Forgiveness. It's a hard thing to ask for and an even harder thing to give. I remember sitting in a church service and listening to the Pastor. He said the hardest forgiveness to give is the forgiveness never asked for. A concept so simple but it spoke volumes. It is so true.

How often do we find ourselves clinging on to anger and bitterness because someone never apologized or asked for our forgiveness. I know I am guilty of it.  Does our being angry or bitter affect the other person? Most times, it does not.  Sometimes people don't apologize because they don't feel  they are wrong.  People don't realize they don't get to choose how their actions or words effect us. Even if they do, sometimes they just blatantly don't care.  Some people are so cold, miserable and mean spirited that they thrive on attacking others and trying to bring them down. Hurt people hurt people.

I've been exposed to those types of people.  I've let them bring me down. And I've also chosen to forgive them. 

Forgiving someone doesn't mean it's okay what they did.  It doesn't even mean you want to brush it off and move forward.  Forgiving someone means they no longer have the control over your feelings.  Forgiving them means they no longer hold the power to hurt you or even effect you.  Forgiving is letting go of what was so that you can finally breathe again.  It truly takes a strong person to forgive. 

This is why I chose to forgive you.
For years, I always held on to a hope of what could be.  I held my breath and walked on egg shells. I always felt like I would be the wrong one for standing my guard or saying how I really felt. For years and years, I lived in a prison in my mind that you put me in.  Thinking I was a horrible person, a selfish person, a greedy person, someone who didn't care about others. A materialistic person, a spoiled brat. A bitch. Someone plagued and marked by mental illness that never deserved love or happiness.  I was always afraid to disappoint you, but no matter what I did, I was a disappointment anyways.  That is the prison I let you put me in. For what? For hopes that there would finally be a solid, healthy relationship that I never had. I would see my friends have the relationship I always wanted, and I never understood why it couldn't be us too. There was always an excuse - I don't have money, I don't feel good, I don't want too. There were times I just really needed you and wanted you there but I always came second. 

I will never be your priority. I will never be your favorite. I will never be the one you want to spend time with. And most of all, I will never be the one you apologize too. 

I know my truth, I know my character... and by forgiving you, it's taking back the control and letting you know that you can't make me second guess myself anymore.  I deserve love and happiness.  I love helping people and giving back to others, I love being someone that people can depend on.  I'm the type of person that will raise someone up when I have had enough. I would give the shirt off my back to anybody and I would give my last dime to help someone in need. And you know another reason why I forgive you, because you don't know me well enough to have an opinion that carries any weight.

Besides not letting you have the control over me anymore, you want to know the main reason I forgive you.  I am the mother I am because of you.  Nothing brings me more joy in this world than being with my children and doing for my children.  I LOVE being the room mom, I love just walking around Target or the mall with them, I love our bedtime routines and I love how much they drive me absolutely insane. My heart hurts when they hurt, and my heart explodes with joy over every little tiny thing they accomplish.  I live to celebrate them.  I live to calm them at night when the nightmares scare them, or sleep with 2 inches of bed space because they just want to cuddle. No matter how tired I am or how broke I am, nothing comes in between spending time with them. So you're right.. it is a shame how my kids will grow up. Loved, supported, never looking back and wondering what if and why.

This is why I forgive you.... because my heart is too full of love and joy to carry anger and sadness. And I hope one day, you can let go of your anger and sadness and forgive who hurt you too.

Adoption. It is a beautiful thing. It really is. A selfless choice made by a biological mother to another woman yearning to be a mom.  Normally we hear the adoptive side. Almost everyone knows at least one person's adoption story or someone who was adopted.  But you never hear the biological story.  Something today just tugged on my heart and I wanted to write about my sweet nephew.

I'm the biological aunt so I only have that perspective.  I was there with my sister, Briana, through her pregnancy, I was in the OR when he was born. I got to hold him first and was the one to hand him to his adoptive mom, Natalie. Briana's story is different than mine. Natalie's story is different than mine but we are all on this incredible journey together - in different ways - but together.

Adoption really has a negative stigma towards the biological parent. They are viewed as selfish people who "give" their child up. But I can 100% tell you, that was NOT the case with Calvin.  Briana was not in a good place at all when she became pregnant, it was a scary time for her. Adoption wasn't her first option, but neither was parenting. In God's fate, her plan of choice didn't work out or become something that was able to happen. So as a family, we supported her decision of adoption. I wasn't her voice of reason in choosing a family, I wasn't there for conversations with the social worker. I was there for support, I was there to help get to doctor's appointments. I was there for kicks and movement. I was there to rub her belly and let him know how much he was loved. And at the time, we had Brittani, Briana, and Brystin ... the three Bs, so it was only appropriate this baby boy had a B nickname and for some reason, I just gravitated towards calling him my little biscuit.

Briana was really excited about an adoptive family she had found.  They were a biracial couple that she thought was the best situation because the baby is biracial. Hearing her talk to this family, I saw a positive relief in my sister that she just knew this was the best place for her baby.  They discussed names, birth plans, nurseries, all the fun stuff.  This couple didn't have any children of their own but had always longed for a child. It was a perfect fit. I will never forget the day, 5 weeks before her due date, my sister got the call that the adoptive family had missed a signature on a paper and it wasn't turned in on time for the family to proceed further in the adoption process. Briana was devastated and went back to a "what now." Here we were, 5 weeks from a baby being born, the plan was for him to be adopted so there was nothing ready to bring a baby home. We prayed and gathered around her, remaining positive that a miracle would happen.

And that's when it did. Two weeks later, Briana showed up to my work with great news.  They had been matched with a family in Baltimore. The couple was Natalie and Frank. They didn't have kids, but had tried for over 10 years to no avail. Briana said Natalie's story of infertility was similar to the struggle my husband and I had gone through previously.  Briana's face lit up as she spoke of Natalie and telling me that they were supposed to adopt a baby prior, had the nursery ready only for the mom to back out 2 days after the baby was born. And in their home, that nursery door had remained shut until now. Natalie and Frank. I remember the first time talking to them on the phone, they were so hopeful and optimistic but stayed guarded because of what happened before. I loved talking to them and getting to know them.  They came into town a few days before the c-section. We went out to dinner at the Golden Corral (because super preggo wanted the buffet.) I'm so grateful that I was included on this time and had a chance to get to know them. 

​They had chose the name Calvin because of Cal Ripken Jr and how baseball was a huge part of Baltimore.  So he became my little Calbiscuit. 

Calvin Jude was born the next morning on May 28, 2014. He was perfect. As the nurse was cleaning him up, I could hear him crying and fussing, so i walked over to him and said "what's the matter my little Calbiscuit?" he turned his head towards me and stopped fussing. My heart just sank. I was so in love with this little person.  In that moment, the future and what was going to happen over the next few days - it was irrelevant. Because right here, right now, in this moment. It was my little Calbiscuit and I.  This was my little dude, and no matter the distance, he will always be my little dude.

They had me wheel him out of the OR to start skin to skin with his adoptive mommy. I will never forget coming through the OR doors to see Natalie and Frank standing there. 
"Hi Momma!" Were the first words I said, and Natalie's reaction was something I will never ever ever forget. It still makes me cry. Her joy, the tears. This moment she had longed for for so long. I'm so honored that I could be apart of that. For me in that moment, I couldn't think of anything else except God gave them Calvin. Briana assisted in the miracle. I just stood on the sidelines for support. But ultimately this child was chosen by God for Natalie and Frank, and her first reaction to seeing this child. No words can explain. 

I went home to rest and let Briana rest, and Natalie and Frank bond with their sweet new baby boy. And just letting the four of them have time together.  Later that night when I brought Brystin up to meet his new cousin, I could hear Calvin fussing from the hallway. As soon as I walked in the room, he got quiet and turned towards me. As if he knew me. I didn't see it but Natalie told me it was amazing to see how he reacted towards my voice, and that he knew me. The few short days were a whirlwind, I tried to spend as much time with Calvin, Natalie and Frank as I could. Even though it is an open adoption, you never really know how visits are going to play out or the frequency. And being the aunt, I'm not expecting to be the priority of people who get to see him. I soaked it in, minute by minute, every snuggle I could get with him. I felt a love for this little boy, that I hadn't felt. A lot of people questioned why I spent so much time with him, knowing he was going to be leaving, given the circumstance. I don't regret any second I spent with him. We bonded and looking back, I'm so glad I got to spend as much time him and his family as possible.

Eventually, papers were signed. Briana was released from the hospital, Calvin went back to Maryland with Natalie and Frank. I'm forever grateful for the openness of Natalie's heart, that she has allowed an unlimited amount of communication between us. She would send texts and pictures, communicate about things going on in his life and his milestones.  We've truly blessed to be apart of Calvin's life.

December 2016, I was able to visit with Calvin for the first time since he had been born.  Brystin was over the moon ecstatic to see him.  By then, we had Arzola(who ironically was born one year and one day after Calvin), and I was 9 months pregnant with Milena. Seeing the kids play together and run around Chuck E Cheese, was something I never thought would ever happen. But  we all just clicked like there was never any time or distance. 

Natalie and Frank made the courageous choice to raise Calvin to understand he is adopted, and that adoption is the amazing tie that makes us family instead of an unsettling secret that will come out later. My favorite thing is to see this saying that Natalie and Calvin do.... "I am adopted. I am a friend. I am kind. I am loved" it is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. They are raising him to know he was loved all around, and that he came from Briana's belly(and he asks "so i was covered in food?") and that Briana is my sister and that is why I am aunt Brittani. And that Brystin, Arzola and Milena are cousins. Obviously, at 3, almost 4, he doesn't understand fully but I love that as he grows up, he will have ties with his biological family and know that he is so so so so so so loved.

Ultimately, it's not the DNA. It's the love that makes us family. Our unique bond is our normal, I'm excited to navigate this normal and go on this adventure. I feel beyond blessed that Natalie and Frank allow my kids and I to be a part of Calvin's life. What people from the outside don't understand about adoption is that, it's not just giving up a child. It's not a selfish choice. Choosing to place isn't for the weak.  It's realizing that it takes more than love to raise a child, and selflessly giving a loving family a gift. Calvin is a gift. Briana made a selfless choice out of love. Natalie made the selfless choice to love a child not formed in her womb.  I don't think adoption is a choice, I think it's God's plan. And God gave them Calvin. Briana misses Calvin a lot and would have kept him if she was in the right place in life, but she did the right thing. Calvin is in the best home, with the best family possible.  Briana gave him the greatest gift because she loved him. 

Briana and Natalie would have a different side and a different story, but as a biological aunt, that's mine. I love that little boy in a way that can't be measured. I look at Natalie and Frank as my own family that has been around my whole life. (my kids even refer to them as Aunt Natalie and Uncle Frank.) I love through texting and social media, we can be included in his life and milestones. I can't express enough how much I appreciate the openness Natalie and Frank have for Calvin to know his biological roots. Briana made the most selfless choice because she loves him, and I think that is something we ALL need to understand about biological moms.  These choices aren't made because they don't want them or love them... it's because we want them to have more than we can offer, we know they deserve more and because we love them more than they will ever be able to imagine. 

Today is National Woman's Day... and I want to shout out to all the courageous women that are on this crazy life adventure through the gift of adoption - whether on the biological side or adoptive side. May you all know that you are stronger than you can imagine and carry more love than you can measure. <3

"Why are you going to Disney? He won't remember."
"Why are you spending so much money on this party? She won't remember it."
"You really don't have to get her anything for Christmas, she won't remember."

Raise your hand if you have heard that statement. They won't remember.
Why do people feel the need to shame and place judgement on those of us that want to make memories that we WILL remember. It always gets under my skin.

If you DON'T want to do something because your kid won't remember, then that's fine. That is on you.  But DON'T put down someone else that wants to create those memories. 
You know what I have to say about that party, vacation, gift.... DO IT!!!!!

Let's talk the first birthday party. Why not go big? A first birthday is a chance to celebrate that big life adventure you just went through! And a way to celebrate with everyone that supported you, stuck by you, encouraged you - I mean the least you can do is invite them for food and cake, as a thank you, right? And why wouldn't you want to celebrate that little life you created and all the milestones they reach in that first year! Think about it, being a baby is physically hard work. You go from being a nugget curled up in your momma's tummy to having to learn how to eat, nurse, sit, crawl, walk,  jump, run. Why wouldn't you want to celebrate that little person in a big way?! WHO CARES IF THEY WON'T REMEMBER. YOU WILL! YOUR FAMILY WILL! YOUR FRIENDS WILL! Do it big, that little person deserves it. All three of my kids had a big bash for their first birthday, because they deserve to be celebrated! It's totally fine if they don't remember, because you will. And that's all that matters. And you never know if they will make it to the next birthday or not, you can hope they do, but nothing is guaranteed. So celebrate and DON'T let anyone shame you for doing it. They don't have to come. 

Or that big vacation? Why not. We like to vacation before kids, so why not include them in your life and your trip. And let me fill you in on a secret --- if you don't take your kids, you get mom shamed over that too. So plan that trip, take that little tot to Disney. WHO CARES! There is something about the magic of Disney that happens in the moment, and even if your child doesn't remember - YOU WILL! My daughter lit up in a way I had never seen before when she met Doc McStuffins, and it's okay with me if she doesn't remember it, I do. And I'll always remember that moment and will always be able to tell her about it.  What if you never take that trip, and then something happens and you never get a chance to take that trip. DO IT! TAKE THAT TRIP! MAKE THOSE MEMORIES!

Don't spend your money on that gift. This isn't even a high ticket item. My son was 6 weeks old his first Christmas, and you know how much criticism I got for him having presents under the tree. It's okay that he doesn't remember that first Christmas because I do. And I loved holding him in my lap and opening gifts with him. But same for anything... put baby food in that little one's easter basket, wrap up pacifiers for baby's first Christmas. You celebrate that little person with whatever gift you want to give! Ps. I bought my first daughter, her first Barbie when she was in my belly - i was excited. Yolo. 

All I'm saying is, there is no reason to put people down for wanting to make memories. All we have is today because tomorrow is never guaranteed, so do it. Live it up. Do it big. Do you know how much I would have missed and the stories I wouldn't have had I waited until "they remembered." I love that I can remember and that I have pictures of all the kiddos on their first birthday, first holidays, first vacations. These memories are amazing things.

And, yes, let people know.... "you are invited to the party my child won't remember." They can decline if they choose.
 You can always invite me, I'm here to celebrate everything your child won't remember, because mine won't remember it either... but we will :)

Blood, sweat and tears. Three words we use to describe something we put our all into. Our job, our house, building something, exercise, anything. Today, these three words had a new meaning for me,

For awhile, I had debated on writing and sharing anything. But after my tears today, it's time to get something of my chest.  It all started with a doctor's appointment mid January.  The nurse checked my weight: 131 lbs and BMI of 23.2. Not even a month before, it was 126 with a BMI of 21.83 Before you eye roll, hear me out and listen because what I'm about to get off my chest - it needs to be said, heard and shared. 

Yes, according to doctors and nutritionists, this is considered completely healthy and average. But to the demons in my mind, this is completely unacceptable. Seeing that number on the scale made the demons scream "fat ass" in my head, and I felt this sense of defeat. My whole body felt like it began to swell. I mean after all, this is EXACTLY why we removed all the scales in our house. And then it happened.... I relapsed.
(and now I'm crying)

The thing is when you have an Anorexia relapse, it isn't like relapsing into drugs and take that first hit. I'm convinced you don't even realize you have relapsed until something smacks you in the face and makes you notice what you've been doing. Since that appointment, I started exercising obsessively. I NEED to be at the gym and sweating until I can't walk. Some days I go twice. I even have a personal trainer I work with, who I was open and honest about when it came to my eating disorder.  He does a meal check with me before we start our work outs. I'm counting all my calories and purposely leaving my house without my wallet so I won't get tempted. SlimQuick pills... oh yeah, I got them. Probably my first purchase after I left the doctor, along with a scale.  Seeing that number on a scale broke me in more ways than I could have imagined or realized in that moment. In fact, I felt discouraged in that moment but didn't realize the wounds it would re-open.
I've battled anorexia my whole life, or at least since I could remember. I was bullied about it in middle school and high school. My senior year of high school, I was put on antidepressants and anxiety medicine, which made me gain weight. As people started COMPLIMENTING on how great I looked and how I was too skinny before, it made me realize there was a noticeable weight gain. That started my post graduation/college struggle. I was 98 pounds when I got pregnant with Brystin. I'm convinced that pregnancy saved my life.  But after he was born, those demons in my head came back, my body didn't bounce back the way I wanted it or expected it too.  But eventually, I was back down to 105 pounds.  I don't know what on set my eating disorder, or why.  I watched my mom constantly think she was fat and her weight fluctuate, so maybe it was something just etched in my brain. And if that is the case, that scares me for my daughters.  But I only heard words, if she counted calories or obsessively worked out, I never knew it.  Maybe it was being a gymnast, no one ever commented on my weight but it was very much a physically demanding sport.  Maybe it was a control thing, growing up in a broken family and going through a lot, maybe my anxiety and fears felt the only true control they had was over my eating. And those body demons.... they are vicious. If you've never fought with them, consider yourself lucky.
{I would just like to insert, if you are rolling your eyes or skinny shaming me in your head because I don't know what it's like to be "bigger" - please know that I admire you! Your curves, your beauty, the being comfortable in your own skin. You are amazing! And if you CAN'T relate to anything I'm saying, consider yourself lucky.}

Struggling from body dysmorphic disorder and an eating disorder, really isn't something to take lightly or joke about. It's not something you can tell someone "go eat a cheeseburger" and they'll get over it. Or calling them out for being too skinny... in fact when you do those things, it only makes the problem worse.  Or having an attitude while making comments such as "if i had a body like yours" or "you're so small, i don't understand what your issue is." DON'T body shame, it's just not okay. At that moment, we re-evaluate ourselves, our life, our bodies and face our biggest critic in the mirror. And let me tell you, that critic is not nice. That critic will make you regret even thinking of eating that cheeseburger. That critic will tell you that person lied to you and wants you to gain weight.  If your words aren't supportive, they will definitely send that struggling person in the wrong direction. So try to be helpful and less judgmental.  We have enough judgments going on in our head right now and don't need you to assist. Anorexia isn't a phase or a trend, or something fixed just by eating more and EVERYONE NEEDS TO KNOW THAT! It is a real problem. After it messes up our mind in ways that you can't imagine, it takes a toll on our bodies... and even if we go into recovery, some of those effects never truly go away.  For me, I'm always cold, my heart rate is slower than average, I'm anemic and no matter how much I moisturizes, parts of my skin are always dry. I'm very fatigued and forget a lot, I pretty much have chronic constipation and when it comes to pregnancy and hormones, where to begin with all the struggles. So before you critique someone, please try to understand. And DO NOT rolls your eyes and brush it off. If someone is really struggling, we need you to understand instead of tearing us down. Again - we DO NOT need your body shaming. You never know the battle someone is fighting internally.

So today, my blood, sweat and tears. I was going to the gym, and my nose would not stop bleeding. I was diagnosed not too long ago with a blood disorder that prevents my blood from clotting, which would probably explain the fact why my nose would not stop.  For weeks, I've been pushing myself to the point I'm almost puking or passing out - everyday. Go hard or go home, right?! I've been tracking every calorie. Every time I eat something, the demonic brain critics like to call me a fat ass with each bite I take. I was in my HIIT class that is super intense, the instructor is such a beast but she is my spirit animal. We're down doing burpees with weights and mountain climbers. Then she yells out "keep going! you got this! remember why you are doing this! why are you pushing yourself?" just then images of my kids, the scale, that cookie I ate yesterday and the demon comes back and says "you're a fat ass." Let me tell you, this voice is distinctive voice, one I wish I didn't hear but somehow it always manages to run on repeat. Hearing that voice, my eyes instantly filled with tears and sweat, blood, and these tears ran down my face. I started to feel my body give out and that's when yelled back "I'm not a fat ass!" *breath* "you got this!" and just felt the tears come. And they didn't stop. Luckily the music was so loud, and everyone was pep talking themselves that no one paid any mind to my self encouragement. It was the most empowering feeling to keep going when my mind was trying to bring me down. The tears only made me stronger.

Looking at the relapse sign chart, for a long time I thought I was living in the "green" but now I'm realizing that I have relapsed and I'm in between that red and yellow. It is scary, it is draining but it can get better. Right now, I even though I feel in control, I'm not. Every meal and drink is calorie counted and track on an app before I even taste it.  Every exercise and activity is logged immediately. Today, though, was my first step in reclaiming my mind and thoughts. I have so much to live and be healthy for. I can be more than my eating disorder, and though recovering is a long and hard process, I can get there. And I can there with love and support... and without cheeseburgers.  For now, the first step to quitting is admitting, and I'm admitting that I am in the midst of a relapse.  And it's best to be frustratedly patient with me. You can't force help on someone that doesn't want it, and I'm just trying to take it a day at a time. This post doesn't have an inspirational turning point of a new found recovery, nor is it to send sympathy my way - I don't want it.  But it's to let you into the beautiful mind of someone struggling with anorexia.  I've realized my goal weight isn't a number on a scale but the weight of my thoughts and how much of them I can control. But until then, unfortunately, I'm still struggling....

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