The obligatory intro

Full disclosure: I wrote this post already and forgot to “save and publish” so it is now lost in cyberspace. Clearly, I’m off to a great start…

First off, the name of my blog is misleading. I don’t have three kids. I DO have one dog though. My husband and I have two children, but always planned on having a total of three. I don’t know how to change the name of a blog once it’s started, so I figured I’d be optimistic.

My husband and I have been together for six years now, married for two. He brought to me a love deeper than anything I have ever experienced, and a premade family (technically my oldest is a “step” but she lives with us and I have never considered her to be anything less than my own). we had our son about a year ago, and are in the process of renovating a house, planing a garden, participating in school, church and community events, raising good humans, and maintaining our sanity.

For future reference, out of respect for my family members’ privacy, I will not be using their names. DH is how I will refer to my dear husband, SD for my daughter, and BS for my birth son. (I got these handy letters from some co-parenting/blended family support groups I am in.)  although, there is a good chance that I may refer to sd as my daughter, and that is only out of habit. I adore her as if she were my own, and her birth mom even tells me to treat her as if she were mine and that she has two mom’s. which is amazing. But I also don’t want to step on her toes. Birth mom’s. because without her I wouldn’t have the most important girl in my world. (Also, if I talk about my daughter’s other mom, she gets the initials BM. Which are birth mom. NOT biomom. That just feels disrespectful to me and even on the days I can’t stand her, she does deserve respect.) I’m getting a little too close to getting on a soapbox about stepparenting, so I think I’ll stop.

And that, my friends, is my obligatory introduction post:)




Long time, no see!

No shit.

While I haven’t been hiding in my bed or unable to function, I realized last night that I’ve been dealing with more than grief over my lost child. I’ve been depressed.

In college, I was diagnosed with clinical depression, and honestly I should have recognized what I was dealing with. Instead, it was just brushed off as grief. Because who wouldn’t be consumed with grief after losing a child!?!

Anyway, last night I made my second meal in a row from scratch. I love cooking and baking, but I can honestly say I haven’t made a meal for my family in almost a year. My husband has carried that weight, because I just couldn’t. He’s an amazing cook, so the kids didn’t mind and I told myself he was just giving me a break while I grieved.

But dude. I didn’t do anything that I used to enjoy. No running. No baking. No cleaning. Nothing.

Until recently. And I feel…lighter.


My day didnt suck.

I’m throwing a pity party. But I’ve earned this one. Is it actually pity if its totally earned? Or then does it cross over into genuine self-sympathy?

I got a stupid email from a stupid baby thing telling me today is the first day of my stupid third trimester.

Except it isn’t. Or at least it isn’t anymore. Because I’m not pregnant. Anymore. I was. Until about ten weeks ago.

I try not to think about it, about my baby, but he’s there, all the time in my mind. I think about where I would have put the bunk beds that he would be sharing some day with his older brother. About how I would have redecorated the nursery to accommodate two little people. I think about how amazing it would have been to have two little ones wrestling around. Two athletes close in age in high school.

And then I think about how none of that is going to happen. And it fucking hurts. I can see him everywhere I look. How our house would be slightly more cluttered, but in a good way. All the time. There’s no off switch.

This is so fucking unfair.

I’m a good mom. My husband is a GREAT dad. We are good Catholic people, raising good (most of the time) kids. Crap like this isn’t supposed to happen to me. To us. Not when shit parents all over the world keep reproducing all the damn time.

My day didn’t suck. Not until I got that email.

Step-parenting made easy…

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. yeah right. This ish is not easy. If it is, your spouse is probably a deadbeat.

Anyway, I’m in several groups on facebook for step/blended families, and a question was asked that I really want to expand on…

What would you tell a new/soon to be Stepmom?

  1. Get a bank account in your name only to float you when legal fees get out of hand. I know, I know, “But there wont be any legal fees, we get along so well with our biomom. Everything is hunky dory.” Right. ok. That’s cute. Even if you all DO get along, I promise there will be some legal fees during your marriage. Get the damn savings account so you don’t go broke.
  2. Stop calling her “biomom.” Use the term “birth mom.” Because that’s who she is. She gave birth, you did not. And I know this one is a little painful for you, but the more you can remind yourself to treat her with kindness – because SHE gave birth to one of your favorite humans – the better. And there are way too many “biology doesn’t make a parent, love does” memes going around that may eventually make you feel like you love this child more than she does. Nip that way of thinking in the bud. Right now. Knock that shit off. It wont get you anywhere but angry. I’m not saying you DONT love this kiddo as if they were your own, because I sure as hell do. BUT with that line of thinking, comes a heck of a lot of possessiveness and that doesn’t help ANYONE.
  3. Find a stepmom friend. This is one of the most important points. Make sure your support buddy has the same thought process about birth mom as you do, and as close to the same faith as you. It is really easy to fall into the whole “Bash the birth mom” game, but it wont make you feel any better. Find a buddy who helps you look at your situation with love, instead of stress and frustration.
  4. DATE NIGHT! Seriously. You’re in this mess because you fell in love, so keep that fire burning. Otherwise you’ll start wondering if “all of this stress” is worth it.
  5. Figure out your boundaries. Sit down with your spouse and ask them what role they are comfortable with you taking with their child/exspouse. Do they feel comfortable with you parenting, making contact with the ex, treating the child as your own? Or would they be more comfortable with you taking a backseat? Are you comfortable with your spouse and their ex being friends? Does your spouse want to co-parent or parallel parent? Just lay everything out and make sure you and your spouse are comfortable and on the same page. This is freaking CRUCIAL to the success of your marriage. You need to know what is expected of you, and your spouse needs to know what you need from them.
  6. Custody order. Know it. Know that shit backwards and forwards. AND know how closely it is expected to be followed. Don’t be that parent who expects the other house to follow it, but you don’t have to. That’s a total dick move. Don’t be a dick. But, if you expect the other house to follow it, make sure you are following every inch of the damn thing.
  7. Document things. This is pretty much mostly just for your own sanity. But also in case you have to go to court. I know, I know, you’ll never go to court because the other parent is your BESTIE. But still, writing things down and saving texts goes a long way in “Is junior going to be at this or that thing this weekend?”, “Were we going to send that thing to the other house?”, “Did I let them know we were going on vacation?” All of that can be easily at your fingertips if you WRITE IT DOWN.

Now I realize that every blended family has its own dynamic, and some of these things may not exactly fit every situation. But these are fairly straight forward and should fit nearly any blended family.

What do you think? Did I forget anything? Feel free to leave your advice for a new or soon to be stepmom in the comments!

The waiting game

I’m not a patient person. I try. I try really hard. But I’m just not patient. Right now, in this moment, I need to be patient.

There is a situation happening that is beyond my control, and I’m not good at handling that. I like to be in control. I trust my abilities to handle situations and handle them correctly. Other people? I don’t trust as much.

You don’t get details about what’s going on, because it is way too close to me. Although, really, it doesn’t have anything to do with me. But the outcome, one way or another WILL absolutely impact my life.

How the hell does that happen?!?

It shouldn’t have happened, if I’m being honest. And no one prepares you for how to handle situations beyond your control.

Today’s issues are just a lot to wrap my mind around. and so I sit here, all day, waiting for my phone to ring so I can move on to the next step of taking care of business.

But I am the least patient person in the world, so this is torture.


Buckle your seatbelt. This is going to be one hell of a post.

I haven’t been on here in a while. Didn’t know how to return. See, I had a perfect second post all worded in my head exactly how I wanted it. Adorable. Surprising. Exciting. I was going to post one day after Mother’s Day that our family was expanding again. That we really would be three kids and one dog, soon. That my husband, kids and I were excited to announce that for the previous 15 weeks I had a bun in my oven.

It was going to be perfect. There would have been pictures of my mother and my mother in law opening their Mother’s Day cards to see that they were signed from kid 1, kid 2 and future kid. And then I’d post my edited-for-privacy sonogram.

It was going to be the perfect post.

And then the night before Mother’s Day I started cramping. And bleeding. And BLEEDING. And the Tuesday after Mother’s Day, I passed/delivered my too perfect for this world Logan Lynn. I always wanted to use my middle name for a child. Lynn. It’s my parents middle names as well.

I’m no stranger to miscarrying. This is the third pregnancy loss during our incredibly young marriage. But the first one that occurred after the first trimester was over. I passed 12 weeks. Logan was supposed to be safe inside of me. I did all the right things.

My life was kind of blurry after that. I poured myself into my two “on earth” kids. They are my world. Thankfully they didn’t mind the extra hugs and cuddles.

A funeral home director friend took care of Logan’s tiny body. Because it was a body. And Logan is my child, no matter how long he exsisted on earth. He’s in a urn, waiting to be buried with me or my husband, which the funeral director assured me is perfectly normal for angel babies. It gives me comfort, kinda.

I am beyond ready to stop having losses. I’m a damn good mom. And I miss my angels every single day.