Good morning! It's 9:00 am, the morning of my 26th birthday, and so much has happened. Opening my eyes this morning, I didn't think as I have so often in the past with giddy excitement "Oh my gosh, Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, birthday, birthday, birthday! Me! Me! Me!" or something to that effect. I woke up, thinking how annoyed I was that my daughter was screaming in contempt of something her older brother was doing in the room next door. My newborn son (well, 11 weeks old) was next to me kicking me in my chest (bare chest) since he snuck into the bed during the night to nurse. He was, of course, kicking in his sleep so he got a free pass-this time. Then my husband comes in, leans over to kiss my forehead before heading off to work, and says "Happy Birthday." What??? Wow. I forgot. Again. He had told me "Happy Birthday" at midnight just before bed last night, and again I exclaimed, "Oh wow. I forgot again!." I don't have a great memor...

So, I was pregnant at 20; brand new boyfriend (of 3 weeks), senior year of college at stake, all my life plans for the time being hovering menancingly in my face telling me I would have to choose. I said "Screw you!" What life didn't know about me was that I was a determined motivated driven individual who scoffed in the face of unwed pregnancy. I knew the stigma, shame, and judgement that was coming, and I was prepared for it. Poor Amy, she was just shell-shocked at the new demands and responsibilities. I, on the other hand, had lots of first-hand experience at caring for children/babies. My mom ran a daycare and I was often recruited to help. I cared for my newborn cousin/foster brother-turned adoptive brother when he was fresh in from the hospital, having NO prior experience in being left alone with a colicky newborn. That was hard. My sister had my first nephew when I was seven, and I loved helping with him and his sister when she was born when they were at our hous...

This is a severely risky post from me on many levels- for my self-respect, self-image, integrity, and the like. But it is one that will better all of these once these truths have been freed. Buckle up. If you watch the show, "The Secret Life of the American Teenager," you will know exactly what I'm referring to in this post, or rather whom. If you don't know the show and could care less about it, just be a good sport and pretend. As we all know, the show starts with Amy finding out she is pregnant after being coaxed into having unprotected sex at fifteen at band camp by the hot guy Ricky. Ricky beds all girls even though he has a girlfriend Adrian (who is my current TV girl crush). As you can imagine, this show is like a common day version of "Young and the Restless" which my mom used to watch faithfully every afternoon. This show is so yummy my mouth is watering right now. Continuing on: Amy doesn't tell Ricky or her parents until the baby is almo...

So! I've been leading worship at a really nice church; I actually started out as just the pianist, playing the hymns that were selected and picked by the pastor. A few transitions and a new pastor later, I saw myself being stretched, molded, and blended into someone I'd always subconsciously wanted to be but never really knew how to take the steps to become: A Worship Leader. I've always felt that worship was my way to the cross. To believing whole-heartedly in a Saviour. To pouring out my heart and thoughts to God. To using it as a healing mechanism from my hurts. Going to a Black church, I appreciated gospel and old hymns. Simultaneously going to a White Christian school gave me awareness of contemporary Christian music using an acoustic guitar, drumset, and people lifting up their hands and closing their eyes. Going to college opened up all other types of music to me, and a revamped direction and Classical training in piano really gave me a world of music to enjoy an...

Hey. I've missed my blog! I just want to say that there are so many beautiful people in the world. My hormones are going crazy. I've just had a baby 8 weeks ago, so you'll have to forgive the emotional gushing. But seriously. I'm seriously super inspired by endurance, emotion, simplicity of spirit, character and integrity, and sincerity and humbleness. My birth mom, Teresa, is someone who is humble. I can tell her something I struggle with and she snaps back with "Me too, Monica! I really need to work on that." We share and bond over our weaknesses. It makes me feel relieved that I'm not a perfect woman. Those are overrated. I am not in the slightest athletic in a sports-sense. I'm a pretty decent musical athlete. But in the sports world, trying to catch up with the Olympics to me is almost like going to school again. I'm impressed by how smart, fit, and talented those athletes are and feel like I am super ignorant about their world and their...