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I'm really good at stirring the pot. Really good. So... grab your coffee/beer/wine/water/apple juice... whatever the H E DOUBLE HOCKEY STICKS you want to fill your cup with, buckle up, and enjoy the ride. Last week we celebrated Christian's first birthday. Notice I said celebrated. I did not say mourned, forgot, overlooked, disregarded, or neglected. We did not ignore that we have a brother/son. We lite candles and hung the star lights from his nursery on the porch the night before his birthday and the day of we took him balloons and spent the day together. Had his physical presence been her with us we would have celebrated the exact same way. Celebrated. Together. Being a newb (newbie) to this whole baby brother in heaven thing, I didn't know what to expect for his first birthday. Would people acknowledge that it was the day he was born? Or would they continue to overlook that I have a brother. Now, let me explain. The past year has been full of saying CJ's name. A

It's here. One year ago on August 13 I held my brother for the first and last time. The feels are way too real tonight. (The following is what happened over the course of the next few days from my point of view, read at your own risk... and don't say I didn't warn you.) August 12 was just like any other day. I got up and went to work. We played hopscotch, rode bikes, had lunch, and painted the infamous picture talked about in a previous blog . I got off work and stopped for gas. As I waited for the tank to fill I got a text from Mom asking me to come straight home. Never in a million years did I see what was coming next. As I pulled into the driveway the doctor called me to say that everything looked good at my yearly appointment and she looked forward to seeing me again. She obviously didn't make the connection of who my mom was and how soon she would be seeing me. She was the doctor who would deliver CJ the next morning. I pulled the car into the garage and went

If there was one thing I wish I didn't have to answer for the next month it would be "what's the matter?/are you okay?". Last year it was "how are you?". I remember going to Wal-Mart of pick up bagels and juice the morning before Christian's funeral, not that any of us would eat the next morning but at least there was something in the house. The cashier asked me "how are you?", being polite and doing her job but it was enough to tick me off. Thoughts of "my brother died, we're burying him tomorrow, how the hell do you think I am?" swirled though my head. It was everyone's first question. "How are you?" And I was tired of hearing it. Unless you really wanted to know, I didn't want you to ask. And even if you really did care and want to know, I didn't want to answer.  This time around it's "what's the matter?/are you okay?". Do you really have to ask? Is the looming date not a big enough si

 A year ago today we were sitting in a room full of baby things that were graciously gifted during Mom's baby shower. Tonight i'm physically and emotionally exhausted but feeling the presence of my little brother. After a fun day at the water park with my family and sister's closest friends I ran to grab pizzas for everyone. Was in and out of the store in record time and driving back home. I turned to check my blind spot (which is massive because I was driving our monster of a van) and in the seat sat a little boy, a toddler, who gave me the biggest smile. Now before anyone gets the wrong idea... physically there was no little boy there. I did not drive off with some strange little boy in my back seat. There was however some sort of presence. I can't describe what I felt when I looked back but I can tell you I have felt it before. A few months ago I rolled over in bed and in the reflection of the mirror on the wall where usually my cowboy hat and jewelry box sit with