after nearly a decade working in the field of infertility and entire life of being a type a, logical scientist, i was certain that if anyone could handle a miscarriage, it would be me. i understand the science, i know the statistics and i've supported countless women through losses of their own. but what i could never have truly understood through reading or studying or empathizing was how i would feel when i found out i was pregnant for the first time. in the blink of an eye

i get asked questions all the time from friends about what they should put on their baby registry. even a year and a half later, i still get PTSD flashbacks to the first time i walked into buy buy baby to start our registry. mike found me literally turning around in panicked circles in the stroller section mumbling "get me out of here, oh my god, get me out of here." i wish i was exaggerating but that's the god's honest truth. we didn't register for a single thing that trip a

​we didn't find out the gender of our baby during our pregnancy so we knew we'd be designing a gender neutral nursery. it wasn't hard for us to pick the feel we wanted--we decided to theme the room directly from our wedding colors of gray, green and copper. we opted for gray walls, white and oak furniture, oak floors, green plant accents and copper errrrrrwhere. we hopped on the copper/rose gold train before it was hot so we ended up having to make a lot of stuff ourselves fo

today has been in the top 3 of not so great days since charlie bear was born. i'm writing this with my little being latched to my breast for what feels like the 325th time today. i haven't been able to do anything i needed or wanted to do around the house today as she's been spitting up like mad and fussy all day. she's needed mama, feeding her, loving her, holding her, a l l. d a y. l o n g. so as i sit here, listening to her eat and breathe and exist, it has me thinking abo