An Open Letter to My Son’s Absent Father


You were never much more than a bandaid I was using to cover the hurt from my marriage imploding. I think you knew that. I was broken. Broken really isn’t a word strong enough to describe me in those months. Crushed, hurting, shattered, devastated, furious. Broken. You knew that too. And you used it to get close to me. I can see that clearly now.

So from the moment the pregnancy test turned positive, I knew I would be raising my baby alone. People assured me you would step up once you knew, but I was confident you would not. And I was right.

The day I told you I was pregnant, your response was to tell me “we can go dutch on the abortion.” There are very few people that know that until now. That moment solidified what I already knew.

I tried to keep you informed. I shared the first ultrasound with you. You asked me to stop talking about it, as if that would make it go away. Finally, around seven weeks into my pregnancy, you made a threat to hurt yourself if I remained pregnant. You told me it would “ruin your life.” You said that you may as well just end your life because it was over anyway. That was the last time I spoke to you. You never reached out to see if he was a he or a she. You never asked me his birthday. I don’t even know if you know his full name.


I spent the last year equally leaning on God and being angry with Him. Why would He think I’m equipped to handle this alone? Why would He bring a child into this situation? WHY? But this little boy that I didn’t know I needed, along with his brothers, helped me heal my broken heart. God used them to help me become whole again. He used him to help me put those shattered pieces back together. He provided.

He is six months old now. He is the most beautiful little boy. There are moments when I see you in him, but I mostly see his brothers. And me. Sometimes I wonder if you think about the baby you’ve never met. He crawls everywhere and gets into things he shouldn’t at his brothers’ encouragement. He’s eating real food and learns more about this world he lives in every day.

And he is loved. So much. And so wanted. You were the mistake. He is not.


Things Aiden Says: Volume Three

My child says some of the most ridiculous things. I often post them on facebook, but have been saving some of the best to share at once. Here are my favorites from this week:IMG_1138

Aiden: I wish I had my own special room to fart in.FullSizeRender-1

Me: Can you spell your name?
Aiden: Didn’t you name me? Shouldn’t you know how to spell it better than anyone?
Aiden: Is it going to hurt when Asher comes out of your belly?
Me: probably a little bit
Aiden: Can I watch? I’ll give you medicine and a band aid so it won’t hurt anymore. 
Aiden: Why does everyone always treat me like a dog?
Me: Who treats you like a dog?
Aiden: PawPaw.FullSizeRender
Aiden: Sometimes I get mad when I’m building things.
Me: You get that from Dad. It’s a crazy man thing.
Aiden: It’s because girls and mommies make us that way. 
Aiden: Do I have to worry about you when you go to the hospital?
Me: No, you just have to trust that God will take care of me.
Aiden: Oh, trust God. That’s right. I knew that. 
Me: How did you know that?
Aiden: VeggieTales. 


Things I Forgot About Pregnancy

2As my pregnancy is coming to an end, I’m reminded daily of details that I clearly blocked from my memory. Maybe for good reason. Pregnancy is a beautiful, messy experience.

  1. You may not LOOK pregnant right away, but you will FEEL like you look pregnant right away. I was so bloated that I was convinced EVERYONE knew I was knocked up weeks before we made it public.

  2. Morning sickness doesn’t happen in the morning. All day errrrrrryday. 
  3. The exhaustion is overwhelming. Especially if you already have one child or more. 

  4. Finding out the gender of your womb-dweller is ridiculously exciting. Enough said.
  5. People will think they have a right to touch your belly. Even if they’ve never seen you before that moment, ever. It’s okay to smack them. 
  6. You can be the tiniest pregnant woman ever, and you’ll still be asked if it’s twins. I like to respond with, “…I’m not pregnant.” The shock is so worth it.

  7. A cold in the late second trimester or early third trimester is horrible. Cough, sneeze, contraction, pee, repeat.  
  8. Everyone will have an opinion about how that baby is DEFINITELY COMING EARLY. He more than likely won’t. 
  9. A breech baby after thirty weeks is painful. Feet. In. Your. Cervix. And sometimes crazy yoga poses will flip them.

  10. Around 37 weeks, people you see daily will start asking you “isn’t it about time?” EVERY. SINGLE. DAY. It’s about 22 hours closer to that time than the last time you asked me.
  11. You will get up to pee more times a night than you would get up to feed a newborn. But at least you’ll be prepared to be exhausted.
  12. You will get to a point where the pain of labor no longer intimidates you (that much) because you just want him out. I may or may not be at this point. 

  13. Numbers one through twelve will be 100% worth it once that bundle of squishiness is snuggled up to your chest. And I can’t wait.

    Coming Soon: Things I Forgot About Postpartum (Assuming it ever gets here.)  


Follow me instagram and check out the hashtag #ACDCBumpWatch to be the first to know if/when our kiddo ever arrives.

Things Aiden Says: Volume Two

My child says some of the most ridiculous things. I often post them on facebook, but have been saving some of the best to share at once. Here are my favorites from this week:


A: What is this on my butt?
M: A scratch
A: Oh, I thought someone glued a long red hair to my butt cheek

The wipes feel phenomical (phenomenal) on my tush.

Why do they call them booby traps? It sounds like boobies. Boobies is a funny word… …boobies…. -laugh-

A: Why are you crying?
M: Because I just love you so much.
A: Okay. Girls are so weird.

A: What does deadifying mean?
M: Huh?
A: Like in Harry Potter when he deadifies them.
M: Oh, petrified?
A: Yeah
M: It’s like he freezes them.
A: Ohhhhh. Wait. How do they go poop if they’re frozen?

A: Can I tell you a joke?
M: Sure
A: What happened when the chicken crossed the road?
M: What
A: He got squished by a car.

[Dad starts eating a bag of jalapeño chips in the car]
A: Is that smell food? Or a fart?

A: -indecipherable whining-
M: Sorry, I don’t speak whinese.

Little Girl at Museum: I have one mommy who stays home with me all the time and another mommy who goes to work.
Aiden: Well my dad has two dads and my Uncle has a husband. So that seems normal to me.

Be sure to follow me on instagram for more frequent Aiden-posts.