop, look, listen.

The past, I think, has helped me appreciate the present – and I don’t want to spoil any of it by fretting about the future. – Audrey Hepburn

I cannot be a hypocrite.  I cannot say I am always perfect at being present.  I can say I try very hard to remember to be here, right now. I can feel my fingers as they click on the keys.  My nails, slightly too long to be completely comfortable, absorb the impact with each click.  Max the toddler cat sits next to me and I can hear the low rumble of his purr as his own nails click over and over into the blanket that lays across my lap. Baby M lies peacefully in her bouncy seat just across the threshold of the doorway to the dining room so she won’t be disturbed by “We’re the Millers” on-demand movie I am watching.  I try to stay present, as to not let my mind get too far ahead of me as I type this post. How I will get across what I want to say without over simplifying things? I can only speak from my own experience, but being that I am incredibly grateful and aware of just what that means in the deepest parts of me, I can at least try to relay that, so that, some part of what I say might come resonate with some one who is having a hard time finding gratitude in what can be a challenging time of year.

I started blogging 2 and 1/2 years ago because I was losing my grip on on how to be thankful. I was becoming overwhelmed by sadness, fear, uncertainty, guilt, but still hanging on with unparalleled love.  ‘Mynewfavoriteday’ started exactly there, that day, that moment was my ground zero. I had to light my path with gratitude, the ability to find something each day, to make it ‘anewfavoriteday.’

Finding gratitude is like crossing the street.  You have to be incredibly aware of what’s happening around you.  What’s happening down the street. Are there any cars coming, how fast are they driving?  What do you know about that particular crossing environment?  Do people speed through? Do they pretend to stop? How many lanes? Would you make it across one lane of a 4 lane road and risk the secondary lane not seeing you and speeding through.  Before you even step foot in that cross walk, you must stop, look and listen.  You are entirely present: your life depends on it.  Gratitude is no different.  Your life, enjoying it and knowing why, is equally as precious.


Being present is like crossing the street

Now, for me, blogging is like crossing the street. I see things differently.  I am able to calibrate what is happening, how it is happening, what I am feeling in the moment for the partial reason that I might want to write about it one day and need to be able to re-architect the moment for anyone reading my post. The other reason is that it is now more habitual to just be aware. Before this, I had no experience, I just started doing and it just started happening, but I had to decide.

This is not an expertise that is developed over time. It can start right now.  The first thing to do is ‘stop.’  Stop whatever you are doing.  Feel what that feels like.  What does your body feel like. Are your lungs expanding in and out? Can you feel your heart beat?  Your eyelashes as you blink?  The air as your inhale?  This, and this alone, is reason to be grateful. You are here, alive.  If you are totally healthy, be grateful, you do not know the difference.  If you have been sick in the past, you know the reasons to be grateful, now remember them.

The next step is to ‘look’ around you. Many of us do this from a different vantage point. What do they have that I don’t?  Are they the proverbial Joneses?  But there is a very different way to look at this.  Last week in the mini’s weekly music class there was a mother there with her 3 year old son.  She smiled as she watched her little boy dance around, interact with the teachers, and play the instruments. Her big eyes filled with love as they contrasted with her olive skin and her headscarf concealing what was clearly baldness brought on from the ravages of chemotherapy.  As I focused on my own minis and enabling specifically E’s enjoyment, monitoring M’s first exposure, and encouraging Q’s interactions, I could not shake her from my heart.  What she must think. What she must feel. What she must fear. What she must hope. What she must value. What she must love.  She sees things in each and every moment.  Moments she treasures. Moments she hopes he will remember.  Moments; the true definition of being present.

By nature steps are linear, but like crossing the street, in gratitude, we can do some of these at the same time.  Taking in your environment, you look around, you listen, and you feel.  If you are in tune, then you process and internalize what’s happening with you and to you.  When you listen, something different happens.  I believe  that sound can be directly connected to emotion. Listening to music can change a mood or trigger memories.  Listening to words can transport us.  Listening to laughter can bring us joy. Listening to cries can bring us sympathy.  Listening makes you present.  If someone is telling you a story, are you really listening or are you crafting your response?  Can you truly hear what someone is saying, what might be behind the words?  Can you hear the birds? The cars on the street? The sound of a baby breathing?  If you really listen, you can be grateful for all of these sounds.  For the world around you.

This week is Thanksgiving.  4 years ago, I sat at our Thanksgiving table and cried as my Q and E were in the hospital and we had taken a few short yet very long hours to have dinner with family.  I cried out of trauma for what we had been through, the fear of what was happening and that they might not make it, the hope for the future, and the boundless presence of love I  now knew but could not imagine losing in any form.  I cannot let go of that, I will not let go of that.  It grounds me. It lets me know that this Thanksgiving, is amazing.  The past helps me appreciate, feel, love the present. I will try not to fret about the future, but I will and then I will use being thankful as a way to bring me back to the present. This Thanksgiving, the present is exceptional.  This Thanksgiving I am grateful for family, friends, life, love, fortified, perseverance, support, and everything that falls from those pillars.  The hardest days are still supported by these pillars which I can only find through being present and grateful and it’s these pillars, presence and moments that make each day ‘anewfavoriteday.’ Happy Thanksgiving and cheers to being Thankful.

November 25, 2013


My Minivan Mid-Life Identity Crisis…

The value of identity of course is that so often with it comes purpose. ~Richard Grant

This particular post is one I have been wanting to write for ages, but perhaps acknowledging my own insecurities and inadequacies here in writing was even a bit much for me. Yet, I know I am not alone, so I will write this and expose myself to potential criticism, but at least I can honestly see the ridiculousness in all of its purity and subsequently acknowledge the purpose of what I am about to share with you.


Here she is…Foxy in all of her glory…

I BOUGHT A MINI VAN. Yes it’s true. A silver, 2012 Town and Country. The doors open automatically, it starts from my key FOB and the seats completely collapse into the floor. BUT, YES, I, SHANNON PRUITT, officially own a minivan.

 I am pausing for those that know me to allow for their squeals of laughter to subside….any family member or friend that I have said these words to in the last 4 months has had this exact reaction.

Now, I realize some of you may be insulted by the identity crisis that avalanched upon me in the Chrysler dealership on that hot summer day, 37 weeks and 5 days pregnant at 39 years old, but please allow me to explain. The honest truth starts with the fact that I never thought I would buy a minivan. That I would find some other way to accomodate the unexpected baby M, and our 3 year old, soon to be four year old twins who would all be in car seats. I scoured car websites, and went over the interior images with the analysis of a forensics specialist discecting a crime scene. I zeroed in on every possible seat configuration. Yes, it was possible to get 3 car seats in the back of some of the cars, but with no cargo space and most car backseats needing to be collapsed to access the often “faux illusion of a 3rd row,” the image of Q having to try to crawl through the trunk everytime we went somewhere as a family either put me into fits of disbelieving laughter or horrendous guilt over my clear issues around what would likely be the invevitable…owning a mini van.

On that hot day in July, just 7 days before Baby M graced us with her amazing presence in this world, I sat with Q, E, KSP and my dad haggling over interest rates. At the same time, I tried to rationalize and understand why I was having so many emotions about what is clearly such a trivial and silly experience. Not too mention, I do know that we are so fortunate to be able to buy a minivan to accomodate our growing family, but I was in a different state, my own form of a mid-life identity crisis. It occured to me, it all came down to my “mom pie-chart.” Normally, this pie chart is happily filled with mom of 3 amazing minis, wife, family, friends, career, but suddenly all I could see was a silver town and country mini van, my recently acquired Costco membership and a pair of mom jeans barreling at me threatening to make their way onto my person. Perhaps part of it was that I didn’t have a lot of clarity of what was happening around my job, or as I call it, my hiding place. Not a hiding place from anything or anyone but a hiding place for my sanity. A place and something to focus my mind and channel my energy into that keeps the rest of me afloat. A place that I don’t get swallowed up by the unknown of the future.

For context, almost daily, I have a conversation about the future and the implications of everything we do today. A future for which I have no handbook. A future that involves supplemental trusts and trust executors and potential life long care for my now 4 year old daughter. And an unknown of what Q will be like when he grows up and will he, or now Baby M, ever want to or be capable of taking on that responsibility. How to protect her and keep her safe and make sure she is treated and loved just as KSP or I would if we would be with her forever.

So, with no clarity on my clients, a new baby due anyday and 2 minis who have their own distinct roles and needs within our family, I melted down in the shiny floored, new car smelling, overly air-conditioned car dealership. The minivan was a metaphor for fear of not having a way to compartmentalize. For fear of losing myself and subsequently being unable to do what I need to do to face the unknown each day. Now, that’s a lot of pressure to put on one car…pretty sure I won’t be pitched to do any Chrysler commercial creative anytime soon.

Driving home that day in my new mini van I felt the tectonic shift in the plates of my heart, the realization that we were about to have a baby, that our lives were going to again change. That the minivan was going to carry our new family of 5 into the future.

Precious Cargo

Precious Cargo

4 months later, with hormonal clarity (and in full disclosure a car for my daily running around), the silver minivan has a name and a place in our family. Her name, Foxy the legend, given to her by a good friend whose first response, like so many when they found out that I bought a minivan, “You bought a minivan!” Is derived from her silver sassy appearance and she is legendary for the way she was purchased and more than that, that she safely carries around our most precious angels. She enables us to go places with our loved ones that we could not do in another type of car. She is let’s Q be king of the car and watch over Baby M and gives us updates on her status. She lets little E see the world around her through big windows so she can happily babble away in the seat next to Baby M. She is a welcome part of my mom pie chart. She will be full of laughter and love and will motor us into the future unknown where no matter what we do we will do with the purpose of reminding ourselves why that day is ‘anewfavoriteday.’

October 18, 2013


The Wondertwins turn 4!

“When the most important things in our life happen we quite often do not know , at the moment, what is going on.” C.S. Lewis

Four years ago this morning truer words could not have been spoken. I had really no idea what was going on other than my babies had just arrived and it was all surreal.  This morning, I remember it like it is that morning, 7:10 am and Q arrived, 2 lbs 15 oz, not breathing, not crying, just silence.  Then E, all  2 lbs 8 oz of her, at 7:12 am, only whispers.  Flashes of blue scrubs from the corner of my weary eyes, and a quick picture with each next to my tear streaked and exhaust

E and Q meet for the first time at 5 weeks old...

E and Q reunite for the first time at 5 weeks old…

ed face and they were gone.  It was the one of the two best days of my life and it was by far away the most important day of my life and yet I had no idea at the time.

Today, is Q and Es’ 4th Birthday.  Yes, the appropriately named Wondertwins are 4. I keep saying it because I can hardly believe it myself.

Since that day 4 years ago, time has flown yet the moments with both Q and E stand still like pictures and movies in mind.  Their smiles and giggles tickle my ears and warm my heart.  I can feel their joy and pain.  Their fear and their fortitude.  I take moments to snuggle them and appreciate them every single day (even the rough ones:)).  I remember what they have shown me about strength, compassion, perseverance, empathy, joy, and love.   I know that they have made me a much better person in the journey of my own life.

Their arrival was the most important day in my life because it changed me forever.  It has challenged me beyond anything I could have imagined while giving me the greatest fulfillment in the smallest of moments.  Moments that would have likely been lost on me had everything not been the way that is has been.  Moments, I would have not known to appreciate.  Moments to wonder at all of our many blessings and moments to realize just how precious every moment our time is together.

I often think this blog is my love letter to my children.  The one that they will one day read and realize how much I am truly grateful for them. The love letter that even if they cannot read, when Q or M reads it to E, she will feel the love that radiates from the words that I write.  As we embark upon a new year of their life, we will watch as they grow and change and meet new milestones big and small, but we will grow and change with them. Their birthday marks a new year for a new appreciation for what’s to come and a reminder to continue to be grateful for all of those moments that we are so very very very fortunate to have.

Happy Birthday Q and E. You are my precious Angels and thank you for giving me this journey. While I may not have totally understood just how many ways today was important 4 years ago, I certainly do today.  Today is ‘mynewfavoriteday.’ I hope you will join me in wishing my little miracles happy birthday and take a moment to feel the joy and gratitude that fills my entire being and let it be a lens through which to view your own gifts.

Forever and ever...

Forever and ever…

“I’ll love you forever, I’ll like you for always, as long as I am living, my babies you’ll be.”

Happy Happy Birthday.

Love always,


Quote from the book, “I’ll Love You Forever” by Robert Munsch and Sheila McGraw

October 1, 2013


The soul surpasses what the mind thinks is possible.

“The mind determines what’s possible, the soul surpasses it.” ~ Pilar Coolinta

Today is a big day.

Today one year ago my soul was put to work beyond any measure I could have imagined. Until then, my mind had been doing most of the deciding what’s possible. What E, could handle, what could happen, how she would grow and evolve.  My mind told me that Q was an amazing gift and E’s forever partner in showing her what’s possible by not treating her different, by showing us that she is exactly as she should be. My mind told me that we were all set with minis and our family was complete and could not possibly handle more.

On October 1st, 2012, my mind went silent as I heard the words “it’s Angelman Syndrome.” I knew it was possible.  I had asked for the test.  But yet, all I could feel was, it’s not possible.

The world as I knew it would never be the same. It has never been completely the same….but that’s exactly the point.

I have written about that day more than once,  because I can still feel every emotion that went along with the words in that moment and the minutes and hours that followed. The extreme sadness, fear, despair, anger, grief, burdened not my mind but my soul.  It’s my soul that can still call these emotions up on demand.  I feel them in a cool trickle that seeps from the deepest part of me.  I cannot fight it.   I can see the movie as it plays out in my mind.  The last look on KC’s face as she closed her laptop. The strum ringtone of the phone. The genetic counslor’s  words as they ring in my ears and my own polite and measured response. The look of nervous anticipation on M and G’s face. M’s swift movements around the large conference to hug me.  The warmth of G and M’s hands, my very own angels, as we lay on a cushion tipsy on Whispering Angel trying to shut out the pain.

One year later, the only thing that I can feel even more deeply and that challenges the wave is the moment I look into the eyes of my dear sweet daughter E and I see her light.  Her light and love for life.  It is not her mind that knows these parts of her, it is her soul.  The power of this love comes not from my mind, but from my soul.  In her eyes I see that my mind cannot know what’s possible, only her soul can show me.

All around me lately are stories of sadness.  Miscarriages, difficult diagnoses, even death.  Situations I cannot imagine and yet even as my heart breaks for each of them, I have no words to comfort other than, I am here and sending love.  As I listen, I always hear some combination of the trickle in their voice as their minds grapple with the reality and the fear of what’s unknown and next.

Last Thursday night, KSP and I were on the host committee for an event benefitting Angelman Syndrome.  The money raised went to fund a fellowship in honor of one the deceased former researchers who dedicated himself to finding a cure for Angelman Syndrome. As part of the event one of the research recipients of the fellowship got up to speak about why she had dedicated herself to a rare syndrome.   She talked about the happy demeanor of the children and how they try so hard. She outlined some of the challenges that the parents face.   As she spoke, the trickle began to seep through me.  I realized I often forget the reality.  My mind sees what’s possible and what is.  As the tears streamed down my face in front of some of our dear friends who attended and strangers I did not know, E’s face and voice appeared in my mind.  Her bright smile. Her vocalizations. Her clear eyes full of comfort and love and I felt her  presence.  She was there reminding me how far she had come. How she had already surpassed what’s possible and had taken us all with her.

Today, is a new October 1st.  The pain of the day last year will never go away, but I want to see the day now from the happy part of my soul. From E’s eyes and through her soul.  It would be a lie to say it’s easy and that I do not still feel fear, grief, and sadness now and then, but more than that I feel love and I bask in her delight with herself and everything around her.  Her delight in what’s possible.


Through the eyes and soul of an angel.

It will be her soul that helps me surpass what my own mind thinks as possible.  It would seem that this is a feat that can only be accomplished by Angels, and an Angel she is…my sweet Angel E.

No matter what you are going through happy or painful.  No matter what your mind has determined is possible or not.  No matter what you assume or think should happen, listen to your soul.  It is a place within you where all things are possible for you and those you love. It may require looking at things a little differently. It may require abandoning expectations. It may require a whole new focus.  It may require looking at something through someones elses’ soul so that your own feelings become more clear.  It is here, in this place, the quiet place where you can find even the smallest sliver to make today ‘anewfavoriteday.’

I invite you all to reset with me today.  To take a pain, fear, sadness and find the one thing that can turn it and make it just a little bit better.  It all else fails, see today through this sweet Angel’s soul and you can find a space to make today ‘anewfavoriteday.’


Cover image shared from fibrohaven.com

August 27, 2013


An unknown dream comes true…Baby M.

“Sometimes the dreams that come true are the dreams you never even knew you had.”
― Alice Sebold

5 weeks.

It’s been 5 weeks since I sat, enormously pregnant, on my oversized brown leather chair in our family room and typed my last post on Sunday night July 20th.

It was 5 weeks ago that night that I first truly acknowledged and said I was excited about the future. 5 weeks since I had made it to place where I was no longer fearful about what life would be like when baby M arrived and no longer fearful that putting my words out there would bring my worst fears of not making it to term.

5 weeks ago today, in a scheduled 3:36 am post,  I put my happiness and excitement out into the universe in writing and in my own words.

And, it was 5 weeks ago today at 3:30 am I had my first contraction, went into labor and Baby M arrived into the world, into our family, and into my heart and soul.

5 weeks ago today, my heart healed. As a reader, Heather, so aptly put it, Baby M was the tonic that seeped into the cracks of my heart I thought were beyond repair. Cracks that I thought were scars and would never heal, but now they are lighter. They are quiet. They are no longer so raw.

The past 10 months  have changed my life in a way I never knew I dreamed.  Laughter and tears, and laughter about my tears have been a constant.  I have struggled with my own emotions in a way that was completely foreign to me.  Joy, fear, guilt, anxiety, frustration, happiness….over and over again, wave after wave and in no particular order these feelings would rush through my body as if being carried like a drug through my bloodstream. I could feel them all over my pregnant body.

And then in a moment that will forever be marked on my memory, it all went a way and  I only felt peace. As I reached out my arms at exactly 7 pm on 7/22 and pulled my new baby girl onto my chest,  a true  peace settled over me. A peace I knew would now last.  A peace that would be my new baseline. Another moment to grab onto and forever seal with all the other moments of Q and E that have become the dreams I never knew I had.

A new beginning....

A new beginning….

BabyMia_1 month

Baby M…our precious Princess.

There are so many posts to follow this one, the funny things that happened, the other happiness and challenges that have come with our new life, but today is about my unknown dream, baby M.  Today is about our own little Princess, who, while the world watched Prince George come into the world on July 22 and I am sure was bringing his own sense of healing, our precious Baby M was joining us to heal this mama’s heart.  Setting a new course for each day to truly be ‘mynewfavoriteday.’

I am so proud and happy to introduce you all to precious Baby M.  and hope that some of my joy, my faith in everything happens for a reason, and my peace finds its way to you to make today ‘yournewfavoriteday.’

❤ Shannon

July 22, 2013


Do overs, hope and a new path.

“Where hope grows, miracles blossom.”~ Elna Rae –

As I sit here now nearly 39 weeks pregnant, yes, nearly 39 weeks…I am finally breathing again.  Figuratively and sometimes literally, I held my breath for 38 weeks.  And then last Wednesday, I hit 38 weeks. Until that day, each day leading up to this point has been a point of reflection on my first go around at having my precious E and Q, which we all know didn’t go so well.  Each week became a mile marker of what I knew the development of a baby to be outside the womb.  Each week a battle to not let Baby M be a preemie.  To grow her safely inside me beyond even the 37 week premature  marker so that her whole being could develop inside of me. Each week and routine decision loaded with a sense of responsibility and a hum of anxiety.

Now,  at 38 weeks and 4 days pregnant, my sweet baby M has fully functioning lungs and heart and brain. She has the ability to simultaneously suck, breathe and swallow. She can regulate her own body temperature, oh, and did I mention, she is a BIG girl.  Nearing 8 lbs and continuing to grow.  She will look like a baby. A baby who is ready to enter the world, and hopefully, if all goes well, a baby who will ride down the hospital elevator in a small old fashioned navy blue carriage with me in a wheel chair by her side to the parking garage. KSP will pull the car around and we will put her in her car seat to take her home with us. If everything goes smoothly and “normally,” she and I will have the moment that I walked past countless times each day for 4 months that I went to visit E and Q in the NICU the first time around. Countless moments of sadness and most often tears engulfing me as I longed to be those families, and those mothers.  Now, I may just get the chance.  A do over.

Our sweet baby M has given us all a do over.  A way to heal that we could not have embarked upon without her own fight, determination and decision to join us. Admittedly, it was a long road for me.  To see our family as one of 5 and not as 4, but today, at 38 weeks and 4 days, I am excited. Excited to meet her. Excited to welcome her. Excited to be uncomfortable in my body and “ready.”  Excited to push myself to go out for a walk so that I will hopefully motivate her to the next phase.  Excited (finally) to have perfect strangers make silly and kind comments about the very burgeoning belly.  Just excited.

Each moment starting 4 days ago has given my heart and spirit a much needed do over.  It has freed the deepest part of my soul to hope in a new way.  Hope,  in a way that brings light and fresh air with no presence of the familiar cobwebs of fear. Hope in a way that gives us a new path on this journey. At 38 weeks and 4 days pregnant, it’s hope in our new little girl that has reminded our whole family  that our miracles continue to blossom and that while we cannot always see the path ahead,  love and hope have taught and will continue to teach us all that each day can truly be ‘anewfavoriteday.’

Cover Image shared from:

May 31, 2013


A spectrum of vulnerability.

“It is not our toughness that keeps us warm at night, but our tenderness which makes others want to keep us warm.” ~ Harold Lyon

I have never really been good at asking directly for help.  In many ways it always felt like I was somehow in turn admitting I was weak.  Even now, I struggle.  I am sure part of this stems from my need to be good at things. To feel like I have things under control. To feel like I could control the outcomes if I did x, y, or z. By nature,  I am positive. An optimist. I am a doer. I solve problems.  I don’t focus on what’s wrong as much as how to fix it.

Professionally, I have always been good at this problem-solving and having it together, personally, I have lived by the same rules. If I was having a hard time, I never wanted to stop to feel sorry for myself, believing that focusing on the solution was a much better use of my time.  Asking for help in my own book, and only as it applied to me, meant I was becoming a victim of my circumstances.  Until I realized that not being vulnerable and asking for help was in some ways its own form of weakness…to not admit that I can’t do it all with a smile and positive attitude.

The circumstances around having Q and E submerged me into this world of lack of control. E’s delays and the persistent unknowns reinforced that sometimes no matter what you do, there is no easy solution. A crystal clear path or outcome.  My solution was to own what I could do. How I, and we, could all rise up to meet the challenges.  Just when I thought things were “under some form of control” I found out I was pregnant.

This part of the journey more than the mile markers before it have taught me new levels of vulnerability.  Acknowledging my own limits, as well as other people putting limits on me.  Fear of  the past repeating itself driving me to ask for help. To admit I can’t do everything forcing me out of my comfort zone of my perceptions of control.

I am now 31 weeks pregnant and live each day with a combination of gratitude and relief.  My Dr.’s voice rings through my head daily to “behave.” To take it easy, to not overdue it. To get help  By his orders I asked for some much-needed help to keep E and Q’s rigorous schedule while protecting baby M still growing in my belly.   In many ways it felt like I was laying all my cards on the table in a high-stakes game of poker and in others it felt like I was shedding a giant boulder that I had been lugging around.

In my vulnerable state, gratefully my dad and Mother-in-Law were both able and willing to alternate weeks to come help me keep the frenzy of our lives going for the next month.  As my body grows more and more tired and uncoordinated, my mind is forced to admit even more that I am not able to do what I could do before and that I cannot compromise on any level the potential safety of Baby M and ultimately our family unit as we know it.  I now have to say no to things. To say I can’t.  To say I am not able.  To say I am too tired. All things that are not part of my make-up; yet, in some ways have given me new strength.  Permission to be ok to take care of myself.

I hope to remember this as a lesson going forward once Baby M arrives. To remember that vulnerability brings new warmth and strength of a different kind.  That vulnerability beyond my written word  shielded by a computer screen and through practice in my own life is a new milestone on this journey.  Opening new doors and new pathways of possibility for being going forward.  New ways to make each day ‘anewfavoriteday.’  I wish you all tenderness and vulnerability that will give you a new way  to see each day as ‘anewfavoriteday.’

April 25, 2013


Love sees what is most true.

Love is not blind. Love sees what is most true.” ~ Vanna Bonta

As I sit here 26 weeks pregnant today and approach each day with caution,  I can feel my love for our new baby girl grow exponentially.  I wait anxiously for the smallest movements, rolls, kicks and pokes. I count each day and each week backwards from when I delivered Q and E at 28 weeks, just 2 short weeks from now.  Even as I type these words, I can feel the breath catching in my lungs waiting hopefully for my mouth to open and exhale…the physical manifestation of my entire being begging for the unavailable confirmation that everything will be different this time. Yet, even in this expected ambiguity, with each roll, kick and poke, I find comfort and confirmation that everything is as it should be right now.  Although we cannot see her, all of us have our own connection with the sweet girl, we will name Mia.

While the  love from KSP and me is obvious as her parents, the love between siblings can be harder to distinguish; however, with a discerning eye and some intuition, it is all clear as if peering through a window to the soul.

Each day, little Q touches my belly and says, “that’s baby Mia?”  I always respond with “yes, bug, do you want to say hi to her, she can hear you.”


Q says hello to baby Mia a month ago…

He always replies yes, and tentatively puts his face right up against my belly and with muffled words, says “hi, baby Mia.” I can’t help but smile from the inside out as a warmth radiates throughout my body each time.

With E it’s a different approach, and in some way, it’s more as if little Mia is the one taking the initiative; as if she knows….

The reason we chose the name Mia was not simply because we liked the name.  We chose Mia because we truly believe it is a word that, no matter how limited E’s vocabulary, she will be able to say some version of her sister’s name.  That, with her new ability to say “mmmm” and “ba ba ba ba” she will at some point near or far into the future, she will be able to say some word that sounds like  “Mia” that she will associate with her sister.

Perhaps it is this knowledge that Mia already knows in her heart. That while she is the baby girl, she will someday be the big girl.  So each night as I hold E to give her her bottle before bed on my ever-expanding belly, little Mia starts to kick her sister.  To say hello.  To these little nudges, E’s eyes light up and she gives me a smile to say, I know too Mama.

In those moments, suddenly all the anxiety about if everything will be ok, about being afraid of the past, about how we will manage the future, flies out the window, for as it has always been, it will be the love that guides us in how it will all work.  We are not blind.   I am not blind, for I see what is most true…love all around in everyday words, looks, moments, and gestures.  I hope you can all find this love somewhere today with a child, spouse, sibling, friend, pet, or whatever or whoever brings you joy, and let that love make today ‘anewfavoriteday.’