Since the divorce, I dated a bit in the beginning. I gave that up about a year ago. It was hugely disappointing, and frankly took up too much of my time and energy. Precious resources these days. Since then, I’ve settled in my new home. Went through a bout or 2 of depression. Started a new job. My son is now old enough to do sports, and he wants to do ALL. THE. SPORTS. My finances are finally settling. I’ve made a few new friends, but haven’t been much of a friend. I keep more to myself than i used to. Since my love tank is completely empty and damaged, I’ve built up some solid walls around my heart. And, since i’m an overachiever, added an extra layer or 2 of padding around my midsection. Thus guaranteeing zero interest in anyone wanting to date me. In the time since I’ve called off dating, I’ve gained 40 pounds. Ouch.

The thing is…. lately my clothes have been rather uncomfortable. Due, no doubt, to the dramatic weight gain and lack of exercise in the past year-ish. Except my clothes weren’t uncomfortable a month ago. I was okay being me. Being fat. I was content, i told myself, just being me and doing my own thing. I started a keto diet over the summer and lost 10 pounds. Then promptly went back to not caring and gained it all back, plus interest.

Perhaps it’s the Christmas season. Maybe it’s the Hallmark movies of love and romance. It could be the cold lonely bed I crawl into every night. It may be due to the fact that this year is quickly coming to a close. But something has changed. I don’t want to be me. This me that I am. Lonely. Sad. Bored. Unfulfilled.

Perhaps being incredibly uncomfortable in my clothes is a symptom of something bigger. Perhaps it’s a sign that I’m uncomfortable with my life. Maybe it’s a sign that I’m ready to move forward. It’s very uncomfortable taking these thoughts and writing them down. And it might be because I want to move forward. But it’s scary.

I’m truly at a crossroads of emotions. Stay inside where it’s safe, but lonely. Or put in the work and be the best me I can be and put myself out there. In the world. Ready for the next adventure. The next chapter.


Fighting for FI

I read a lot of personal finance blogs. Like…. a LOT. I have about 40 of them bookmarked in my faves list and i cycle through them. Daily. I love reading everyone’s philosophy on personal finance. But more importantly, I keep looking for the “secret”. The magic thing I need to do to achieve financial wellness. Freedom.

But here’s the rub.

If I read ONE MORE ARTICLE about maxing out your 401K (keep in mind that is $18,500/yr) to be a millionaire by the time your 65 and how I should have simply started saving $1,000/yr when I got my first allowance at 8 yrs old, I am going to seriously VOMIT all over my keyboard.


No shit.

Who are these people that can seriously set aside $18,500 EVERY YEAR??? That’s almost DOUBLE what I pay for my mortgage every year. If I could save $18,500 every year for retirement, I certainly am not reading your blog about clipping coupons and downloading apps to save 15 cents wherever I can.

Also, hey, just spend less than you make and save the rest!

OMG> No kidding!

But what about the rest of us? The ones who don’t have a gap? That’s what I call it. The money left over at the end of the month when you tally up everything you made and everything you’ve spent.

I don’t have a gap. I track my money. Every penny. I have an entire workbook devoted to my finances. And someday I’ll share it with you.

For now, I’m just figuring out how to survive. Here are a few things I have going for me:

  • $10,000 emergency fund in a 1.85% money market account. I don’t touch this. Ever. I can’t.
  • I have one credit card with a $1,935 balance at 0%. If I continue to pay $100/month it will be paid off by end of promo period. I keep telling myself that’s $100 that will become part of the gap. Right now it pisses me off that I have a balance/payment at all. I abhor debt.
  • I use a credit card for EVERYTHING. All of my utilities are set up to auto-pay on that card. I buy all my groceries, gas and everything else on that card. I get 1.5% rewards cash and it’s an easy way to track spending.
  • I do not use cash. Ever.
  • I always pay off my credit card in full. Sometimes I make payments every week to keep the balance small. I can’t afford to pay interest.
  • I recently invested $1,000 in lending club. It’s an experiment. But every month I will take the money I receive (principal + interest) and put that money towards extra principal payment on my car.
  • I have a few thousand dollars in an online investment brokerage. This adds about $14/month in dividends. It’s not huge, but it’s a start. Right now this broker is transferring everything to another online broker. Dividends are not being reinvested. Instead, I’m pulling them out and putting them towards the principal on my car.
  • I need to pay off my car loan ASAP. This will help create a gap. Only $11,700 left to go.

Although I am a single mom, I won’t allow that to be my story. There’s no room for pity. Just action. I want to be successful regardless of my relationship status.

Because I don’t have someone else to bring in a second income, it scares the crap out of me. I don’t have room for error. There is no safety net. I need to create several passive (or active) income streams so that I have breathing room. And someday, financial independence. To have enough passive income that I don’t have to worry about the economy or my job. To give me choices.



Ground Zero

Today. Today is the deadline for my ex. I know the day will come and go, and nothing will happen. And I will have to take him back to court. Again.

Today I’m exhausted. I tired of fighting. But instead of feeling sorry for myself, I feel anxious. Anxious to do something about it. But I don’t know what.

So I thought I’d make a checklist. Of where i’m at in life. And figure out where to go from there. Like a scatter plot. Maybe there is a trend. Or a pattern. Or a rorschach test. Maybe i can see soemthing… myself maybe? My life? Maybe if i can see where i am…. i can see where i need to go.

Let’s see:

  • single – check
  • mom – check
  • mortgage – check check
  • work full time – check
  • volunteer – check
  • love life – crickets
  • supportive and loving friends – check, meh… some crickets
  • vindictive ex – check check check
  • stress – check check
  • happy son – check
  • roof – check
  • full bellies – check
  • car repair – needs attention
  • eye twitch – check (ughhhh)
  • positive pants – MIA
  • anxiety – check check
  • tenacity – check

Okay…. I think this is a good start.

Sooooo…. now what?

My ex owes me a lot of money. Like, a LOT of money. Money that would ensure my son and I live a comfortable life. My salary will provide for us. But it would be a very austere existence. And that’s okay. But i WANT my child to have a wonderful and memorable childhood. I want him to be able to experience life and go places.

So. Obviously, I will take my ex back to court. Again. And hopefully the judge will force his hand. Again.

But in the meantime…. i need a plan B. And C and D. And F and G3 and M4a. Cuz I’m a planner. And a do-er. And I know that life is not a fairy tale. A knight in shining armour is not going to adorn my doorstep and save the day. My fairy godmother is flat out of pixie dust. Nobody is coming to rescue me.

My happily ever after is up to me. And me only.

I just don’t know how the hell to move forward. How to write my next chapter. Perhaps I just need to work on this list for now. And evaluate where I am. My ground zero. And then start drafting a plan of what I need to do. To address what i NEED. What i WANT.


3 wishes…

Usually dropping off my son at daycare/preschool is not a pleasant thing. My son loves preschool, but prefers to stay with me. All the time. He gets very sad when i drop him off, as though it’s punishment, and i simply don’t want him. Which, of course, isn’t the case at all. We’ve talked many many times about why it’s important for him to go to school and for mommy to go to work.

So, this morning on the way to school I tried my best, once again, to have a fun light-hearted conversation and laugh a bit. Hoping that would help ease the pain of the drop-off. When I slowed down for a stop sign, his backpack tumbled off the front seat and onto the floor. I laughed and said that his backpack was so excited to go to school it was trying to get there ahead of us. My son laughed and laughed. And added that maybe his backpack thought the floor mat was a magic rug and would get there fast.

So, we talked about genies and magic carpets and wishes. I asked my son if he met a genie in real life, what would his 3 wishes be. Without hesitation, he said his first wish would be for his daddy to not be mean. His second wish was that Lizzie girl would come back to life. And he had to think hard about a third wish, and couldn’t come up with anything.

My heart stopped after the first wish. It makes me SO SAD that my son is afraid of his dad. And that he’s mean all the time. To the point where he makes a wish about it. My son is so sweet. And loving. And it breaks my heart that his life is the way it is. I want nothing more than for him to be happy and healthy and have a wonderful childhood. I make such a huge effort to create a happy life for him. A happy home. Lots and lots of affection. Being present. Listening. Having lots of friends and family around on a regular basis. Making sure everyday that he knows he’s special. And loved. Loved so very very much.

I wish that his dad made an effort to create that life for our son as well.


Let it be…

Last night I hung out with a dear friend of mine. We just sat and listened to records and talked and drank. It was wonderful. This friend happens to be my best friend. He has become my everything. I have never in my life had such a close friend that I feel so comfortable with and trust my heart with. I love him dearly and am grateful everyday that he’s in my life.

One of his finest qualities is to gently and lovingly talk me through my crisis du jour. This divorce process has broken me in so many ways I’ve lost track of the scars. Over the past year and a half, my life has been a roller coaster of emotions, and truths, and struggles. I cannot verbalize how much I appreciate having someone to talk to. Someone who intimately understands my pain, and can offer sage advice. Because he’s been there too.

One of the messages that keeps popping up, and I’ve been dodging, is to just… let it be. Let it go. Focus on what’s good, and let go of the bad. The sad. The frustrating. And I know he’s right. He’s 100% right. And yet…. I sabotage myself. Why? Why do I choose to hang on to the hurt? Why do I keep circling back to the injustice of what happened to me? I cannot answer that. But I realized this morning on my long drive to work that I must make a valiant effort to do just that. I need to let it be.

By clutching the hurt, the negativity, the sadness… I am unable to receive the good, the positive, the happiness. And what strikes me just now is the memory of why i did this. I told my ex that i deserve better. I deserve to be happy. And that is why i want a divorce. And yet, here I am today making myself miserable.

No more.

Today. Today I will no longer feel sorry for myself. I will no longer focus on what happened. Instead, I will focus on the future. What I want my life to look like. What I can do to create the happy and fulfilling life I deserve. No more wasting tears and emotional energy on a person who never deserved it in the first place. Fuck him. Fuck them.

Let it be………


The beginning is near

It’s hard to believe that it’s been almost 10 months since i said i wanted a divorce. So much has happened in that time, both good and bad. And now it’s the final stretch. We have a final hearing date. Although, I don’t expect the divorce to be final that day. He’s going to fight me on some things. Big things. And i’m terrified. I’m simply not strong enough to deal with his vindictiveness.

In the past couple of weeks we’ve had to put our beloved dog to sleep, our dirty laundry was aired on the front page of the local paper, i started taking anti-depressant/anxiety meds again, and got an IUD just as my sex life dried up. ha.

I’m a hot mess.

Fortunately, I’ve been blessed to meet some really great people along this horrible journey. I’ve also made much deeper and meaningful connections with some friends and family. I honestly don’t know where i would be without each of these people in my life.

But it’s still hard.

I’m trying so hard to be a grown up. And make good decisions. And be strong. And be a good mom. And yet i feel myself getting swallowed up in anxiety. The other day i drove 25 miles in the wrong direction – had no fucking clue. For 25 miles. I can’t remember shit to save my life. I’m confused. Simple words escape me. And now, in the last week or so, i find myself out of breath for nogoddamnreason. I’ll just be laying in bed or whatever and suddenly i feel like i can’t breathe. i just can’t get a breath of fresh air. That shit scares me. And i don’t want to tell anyone because i don’t want my soon-to-be-ex to use it against me. Claim that i’m unfit or unwell enough to care for our son. I need to shut this shit down. How to do that, i don’t have a fucking clue. Half of my hair is gone. It’s so thin now. My ponytail used to be so heavy that it would give me a headache. Now i have to wrap the band around 4 or 5 times to get it tight enough to stay.

Nobody tells you how lonely you’ll be. Fuck. That might be the hardest part. The other stuff like figuring out how to support yourself and keep a roof over yours and your baby’s head and food in your bellies is tough, but workable. The notion that you’re going to be forever alone, unwanted, that’s tough. And there is no action, or plan. You simply can’t make people like you, want you, love you.

Some days are better than others. I’m normally a pretty upbeat and positive person. A problem solver. Nothing’s impossible. Love to make others laugh.

And some days i can’t get off the couch. This past weekend, i realized my son was wearing the same pajamas on saturday that i put on him thursday night. That’s simply unacceptable. I need to pull myself together and deal with my life. Like the grown ass woman i am.

My friends are the bestest. I have 2 really really great friends that i trust my entire heart and soul with. My girlfriend i’ve known for years. She knows everything about me and is such a caring and thoughtful person. My guyfriend i’ve only known a few months but it feels like years. He’s travelled a similar journey and is in a similar situation so his perspective is invaluable. He’s a really great guy and so sweet and caring. These 2 people are my lifeboats, whether they know it or not. I’m so incredibly grateful to have them in my life.

I guess one good thing that has happened from all of this is that i’ve learned to open up and trust others. I was always a very reserved and private person. Keeping my business and my feelings to myself. That hasn’t served me well. Life becomes so much more meaningful when you have others to share it with.


what the FUCK

You throw me away like yesterday’s garbage. Trade me in like one of your trucks. For 20 years i stood beside you. stood up for you. stood behind you even when i didn’t want to. and now? you won’t even fight for me. for our family. whatever you’re going through…. you don’t even care how it will effect our son. just throw him away too i guess. i mean it’s not like we walked through hell to have him. and now you just let it all go. and you can’t even tell me why.

you broke my heart. you ruined my credit. and now you toss me out. can’t wait for moving day. even though now my options are nil. what the fuck. seriously, what the FUCK is wrong with you. we used to be partners. teammates. we were each others person. what the fuck happened to that. and still….. i love you. what the fuck is wrong with me?


The End

My heart has been smashed, shredded, and smeared on the highway for everyone to gawk at. The past two weeks of my life have been pure hell. The discovery of my husband’s infidelity has been earth shattering. The solid ground beneath my feet gone. I feel betrayed. Broken. Raw. HURT. My emotional state is in a constant roller coaster through the stages of grief. Being angry is the easiest way to cope so far.

He insists they’re just friends. Is adamant that nothing is going on. They just talk. And hang out. Looked me straight in the eye. And lied. And that probably hurts the most. He says he’s changed, I’ve changed. But he can’t say what, or how, or when. He just feels differently about me. He doesn’t hate me. In the beginning, that gave me the slightest glimmer of hope. If you’re truly just friends, and you don’t know what’s changed, would he be open to marriage counseling? And miracle of all miracles…. he agreed. You must know my husband to understand that mountains literally moved for him to agree to counseling.

And then the more time that passes, and word gets out that I’ve decided to leave him, the more people come forward with more of his indiscretions. She’s not the first. Not by a long shot. This has been going on for years. Our son is 2 1/2 now. Every person that contacts me (always supportive) just pushes another knife in my already fragile heart. And after an especially ugly Mother’s Day, he is no longer willing to go to marriage counseling. And with that, the tiniest silver lining fell to the earth and shattered at my feet.

I can’t lie and say I didn’t see this coming. He has been pulling away from me for quite some time. At least a year. We haven’t been physical in at least 6 months. He’s been sleeping on the couch for the last month or so. And he’s been increasing angry. And ugly. Never has a nice thing to say about anybody. Everybody is stupid. Nobody works as hard as him. He derides people who have free time and choose to do family things instead of working or volunteering at the fire department. I tried to chalk it up to work stress. His business has been crazy busy. And we have a very spirited potty training toddler. I kept telling myself it’s just a season. It will pass. He’s just in a funk. Maybe it’s a midlife thing. Never did i suspect there was someone else slowly taking my place. And even now i’m not sure that she has. Maybe they really just talk and she makes him feel 10 feet tall. Who knows. I’m not sure I really want to know. What i do know is not only did he not share with me how he felt or what he was going through, he sought and maintained a secret friendship with another female. Who’s 13 years younger than us by the way. And works for him. And is also on the fire department. And, and, and…..

His parents are squarely on my side. They think what he has done and is doing is despicable. And after all they’ve done to help him in life. Even as an adult. And after all the trials and tribulations we’ve overcome in our 20 years together. Including, and most prominently, our son. As a result of their feelings, he has disowned them. And if you knew him, you would understand how big that is. He is extremely close to his family, especially his parents. His dad has been his best friend in life. They do everything together. Their bond is like nothing I’ve ever seen in another adult father-son relationship. And he’s so willing to let that go…. for what? Her?

I’m still trying to come to terms with what he’s done, and what’s happening, and needs to happen, and how to move forward. I don’t know even what that means just yet. I’m a typical Type A, OCD, planner. I feel like the road i’ve been steadily traveling along has suddenly come to an end. I’m standing on the edge of a bridge to nowhere. I will acknowledge the road has had plenty of potholes and rainstorms and hills and valleys. But finally it had straightened out and we were picking up speed. And suddenly I’m at this bridge. That’s not even there. Hasn’t even been built yet. No orange barrels to warn me it’s out . Just gone. And now it’s up to me, and only me, to figure out how to build a damn bridge for me and my son. But I don’t even see where the bridge is going or what’s going to be a the other end. I’m just standing here. Looking out at nothing but blankness.



The most beautiful baby in the world…

Well, it’s been quite a journey since New Year’s day when I found out we were pregnant. Today, I am the blissfully happy mother of a 2 month old baby boy 🙂 🙂 🙂

I should have posted throughout the pregnancy to remember all of the wonderful feelings and such, but I was afraid to jinx the most awesome thing to ever happen to me ever.

After 2 positive pee sticks and a blood test, we decided to tell everyone. And I mean everyone. Hubby couldn’t WAIT to tell everyone. We had to rush out and tell our parents and family right away so that hubby could make his announcement to all his friends at his fire meeting that night.

The first trimester seemed to take foreverrrrrrrr. Every time I went to the bathroom I was afraid I would see blood. Every minor ache or twinge sent my brain into orbit wondering if that was normal, is there something wrong with the baby. I wore out google on my phone.

The second trimester I was cautiously optimistic. We started to buy things for the baby. The crib. The carseat. The stroller. One at a time. Each journey to the baby store getting us more excited. Hubby felt the baby kick for the first time on Father’s Day. I know, right?

The last trimester was exciting. Each doctor’s visit we would either see the baby or hear his heartbeat. The ultrasounds were amazing and magical. I could see the little guy, but it still wasn’t real to me. Even when I could feel him move around and kick, I just couldn’t wrap my mind around the fact that there was a real baby in there, when we had wished for this for so long. Choosing a name is the single most difficult thing ever. It’s just so permanent. On a mini-vacation-family-event we chose a name for our son and made it facebook official.

In the final stretch of pregnancy, we finished the nursery. It was perfect. We painted it together (hubby HATES painting, so this was huge) and arranged the crib, dresser, and glider. I washed and put away all the little tiny clothes. I put away all his toys. Set up the diaper station. Washed bottles. I totally “nested”. Since my doctor was inducing labor, I could plan my last day at work and get all the things ready at home. I worked out in the yard trimming shrubs and weeding the gardens. Everything was READY. Everything was PERFECT. All in all, I really had a perfect pregnancy. No morning sickness. No headaches, nausea, or heartburn. I only gained 14 lbs, but the stretch marks on my tummy looked like an interstate map. My maternity clothes were even getting too small. My skin was clear. No mood swings, cravings or aversions. The doctor insisted I had gestational diabetes. I went along with it for the extra ultrasounds. 🙂

On a Sunday morning, we left very early in the morning to go to the hospital and start the induction. We were so excited. All day long the medicine dripped into my veins and the contractions gradually grew stronger and more frequent. Our family waited anxiously in the waiting room for news that it was finally time. We walked the halls, they cheered as we walked by. By dinner time, the doctor decided to break my water to help move things along. Of course, hubby had just left to grab a quick bite with his dad. After that, the contractions definitely became stronger and more intense. By 9/10:00, we pushed our family to go home and rest and we would call them with the news. The contractions were no longer fun. The epidural was glorious. My 3rd labor nurse of the day was also pregnant and went into labor that night. Small world, we had the same doctor. So by 2:00am Monday morning when the decision was made to proceed with a C-section, we had to wait for my doctor to finish delivering my nurse’s baby via C-section in the operating room we were headed to.

Baby boy was turned on his side and was just not moving down anymore. So, we had to deliver him via C-section. My whole life I have never been very sick, broke a bone, or even had stitches. I never imagined I would have a C-section. And if I did, I thought I would at least be anxious about it. To my surprise, I wasn’t upset at all. I was just ready to meet my baby boy. Once the decision was made, things moved very fast. Hubby was ordered to put on a hazmat looking suit, footies, cap, and face mask. Of course he had to do this while simultaneously packing us up to move to our recovery room, call our parents, and get the camera ready. 10 minutes later we were in the operating room. Everything moved so fast and in slow motion all at the same time. 10 minutes later my baby is pulled from my loins and screaming his lungs out. And THAT’S when it hit me. THAT’S when it finally became real to me. I was a mom. Hubby was a dad. WE WERE PARENTS. And I cried like a fool. Hubby was wonderful and took tons of pictures while updating me. He has 10 fingers and toes! He has blonde hair – and lots of it! His hands are huge! He’s definitely a boy! Between the swirl of emotions running through my head and all the pain meds running through my veins, I was speechless. In awe. In love.

The next day started very early. We only got a couple hours of sleep before the hurricane of visitors and well-wishers invaded. Fortunately, I had the best nurses in the world and helped me get up and cleaned up before it got too crazy. I expected to be in a lot of pain and feeling miserable, but I felt great and couldn’t wait to get out of bed. The wonderful nurses told me I had to wait until I could feel my legs again. Oh yeah. Ugh.

All day long we had a parade of family and friends who came to see our little miracle. It was great. Hubby was the proudest papa in all the land. We took hundreds of pictures. I tried to breastfeed. Totally not as easy as it seems like it should be, but we did it.

Tuesday everybody went back to work so we were able to relax more and enjoy our son. The wonderful nurses finally let me take a shower. And let me tell you. It was the most glorious shower ever. I was still feeling pretty good and put on regular clothes. Shorts and a tank top I think. Gawd the rooms are so hot. The hospital provided adorable mesh panties and pads that could sop up the great lakes. But I didn’t care. I was a mom. Getting to know our baby was fun. He cried everytime he was hungry and everytime he pooped. This made it pretty easy to know what to do and when. Otherwise, he just slept. And was cute. And was perfect. Late that night they came to do his circumcision. I cried and cried. I’ve never cried in front of hubby before. I did then. I was glad he was there.

After we went home, our new chapter began. Baby boy was awesome. He slept all night, except to eat. And I usually woke him up to eat. Once he reached 10 lbs, the doctor said to let him sleep and let him wake me up. He takes good naps during the day. After about 3 weeks, he started getting fussy at night. But now at 9 weeks that seems to be going away. He has just started smiling and turning to react to voices. He’s pretty much the cutest thing ever.

I expected the recovery from a C-section to be very painful and to be tired all the time. That wasn’t the case at all. I felt great! I felt so good that I took baby boy for walks everyday that the weather was nice. By the 2nd week we were home we were going on 2.5 mile walks. The more I moved, the better I felt. By 6 weeks postpartum, I had lost all the weight I gained during pregnancy plus another 25 lbs. Every time I got on the scale it moved down. I felt GREAT.

Nursing wasn’t working after the first week, but continued to pump. That lasted a few more weeks until I gave up. I really have a new respect for mothers who breastfeed/pump. It’s a lot of commitment. You are tethered to either a baby or a pump every 3-4 hours for 20 minutes at a time. And you can’t do anything. Especially if you’re pumping. Baby crying? Phone ringing? Unannounced visitors popping in? Too bad. If you move, you will spill/leak milk alloverthegoddamnplace. Cry over spilled milk? Hell yeah. I worked hard for that shit. Oh, and intimacy? Not so much. Leaking nipples is a total mood killer. So are breast pads poking out of your super-notsexy nursing bra. Even if you are rocking E’s. And yes, there is such a thing as too big. Even if hubby is a boob guy. And seriously? Why can’t they make sexy nursing bras? Come on Victoria! Where are you when I need you most???

The company I work for has been awesome and I enjoyed 9 glorious weeks at home with my baby. They told me to take all the time I wanted since I was also working from home a little bit. 9 weeks is all I felt I could afford. Hubby and I had serious conversations about me staying home for a few years. Arranging childcare is a nightmare/ emotional roller coaster. I’m torn. I want to stay home and be with my baby all day and take care of everything at home. I feel I need to contribute financially. Also, I carry the insurance since hubby is self-employed. Although, if we do the farming thing right, we can buy our own policy at a discount. If we work hard and pay off a few things, financially we can afford for me to stay home. But is it really best for us? Is daycare/preschool good for him developmentally and socially? What about the exposure to germs? Can I put more energy into hubby’s business and the farm to make up for the lost income? Lost income aside, how will I feel about not bringing home a paycheck every week? How does hubby feel about being the sole breadwinner? Even if I am working alongside him from home? Can we put all our eggs in one basket? I did, however, enjoy taking baby boy to ride with daddy in the combine. And being on top of everything at home. And if I was home all the time I would dive into it. Library time. Playdates. Daily exercise. Nailing down work for lawn/snow business. Parts runs. Become a frugalista. Ugh. So many question marks. My heart is torn. My brain is torn. I’ve waited so long for baby boy I want to be with him all the time. And yet, I need to do whatever is best for him. For our family. How does one know what is best?