Dear future husband

I'm not sure where you are right now. Or what you're doing. I just wanted to let you know I miss you. So I'm writing you a love letter. 

I've been sad lately because you aren't here. I miss your face. I love your beard. And if you don't wanna cut your hair ever again, that's ok by me. Just keep it clean. 

I think you smell fantastic. And, good heavens, you're hot. Those jeans, your butt...can't speak right now. 

I was broken when you found me. Insecure, self loathing, and afraid. I didn't believe you'd ever want a girl like me. Fat, nerdy, loud...well you know what I'm like. Sometimes when I look at you, I panic because I'm afraid you'll see what a mess I am and want someone better than me. 

Those first few conversations we had I felt so dumb. I talked about my kids a lot. And my job. I was always afraid that you'd think I was boring. But you stuck it out. You always asked about the things that were important to me. Sometimes while I was talking and laughing you'd just watch me as if I was the most interesting person in the world.

When I said we couldn't go on dates because I hated that word, you just said ok. Every time you asked me out, you'd say, "Wanna go jump roping?" It always made me laugh. 

One day while we were eating, some friends stopped and asked if we were dating. You told them no you were just using me for sex. That was the moment I fell for you. I knew you totally understood me and my need for laughter.

I appreciate your patience. When I finally told you about my childhood and why I wouldn't let you meet my kids, you just smiled and said ok. Not one ounce of guilt. You didn't push. I love that about you. 

It's been a long road. Meeting you helped me heal. You always make me feel beautiful and desired. But you taught me to believe that about me and not rely on you for those feelings. You've held me when I cried. And understood when I needed more reassurance than most. 

I prayed for you. I longed for you. I said I'd never love again because I didn't believe in it. I've fought against you. I've fought with you. 

We're getting married today. I'm terrified. Two minutes after you left this morning you texted me to tell me you couldn't wait to smack my ass after the minister says to kiss the bride. I can't wait either, you sexy beast.

So I don't know where you are tonight, just know that I love you. I'm waiting for you. And I'm impatient...so make this snappy.

We saved the world

When I was five my mom got married. This gave me a huge group of cousins. We occasionally were an unruly bunch. We were always funny. And we saved the world.

Our house was in Nanny and Papa's backyard. And right next door to Daisy and her family. This was a blessing and a curse. There was always someone around to play with. And always someone around to catch you misbehaving. Once when I was 15, I was hiding behind my house smoking and I know Uncle Dennis caught me on his way to feed the cows...we had no secrets. 

I gained one of my best friends when my mom got married. His name was Albert. At that time, he was three and blind as a bat. Sometimes he walked into door frames. When he had his eyes fixed and was prescribed glasses we started on a series of adventures that we still have today. 

Albert and I became pirates, rock climbers, acrobats, and sometimes evangelical church leaders. We planned picnics for our mothers, rode our sleds off of the pond bank, and laughed hysterically. 

As we got older our adventures continued. Albert always introduced me to new aspects of culture. Like sushi. It took me years to appreciate the deliciousness of sushi. We loved Phantom of the Opera, JAG, and Friends. And one time, while in St. Louis we ended up lost in the ghetto. Ride together, die together....

Albert is such a huge part of me. Sometimes a beacon of peace and hope. 

Now we are all grown up. He has his life and I have mine.  We aren't together near as much as I'd like. Now he has a fantastic life partner named Brad, and they both bring me such joy. 

In this season of thanksgiving I'm reminded how blessed I am. In an instant I was given a brother, a partner, and a best friend for life. Those things are priceless.

Albert, 

I love you. With my whole heart. Thank you for always accepting me. For laughing with me, even when it isn't appropriate. Thank you for supporting me. For being there when I needed to grieve. Thank you for exposing me to the world. Mostly thank you for being your fearless and wonderful self. 

We saved the world. 

 

Dear Michelle

You've been on my mind a lot lately. And you may drop kick me for my sappiness, but I needed to tell you some things. 

The first time I met you I thought I was dying. And I thought my girl parts were going to break. You met me at the window and asked if you could come to my party. I think I loved you right at that moment. Years later when I started on L&D, I realized that you had stayed five hours over your shift to help me deliver my baby. I still to this day don't know why you did that, but you'll never know what that means to me. 

When I came to L&D I knew nothing. I knew how babies were created and the two ways they came out. I have learned so much from you. You took me to my first delivery. You taught me what to do in times of crisis. You pushed me to be better. You've held me accountable and refused to accept less than what you expected of me.

The first time I held someone's baby in my hands that had lost its battle with prematurity, you helped me know what to say and what not to say. You helped me process my feelings. Many times I have seen you aid women through the loss of a child. You held your emotions in check and comforted them through something most of us can't even imagine. I find your grace and compassion to be one of the most amazing characteristics you have.

You, my darling, were born to birth babies and save lives. I've seen you do it hundreds of times. Working with you has shown me life and death. And shown me how to fight for a life.

Your nursing brain is astounding. You know more medically than most physicians I've met. You are my go to person. I never accept a diagnosis without getting your opinion. 

I just wanted you to know that I adore you. I can't imagine my life without your friendship. No one else would go with me to have my toenails ripped off then pull the packing out two days later, but you did. 

I hope you know how special you are. And what an amazing gift you have.

I have loved you when you're happy. I have loved you when you're mad. And I have loved you even when you threaten to punch me in the face if I hug you. I will always love you. 

Thank you for the many gifts you've given me. Thank you for birthing my babies, getting me through a divorce, and for being my voice of reason when I'm losing it. You are truly and inspiration to me...for real. And I know that you are going to continue to inspire and mentor so many others. 

I just thought you needed to know these things. 

Love always, 

Me

Things 18 year old me should have known

Dear Me, 

Here are a few things you should know now. You have grand ideas and plans. Life won't always be perfect, but it's not horrible. 

1. Get counseling now. You unfortunately will have a life long battle with anxiety and depression. Don't be afraid or ashamed. It's ok. Crazy can be fun, but it can also wear you down. Take care of your inner spirit.

2. Quit smoking. At 33 you'll have wrinkles. 

3. Floss more. Go to the dentist. Your going to start breaking and losing teeth soon. Maintain them better.

4. Love the body you have now. You're going to gain 70 pounds by the time you are in your thirties. You aren't too fat. Stop being insecure. You have a deliciously curvy body. Learn to dress for it. Accentuate it. 

5. You're really funny. Not everyone will think so. You'll offend people when you don't mean to. Apologize and move on. 

6. Go ahead and love Tim Kennedy with all your might. You will never marry him like you think. Love him while you can, and let him go when it's time. He won't be your worst heartache. 

7. Your worst heartache is the failure of your marriage. It's going to change you. You're going to be bitter. You won't trust. And you'll stop believing in love. You'll believe you're worthless, unattractive, stupid, a terrible mom, etc. You're not. It's going to hurt for a long time. You'll eventually begin to heal. Hang in there. 

8. Do not try to force relationships. If someone wants to be in your life they will  be, if they don't want to be, So what. 

9. Dropping the f bomb isn't classy. It will be your favorite cuss word and you're never going to be classy. But try sometimes to control it.

10. Go to church. Stop telling yourself God is vengeful and makes your life bad because you aren't perfect. Believe what you've been taught. Jesus was perfect for you. God is grace and mercy. You are His child and he wants to see you prosper. It won't always seem like you're prospering. Keep going. You have a purpose and a plan. 

I love you. I don't always act like it. I criticize you way too much. I spend too much time telling you what's wrong with you. But you are beautiful, smart, funny, kind, and just wonderful. You'll make it. I promise. 

As always, 

You at 33

Enduring freedom

Freedom. Such a hopeful and empowering word. No longer oppressed. No longer a slave. It's a word often taken for granted. And often fought and sacrificed for. 

I've always been a sucker for a man in uniform. Pretty typical I suppose. There's just something about soldiers that is enchanting. Marines are my absolute favorite. I'm not even really sure why. I suppose I have a hero complex. 

I love patriotism. I think we should be proud of our country. I love America. I love our freedom. I support our troops. Always. 

I did not know this man personally. I ran across his story on Instagram one day. At the age of 21 he was dead. On June 13, 2012 he became the 2,000th soldier killed in Operation Enduring Freedom. His life taken by an IED in Afghanistan. He had only been married three months to his high school sweetheart. 

His name is Taylor Baune. He was from Minnesota and a Marine. And his story stays with me. I can't imagine the loss. And I hope I never experience it. Maybe it's his blonde hair. Kind of reminds me of my sweet Johnnie. 

Taylor was a son, a brother, a husband. I cried today knowing it's been three years since he's been gone. He's not mine to cry over. But his story touched my heart. I follow his friends who were injured the night he died on Instagram. It's bittersweet. To see them moving forward. Becoming successful. And inspiring despite their challenges. 

I believe we all have a purpose. That our lives are meant to fulfill something. Some have a very clear vision of their purpose. I believe Taylor Baune was one of those people.

I'm sorry for the loss of his life. For those who mourn him. I'm sorry this world is in a place where we send 20 year old kids to lose their life for freedom. Where we send any age to die for freedom. Sometimes fighting for someone else's freedom. 

I'm also proud. Proud that this world contains people who fight for those who can't do it themselves. Amazed by the courage I see. And humbled by their very existence. 

Rest in peace Taylor John Baune. Your life made a difference in mine. 

Semper Fidelis.

Dear Ellen

Dear Ellen, 

I'm not even sure why I'm writing to you. Or if you'll even ever read this. Maybe I'm hoping for encouragement. Today I saw someone I admire on the cover of People. Tess Holliday. She's amazing. Beautiful. And she's a size 22. So am I. I see her in all kinds of magazines. Wearing everything from bikinis to fancy dresses. I'm envious. I want to be that free. I want to not pick apart myself. To not see fat and ugly. 

I've battled low self esteem forever. I never have thought I was enough. Even when I was a child. I was too poor. I wasn't smart enough. I didn't have the right shoes. To say I was socially awkward is an understatement. 

I'm 33 years old now. I've given birth to three children. I've been married and divorced. I've failed many many times. But I've also succeeded. I write a blog about my life. It has offered me a creative outlet and has given me some positive feedback. But I hate me. 

All my life I've wanted to be beautiful. I don't feel that way. I'm constantly disappointed in how I look in my clothes. How my hair looks. I compare myself to others, wishing I had what they have. I see my body as disgusting. I'm starting to feel like I'm too old. That it's too late to find happiness. I also know these feelings are absurd. And as a parent I'm scared my children are going to view themselves in the same way I see me. I never ever want that for them. 

Buying clothes aggravates me. There is never anything that fits right. And most plus size sections are filled with clothes that I feel frumpy in. I'm pretty sure my current wardrobe belongs on "What not to wear." And secretly I'm afraid I'm going to be on that show one day.

I adore you. You're kind and have a generous heart. You have absolute love for life that we should all strive for. . 

I'd love to tell you I watch your show everyday, but I won't lie. I do watch it every chance I get though. It just makes me feel good. I want to feel good. I want to feel beautiful. 

Thanks for listening. And maybe invite Tess to your show! She's awesome. And such a positive influence for young women everywhere trying to maintain a positive body image.

As Always,

Amy Jo

Feelings

I haven't written in a long time. I haven't felt it. Writing is a creative outlet. One I do mostly by feeling. I'm not sure if I've been content, depressed, or too busy to feel. Today I feel. Lots of things. 

I'm headed out tonight for a bachelorette party. I used to love weddings. And I used to believe in love. I'm happy for my friend. I support her choice and truly hope her wedding and marriage are everything she's ever dreamed of. Certain parts of me are envious. Envious of the excitement, the hope, and the happiness. Most of me is afraid for her. That her heart will be broken. I see relationships through pessimistic eyes. I won't be a negative Nancy at her bachelorette party or her wedding. 

I've said many times that I don't believe in love. And I don't. I believe in the kind of love that you feel for your children, your family, and for your friends. But I do not believe in "in love." Being with someone is a choice. I don't believe there is only one person destined just for you. I do believe we choose to care, to want to be with one person, to respect, and to cherish. However, we can choose to not do it just as easily. 

I feel other things today. It's beautiful outside. Sunshine and warm weather bring me a sense of pure happiness. I mowed my grass until I ran out of gas in my mower. I really suck at yard work. I've almost burnt my fence down. I've almost broke my mower. And I have a flower bed full of weeds and I have no idea how to make it look better. My lack of landscaping skills is very amusing. 

So I'm laying on my couch, with Hank the Wonder Dog near by. I'm thinking. And feeling. And writing. Ironically, writing makes me FEEL better. It's peaceful. This post has no clear direction or theme. I'm ok with that. It's just me sailing along...

Parenting: (noun/verb) the job you're never ever prepared or equipped for

I have three kids. I said I was never going to have any. I was wrong. I remember thinking, "what am I going to do with this?", when they put Shiloh in my arms the first time. I am probably the most anxiety ridden parent on the planet. My first born has endured the majority of my neurosis. By the time my third child came along, I had managed to relax. Not much but some. 

One of my biggest fears is failing them somehow. When Shiloh was a toddler I was certain we'd screwed her up and that she had some form of anger management issues. Turns out that she has an intolerance to food dyes. But I just knew I had broken her. She's actually fine; beautiful, kind, sensitive, and smart. She may need some therapy later on in life, but then again who doesn't?

I went to Johnnie's kindergarten parent teacher conference today. They LOVE him at school. He's so sweet and cute. He struggled at the beginning of the year but has made leaps and bounds in his skills. However, he's not ready for first grade and we decided to hold him back. I've known this was a possibility since the first quarter. I'm still kind of sad. I want him to succeed and I truly believe it's the best thing for him, but I feel like the most inadequate parent. I refuse to say he's failing or flunked a grade. It's degrading and he isn't failing. 

I'll probably cry about it at some point because I'm a cry baby. I want them to be successful and this is only kindergarten. And I'm not the only parent whose had a child that's held back. As much as I think it is, this is not a reflection on me. I can't fix this instantly. I can only work with him. 

Parenting isn't easy. This is nothing compared to some situations in life. I should cut myself some slack. So to all those moms and dads out there who look in the mirror everyday and think you aren't doing a good job; you are. There's not a handbook for this. It's more a fly by the seat of your pants kind of thing. Hang in there...we got this.

An experiment in beauty

I've been in a funk. Ok, honestly I'm always a little off. I'm dramatic, intense, emotional...

Being single is one of the most glorious states I've ever been in. I get to be me. All the time. I say what I think. I do what I want. I go where I want. I'm remembering the things I like. Places I like to go. But it also sucks. 

I have not been on a real date in almost 10 years. Frankly I hate dates. With a passion. It's like a job interview. And makes me an anxiety ridden nut case. I've sworn I will die alone and never have real sex again because I just can't handle the pressure. That's probably not true, but it's my current plan. 

I'm fat. I've always been that way. And in my insecurities I believe that defines my worth as a woman. I do not see sexy. I do not see beautiful. I see a woman that would be want able if she was skinny. I didn't come to this conclusion without proof. Many times I haven't been chosen. Like in 5th grade and you had to pick your team for dodgeball. I was not the first pick. I was akward, overweight, and uncoordinated. In high school I never went on one single date. At school dances I was a wall flower. 

Fast forward 15 years. I'm still akward. Uncoordinated. Overweight. And single. My insecurities are still the same. With some new ones too. 

But I want to feel beautiful, sexy, and worthy. This is an inner change. And one of the hardest changes I've ever encountered. It seems so easy to be insecure. And so hard to love yourself. I'm a deeply sensitive person and criticism is something I take very personal. And rejection devastates me.

A few months ago I decided I wanted to try something different. I had ideas of a photo shoot. Not anything racy or sexual. But elegant and edgy. I wanted to see me through someone else's point of view.

I have a friend that's a photographer. I told her my idea and she jumped on board. We shared ideas. Looked up plus size models. And researched. I fretted. I worried. She encouraged. 

On a Sunday afternoon she came over. We opened a couple of bottles of wine. We talked and laughed. In between she took pictures. In some of them I sat the way she told me. In some, she just snapped as I was sitting and waiting for her to adjust her camera. It was one of the most fun times I've ever had. 

I wasn't sure what to expect. I thought I would hate them all because I hate me most of the time. I can pick apart anything. When she emailed me the link I seriously panicked. Was I going to look awful? I didn't. Some of the pictures were stunning. Liberating. Elegant with edgy undertones. I've got some big boobs that didn't look all that bad. That was a shocker. In the right clothes, I'm pretty cute. My legs are fatter than I realized. When I laugh it completely changes my face. And I like how I look when I laugh. My eyes are my favorite part of my face. My mouth looks good in purply lipstick. And if I didn't know I was looking at myself, I'd think I was damn gorgeous. 

I've been rejected again. It's knocked me for a loop. Someone else was chosen over me. And it hurts. I blame me. I'm too fat. Not attractive or sexy enough. I've cried. I've yelled at him and called him a garden gnome. I've thought that my whole worth as a person is defined by the fact im not skinny. I'm trying to tell myself that there's so much more to me. And that if he doesn't want me, that's his loss. But I'm struggling. 

This face is mine. Those boobs are mine. Those chubby legs are mine. So is my mind. My personality. My heart. I will love me. I will feel beautiful. I am sexy. I may not believe all of that right at this moment, but I will...I really will...

(All photos credited to shawntae wright photography. Thank you my dear friend for letting me see me through your lens)