Author: Jasmine Myers

The Permission to Hope

Recently, a friend of mine wrote me to ask a simple question with a not so simple answer. How did you get through the first trimester of your pregnancy? What she meant, of course, is how did I avoid losing my mind from fear and anxiety after the loss of my twin pregnancy. I told her the truth: I wasn’t calm. I had nightmares almost every night for the first eight weeks. I spent my days battling a sense of hopelessness. I would wake and dread walking into the bathroom. I just knew that today would be the day I’d see that swipe of red, that spot, the sign that meant that this dream, too, would come crashing down around me. Being pregnant with a “rainbow baby” is an altogether different experience from simply being pregnant. My friend was struggling with this, as did I. So much of my anxiety was spent grieving the pregnancy before and the innocence I’d lost because of it. No longer did I simply expect things to go right. No …

Mama Life: 13 Weeks

Thirteen weeks. Simultaneously, these weeks have crept along and passed at the speed of light. Living on Planet Mom, I guess that makes sense? The BEST part, of course, is watching Elliott learn about the world and himself. Lately, he’s done a lot of learning. Family has visited, developmental leaps have happened, and daddy and mama have slowly figured out some semblance of a new normal. That new normal, of course, involves a lot of chaos, a lot of getting into a routine and then catching the almost immediate curve balls that fly our way. These 13 weeks have been filled with more laughter, joy, insecurity, fear, and love than I experienced in all of the 33 years prior to them. I’ve become the mom I wanted to be and also the mom I said I wouldn’t be. I’ve made choices I judged others for in my pre-mom life, spoken words in anger and exhaustion in a manner I wish didn’t exist within me, ate a shocking amount of trashy food in the interest of …

Dear Elliott

I think this is a love letter. Sigh… Someday you’ll understand how much your mama hates being cliche… How many mamas have written these cheesy letters? But, then, that’s love, I guess. It changes everything. I should know. I’m sitting in Starbucks. I’ve slipped away to work, to write articles about adwords… a profile of a fabulous woman entrepreneur… and a short story about a magic iPhone… All things I’ve said I’ll do. I tend to over-commit. And, yet. I’m here thinking of you. Thoughts of the way you smile or your sweet gurgle sounds are bouncing around my head, climbing stair steps on the words of the conversation at the next table. I can’t remember when I’ve been this consumed by someone. Wait, yes, of course I can. Your dad. Whatever that something is that he has… it’s hereditary. You both take my breath away. As the days turn into weeks and now months, I find myself rehearsing the memories I want never to forget. I turn them over and over in my mind, …

Insanity

I think we’ve all seen insanity defined as doing the same things over and over again and expecting different results. Well, I’d define motherhood similarly. Being a mama means doing the same thing day in, day out, but actually getting a different result. In that way, being a mom is sort of an exercise in beating insanity. From one day to the next, I swing from yeah, I got this! to sweet baby Jesus, somebody help me without a whole lot of difference in what is actually going on (except maybe how much sleep I got the night before!). Despite having started this day by dropping an entire container of formula, which promptly exploded and rained beige fallout all over the kitchen counters and floors, today is an “I got this” day. I keep asking myself, why do I think this is so hard sometimes??? And, then tomorrow, I’ll be all, why in God’s name did I think I’d figured this out??? I can never seem to remember on one day what the hell I …

Mama Life: 7 Weeks

Over here in Mama Myers Land, we’ve started our second week with Daddy back at work. It’s been a mixed bag. Yesterday, I felt like I’d punched a wall… with my face. Today? Feeling pretty good. Managed to string together about six hours of sleep last night and just went for a walk with my favorite doll baby. Life is swell. Elliott turns seven weeks on Thursday (Want to see pics? Instagram), and I think I’m finally getting into a groove. Sort of. Well, I’m cooking, reading, and watching TV, so there’s that. Here are a few meals I’ve made lately that I thought were worth sharing (found via Pinterest!). You will definitely sense a theme (crockpot for the win!). Plus, lists of books and tv shows I’ve consumed since Elliott rocked my world. Motherhood is a weird mix of mach 60 busy and mindnumbing boredom. What I’m Cooking Crockpot Salsa Verde Chicken Crockpot Ravioli Crockpot Mississippi Roast Crockpot Ritz Chicken What I’m Reading The Dead Will Tell by Linda Castillo Someday Soon by Debbie …

Things I Won’t Forget: The Hospital

My little love came screaming into the world. Obscured by a powder blue curtain, his was a voice I’d never heard, but that I knew by heart. “He’s here,” my husband whispered. The wail that escaped my body took with it the fear that had held siege since the moment they wheeled me into this unexpected surgery. Screaming, furious, and beautiful, he was here, and I was fine. Their words about risks fell away… The heightened dangers that this commonplace surgery had for me, ever the uncommon case were far away now that I knew: he was here. And, I want to remember that. I want to remember the moment that I stepped down from my perch to allow someone’s life to matter so much more than my own. I never want to forget how Elliott made me brave by simply being born. —– It wasn’t until our second long night that Elliott and I clicked into place. He was born at 10:18pm on Thursday, and that first night was spent in the delirium of …

(Not) Love at First Sight

02.16.2007 I had been divorced 27 days when I met him. Decked out in my favorite jeans and a striped black top that afforded a peek-a-boo look at my fuchsia bra beneath, I felt like hot stuff. What can I say? I was 24-years-old, single for the first time in my adult life, and determined to spend the next year — at minimum — kissing random boys just because I could. And, then I walked into my friend’s apartment, and every plan I had went to hell. First, though, let me back up. She’d called me an hour earlier to tell me that her friend Ryan wanted to join us for our night of planned debauchery. (She’d just broken up with some jerk, so clearly.) “Look cute!” she said. She’d been hoping to set me up with this guy, and out of the blue, he’d called her. Fate, her voice seemed to suggest. “I always look cute” was my quippy reply. So armed with my usual cuteness and a complete lack of expectation, I walked …