New Site, New Book

So I started this journey in a fluke 2 years ago but in following my bliss, taking some wrong turns, I have found that my joy is writing. I am far from perfect. I am no Ernest Hemingway or Joseph Campbell but I believe I have something unique to say. In an effort to move past the parts that I have used to define and embrace myself and my journey as a whole, here is my new site of you are interested in following I would appreciate it.

Rachel Writes Her Heart on Her Sleeve


Good parent/bad parent: the modern parenting facade

I am no angel but lately I have been asking myself a lot about the American parent dichotomy. This “perfect on the outside, shit on the inside” facade that we are all barely holding together.Where are my truthers? 

Where are my unknown friends who have sat sobbing on the kitchen floor at midnight, with dinner burnt, your boobs hanging out, and your baby screaming? 

Where are the women who forgot for 6 or more weeks what it was like to live with sex, sleep, and any rationale control of your hormones?

Where are the woman who love their children fiercely, but occasionally have thought “could I give you back for an hour?”

Where are these truthers hiding? I can’t hear you among the pleas of my peers for acceptance, approval.

14 weeks of parenting has afforded me very little time behind this maniacal wheel, but what I do know is that “you know nothing.” 

Jon Snow be damned, I am giving it my best shot.

As I sit here, snowed in by Jonas, mounds of laundry piling up, struggling to breast feed and hoping the snow lasts till June so I never have to leave, I am reminded of the times I do get right. Half of them are by chance while the other half is hard work. Regardless, the triumph of these moments is all the greater because of the shitty odds of the battle going in, and the masterful f***-ups that somehow got you here.

Truth: I feel like I do more work than my husband.

Truth: he feels like he does more work than me.

Truth: we both are often working to what feels like our limits and sleep is not what it used to be. 

Truth: today I own my my duality. I am a good parent. I am a bad parent. 

P.s. Nap-time, you are a cock tease. I am beginning to loathe you as much as those perfect princesses with their Einstein infants, Martha Stewart magic, and white girl angst. 

The (no) judgement zone

Last Friday night I got drunk. I didn’t mean to. 

I meant to have 2 glasses of wine.

I forgot Zoloft interacted with alcohol.

More than 6 weeks after being prescribed a very low dose, I had finally started it, much to my husband’s relief. 

Saturday morning as he recounted the night before (and a pump and dump incident 😂), I am not sure he would say the same thing. 

Almost three weeks in, I have no blow ups. I am struggling at times still but I have been able to acknowledge my weakness and even live in the moment some. It has been a groundbreaking three weeks. 

Here is to 2016.

Ok, I’ll admit it; I am jealous of my husband.

He looks so good in his jeans and they are never too tight. It is sexy when HE doesn’t shave.

And right now, he can sleep on a dime while I am awake thinking of everything that needs done before the baby wakes up.

While this may sound like I am whining, I am not. My husband Sam is the yin to my yang. I go from 0-90 in less than a second; he is slow starter, but his patience and humor underline the wisdom and calm he brings to my life.

It has been said that nothing changes your marriage like having a kid; I really didn’t believe it would for us. We had had a few rough years (by first world standards) and by 30 had lived through many hospitlazations, chronic illness, endless job searches, moves, living with parents, no money, borrowing money from family to pay rent, buy medicines, groceries, etc. To top it all off the baby was coming after shingles and year of morning sickness so bad I lost 54 lbs by the time I delivered, passed more than 10 kidney stones without medication, fought Lyme disease,and and faced more hospitalizations and daily herxing reactions than I care to remember.

Surely, after all of that, maintaining our marriage throughout parenting would be a breeze.

I can tell you right now, 11 weeks in, it isn’t. I have stooped lower and been more intentionally selfish in the last 11 weeks than I have been in my entire six years of marriage!

For example, the other night I pinched my peacefully sleeping husband because I was awake and nursing. I, a grown-a** college educated woman, pinched my sleeping husband because I wanted to go to sleep so badly. His waking up had nothing to do with my ability to sleep. I still had a baby to nurse. All those sleepless nights, days spent fighting an insane disease had not prepared me for taking care of a child 24/7, 365 days a year forever.

Don’t get me wrong, I love some middle of the night time I get with our first child. What I am trying to shine a light on is the fact that I THOUGHT life had prepared me to be stressed, sleepless, not feel good, etc. and in all that I EXPECTED to have the same relationship with my partner, my best friend, my confident but that *%^*%>% seems to sleep whenever he wants, shower for however long he wants, and just look so dang carefree and good in his jeans…
Life is not fair.