Body Image

"A woman is often measured by the things she cannot control..She is measured by the way her body curves or doesn't curve. By where she us flat or straight or round. She is measured by 36-24-36 and inches and ages and numbers. By all the outside things that don't ever add up to who she is on the inside. And so if a woman is to be measured, let her be measured by the things that she can control, by who she is trying to become. Because every woman knows measurements are just statistics, and statistics LIE."


Body Image (noun): a subjective picture of one's own physical appearance established both by self-observation and by noting the reactions of others.

From the time we are old enough to think for ourselves we are constantly and painfully aware of what our bodies look like at any given moment. We are aware of what we are putting or not putting into our bodies and how that will make us look. We are sitting uncomfortably in our chairs so that we don't have that roll going over our jeans. We are killing ourselves with hours at the gym, or starving our bodies of the nutrition they so desperately crave. We are picking at our skin, plucking at our eyebrows, putting on makeup. As children we are comparing ourselves to the kids on the playground, the kids sitting next to us in class. As teenagers we are looking in the mirror comparing our bodies to the girls on tv and in the magazines we read. As women we are constantly comparing ourselves to other women, other moms, our friends and even ourselves. In our pubecent years, before our hips got wide and our crows feet reared their ugly heads...when we were little girls we wanted to be grown women with the curves that came with it...now we are grown women who think we are all fat and want to loose 10, 15, 20 pounds so that we can look like those little girls we once were. We spend countless dollars on personal trainers, the latest diet fad...my drawers are filled with cast away skin care products that didn't fufill their promise to make my pores look fifteen again, or make my dark circles magically disappear over night. Are yours?

What does beautiful mean to you? What do you admire most about your body? Right now think about that for a second, give yourself a minimum of five compliments...go ahead, I'll wait.


...Do you feel better now? You should. You know yourself better then anyone, inside and out. Your oponion of your body, of yourself holds more weight then that of anyone...as it should.

Men take note, we do not need your oponions of our body. EVER. Unless it's positive, seriously keep it to yourself. I can remember word for word things boys said to me when I was 9, those same things played through my head at 13 when I skipped a meal and lived off of papaya flavored high fructose corn syrup. Seriously. The girl who has changed her life for the better, deserves to be praised for that. She does NOT, I repeat DOES NOT need you to tell her your oponion of her body. Your mind is small and your oponion is irrelevant. But don't think for a second that it doesn't hurt her, that it doesn't bother her...because it does. She will think about it now in the back of her head when she looks in the mirror.

As women we are so often praised, and praise eachother for the way we look. I used to love people telling me "oh wow you look so skinny"...now it kind of annoys me. I'd much prefer someone see that through my weight loss I have become a stronger woman. Through crossfit I have found more confidence. Through countless drops of sweat, and sometimes even tears I have found a power inside my soul I never, EVER expected to find....But I did. I'm more proud of who I have become than any number on the scale or a smaller pair of jeans.

We are all beautiful beyond measure.
Stronger then we could have ever imagined.
I believe that each of us is fearfully and wonderfuly made by GOD our father.
You are perfect.
...Just the way you are.
Not because you fit in your pre-baby jeans, or because your new face cream and spray tan make you look 18 again...
But because you are YOU.
Love yourself, and remind yourself how wonderful you are every day.
Let us remind eachother of how strong we are, and let's not let other people distroy our sense of self.
You are exactly who and what you are supposed to be in this moment, at this time.

Goals Of Motherhood...

Now it's no secret that thus far motherhood hasn't exactly gone how I always hoped it would go. As a young girl I dreamed of being a pharmacist one week, a youth pastor the next, or a physical therapist the next..one commonality was being a mother. I always knew above all I wanted to be a mother.

The first two and a half years of Adaline's life I was a stay at home mom, and even now I am able to work a part time job and be with her most of the time. I got to be the one there for her first steps, her first words, I got to breastfeed her for the first year...I don't miss much of Adaline's life, thankfully I have my mom, her Memmay, there whenever I am not.

What I had never planned on was being a single mother. When Adaline's father and I decided to get pregnant, she was a child I prayed for, a little life we planned for. I never thought he would leave us, leave her, but he did.

I am thankful for so many reasons for my sweet girl. There have been really dark days in her three short years, and even when she was in my belly where her smile has saved me. Her hiccups and sharp kicks to let me know she was still alive were the only thing that day that made me smile.

In the past year since we became a pair, a different kind of "family" then the one I had always dreamed of I have found myself looking at motherhood in a whole new light. I have re-evaluated my goals, my hopes, my dreams for my life with my sweet girl.

First and foremost as a mother I want Addy to look back on her life and be proud to have had a mother like me. I want her to know pieces of what happened between her father and I, and I want her to thank me, not forsake me for leaving. I want her to know that when she was made she was made in love. I want her to know that she IS Adam and my love, she is the most amazing perfect representation of who we once were...in the flesh. Every time her little heart beats it's beating with half of me and half of him. She is us, she is perfect. I never want her to question if she is loved.

Secondly I want her to grow up embracing and praising herself for the physical strength her body is capable of. I do not want her to spend her teenage years battling an eating disorder like I did. I want her to be sure of herself, and confident. I want to use the mistakes I made to keep her from hurting the way I did. Crossfit has obviously been a huge factor in my learning that, and I want her to know the beauty in that strength as well.

I want her to know GOD. I spent my adolesence knowing him, loving him, knowing he loved me. I felt what it was like to raise my hands in the air and worship him, I want her to feel that too. I don't want her to ever feel alone, though I know she will. I want her to know in those moments to pray. To turn to her father and share her day with him, thank him for all the things that are beautiful, and know that there is always a purpose for everything. everything.

I want to be more patient. Don't we all? I am a type A personality, my beautiful blue eyed girl is not. I'm a hurrier, a planner, I like to be early for everything. She makes me slow down, stop and smell the roses...look at the ducks, savor every last sprinkle of my ice cream cone instead of rush and eat it before it melts. Because really whats the harm in a little melted ice-cream. Adaline has always done everything in her own time, from her birth...which was a few days late, and ended in a c-section after 14 hours of labor. I knew that day I had met my match. I was going to have to learn to float through life, stopping to enjoy all it's pleasures along the way, because my Adaline, she wasn't going to rush for anyone.

I want to teach her how to express herself, and her feelings. Believe it or not, this isn't something I'm very good at. I have an "it is what it is" attitude about most anything. I can take or leave just about anything, or at least that's how it appears, on the inside I'm usually in agony obsessing. Blogging has been my outlet. I love you is hard for me to say, appreciation is hard for me to show. For example I love my parents more then words could every express, yet still I can't tell you the last time I touched either of them, especially Daddy, I cry even thinking about how I used to walk up to him and put my head between his shoulder blades...I needed to touch him. And how now I am afraid to do that, to show my love, because of Adam and what he did to me. I want to learn how to show my love, and express myself physically and verbally so that Adaline learns to do the same. I don't want her to be hurt by my way of self-preservation.

I want to be her bestfriend. I want her to want to be with me. To remember rolling in the grass, and flipping tires with her mom when she is older. I want her to always feel like it's safe to come to me with anything. I want to always be her soft place to land. I don't want her to ever feel like she has to hide things from me.

I don't know that I necessarily believe in "parenting" a child. Not in the way that I am the superior one, and she is to be treated like she is beneath me. My parents always treated us like equals growing up, and now they are my two best friends. There is very little they don't know about my life, I never felt like I needed to hide anything from them, and in turn also didn't want to disappoint them. I never really was punished, because I never did anything wrong. They stood next to me and guided me, helped me up when I fell, let me learn my own lessons as long as I wasn't hurting anyone else or myself, and then they helped me work through things. That style of parenting helped my mature faster and become a very well rounded adult. I appreciate them for that, and I am glad that they will be the ones helping me raise my Adaline.

Something that I don't talk about very much is wanting to give her a family. I had a great Dad, the kind of man I want to raise Adaline is a man like my father, not like her father. I want to show her that I can do this on my own and I want her to be proud of me. I want to protect her from the man that fathered her, in our nearly seven years together he has done nothing but hurt me, that is a pain I will keep her from forever and for always. I want her to grow up knowing everything I do I do for her. She is the axsis that my world spins on...she is my world and I am the sun orbiting around her. Adaline is...Addy is my everything. I want her to always know that.

I want to preserve her innosence for as long as possible, I know I won't be able to protect her from everything, but I'm certainly going to try. I was given the most wonderful thing the day I brought her into this world. God gave me the privlidge of seeing his love for me through my love for my own child. I want to give Addy lot's of brothers and sisters one day, for her to love the way I love mine. I want her to always know that no one could ever be what she was to me...we are a team. Since the beginning it's always been just her and I against the world. And no matter what I will be right there standing behind her watching her grow, protecting her with all that I have to give, praying over her with ever ounce of love in my heart.

I want her to know she is loved.

Keep it to Yourself...

While I'm writing this today I'm listening to "Keep it to Yourself" by Kacey Musgraves. Go ahead and listen to that song, then come back to read.

"You heard from your friends
That I'm doing okay
And you're thinking, maybe you made a mistake
And you want me to know
But I don't wanna know
How you're feeling
Keep it to yourself
If you think that you still love me
Put it on a shelf"
I recieved a text this morning in response to an email I had send Adam last night. He told me he was flying and he would talk to me about the email later. Then he felt the need to tell me he had spent the weekend in Lackland...

Immediately I was in the Laquinta with my bare butt on the dresser and my dress pushed up around my hips.
Immediately I was standing at the coin ceremony waiting to see my husband for the first time in eight long weeks.
Immediately I was smelling his skin and feeling his new muscles.
Immediately I was remembering the pride I felt when he pinned my spouse pin on me.
He looked so cute in his uniform, it was the first time I had seen him in his dress blues.
They still are my favorite uniform.
So handsome.
Immediately I was standing in the croud at the flag pole run waiting to see my man in his squadron t-shirt.
Immediately I was in the shower, his hands in my hair, rinsing out the conditioner.
I was laying on the floor, and he was playing with my new belly button ring.
Immediately I was on the river walk, loving MY man.
Immediately I was looking at his locker, and he was showing me all of our love letters.
Immediately I was at the Laquinta making texas shaped waffels.
...for a minute I was remembering what our happy looked like.

But this time was different.
I didn't let myself stay there.
I cried.
I texted my Lyshie, and my Sarah.
They reminiced with me.
I didn't reminice with him.
I didn't let him have the privlidge of sharing those texas shaped waffel memories with me.

This time, it didn't give me hope that he was coming home to us when he sent me the smiley face.
I know that infact he is going home to 263 Creek View drive...
And it's not Adddy and I there waiting with his favorite dinner made, brownies in the oven, house spotless.
It won't be me unpacking his flight bag and doing all his wash tonight.
It won't be me upagainst the wall as he shows me how much he missed me.
It will be her.

But it also won't be me that missed him and is excited to share some family time on his extra day off...
While he complains about being tired...
Because he is hung over and spent the last four days in the same cycle of going out all night getting black out drunk, sleeping a few hours then going to work...
It won't be me that's getting yelled at when he still didn't unpack his travel cosmetic bag and can't find his deoderant Wednesday morning at 5am when he's getting ready to go back to work...
It won't be me getting screamed at because he needs sleep and it's 10 am and I'm running the vacuum and the baby is being too noisy...
It won't be my heart breaking when he looks at me, and lies, because he spent a night with someone else...
In some shitty bar...
He "forgot" to wear his ring...
He "can't help it, he's attractive, women come up to him"...
It won't be me.
It will be her.

Instead I get to look forward to going home to MY baby, the baby we talked about making on that Lackland trip...
I get to feel her arms around me, and know that I am home.
I get to go to crossfit, and if even just for an hour I get to pretend I'm not body's soon to be ex-wife...
I get to take those memories, and the way my heart is broken right now, and I get to throw a tire around and cry instead.
I get to go home to a house where everyone loves me...
Where no one yells at me...
Where I don't cry..
Where I'm not disappointed...
Where bruises don't appear...
And voices aren't raised.

I am not that little girl in Lackland anymore.
I am a strong woman.
Inspite of him and all the pain he gave me, I have become someone I never thought I could be.
Weak.That's how he likes me.
That's how he wants me to be.
But I'm not.
And I hope it kills him.

I won't give you the satisfaction of reminicing with you. I remember every second, taste every kiss, feel every touch. But I won't go there with you, you can go there by yourself. Keep it to yourself, because we are doing okay. Go home to her with those memories fresh in your head, look at her and know that she will never give you what I gave you. You will never have what we had. You'll chase it forever, you'll lie to yourself. Bit I'll be here, and you'll be in some bar, not wearing your ring looking at pictures of MY baby...knowing in the deapest part of your core you made the worst mistake of your life. You lost us. We are g o n e....

Never Satisfied.

When I started blogging last July I was wearing size 18 shorts. I remember they were so tight that I had to squat in them when I put them on so my thighs didn't look like little vienna sausages squeezed into casing that was a little lot too tight. Then, all I could think of were my size 10 Abercrombie jeans I wore on my very first date with him. If I could just fit into those jeans, THEN I would be happy. Don't we all feel like that? Do you step on the scale and feel amazing if you "lost" a pound over night, or is your day ruined if god forbid you gained a pound?

I had been working out, and actually lost some weight to fit into those 18's. Today I fit in those size 10 jeans that I put so much focus on for so long. In fact I have fit in them for a few weeks now. But I'm not happy yet...WHY!?!

I was warming up last night at crossfit and I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I had the bar over my head doing a push press, my belly was peaking out the bottom of my size medium tank top, that is now quite loose, I had on shorts that once fit like underwear but are now falling off when I WOD...I saw definition in my shoulders, my arms, my quads, even my belly is starting to show the signs of abs peaking through...My hair was in my favorite pigtail braids, I was wearing my favorite lululemon headband...I looked in that mirror and didn't recognize myself at all. I was happy, I was strong, I was focused, I was free.

Seeing myself that way really made me realize how far I have come.
When we look in the mirror do we really see ourselves?
Or do we see what we think we look like?

At 287 pounds I was in denial.
I looked in the mirror and didn't see a size 22 figure.
I saw someone much, much, MUCH smaller.
Even now when I see pictures of myself along the way I am in shock.
I just don't remember looking like that AT ALL.

The first thing I wanted to loose was that lovely flap of skin all of us c-section mom's get.
Particularly the ones that gain 100 pounds during pregnancy.
Now I've lost it.
My skin on my belly is tight, dispite the stretch marks that cover it, I'm proud of my stomach.
Except now I want abs, and won't be happy till I have them.
I don't have that flap of skin to jiggle around in the mirror, instead I pinch the bits of fat that cover my abdominal muscles and dream of it being gone one day soon.

When I started loosing weight I had a BMI of 38%...
Then all I wanted was to get between 25%-29% which is considered "normal"...
Today my BMI is 24.6% and all I can think about is getting it down between 15%-18%.
Why can't I just be happy, be proud?

Why aren't we ever happy with ourselves?
No matter how much progress we make we can always find something we want to improve on.
I think we set goals for ourselves that we think are reasonable, attainable.
Never at 38% did I EVER think I could possibly get down to 24%...let alone one day see 18% in my future.

When you see people for the first time after loosing weight you get compliments all the time..."you look great" is often the first thing out of everyone's mouth. Then they get used to seeing you at this size, and they stop saying it. OR when they do, it just doesn't give you that same excitement it gave you before.

This past week I saw someone I hadn't seen in a while. Since the last time I saw him in May I have probably lost another 15-20 pounds.
He didn't say anything about my body.
You know what he did say though "You seemed happier, more confident and relaxed tonight. Definitely a good thing :)"
Those words meant more to me than anyone saying "you look great, how much weight have you lost"

With crossfit, and with this weight loss...AND the loss of a 160 pound man child in a keep calm and chive on shirt I have become a better version of myself.
I AM more confident.
I look in the mirror and don't recognize myself.
I do see changes I want to make, but they don't define my life like they used to
...not the numbers at least.
I just want to be happy, strong and comfortable.
And a size 6.
Do I think that 16% body fat will give me that, honestly no I don't.
There was a time that I thought a size 10 would give me that...and now I see that it wasn't ever the jeans that needed to change.
It was the woman wearing them.

There will always be something about your body you would like to change.
Once we get to that "place" we will find another "place" we want to go.
Setting goals isn't a bad thing, letting them control your life IS!
You change your body, you change your soul, you change yourself.
THEN and only then will you be happy.

Not now, not ever.

I know not a word of what I just said mattered even the slightest bit, but I needed to say it, and I needed to do it for me. For Addy. For us. Not for you.


"When you see yourself as the glorious exception to every rule in life, eventually you will declare your wife is not the right fit or not enough or too much or just a great mom to your children or she expected too much from you or her time with you has run it's course or she is horibly imperfect. These divorce cliches are narcassism at it's best. And you will do it again to the woman you cheated with because within you lies the problem--UNFIXED."

In the beginning it was perfect.
In the middle it was a struggle.
In the end it was so bad I wanted to die.

It has taken nearly twelve months, hell it's taken seven years for me to finally see Adam for what he is. Today when he texted for the first time I can remember "How is Addy today?" at 8am...I suddenly channeled my inner ghettobabymamma "Awwe Hell Naw."

I texted him back and asked him to call me.
Surprisingly within the hour the call came.

I cannot even remember everything I said, but one thing I did ask him is if he remembered what it felt like as a toddler, and into his teenage years as he sat on the front step on Saturdays with his backpack on waiting and waiting and waiting for his father to come pick him up. His father never came. He would call and say he wanted to see Adam then never follow through.

For so long Adam expressed that feeling to be a defining moment in his life, and promised that he would do everything in his power to be a great dad DESPITE the deadbeat his father was. He has failed.

I have been sending pictures and little summaries of our week, texting him everytime Adaline reached a milestone...and gotten no response, not a single text back. Not a thank you. Not a wow she's awesome. Not even a go to hell you bitch. Nadda.

This week he didn't get any pictures or stories. So in order to have control of the situation HE texted me this morning.

Not going to fly anymore.
Adaline is three years old.
He has had the last year of our separtion to prove himself as a Dad and failed.
Hell, he has had the last three years of her life...
And even before that as she was in my belly, as he kicked me, yelled at me, and refused to feel her kicks or hickups.

Adaline is the greatest gift God ever blessed me with.
I wouldn't let a stranger treat her as an option.
So I sure as hell am not going to let her father treat her that way.

I know he has it in him to fight, and to love.
Even if those feelings are lies, he still knows HOW to act like they're the truth.
He has so much work to do to be allowed in Addy's life.
But as of today I am no longer going to hold my hand on my ass waiting for it.

He has replace me.
He never loved me.
He just mirriored my emotions and used my own words on me.
He is a narcassistic, abusive, selfish, dangerous man.
He will NOT hurt my baby.

Go to hell King, my daughter will never feel what you made me feel every day. I am not afraid of you, or what the courts will say. You already signed over all custody and visitation once, they won't overlook that when the time comes to make the final decisions. There is nothing you can do to me now, you can't hurt me. You've already taken everything...what you failed to realize is that the "everything" you took was nothing but a false facade on which our life was built. I have with me the only good, holy, truthful thing that ever came from you. MY ADALINE. You will never, ever, ever take her from me. Never.

I will no longer live in fear of him. I am reborn. I have seen the truth. I have proved again and again that I CAN and will survive with out him. I've been waiting months for this fire to finally start inside of my heart...it has & nothing is ever going to put it out. Certainly not him. Not now, not ever!

Transformation: Sometimes you have to fight to find it

“When a man makes war on his own weaknesses he engages in the holiest war that mortals ever wage. The reward that comes from victory in this struggle is the most enduring, most satisfying, and the most exquisite that man ever experiences. In no other conflict is there so much at stake. In no other struggle are the values so precious and the results so compensating and so comforting."

I think often we have a hard time separating out things we want to change in our lives and looking at them for the individual issues they are. Instead we look at the whole pile of junk, and it overwhelms us. I'm guilty of this...I am not just a procrastinator, I am THE procrastinator. Just ask my mother. 

Things take time. Try your best to live a well balanced life. Choose one thing to conquer, give that your energy and time...and grind away. Don't try to run before you've even learned to walk...

Through the hell that was my marriage I lost myself. I turned to wine, prescription anxiety medicine, both often mixed together in inappropriate amounts, and food to help numb the pain of my heart breaking. Let's be real here, I got fat. I tried for a year or so to try to loose the weight, but I was lying to myself. I would push Addy's overpriced jogging stroller around the neighborhood at night while Stella, our monstrous black lab puppy, pulled against me. Sometimes I would even do the fat girl bounce run. But then I would get home. Put Addy to bed. Then I would sit and drink. And drink. And drink. Until there was nothing left in my White Tail EXTRA LARGE bottle. That way when the King arrived home a few hours later and decided to put his steel toe boot through the bedroom door, busting it out of it's frame, because the laundry wasn't folded...it would hurt less and be easier for me to cuddle up to him when he finally got in bed and try to love away his anger. 

I was absolutely miserable. I honestly can not tell you the amount of times I cried in my big jetted tub thinking about how easy it would be if I could just die right there. Literally. How would he feel if he found me in a tub of my own blood, would he understand then what he was doing to me. That he was KILLING me.

It took my leaving him to really find myself again. 

I found myself the day I walked into crossfit. 

I can still remember exactly what we did that day...slam balls, air squats, kettle bells and pushups. Slam balls are still my favorite because they remind me of the day I discovered myself again. For the last five months I have put everything into that hour a day. I have found another way to cope with my heart break outside of alcohol & xanax. The best part is I don't wake up with a headache dreading doing it all over again....I don't want to fall asleep and never wake up. I wake up in the morning with purpose, I walk out of that box every night reborn. 

I wanted to transform my body. I have done that. In the last year I have lost 60 pounds. My three year old weighs 31 pounds...In the last, what is now nearly twelve months, since Adam kicked us out I have lost TWO Three year old children. When I think of how difficult it would have been to do a burpee with Addy and one of her friends strapped to me, I laugh at how difficult that would be. I did it though. Nothing could stop me...that high was one I began to feverishly chase. For one hour nothing else in the whole world matters, the world is at peace, my heart and my brain are not at war...the only thing that matters is walking up to the bar and throwing some heavy weight around.

Left: End of July 2012                                                               Right:Early June 2013

So take this away with you today, identify a goal. Put everything you have into fighting your way to the other side of that...and CRUSH IT. The happiness, wholeness, and utter bliss you will find on the other side is something I can not even put into words. Don't even think about quitting. It may seem impossible now, believe me 130 pounds ago I could never imagined I would be wearing my high school jeans again. I would try them on every day, there was a time they wouldn't even come up over my knees, now they fall off! Start walking toward that light, before you know it you'll be running across the finish line. Grind away, don't ever stop, not for a second. The potential inside you is greater then you can imagine, sometimes you just have to fight to find it!

Instead I feel reborn...

death/dɛθ/ Show Spelled [deth] noun
1. the act of dying; the end of life; the total and permanent cessation of all the vital functions of an organism.
2. the state of being dead: to lie still in death.
3. extinction; destruction: It will mean the death of our hopes.

di·vorce (d-vôrs, -vrs)n.
1. The legal dissolution of a marriage.
2. A complete or radical severance of closely connected things.

You often will hear people to compare a divorce to death. In a way it is. One chapter coming to an end, another beginning. A relationship ending, the life you shared with another no longer exsists. It's dead.

When someone we love dies it's kind of similar. Life goes on with them, the sun still rises in the morning and sets at night. For a while we cry, but we greive and move on. You see things that remind you of the deceased, sometimes you feel that void in your life where that person used to be. Divorce feels the same way. All you have now are the memories, life moves forward, children grow, you fall in an out of love...you feel the void and survive on the memories of what once was.

Yesterday when I was driving in the car I was looking at Adaline in the rearview mirror at a stop light. I found myself trying to think of another reason besides her that I loved my husband. I can honestly say I could think of none. As the light turned green and I turned the radio louder and accelerated to the speed limit I realized how free I felt.

First of all I was listening to MY music, instead of his stupid rap music. Adaline and I were jamming to Florence and the Machine, she was dancing in her car seat while she was playing a game on the Ipad and I was singing with out having to worry about someone else hearing me. Hearing me and telling me I sang a word wrong, or changing the song so I would stop.

Last night during my usualy weekly texting conversations with my Sarah she mentioned that she always kind of noticed something was wrong, but just never pushed the issue because I said everything was fine. She brought up the way I changed when Adam would come home if the girls were still there for our weekly play group. How I would stand right up and walk over to him, take Addy out of his arms so he could go on to do whatever he was doing with out any distractions and tell him I would make his lunch soon. Until the girls left I would hold my breath...worrying about what was to come after they were all gone. The house would be a mess, that would upset him, he would be hungry and that would REALLY upset him...I would have to listen to him shout. The freedom I felt sitting in the backyard with my other mommy friends watching our kids play together was gone.

Now I realize freedom is something I regularly feel now. I don't owe anyone an explanation, I am free to do and live as I please. I was playing with a baby at a bridal shower yesterday and I found myself making this cooing noise I used to always make to Addy when she was little that always made her laugh. Instantly I stopped myself, because I remember the way Adam used to tell me he hated that noise and it was the most annoying, stupid thing he ever heard me do. It didn't matter that it made our Addy laugh, I stopped doing it...because it made him upset. Yesterday when I made that noise and Ava smiled, I almost wanted to cry because my stomach dropped thinking "Adam hates this noise, can't do it again" and then I realized HE ISN'T HERE TO YELL AT ME!! And I did it again...Ava smiled.

As I fall more in love with my girl every single day...I realize how much joy was taken from her early years. The way I didn't do a lot of what I wanted to do because I was worried about it upsetting HIM. Would I have cuddled her longer in our bed if it hadn't bothered him? Would I have breastfed her longer then eight months had he not expressed his feelings that it was time to stop? Would I have let her shower with me more often had he not told me he thought it was weird? Would I have held her while she slept instead of rushing out of her room if he had not told me she would become spoiled if I did?

Yesterday I cooed at Ava,and she smiled. I took a shower with Adaline in the afternoon, and we had so much fun splashing together. I listened to a band I loved, and relished in the joy of the way the lyrics touched my heart. I held Adaline while she slept, and it made my heart swell with love. Yesterday I did what I wanted to do. And I enjoyed those things...would you believe that Adaline didn't wake up a different child this morning because I held her last night, she certainly didn't turn into a spoiled brat...and can you imagine that she was perfectly fine today even after she showered with me yesterday afternoon...

I lived in fear for so long. Walking on eggshells to keep him happy, to keep the monster at bay.

Today nearly a year after I drove out of that drive way for the last time, I don't think of my divorce as a death anymore. Instead I feel reborn.