There are 2 things that post pregnancy women don’t want to talk about. So let’s talk about them. Actually, frankly, there’s a lot more than 2 (did anyone else’s leg hair turn black?!), but for the sake of simplicity, let’s at least pick 2 to start. Because a lot of us have been there and
Life Snippets Daily snippets of life in our homesteading madness. Welcome to the party, rockstars.
Juliette Ruth joined our family this past weekend. And here I sit before you, a few days after, thankful to bring you her beautiful story. Just days before her arrival, friends of ours lost their newborn. My heart wept for them, even throughout my birth, knowing how empty my arms and womb would feel after
I am 97 weeks pregnant. Yes, you read that right. It’s officially the longest pregnancy in the history of the entire world. Alright… alright… I shouldn’t be complaining. I know plenty of women who have gone waaaay over their due date and we’re not there (yet), but even still, any woman who has been pregnant
I believe in farm life. And here’s why. My dear, sweet, ever-working husband is putting the finishing touches on our 9 foot farm table. It’s been in the works since early summer and to say I’m excited to see this project coming to a close is an understatement. I’ve always dreamed of a table just
Slow down, Shaye. Just slow the heck down. Breathe, Mama, just breath. In. Out. Breeeeeeeeeeeathe. Last week, I took my own advice, and followed through with deep, satisfying breaths. I happened to be out with my animals when I began encouraging myself. It’d be a hectic morning, after a hectic trip to Montana, and we’d
So here’s my story. About the one thing I did to be happier. Last week, as he normally does, Baby Will grabbed my iPhone and brought it over to me with a concerned look in his little brown eyes. I know what it meant because, well, I’m his Mama and I know these things. It’s
My little sister has seen me at my very worst, because, well… I tend to show up at her doorstep at my very worst. Like a few weeks ago when I showed up with disgusting children, mascara tears streaming down my face, and begged her for a wee bit of shampoo so that I could
Remember that time you were pregnant, for your fourth time, and you felt pretty tuckered? And remember when it only took 14? 15? 16? (how many weeks am I again? does anyone even count the 4th time?) to grow out of your brand new wardrobe that you finally splurged on after weaning the last baby?
For a variety of reasons, this has been a difficult post for me to write. I keep thinking the words will come easily and that I’ll be super eager to share, but in reality, they don’t. And I’m not. But I will – because I think it’s important, especially as a blogger, that we maintain