My daughter has already taught me so much in her four months, two weeks on this planet. Before her, I lived in a ME ME ME world. Now my days and nights are spent caring for her. Cleaning her. Dressing her. Doing whatever is in my power to make her happy.

Motherhood- it’s a game changer.

Life before her was perpetual rush. I didn’t have time to see the stars much less appreciate them. I was going, doing working, spinning on this perpetual life roller coaster.

When A was barely a month old I read about this cool baby gadget that lights up a room with the stars and the moon in varying colors. I purchased it and that first night I lay there in amazement of how darn cool this toy was. Despite my enthusiasm, Arabella was not impressed. She was lying there in her sleeper more interested in brown, bland teddy then how the ceiling was lit up in all the colors of the rainbow.

Fast forward and my tiny girl is growing by the minute. Blink and I may miss it. I have to soak her in daily because tomorrow or the day after will bring more changes. Subtle changes, yes, but I don’t want to miss a thing.

So tonight I got out our old friend the ladybug who brings the constellations to our bedroom. This time a more alert and interested Arabella laid there with me and soaked it in. She kicked her legs enthusiastically and watched in amazement as the stars changed colors before her four month year old eyes. She was in awe. I lie there too and took it all in, as well. The moon and the stars- sure but my main focus was and is- this tiny little miracle who has changed my life forever.

My girl is ever changing. The moon and the stars? Well they are great but they have nothing on her.

To Arabella, Love Mom

I’ve waited a long time to write those words. Mom. It’s still so surreal. As I type this, my perfect princess is swinging in her butterfly swing. Porcelain skin, the complexion of a doll the look of an angel, blissful slumber. She smiles in her sleep- she is my most perfect dream realized.

I made it. I can’t believe I’m on the other side.

I still look at her and can’t truly believe my good fortune. After nine months of mental torture she is here and she is mine. How did I get so lucky? Even when she cries I am reminded of how lucky I am to hear those cries. I am reminded daily of the other road a road which I travelled on for three, long years and how fortunate I am at almost 40 to have this beautiful little girl here with me.

She is my miracle and I still can’t believe it.

During my pregnancy with her I worried every day. There was not a moments peace. I worried that she would die, that something bad would happen that I would face another loss. I was unable to enjoy a minute of my pregnancy because I was so scared. Petrified daily.

I am so lucky that this little girl is mine.

There were days many days that everyone around me wanted me to give up. Three years and three losses takes a considerable toll. “Go adopt”, said my well meaning mother. “Move on,” said others. I persevered because I am stubborn and I was determined to prove everyone else wrong. Thank god I didn’t give up or else I wouldn’t have this perfect angel here with me.

To my daughter, I say thank you. Thank you for making me your mom. Thank you for your Laughs, Your cries and all that is you. Since having you, my entire world has changed and I love every moment of it. I am so blessed to be home with you daily and watch you grow up. You are so blessed to have the best daddy in the world and two grandparents who delight in you daily. You have made us all so very happy. You are so loved.

My dear friend Carolyn once said that Arabella was waiting in the clouds floating around in the heavens just waiting for the right time to make her appearance into my life. I love that. I still look at this little girl and can’t believe she is mine. Mat and I both can’t believe she is here. After so much heartache and struggle this tiny perfect blessing is here.

How did I get so lucky?

Thank you my sweet girl for making me your mom. I’ll do everything in the world to protect you and make you happy. You are my everything.


When I started this blog, I was three years younger and a whole lot more naive to the realities of pregnancy. At the time, it was my intention to document my experience with pregnancy. Me- the perennial late bloomer! I had no way of foreseeing the very hard road which lie ahead for me. Had I had even an inkling it’s quite possible I would have ran like hell in the opposite direction, screaming, accepting a child free life.

As I type this I am a day short of 39 weeks pregnant. It is surreal. It is very much a pregnancy after three losses with all the associated mental tortures that comes with that reality. It is also, in the eyes of the doctors, a high risk pregnancy.

When I first entered my practice, I was considered one of the easier cases. My previous losses were labelled flukes and likely attributed to bad luck or old eggs. My only high risk issue was my pre-pregnancy hypertension and my Factor Five Leiden, a genetic inherited blood clotting disorder which means your blood is more likely to clot.

During this pregnancy I developed gestational diabetes. So now here I am a woman of 39 with three losses and a laundry list of issues.

I was over weight ( due to the emotional eating I did post loss one, two and three )

I was on blood pressure meds

I developed gestational diabetes

I have factor Five

I am OLD or as they like to say “advanced maternal age.”

I felt like I was one day away from geriatric and admittance to a nursing home was imminent. I also, most every day have felt scared shitless.

I see a high risk OB at a large but decidedly capable practice where they are medically knowledgable but emotionally deadened. During my 23rd week of pregnancy as I saw another random doctor I was taken aback when in the span of two minutes he diagnosed me as having PTSD or post traumatic stress disorder. My penchant for questions and holding the nurses and doctors to task apparently rubbed many the wrong way and this was his way of getting across a message- stop driving our staff crazy with your obsessive worries.

As if.

As I sat there and asked him my ten written questions spanning the topics of incompetent cervix, baby movement and pre- term labor and whatever else I was obsessed with that week he looked at me with impatience in his eyes. He then went there. There, a place where few tend to go- the land of brutal honesty one might call it.

He started off asking me if I trusted him. For some reason I lied and said yes. Trust?! How the hell do you trust a doctor you had known for a total of five minutes’? He then said he knew many women like me. Women who have had losses, women who have seen the scariest parts of pregnancy and carry their scars like wounded war veterans seemingly normal on the outside dying on the inside- forever changed by where they have been. Instinctually I wanted to laugh in his face, dismiss him, tell him where to go. I did none of that because To my absolute horror he must have hit am emotional chord because I started crying big, fat ugly tears. I hate public crying and I especially hated exposing myself to this sarcastic un- feeling doctor. How dare he think he knew me? He knew nothing about me or what I carry. To say I was/am defensive perhaps is the understatement of the year.

All the loss of the past three years came rushing in and I was left sitting there feeling completely exposed. A feeling I hate. As my husband looked on sad and helpless I couldn’t hold back the emotion and I just sat there like a little girl unable to control her sadness. Shedding tears for all that I had lost, shedding tears because I knew I would never again be the same Susan before my losses, crying because despite being 23 weeks pregnant I felt little joy only worry that something again would happen to pregnancy number four.

Renovations Take Two

This house is old and charming. It is also the place where ugly wood panelling came to die. Literally. To me there is nothing more depressing than dark wood panelling. So rather than remove it ( which I am told is a project and a half) we decided to paint over it. This is our den BEFORE


And after!

Note how the new wall color completely transforms the room.




Being in this room makes me feel that I’m surrounded by the ocean and the sense of calm it brings. The gray blue walls and the off white furniture symbolize a simplistic cottage charm.


Note- lazy but adorable black pug does not come with the house!

My mom was able to pick out the perfect pictures to compliment the ocean/ cottage feeling we are trying to emulate.

Thanks, mom


This says it all-


A Labor of Love

It’s been snowing hard here in Maine but I’ve barely noticed. Decorating and re- doing an entire house while pregnant is not exactly as easy as anticipated. Still, it will be well worth it if I can get every room to look as good as the Master bedroom.

Before- I hate this orange- reddish color. Too harsh.


After- Note the light green color on the walls- Reminiscent of the water which is a few houses down from us. I softened the look with white Furniture. A combination of the affordable Ikea and and some antique pieces including a vintage dresser.


Our antique store, find!!!




The lovely art work, all soft colors and delicate, is from my mom.

More before and afters to come!

Five years ago, Mat gave me the best Valentine’s gift I’d ever received.


I named him Mister Big after the suave Chris Noth character on Sex and the City ( my favorite show.) Little did I know that his name was prophetic as MY mister Big was going to be well, umm, kinda BIG- for a pug!!!


Mister Big has brought me more joy than most people. While all dogs are special, he has a uniquely loving personality. He is perennially lazy and loves to lounge on the coach sleeping contentedly for hours upon hours.


More lounging

Life is simple when you are Mister Big. He loves, lounging, eating, playing with his toys


And being with his favorite girl, my other pug Miss Emma.


Miss Emma dominates Mister Big although he outweighs her by almost 20 pounds. He doesn’t understand anything but food, fun and yes of course MORE lounging.

That is Mister Big lounging on a recent trip to Rockland.

Besides a couch, “my baby B” likes the beach and taking long walls just about anywhere.


And although dressing up is not his thing, per usual he happily complies.


He is occasionally naughty like when he climbs on our coffee table after we eat, in search of some ever tempting food crumbs. He then gets stuck and will sit there and cry until someone rescues him.

Happy Valentine’s Day to all and especially my three favorite Valentine’s



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