I’m Afraid to Write

I’m Afraid to Write.

Afraid of rejection.



Making a mistake.


Fear is holding me back.

Fear of failure.

Fear of not being good enough.

The best.





But most of all, I’m afraid that if I don’t write it down and don’t say what I want to say, and no one reads it or sees me then that’s the biggest mistake of all.

So I will write. And it may not be perfect, but it will be raw and real and honest and that’s what makes me ready.

Book Review: Tiny Blue Lines… & I’m in it!

As a young woman who found myself surprisingly expecting a baby less than a year out of college and not married, reading Tiny Blue Lines was very nostalgic for me. I wish this book had been around four years ago for me, as I carried a lot of guilt and insecurities throughout my first pregnancy. At the time I felt like no one understood how I was feeling even though I knew I wasn’t the first person to have a baby out of wedlock. But no one reached out to me and it was quite lonely inside my head at times.

Chaunie understands the multi-faceted guilt that goes along with an unplanned pregnancy. I was reading and silently shouting, “Yes! She gets it! She gets me. She understands exactly how I felt.” Tiny Blue Lines tells young mothers that we are not alone! I appreciated that Chaunie wrote this book as if she were having a conversation with me over a cup of coffee in her home; like she was a comforting and nonjudgemental big sister. I felt as if she was holding my hand the whole way through cheering, “You’ve got this girlfriend—you can do it!”

Chaunie showcases real-life women who come from different walks of life, and chose different paths. Some put their education on hold, while others did whatever it took to graduate. Some shifted their dreams and made them a reality. Some decided to get married before baby, while others waited, or chose to co-parent instead. No matter what they decided, they all—we all—have one thing in common: 

Our lives changed for the better. Our babies were a surprise blessing—never a mistake. 
My favorite line from the book is “…things are not always as they seem. There are no accidents with God, and life is always an intentional gift.”

I enjoyed her “Marriage Before Carriage” advice which includes topics like: “There’s no ‘right’ or ‘wrong’ way to have a wedding,” “Accept help,” and “Wear comfy shoes,” among other things to consider. Her practical and sometimes witty advice is a breath of fresh air, contrary to advice I was once forced to hear such as, “Oh you’ll figure it out—don’t worry.” Therefore, I love that at the end of the book Chanuie provides detailed advice and specific resources. She never stops gifting the real-life advice young mothers need to help navigate such a huge change in their life.

I laughed out loud at some of the stories she shared about the ridiculous things people (usually strangers) would say to her and other young mommies while out in public because I could absolutely relate. One time, as I was being rung up at a department store, the clerk looked at me and my (then) one year-old daughter in the stroller and said, “You must not be much older than the baby.” I even had my weddings rings on! But Chaunie has been there many times before and she understands. Reading her words makes you feel like you’re not alone.

One of my favorite parts of the book was when Chaunie mentioned me as an “inspiring woman.” It was a surprise to me, and I had the happiest and cheesiest grin glued onto my face.

Chaunie’s bravery and courage to put herself and her very personal story out there in the world for everyone to see is admirable. She is a blessing to young mamas everywhere.

Without a doubt, I would recommend Tiny Blue Lines to any young mom who finds herself surprisingly expecting a little blessing in her life. Every woman should have someone to hold her hand and cheer her on. Chaunie will do just that! 

// // // 

You can read & find out more about Chaunie Marie Brusie and Tiny Blue Lines, here. Do it!
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Women Connect … From Mrs. to Mama


New Girl / Modern Family / Glee / Whitney / Big Bang
Taylor Swift / Michael Buble Chrstimas
write & illustrate a children’s book / write a memoir on my horrid, but enlightening postpartum depression experience 
leggings & flowy tanks {Florida cannot make up its mind}
how to keep up with the damn housework
a housekeeper 😉
God for each new day I get to wake up
People Magazine {any suggestions on a good read?}
make-believe kitchen with my two year-old
health / safety / happiness / for all 
If You Really Knew Me, You’d Know…

– I have a 2 year-old daughter named Emmalyn/”Emmy”, and I’m kinda obsessed with her.

– I love brushing my teeth. No really, I do.
– I’m still taking anti-depression meds for postpartum depression.
– I’m sarcastic. A lot. & I’m afraid people take me too seriously.
– I’d much rather stay home than go out to a bar.
– I write something about my daughter, Emmy’s life every.single.day.
– I once bought pillow cases at Goodwill because they were yellow & pretty. My husband will not sleep on them.
– I used to be fairly controlling & Type A, until I overcame PPD.
– I want three kids. I think.
– I got pregnant before we got married… whoopsies!

– I can come off as stuck-up, but really I’m just observing–I’m actually pretty shy until you get to know me.
– I find it nearly painstakingly difficult to strike up a random conversation.
– It’s a pet-peeve of mine when people *pat* me on the leg.
– Brownies & chocolate fudge are my weakness.
– When I was 17, my body was used as the model for Britney Spears‘ & Madonna’s body for Ripley’s Believe It or Not wax museum in Niagara Falls.

A Few of My Favorite Things…
.Essie Nail Polish.
.Mary Poppins.
.Messy Hair Braids.
.Green Tea.
.Anything Blue.
.Skinny Jeans.
.Home-Made Birthday Parties.

.The Holiday.
.The Beach.
.Sweet Tea.

More Personal.
There are so many risks I want to take in life, but am way too scared to take that first leap. The quote, “Life begins at the end of your comfort zone,” really resonates with me because according to this quote, my life has definitely not started. I’m stuck with one foot out of my comfort zone, but that’s all. I’m stuck. I have many ambitions in life, but am finding that it will be impossible to do them all at the same time. I also find it’s even more impossible if I don’t get my ass up and do something about these life desires. 
Navy Doctor Wife Life.

Say that 10x fast!

Growing up, I never (even in my wildest dreams) imagined I would be married to a Doctor in the Navy. {In my wildest dreams I was married to Justin Timberlake… ha!} Sometimes I can’t help but stop and ponder, “What on earth did I get myself into?” In a good way, of course. I’m not going to sugar-coat it though–there are times when I want to pull my hair out: what with all the uncertainty and sudden changes that are constantly made, unbeknownst to us. Being a med school wife has taught me a lot about patience and flexibility. Not knowing when my husband will be home each day used to be terribly annoying, but I’ve gotten used to it. My motto through it all? 

That’s life. It is what it is, and I’m just gonna roll with it! 

: : :
This post is a linkup @ From Mrs. to Mama 
If you found me through the linkup, leave me a comment so I can come *meet* you, too! 🙂 



i am mad. downright fucking pissed, to be perfectly honest. 
my mom has cancer again. 
for the third time. 
in six years. 
seriously, who the hell gets cancer three times in six years? 
it’s just not right.
i feel helpless. 
i feel so sorry for her. 
& i hate that phrase… “feeling sorry” 
…but i don’t know what else to say. 
i don’t know what to do. 
hot tears seared my hidden face, as i unintentionally expressed wet blotches of black mascara on my white pillow. 
it was a difficult cry–a struggle against the antidepressants in my system.
“mommy! mommy! maaaaahhhhmmmmy!” i heard my daughter cry out on the other side of my bedroom door. 
her cries for me coincided with the cries i had for my own mother. 
as if it were my inner voice.
what a surreal and eerie moment it was–my young daughter crying out for me, while i silently cried out for my mommy, praying emmalyn never has to cry for the same reason.
as much as i want to crawl out of, and shed my skin, i know my mom wants to a hundred times more.
 i can only imagine how she is feeling right now, and i bet it involves a few choice curse words.
what do i do for her? 
what do i say? 
we’ll find out more tomorrow, but she will definitely have to endure both chemo and radiation.  
but my mom? 
she’s a fighter. 
& a hell of a good one, at that!
each time i found out my mom had the big c, we allowed ourselves to convulse into one another with harsh tears, then promised that was it. 
no more.
my mom got through it twice before, and she’ll get through it again.
yes, i am mad. 
but i’m also inspired. 
inspired by my best friend who won’t let anything stand in her way of living.

p.s. thank you for allowing me to be honest. & explicit. although, i apologize but not really for the explicit part 😉


“Learn New Words” … Lesson Learned!

When I had set out to write a post yesterday, I wanted to write freely, quickly, and in the moment. Call it a little experiment, if you will. Instead of waiting for The Perfect Piece of Writing, I wanted to let my fingers do the talking, and not give it a second-thought. I needed to take a leap-of-faith and stop over-thinking-slash-analyzing-slash-beating-myself-upover not writing something “good enough”.

While Blake was at work and Emmy was napping, I pulled out my laptop and didn’t look back. I closed my eyes and wrote exactly what I heard, and what I felt. With the television off, the sound of the clock and the rhythm of my heart beating were immanent.
Before hitting “Publish”, I read once-over only for spelling typos, and then that was it. 
No over-thinking. No second-guessing.
It felt good.
However, what I didn’t take into consideration was how my piece would translate to my daily 150+ other readers… kinda um, well… depressing.
Often times I get embarrassed when I read my writing aloud to my husband. I don’t know why?!
Regardless, I knew I needed his opinion.
After prepping him with the scenario of the latter, and sucking up my embarrassment, my husband said intently, “You need to learn new words.”
Flashbacks of last-minute cramming sessions for middle school vocabulary tests awkwardly danced through my head. I’ve never been very word-worthy—at least in my opinion. But I knew instantly what word jumped out at him as alarming: Nothingness.
And it made my husband feel about ye big when I sheepishly chose that word. Which is when I realized that word gives off the connotation of worthlessness or insignificance, both of which I know I am not! When I wrote, “staring out into nothingness,” what I really meant was “space”, where my mind was clear, and I was at peace.
So I took my husband’s sound advice and pulled out the thesaurus. And by “pulled out” I mean typed “nothingness” onto Thesaurus.com.
Scanning through the synonyms, I spotted “free space”. That’s more like it. From there, free space led me to “diddly-squat”, “goose egg”, and “hill of beans.”
If I had to choose a new word for “nothingness”, I think I’d choose “diddly-squat”. Yes… Staring out into diddly-squat.Sounds much more light-hearted, and totally UN-depressing, don’t you think?

Just Breathe.

Count to ten, Katie. Breathe. Repeat.

This little ritual pretty much sums up my entire day. A certain short person with dark blonde wisps of curls and big brown eyes has been testing my patience all day. ALL. DAY. Today consisted of lots of mini-chats with The Big Man upstairs, begging asking to refill my pot of patience. 

Up and down my legs have gone, numerous times over–jumping up to stop a testy toddler from throwing picture frames across the floor. Stern looks followed by “Stop. That hurts Mommy!” was the motto of the day, due to that certain short person slapping a decreasingly patient momma across the face.


Count to ten, Katie. Breathe. Repeat.

I stuck to my guns when I refused to be a short-order chef at lunch. I’ll be sure to let you know when “NOOO!! PIIIIZZZZZAAAAAA!!” stops ringing in my ears. Apparently quesadillas were not good enough today and throwing food on the floor was the next best thing. That doesn’t fly with this momma.

A much needed nap on both ends helped a little, and don’t get me wrong–between the excessive frustrating moments, there were bursts of giggles and kisses–all appreciated, of course. But by 6pm, yoga was calling–no make that–screaming my name: “Katie, you need me! Come to me!” Fortunately for me, a very loving grandpa (thanks, Dad!) was willing to take care of Little Miss while I got my yoga on.

How humbling it was. I feel re-centered and aligned.

I’m ready for a new day.



Making things happen, yo!

I bow down to Working Mothers. I don’t know how they do it! I teach dance one day a week (next year will be two days), but I don’t consider that “work”. It’s more of a hobby to me. It’s hard enough to take care of a soon-to-be (eek!) toddler, but throw in a full-time job (?!!) well, that’s SuperMom status to me, girlfriend!
Being a SAHM can be difficult on a girl’s mental capability. Singing “Wheels on the Bus” 56.5 gazillion times, putting on tea parties, banging on Tupperware drums, and modeling macaroni-and-cheese spotted T-shirts all day can take a toll on Yours Truly. 
The aforementioned is precisely why I’m expanding my horizons. It’s been a long time coming, but through a lot of soul-searching and prayer, I’ve decided to delve into the world of freelance writing. With the professional instruction of Meagan Francis ( The Happiest Mom), and the encouragement and constructive criticism of my peers, I am jumping in & going for it!
Only a few weeks into Meagan’s class, and I’ve already learned so much about myself. Currently, I’m working on a postpartum depression essay (which is harder than I thought because it’s such a long and personal story), figuring out how I want to market myself, and experimenting with pen names….
I’m excited to welcome this new and challenging journey in my life–it’s exactly what I need to balance my sanity. I realized I needed something maturely stimulating; something that involves learning and adult interaction. Sure, I’ll still talk about poop on occasion, but I’ll be doing something mature with that poop! ;o)
It’s a very vulnerable decision for me–as I’m not notoriously known for putting myself out there; but if I want to live life to its fullest, and get something I’ve never had, then I have to do something I’ve never done. This includes hitting bumps and making (probably embarrassing) mistakes along the way, but I’m OK with that. I’m only human.
So with that said, wish me luck and courage! 🙂