36 is a fudgesicle in the bath

36 is a fudgesicle in the bath

36 is a fudgesicle in the bath while the girls nap. Hot water and bubbles and chocolate by myself. Yes, please! That’s how we’ll celebrate. Today, in 2020 fashion, has been weird, different, not easy. It’s my birthday, but Shawn’s working til 8:30pm, I have a migraine, I’m getting over some kind of chest congestion (glad to have had a negative Covid test at least #brainswab), and the girls are extra fussy as they deal with the same lingering symptoms. Along with everything else is that thing you want to rush but can’t: grief. I was supposed to be pregnant on my 36th birthday. Pregnant with twins, even! And now I’m not. It’s hard to balance the loss, the heartache, AND the gratitude I feel for this life I’ve been given. 36 was supposed to look a little different this year. But as I look around it’s still the sweetest life I could have asked for. Well, and this fudgesicle ain’t too bad either…


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