Migraines - The Absolute Worst.

Migraines: a condition I've lived with for almost all my life.  In fact, I remember the first attack I ever had, I couldn't have been more than 8 years old.  I vividly remember another attack soon thereafter, while on the soccer field, being overcome with the worst pain ever, quite literally thinking I was going to die right then and there in my shin pads and cleats.

I remember so many days crying to my mom, missing school, throwing up in a pan, begging God to just take the pain away, and wondering why none of my friends were experiencing this crazy thing that had suddenly taken over my life.  I saw doctors and answered so many question about what "triggered" these attacks (i.e. food, drink, allergens, activities), and nothing was adding up.  I began to wonder if there was something wrong with my brain, and apparently the doctors did too because it wasn't too long after a bad attack at about 10 years old that the neurologist sent me for my first MRI.  I was friggin petrified because I also hate being enclosed in tight spaces (flash forward to 2022 when I was 9 months pregnant with Jase and I got stuck in the elevator on the way up to my OBGYN appointment and again, quite literally thought I was going to die of a panic stricken heart attack, but that's a story for another day), but I was desperate to make these headaches stop.

I remember knowing my mom was also terrified, because I overheard her calling my dad at work to tell him I was going for an MRI, but luckily she held my hand through it all, and I was able to listen to a CD (remember those?) during the scan (I chose LeAnn Rimes), and soon enough it was over, and my results were clear, and everyone was happy... until the next migraine came to wreak havoc on my little body, leaving us with the same question... WHY?

And so it went for the next 30 or so years.  I've had numerous appointments, scans, tried natural remedies like ginger and magnesium, Benadryl at night, tried to exercise the headaches away, I've been to therapy, tried journaling everything I did before the migraine to see if I could find a direct cause, and I've probably eaten more Advil and painkillers than any human should ever consume in a lifetime.  Even the Oxy's I got from my C-Sections won't touch the pain, and I admit there have been times I'd probably have taken street drugs just to take the edge off (if I knew how to get my hands on them) because hey, desperate times call for desperate f*cking measures.

I've truly never been able to figure out what causes these attacks - are they hormonal?  No, because they come at all random times of the month.  Is it from caffeine or lack thereof?  No, because I've tried limiting and increasing caffeine and it doesn't make a difference.  Does alcohol cause them?  Of course alcohol can cause next day hangover headaches, but those aren't the same as the excruciating migraine attacks that come out of nowhere.  Is stress the root?  Honey, I've been stressed out since birth and let's face it, ain't no anti-anxiety meds strong enough to take these headaches away so kindly, no, stress is not the root.  I could be on a god damn beach in Mexico with a drink in my hand and Taylor Swift blasting through speakers in my absolute glory and BOOM - here comes a migraine just to f*ck up my day.

This has been a repeat cycle for my. whole. damn. life. 

Finally I had had enough.  Two months ago I made an appointment with a new NP at my primary care doctor's office and explained what I've been dealing with, giving her a basic rundown of everything you just read above, and I'm not sure if she thought I was absolutely crazy or truly sympathized with me, but she prescribed a magic little pill called Sumatriptan (which everyone seems to know about and I'm over here wondering why the Christ no one prescribed this to me before), but so far so good, and the few times I have taken this medicine, it has actually WORKED.  Well, it has taken about 75% of the pain away during an attack and after what I've been through, I'd call that a serious win.  Wouldn't you?

So here I am, writing this post, with only a tiny bit of a headache left over from the one that came out of nowhere on my drive home last night, and I'm just thanking God that I was able to pop a little pill and wake up to most of the pain being gone.  I truly can't believe I have found something that works, for now.  I know many of you don't believe in medication or will probably tell me about the side effects migraine medication can cause, but listen - migraine attacks have stolen so many precious days from my life (Paul knows that when I have one, I'm literally out of commission, locked up inside my bedroom with a cloth over my eyes to keep the darkness in, and an ice pack on my skull to help numb the pain.  He even bought me a new ice pack for my birthday and should probably own half of the Tiger Balm company with the amount he's bought for me over the years to smother all over my temples).  Even Jackson knows when Mommy has a headache it means I am MIA for days, and he will sweetly deliver coffee and more ice up to my bedroom, probably checking to make sure I'm still alive.

So there you have it.  My battle with migraines - my biggest enemy.  Do any of you suffer from these as well?  Have you found anything that helps?  Let a sister know, maybe we can all help each other.

Xo,

Holly

Routines.

Let's talk about routines.

We've all heard it... families thrive with routines.

And yes, that is totally true.  So like the rest of parents just trying to do the right thing, when a new week is starting, I make sure all their clothes are washed and folded and laid out for them on Sunday nights - I'm talking shirts, pants, underwear, socks, sweatshirts for colder days - all neatly organized into piles to grab each morning to make for a seamless transition from pajamas to outfits.  I make sure Jackson always has something extra loose to wear on Wednesdays and Fridays because those are gym class days.  I remember which days he has art so that his nice clothes won't get stained from markers and paint.  Jase always has comfy cozy clothes ready because he is non stop running around and I want him to be comfortable.  Jackson's lunches are made the night before with cute little notes reminding him how proud I am of him and how much I love him.  Healthy snacks are always packed and ready.  Water bottles are washed.  Ice trays are filled (thanks to Paul).  Breakfast is thoroughly planned and thought out on Sunday afternoon grocery store trips, to make mornings easy.  Kids vitamins are easy to reach so they're never forgotten.  I set my alarm extra early so my hair either gets washed on the mornings I have to go into the office and look put together, or I strategically have an outfit ready in mind that will pair well with the slicked back bun look.  If it's a WFH day, I have my leggings and sweatshirt ready to go.  I wake up in a good mood with the hopes of an easy morning and day.  I open my eyes and all the tabs start opening in my brain, and I slowly remind myself that everything was set up the night before so we should be smooth sailing...

But what about when one or two little things happen, such as the boys jumping and dancing on their beds and laughing so sweetly until one of them falls or bangs their head and now the laughs have turned into cries, and then coming downstairs to the the discovery that the cats dumped their water dish (again) all over the bathroom floor and also threw up a lovely hairball that I stepped in, while holding a cranky toddler whose nose won't stop running and has decided he doesn't want to eat breakfast so he tosses it all on the rug secretly trying to feed the kitties... and oops, we forgot the Kindergarten "sight words" we were supposed to go over to prep for the quiz on Friday so now we have to somehow go through three nights' worth of words, I have to sign my parent initials and send the paper back in his folder to school.  Ok let me quickly go get dressed so we can sit down and learn those words, but oh no! I forgot to switch the laundry into the dryer the night before because my phone rang or I got distracted by an email, so now I can't wear what I planned, and I accidentally dropped my bronzer on the floor into a million pieces and now the cat is eating it, my contacts are SO BLURRY (why the F do my contacts always give me trouble when I'm already stressed), and now I'm sweating, and it's also spirit week so Jackson has to wear red, sports gear, pajamas, a hat, crazy socks that feel so weird when he puts them on, and his sneakers are soaked because he jumped in a puddle the night before, and we ran out of orange juice and I forgot to feed the cats breakfast because I was cleaning up their puke, so I'm speed texting Paul about WHY ARE MORNINGS SO HARD, and it's snowing so I can't forget to start my car early and the kids look so cute on the couch watching the snow fall out the window and I should snap a photo but I sneezed so the picture came out blurry, and I hope traffic isn't bad because my boss has a deposition so I should really get there early but god damnit my gas light is on E - why didn't I just get gas last night?

So then I load the kids in the car white knuckling the steering wheel answering all the questions and playing all 10 favorite songs during the 2 minute drive to Jackson's school, fielding work calls, pulling into his school at exactly 8:25am, making sure to give him a huge kiss before he jumps out of the car with his backpack on that's half the size of his perfect little body, thinking about how I could have had so much more patience this morning and they're only little once, while listening to Jase scream BYE JACKIE, I LOVE YOUUUUUUU as he exits my jeep, then driving to my mom's and dropping Jase off and sneaking out quickly so he doesn't see me go, and tearing up while I drive away because I love these kids so damn much, so why in Christ's name is it so crazy just getting to this point each morning?

What about when all that happens?  What about when the routine just gets totally derailed?  Do you end up like me just so frazzled with overthinking it all that when you get to the speaker at the Starbucks line you drive right past it up to the window realizing you forgot to even order your coffee.... or are you normal?

Just curious :)

Love,

Holly

Welcome back...

Hi everyone!  It’s been so long since I’ve posted here…

Life has been extremely crazy over the last 4-5 years since I’ve written and shared this space with you.  Lots of good things have happened, a couple terrible things have happened, my life has never been so stressful and crazy, but I’m still here, stronger than ever, ready to get back to writing in this outlet not only for me, but because I’m hopeful there are some of you that can relate. If even just one of you thinks wow, I feel that too, then this is all worth it.

For those of you that have followed me over the last few years, you know that I got married in 2021, have two wild and crazy perfect sons, Jackson (age 6) and Jase (age 2), and two kittens (Sophie and Sully/twins).  I still have my full time job as a Legal Assistant (been in this role for 15 years), and I still have a very active and busy social media management business that I run on the side.  On top of all of that, I sadly lost my Dad back in April.  It was sudden, tragic, earth shattering and all the things I don’t like to think about or feel, but it’s my reality, and it totally sucks.  I also lost my 17 year old cat Nala, who this blog was basically named after, and that really hit hard.  So, with all of that being said, I’m trying to somehow navigate my life while maintaining my sanity, as if that’s even possible…. is it?  I guess we’ll find out.

Even though it’s fun and exciting being in my 30’s and finally feeling like I know who I am as a person, sometimes I get lost in the battle of “I shouldn’t be stressed/sad/anxious, so many people have it so much worse, I’m so lucky to have a beautiful life with family, friends, healthy kids and a happy marriage…”  and I start to feel guilty, almost like I should never complain about the tough times and that I have no excuse for taking a break from this blog, from finishing my 2^nd book, for all the projects I don’t get done and the piles of laundry that don’t get folded. I probably yell and cry too much, and sometimes I want to curl up in a ball under my sheets or better yet run the f*!k away and never come back… but then I remind myself that everyone has their own “worst”, and everyone is entitled to their own feelings, and being a mom is freaking hard.  Life is hard, but it always gets better.  Things always work out, family sticks together, and as my Dad always said “what comes around goes around.” This is when I remind myself that I’m only human, and god damn sometimes that alone is a lot to handle, but things always do have a way of working themselves out.

But enough about ^ that, let’s move on to the good things – shall we?  As I said above, I got married in 2021 – our wedding was everything I hoped it would be – an intimate ceremony, a big reception that felt just like the best party I’ve ever been to with the greatest food and music, and this year Paul and I will have been together for 12 whole years!  It’s pretty incredible to have someone you know will stick by your side through it all, and that’s truly what I have with him.  I couldn’t get through life without him, that’s for sure.  Jase turned 2 in December, Jackson just turned 6 three weeks ago, and I can honestly say these kids are the best things that have ever happened to me.  Challenging me in ways I’ve never known, and loving me in ways only sons can love their mothers (boy moms – am I right?), God truly knew what he was doing when he gave me two boys.  My hands are full (AF), but my heart is even fuller.  Oh god, I sound like one of those corny plaques that people hang up in their living rooms next to the “Live. Laugh. Love.” signs… Moving on.

We still live in MA, we are hoping to buy something bigger eventually, we are both plugging away at the so-called American Dream, I still can’t smell after having Covid in 2021, I’m still a vegetarian, I have recently rekindled my love for fitness over the last year, I still fantasize about becoming a columnist and living in NYC as the next Carrie Bradshaw, I’m still obsessed with Taylor Swift, and I wrote a poetry/lyrics book in 2018 (which you should all purchase a copy of).  Sometimes I laugh so hard I cry, and I'm always overstimulated by something (especially noise and the feeling of heat/AC or something of the like blowing on me).  I have a new found love for very specific Italian red wines (everything else gives me a headache).  I love strong coffee, and I will easily sit in a 15 minute drive through to get it or else my whole day will just feel wrong (all while panicking that I'm already late for wherever I have to be).  I will never say no to sitting outside under some string lights, and I love going to the beach/lake/pool, etc., but my ideal vacation is in a big city with skyscrapers and tons of little hole in the wall restaurants/bars/shops and countless opportunities for Instagram worthy photos.  I will pretty much strike up conversation with any stranger, I still have the same group of best friends, my mom is my ride or die, and I very much still wish my sister would move home from Tennessee.  Anything else I’m sure you’ll read about as this blog evolves once again.

So thanks for reading, if you’re new here, welcome to my corner of the world, and I hope you can find solace and appreciation in my chaos.  I’d like to believe that all good things are ahead.  I’d say I deserve a little break... but honestly, I know that I’m now indestructible and ready to handle whatever life throws at me with grace, strength, and more empathy than ever.

Be back soon, and here's to a happy healthy 2025 (even though it's almost March)!

Love,

Holly

Christmas Eve - A Poem For You

It's been a while since I've posted.  Life just... got in the way a bit.  I hate to say it, but it's true.

With that being said, I thought today would be a perfect time to share one of my favorite poems I've written.  I'm full of so many emotions today - missing loved ones who are usually visiting, fear over the pandemic, guilt over being healthy while others are suffering, all mixed with extreme excitement over seeing Christmas through my son's eyes - there's just so much to swallow.  But although this year might feel a little different than most Christmas Eve's past, let's not forget the memories made as we cheers to a happier, healthier lifetime of holiday seasons ahead.

Christmas Eve

A voice, a place, a familiar smell

A circumstance I know so well

Uniting eyes over a drinking glass

Tender smiles as people pass

 

It’s the “How are you? Where have you been?”

Regretting the time it’s been since then

A sudden sadness strikes the heart

Wishing time could stop, and pause to start

 

Red lips from wine, a buzzing smile

Wow I haven’t been here in a while

Glossy blubs strung on the tree

A laugh, a kiss, a wink at me

 

Drinks collide, a joyful cheer

The well-known scent of winter beer

Delight for all, ignoring age

Of stockings green, a Christmas sage

The night moves on, we say goodbye

Some they laugh, some start to cry

For loved ones lost, prayers are prayed

Memories had, memories made

 

Tomorrow it will come so soon,

I gaze up at the December moon

I thank the stars for cherished time

For holidays spent with this circle of mine

 

337 Days Later

It's been 337 days since I gave birth to him. 247 days since I've been back to work, and in 28 days, he will be one year old.  Read that again.

Before I even start typing this post, I need to ask you - DO YOU KNOW WHERE THE F%*K THE TIME GOES?  Because I have no clue.  I feel like I just found out I was pregnant, just told my family, friends, and bosses, and was just gearing up to take a sweet 14 weeks off from work to bond with my baby and figure out how to be a mother and a family of 3.  And by now, all of that has already happened, and is over, except the figuring out how to be a mother part - that I'm still learning every day.

I seriously can't wrap my chaotic-nonstop thinking-always in overdrive brain around how fast life moves.  I remember being young and saying to my parents, "god I wish I could drive", "I can't wait to be 18", "UGH WHEN WILL I JUST BE 21??", and the one I still catch myself saying today "is this day over yet?" to which my dad would always reply, "honey, don't wish your life away..."  And although I've pretended to understand what that meant over the last decade or so of adulthood, I never really got it until now.  I also never quite understood what my parents meant when they said "if you think life passes by quickly now, just wait 'til you have kids." Yeah okay, guys, I don't have to worry about that one for a while... Ha.

And here it is, the phrase I always rolled my eyes at in response when people said it - just wait 'til you have kids.  Because here I am, ironically as ever, typing this blog post with a wrist tattooed in my son's birth date, wondering where the last 11 months went, no sooner hearing my Dad's voice in my mind...

Oh yeah, it flew by because now I have a kid.

Seriously though, it's only been a few weeks short of a year, and I already feel like it passed by so quickly that I didn't have a chance to hold on tightly enough to any one moment.  I feel like I can hardly remember the newborn days, spent in the hospital, itching to go home and start our lives with baby Jackson - it feels like a blur.  People are still telling me how sick I got after my C-section, about all the nurses, the blood work, the decisions, the paperwork, and conversations everyone had with me - I can't remember any of it.   But I do remember all the scents - the smell of the elevators and latex gloves and fresh Pampers, the sound of the constant high pitch beeping of the hallways, the way his little ankles and feet felt so dry after being in water for 9 months, the way he looked at me when he and I were the only ones awake at 6am in my hospital room.  I remember the way his hair felt when I first touched it, how small his baby toenails were, and how freaking strong his grip was around my finger.  I remember trying so hard to breastfeed and feeling like a failure because it wasn't working.  I remember kissing his head and being instantly petrified and over protective when anyone, even the doctors, wanted to hold him.  I'm still that way.

...and I'm not sorry for it.  I've spent so much time trying to remember to hold on to each moment and not let it pass by, but like anything else in life, I can't control the clock and I just have to do my best to relish in as much as I can with this sweet baby of mine.  So forgive me if I am a little over protective of him, he'll always be my fragile little bunny - all 27 pounds of him.  Forgive me for not texting you back or not picking up my phone.  I'm busy so much of the time.  And when it's time for him to wind down for the night, he is my priority.  I can't help but want to hold him close and let him sleep on my chest.  So don't make comments about hindering his independence because I help him fall asleep, and please don't judge me for kissing him 1,000 times a day and saying no if you ask to take him from my arms.  Understand that I spent 9 months growing him, and he's finally here, I'm gone for 12 hours a day, 4 days a week, and the time is goddamn flying, and I want him to be as close to me as possible, because one day, I'll want him to sit on my lap and snuggle, but he'll have other plans, and I'm so afraid he's going to look at me and say, "is this day over yet?"

Time, please just slow the hell down.

On Being A Working Mom...

Dear Jax,

It's me, Mommy.  I'm writing you this letter, here on my blog, because I'm still too emotional to put it all into words.  You can't read yet, but if the internet is still a thing when you're old enough, hopefully you can come on here and see how cool I once was and read this letter to you.  You might laugh at me or roll your eyes over how dramatic I am, but I can't help it.  We've spent every day together since last May when I found out I was pregnant, and now I'm back to work and it feels like it all went by so fast and that our precious time together was just stolen away from us.  And we didn't even have a choice.

When I say we didn't have a choice, I'm saying that to be logical.  I mean it in this way - if I want you to have the life you deserve, then I have to be at work, making money and excelling as a working mom.  I need to contribute to the family, and your father and I want you to have everything you've ever needed.  We want you to be fulfilled, to be able to see the world from the perspective you are worthy of.  We want you to be proud of us.  Thus, we both have no choice but to work to make it work as family.  I hope some day you understand.

To be brutally honest, I don't really want to stop working all together... but I don't want to miss out on such valuable time with you either.  To tell you the truth, I feel regretful that being at work makes me happy too.  It's an unfortunate dilemma, and I feel guilty every time I drop you off and kiss you goodbye as I drive away to my other life.  I feel bad that being at work gives me a bit of a "break", and that it sometimes feels good to have time to myself.  Believe me, snuggling with you on the couch every day, holding your little body in my arms knowing I had nowhere else to be was the most beautiful and purest form of happiness I've ever experienced.  And it's not that I don't want to spend every second with you, it's just that life is growing process.  We need to grow in our relationship as mother and son, but we need to learn how to nurture our relationships with the other people in our lives as well.  We can't forget about everyone else who needs us, too.  I can't forget about the world I lived in a little over three months ago, and I don't want to lose my identity or forget who I was before I became your mom.

I just hope some day you're proud of me for saying this -- but I'm proud of my career, and I'm proud of my accomplishments.  I'm happy that I have a job that challenges me daily and employers who respect me. Yes it's hard to show up with a smile every day when my heart is with you, but I have to do it.  For me, for you, for Daddy, and for my job that depends on me.  Does any of this make sense?  Probably not, but you'll soon learn that I ramble a lot because I have SO. MANY. FEELINGS. and I'm just trying my best to make it all work.

I think that's why I'm so torn.  My greatest accomplishment isn't something I have done, or can do, at work.  My greatest accomplishment is you.  It's your perfect smile when you look at me, it's in the trusting gaze you give me when we stare at each other, it's your soft skin, your big eyes (color still undetermined), your smart little brain and healthy, always-moving body, and it's in your zest and love for life.  But even though you're my biggest accomplishment, I still have to accomplish things at work, too.  I hope you can forgive me for trying to do it all.  It's so hard, honey.  It's hard being pregnant, it's harder giving birth, but it's the hardest going back to work and leaving you.  It's so hard trying to juggle it all.

Believe me, I know you're safe and having a wonderfully happy time with your Grandparents while your dad and I are at work, and if you could be with anyone in the world other than with us, I am so glad my parents are the ones you are with, and if it wasn't for modern technology and my mom's understanding of my incessant need for millions of pictures of you a day, it would be even harder to make it through these long days without you. I can't help but be a little jealous of your dad when he picks you up every day.  I know you two are spending quality guy time together though, and you are so lucky to have him as your Daddy.  Don't ever forget that.  Plus, he sends me pictures of you too. The photos of you are making it easier to cope.

I know you're still so innocent and you don't know a lot of things yet.  You don't know how hard it is to juggle traffic and deadlines and constant emails.  You don't know that I get lost in daily thoughts of you when I'm supposed to be typing up letters and pleadings for lawyers. You don't know that I negotiated working longer days Monday-Thursday so that I could have Fridays off so we can spend an entire day together.  You don't know how difficult waking up at 4am is, to make sure I have enough time to feed you before we start our day.  You probably don't know that I stare at you while you sleep, that I hold your little hand while I feed you, that I still cry at night as I second guess everything I'm doing as a mom, and that it actually physically hurts when you go up a size in diapers and clothes because I wish you could stay tiny forever, and that it's not easy for me to digest how fast time is flying.  You don't know that when I leave work, I think about you the entire ride home.  I think about whether or not you've picked up a new habit that I'll soon see, or if you've pooped and burped enough, and that I can't wait to walk through the door and squeeze and kiss you so hard.  You don't know how bad I can't wait to get home to you.

You don't know yet just how much you mean to me.

You may see me flying through the house, packing your diaper bag for the next day, scooping formula into little containers, eating dinner quickly, washing my makeup off with one hand and getting our clothes ready for the next day with the other.  I know you see me moving fast, but it's hard to slow down because I want to get it all done so I can relish in the feeling of your warm little body against mine as I give you your nighttime bottle.

I should probably stop writing now, because the emotions are kicking in and my eyes are filling with some all too familiar tears.  I just hope that when you get to this point in my letter, baby, that you see how special you are and that I don't mean to sacrifice any time with you because I am selfish.  I'm doing it because I need to.  Because it's so hard making ends meet.

But also because I love who I am as a career woman, and I love knowing that I am needed and depended on at work, and with that means being able to provide you with your wants and needs.  I'm doing it because I love knowing someday you will learn how to chase your goals... the way I am learning how to chase mine.

But Jackson, if there's one thing you take from this letter, I hope it's the realization that nothing in the world will ever trump my love for you.

Love,
Your Working Mama

photo credit: Jessica Morgan Photography
^ Check her out - she is AMAZINGLY talented and is so good with babies!

Jackson Paul

This time I'm not going to apologize for my absence like I usually do.  I'm not going to explain where I've been or why I haven't found the time to sit down and write.  I won't try to justify being MIA because honestly, I probably could have found some time to come visit this space... but I just wasn't ready.  I wasn't ready to organize my thoughts, pictures, and emotions in enough of an orderly fashion to post a blog post worth reading.  But, every day in the back of my mind I've heard a voice telling me to just sit down and write - to get it all off my chest whether it makes sense or not - thus, here I am, 48 days after having a baby and I'm still not sure what to say.  But I'll try.

I don't want to bore you with the oh my god my birth experience was beautiful and I want to have seven more kids right away and be a stay at home mom for the rest of my life story that some new moms feel like they need to write.  I won't tell you that the c-section I had was way easier than I expected, because it wasn't.  I'm not going to tell you that I never felt better than I did after giving birth and that it was such a simple experience.  Because none of that is true.  But what I will tell you is this... giving birth to my son was hands down the craziest, most empowering, most incredibly earth shattering, gratifying, and happiest thing I have ever experienced...and at least once a day I still cry about it.  Am I crying because I'm thrilled with excitement and because I can't believe my body grew something so perfect and special?  Hell yes.  Am I also crying because I am scared to death about being a mom and being responsible for the life of this little human being forever?  Also hell yes.  Is it petrifying but glorious and incredibly rewarding all at the same time?  HELL to the YES.

Let me get back to the crying part.  People told me I'd cry, so at least I had some warning.  But they only really told me I'd cry when I first saw him, and that I'd cry when they put him in my arms.  They didn't tell me that I'd cry when I counted all his fingers, toes, and inspected every inch of his little body and realized he was absolutely perfect.  That I'd cry when people told me he looks like me.  That I'd secretly also cry when everyone else told me he looks just like his dad and they don't really see me in him.  No one told me that I'd be having a perfectly normal day going about my business and just randomly feel the tears in my eyes.  I wasn't prepared for the fact that I would simply just cry.  Cry for no reason.  Cry because I'm happy.  Cry because I'm sad that I'm not pregnant anymore.  Cry because I miss living at the hospital for four nights when the nurses were only the press of a button away.  Honestly, I've cried way more than I expected to.  I cry when Jackson won't sleep.  I cry when I change him, feed him, love him, and he still screams.  I cried when the doctor told me he has acid reflux because I also have acid reflux and I know how f*cking painful it is and I never want my son to feel it.  I cry because I feel bad for Nala that the baby gets all the attention now.  I cry when Jackson looks at me and smiles because he's now seven weeks old and can recognize my face, and to me that's such an achievement.  I cry when he finally poops after a couple days of constipation because I am so happy it came out.  I cried when I put all the 4 ounce bottles away because that means he's already getting big and needs the bigger bottles.  I cried when I had to buy him 3-6 month onesies.  I cry when Paul says something funny and I laugh so hard but am so hormonal still that it turns into an all out ugly Kim Kardashian cry session.  I cry all the damn time, over the good, the bad, but mostly over the fact that I am so amazed by my life and my body, and my new very best little friend.  I cry because I'm in awe of myself as a woman and feel like a god damn super hero for getting pregnant and having a baby.  I cry because I'm so proud.  But does the crying get better and begin to subside as I gain more confidence in myself as a mother and as Jackson and I get to know each other better?  Yes.  Am I crying more tears of happiness these days than tears of any other kind?  Yes.  Is it all so worth it?  Yes.

Is this possibly the most raw and real post I've ever written?  Yes.

All of the above seems kind of scary, but if someone had warned me about all of it before I got pregnant, I would have still done it over.  Jackson is hands down the best part of my life.  He's my favorite face in the morning.  His little voice when he coos is my favorite sound.  His head after a warm bath is my favorite scent.  His tiny hand wrapped all the way around my pointer finger is my favorite feeling.  His eyes are the prettiest eyes I've ever seen, and the bottom of his feet are the softest things I've ever felt.  His breath smells so good, and his bright pink little lips are my favorite lips to kiss.  His cry is the saddest and scariest (and sometimes most frustrating) sound in the world, but the mere fact that he calms down when I soothe him is such a reward.  The feeling I get when I can make him stop crying is the same feeling I imagine I'd get after running a marathon... somewhat sweaty, tired as hell, but so freaking accomplished.

Knowing that I get to be this little boy's mother is the best gift I've ever been given.  Realizing that he is literally half of me and half of Paul, the man I love, is such a blessing.  Seriously.  When I think that I get to raise this little boy, bring him up in this world and teach him right from wrong, take him on trips, spend days just snuggling him, give him advice, watch him excel in his endeavors and pick him up when he fails, see him succeed in school and make friends, let him become whoever he wants to be, and remind him that my arms are always his home...all of this is the unbelievably mind-blowing to me.

So I could go on and on about all the things that make me happy, sad, exhausted, and scared about being a mother, but I think you already get the gist.  If you're reading this and have already had a baby, I'm sure you can relate.  If you're planning on having a baby some day and need some advice, all I can tell you is what I've learned in the nine months of being pregnant and the seven weeks of being a mother, and that is this... be kind to yourself.  Let your body experience every emotion and every physical ounce of pain and joy.  Don't ever be ashamed of being nervous and second guessing everything you're doing.  Don't read the typical "mommy blogs" and don't google every question you have.  Talk to the women you trust, take the advice of the baby's father because honestly, as new moms we are emotional and a lot less logical than the men sometimes.  They really do have good input and you need their help!  Remember that this baby's heart began to beat inside your body, so you already know how to keep him alive.  Trust yourself, trust your relationship with your body and with your baby, and remember you are only human and that it's normal to cry.  And if you're wondering if writing a blog post all about your experience becoming a mother is another thing that will make you cry, the answer is yes.  Hell. Yes.

Professional photography: 
www.lanecarolinephotography.com
www.edenreinerphotography.com

I'm Still Here.

I feel like I do this a lot.

I take a break from blogging and then I get myself all worked up about how I'm going to apologize to my readers for my lack of content and for being MIA.  I always feel like I need to justify my absence and list off all the things I've been doing with my life, but it takes so long.  Sometimes a quick summary is better, but my OCD tendencies cause me to go on and on and on... and by the end of this entry, you'll get the point.  Ah, but then I'll re-read this post and think that perhaps you guys didn't even notice I was gone, or maybe you did, but it probably didn't mean as much to you as it meant to me.  Either way, I hope you still love me and continue to follow my journey, and continue reading this.

As most of you know, back in June, I (finally!) finished writing and then self-published the book I've been talking about forever.  I titled it "My Life in Little Pieces - a collection of poetry and lyrics", and the amount of love this book received was immense.  I never imagined people would be so interested in reading the raw poetry and lyrics I've been writing for so long.  People came from near and far to attend my book launch event, and I was so overwhelmed with the turn out! The fact that you guys care so much just means so much.   *Side Note:  if you are interested in purchasing a copy of my book, you can go to www.hollyamberwolti.com and score your own autographed copy today!

So the book happened, and right around the time that my book release party was held, I found out I was pregnant, due on February 2, 2019.  Another huge event in my life was taking place, and my brain was thinking every thought possible.  And yes, I confess, one of my thoughts was "damn, now I can't have a drink at my book release to celebrate my accomplishment, that sucks, and also people are totally gonna know what's up", but that didn't take away from my excitement at all.  Paul and I waited a few weeks, broke the news to our family and close friends, and then when we got the good word that our little man was healthy as could be, we both signed up for Facebook again and shared the news with the world.  We. Are. Going. To. Be. Parents.  Those words are both frightening and beautiful at the same time.  Let's call it beautifully frightening.

Work.  Work, as always, has been really busy.  No, that's no excuse for my lack of writing, but sometimes after staring at a computer for 40+ hours a week, the last thing I want to do is open up my laptop at home and type.  A sista needs a break every now and then, ya know?

Moving.  Last month we moved out of our cute little lake bungalow into a much bigger place a couple towns over.  Finally, a house with two bathrooms where I won't have to make Paul turn the TV on loud every time my stomach acts up.  TMI?  Nah, this is MY blog and if y'all can't handle that a girl poops too, then go read ESPN or something.   Anyway, the whole moving process takes up a lot of energy, and as you know, I stress over every little detail and I can never just go with the flow.  But thankfully, I had my parents, sister and bro-in-law, friends, and my strong as an ox boyfriend to do all the heavy lifting.  Plus, I'm pregnant and it's a perfect excuse to stand back and watch the guys do everything, amIright?  Just kidding, I did as much as I could, plus all the decorating, and it's still a work in progress, but we are getting there!  I just can't wait to get my hands on the nursery and prepare for what will be the little man's sanctuary.  I am already daydreaming about snuggling our perfect little scrunchy angel.  I am counting down the days until I can kiss his little cheeks!

Side work/more writing.  Other clients have been taking up a lot of my time as well.  I know when I started this blog, I promised myself that I would never let paying clients take precedence over my own space because without this blog, people wouldn't have found me, and I would have never been hired for other writing jobs.  Aside from the other writing jobs I've taken on over the years, I am now the young female voice of www.Undercoverwear.com, writing about female issues and news.  Although it's so fun writing in other places, and being able to share my thoughts on so many topics, The Cat'z Meow will always come first in my heart -- but I'm not on a deadline here, and I am with other websites and blogs, so sometimes I have to do what's best for my wallet.  You'd do the same, right?  *To read full versions and more posts like the ones below, click here

So, as you have now read, all of the above has led me to today, in this moment, writing this blog post.  Between the exhaustion of being pregnant, the dreaded 1.5 hour commute each way to work and home, and the fact that I'm still trying to figure out how I'm going have my newborn baby co-habitate with a vicious cat who secretly wants to kill every human possible, I feel really lucky to be in this place - right here, right now.  I'm very fortunate to have readers who care about my simple yet silly life, and I'm so appreciative of the love and support you've shown me in regards to my first book, and I am loving every minute of the journey towards motherhood. And, I really truly mean it when I say I love you.

I promise I won't go so long in between posts again. (Until the baby is born and I may need you to check in on me from time to time to make sure I haven't checked myself into a mental facility.  Kidding...but not really.)

Love to love you guys,
Holly