Posts Tagged: Infertility

From The Vault: My Most Favourite Posts

I’ve noticed quite a few, “Top Posts of 2011″ and the like from writers in the blogging community.

I however have decided to choose from the much smaller collection from whence this blog began.

Why? Because I started out as an irregular, complete novice. Who still does not post everyday. However, come this year a whole lot of things are changing. The face of this site for one. Come February it’s going to be shiny and new, a hub for all that I do. More on that later.

This collection here? Is for me to share with those whom want to get to know me better, or those whom I really, really, like and want them to know me better. The awesome part about that is that it’s often a combo of the two.

It’s also a source of inspiration, for me – to come back to and meander over how I’ve evolved as a writer, found my voice and developed my mad blogging skillz. Because. Like I said. I plan on doing much more of this. In many ways. As an advocate, as a story-teller, as an ambassador and paid writer. But most importantly, for me and other women like me out there. Because the writing stuff? It heals. It empowers. It unites.

So. This curated list will be the first step into my second coming. A more frequent, constantly learning, embracing the everyday that is me. As a writer.  Gone the name acronyms will be, it’s about to get straight-up – the edgy that is me, REAL in here.

Without further ado…to serve as reminder to me. Kicks in the pants to me and FYI’s for you. So pull up a chair. Pour yourself a glass of vino. (I’m publishing this in the eveing people, as I pour myself a glass). Dig in.

Ghosts From Christmas Past

Boogedy Boo.

Life has a very strange way of crushing one at times. With love, blessed beginnings, nasty-sickness-that-just-won’t-go-away, deadlines, defeat, waves of overpowering depression, doubt, joy, never-ending-to-do-list, fear, mayhem. I’ve been indulging in escapism to ignore, y’know; the procrastinate to make it worse syndrome.

I’m told I’m too hard on myself, but – this. Is. JUST. HOW. I. FEEL. As you can tell I am pulling myself out of a wee bit of a dark hole as of late, despite the beauty (and madness) trailing out from the holidays and the bliss of my recent engagement and the most joyful news! It turns out that those doctors really were wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Baby no. 2 is on the way! I’d say that the birth of 1 and expected pregnancy of another is proof that I’m quite fertile, yes? That and the BSM has some stellar swimmers.

A 9 mo. Old Wee Strappin’ Lad aka: WSL

Could it be? My sweet baby boy; our Little Big Spirit Running, that you’ve entered into three quarters of a year in age? Nine months and a few days past when you found your place in this realm, here on earth. Leader from the sky; Wyndham Nighanagiizhig Tobias Mills.



You’d been dreamt about by me. Dreamt about by our elder as a wise leader from the spirit realm; here now, to run wild, happy and free. Running to discover the knowledge you have, as given to you by our grandfathers. But first it’s your toes to discover…tiny little nubs round and sweet as corn apparently, as you repeatedly flex them up to your mouth to gobble and slurp upon. The tickle of grass you clench and gritty feel of dirt you claw with glee. Your voice, your limbs, the magic in every corner. Every day is pure joy and exploration through your eyes, transposed into me. You give us such complete and natural bliss. The world is different now to us, to me, through your wise young eyes…

To Have & Have Not

What no words can paint. You, my Little Big Spirit Running; my Leader From The Sky, my prodigal son, have bequeathed unto me a blessing of the highest order.

Your presence, your trust, your life, your love.

As I sit and flounder over adjectives to describe the ample hole you have filled in this well-traveled soul; I mire against the trite. My love for you is vast and huge and deliciously intense. Although, to write about YOU is for another day. That deserves a dedication all it’s own. This day is for me to talk about a conception, I never thought I’d have.

Son, I laid tobacco down the other day; under that tree, the kind that speaks to your momma.

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