On a recent warm, summer Sunday, I sat at the fountain at Lincoln Center. It was the very same spot, that we sat, facing each other last year, around midnight, after receiving the most soul crushing news of our lives. (You may remember the photo. I’ll never forget it.) An exact year has gone by, and this summer day feels much different. We are in that very same spot, but I feel the warm, rays of the sun beating down on us. I hear the fountain trickling behind us, but more importantly, I place my hand on my very round belly, to feel the kicks of our growing baby boy.
1st day of spring, and I’m feeling that sunshine. #SunsOutBunsOut as most of the swimwear styles will tell you, in Miami Beach this Wednesday afternoon.
Oh, the winter blues. They’re a snooze, aren’t they? It’s bitter cold out, and you find yourself zipping up puffer coat after puffer coat, bundled like the Michelan Man, just to stay warm. I know. I’m with ya.
On a cold, wintry long weekend, we quickly packed our bags for an unexpected adventure. While we had been dreaming of a sunny beach vaca for the weekend, which we had waited to long to book, we decided to simplify our plans. We received an incredibly generous gift for a stay at the luxurious, 5 star Greenwich Hotel, located in Tribeca. This past weekend, seemed like a perfect opportunity to spend a romantic weekend together, on a staycation, in our home sweet home, New York City.
On a dark, rainy, New Year’s Eve night, I watched raindrops trickle down my window. As I peered out outside, I saw reflections of the city lights, as the rain wiped away the dust of 2018. “Does this seem symbolic of the year?” Grant said. He had it 100% right. It most certainly did. The dust of that stormy year finally settles, and we move on.
It’s sweater season, people, and that down right makes me cringe. Holiday lights are everywhere I look, and while it’s all merry and bright, I operate best with a daily dose of sunshine. Screw the snow. (Why do I live in New York?)
Red swimsuit. Sunshine beaming on my face. Toes in the sand. The waves crashing around me. Visions of a lifeguard stand off in the distance. “Runnnnn!” Grant yells, as I hear the sound of the camera’s shutter fluttering in the distance. I sprint towards him in my teeny, red bikini across the sands of Miami Beach. My hair whipping behind me in slow motion. In my head, it felt like a scene from Baywatch.
This is my middle name. I control everything in my life, and I’m an insane perfectionist. I like to be in charge of my own life, right down to the nitty gritty details. My expectations are incredibly high. It works as an advantage as well as a disadvantage for me. I trust myself, and only myself.
October 30th. It was my due date. A day that was supposed to bring me joy. In my mind, I would be holding a baby boy in my arms. October 30th. Now a day that I’ve been dreading, ever since my story changed. The pages turned faster than I could stop them, and the story abruptly ended. I won’t have the happily ever after that I spent my days dreaming of…yet.
I’m a walking glitter-bomb. From the age of of five, I spent my days crawling around on floors of department stores, searching for sequins and beads, as my mom shopped for fancy dresses. When I found them, I saved them and considered them my treasures.