“When you are balanced and when you listen and attend to the needs of your body, mind, and spirit, your natural beauty comes out. ”
― Christy Turlington
“The price I paid to exist was a mother who couldn't love me. My karma was a daughter made from stars.”
― Jessica Jocelyn
I never thought I’d become a mother later in life, or that the role would consume me with a love so profound, so irrevocable. Growing up, my mother was everything to me—a beacon of love, even amidst the complexities I didn’t fully grasp as a child. As I grew older, I began to see the shadows that had shaped our relationship, the hidden struggles we never spoke of. By the time I reached my twenties, I could hardly imagine myself as a mother, questioning whether I could ever nurture life with the tenderness I had longed for myself.
Then, at 31, married and clinging to a fragile sense of stability, I was blessed with my son. His arrival transformed me—he became my world, eclipsing all the worries and ambitions I once held dear. The dreams of my youth, the endless possibilities I had once entertained, faded as I devoted myself to meeting his profound needs. Navigating the world alongside a child with unique challenges required more than I had ever imagined. And with little support, I gave everything I had to ensure he had everything he needed.
But that sacrifice wasn’t without cost. Slowly, I felt my own identity slip away, consumed by the relentless demands of motherhood. It weighed on my mind, my heart, my marriage. The life I once knew unraveled as I poured every ounce of myself into him. The toll it took was immeasurable.
When my marriage crumbled in my mid-thirties, the future I once envisioned—the family I dreamed of—felt like a distant echo. Motherhood, once my entire existence, seemed like something I might never experience again. I had lost so much, and the possibility of bringing another child into the world seemed to drift further and further away.
But at 35, when I met the love of my life, a spark reignited inside me—a small flicker of hope I thought had long since been extinguished. For a moment, it felt as if the universe was giving me a second chance, offering a glimpse of a life I had almost given up on.
Then, a year later, the final blow came. Infertility. Perimenopause. The diagnosis was a cruel confirmation of everything I feared. I grieved not just for the child I might never have, but for the dreams I had slowly let die over the years. The ache was overwhelming, the kind that presses down on your soul. But in the heart of that grief, when it seemed like I had nothing left, I found something I never expected. I found God. In my deepest heartbreak, I discovered grace. A quiet faith began to grow in the spaces where hope had been shattered, carrying me through the pain with a strength I didn’t know I had.
And God delivered. At 38, He guided the most beautiful of stars to join me. As I sit here, cradling my baby girl in my arms, I am overwhelmed by the miracle of it all. A child I never thought was possible, conceived naturally when I had stopped believing in miracles. Her tiny heartbeat is the music of a life I never thought I’d get to hear. Her delicate fingers, wrapped so tightly around mine, remind me that life—no matter how uncertain—still holds unimaginable beauty. She is my impossible, my prayer answered in ways I couldn’t have foreseen.
She is my love story, written not in the way I had planned, but in a way that proves that the most extraordinary things often come when you least expect them.
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“When the rose and the cross are united the alchemical marriage is complete and the drama ends. Then we wake from history and enter eternity.”
― Robert Anton Wilson
“How long will I love you? As long as stars are above you,
And longer if I can.”
― Ellie Goulding
It's really no secret that I am a recovering spendthrift. Nor is it a secret that I prefer high-end, high-quality items over the latest fads or brand-new anything. The combination of these two traits is actually how I became a serious secondhand shopper.
Money matters. Having a home and a young son to raise on my own means that every penny counts. There is still a rare every now and then (like once or twice a year) that I might make a big splurge on a new, expensive item I might want, but the truth is, that hasn't been the case for me in many years. And still, my closet is full of high-end, high quality items that I bought for fractions of their retail cost. How? I do the majority of my shopping by thrifting and buying on consignment apps.
For anyone else remotely interested or looking to get started looking their second hand best, here are a couple of my thoughts to share with with you. | WHY?1. Save MoneyThe most obvious reason why I love shopping secondhand is because I love to get high quality items that have a lifetime of use ahead of them, and to do so for very little money (like the price of a brand-new, mediocre item).2. Reduce WasteDespite being affordable, fast fashion comes at a high price to our world and environment. So rather than spending $30 on a fast-fashion blazer I'd throw out in a season, I would rather pay $30 for a timeless blazer from Burberry or Brooks Brothers in great used condition.3. SIMPLIFYAnother reason to do it is to stop collecting junk. I am a collector-type at heart and I am retraining myself by limiting what I purchase. It makes the items I do choose to purchase very purposeful. |  |
“FRUGALITY INCLUDES ALL THE OTHER VIRTUES.”
― Cicero
 | WHERE?1. PoshmarkMy favorite place to scout and purchase high-quality secondhand clothing and makeup is Poshmark(available as a phone app and online). I buy, sell, and trade many items through this market and have had amazing experiences. 2. VestiaireMuch like Poshmark but devoted entirely to luxury, Vestiaire has a wide selection of beautiful items to buy secondhand. It also has the added bonus of verifying the authenticity of the items.3. eBayPretty much eBay is the father of all of these marketplaces, and always one of my favorites. It's harder to scout deals on it, however, because many things are sold on a bidding basis. | 4. CraigslistI always scope out Craigslist first for any furniture purchases. I have had a lot of luck scoring great furniture sets with a lot of life left in them.5. Thrift Stores
The best thrift stores are the ones in the "nice" parts of town. I always enjoy driving to a thrift store in a rich city, because the kinds of things you find there (and at the prices they are sold) are unbeatable.
By Leslie Crystal
Photography | Self
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"Die before you die. Don't wait for death to come and discover that you have never lived."
― Rumi
Today is my due date by measurements. But as we can all see, here I am alive and kicking from home. I went from feeling super anxious and annoyed at the prodromal labor, to just making a big effort to relax and take my mind off of it. I didn't even know what prodromal labor was or that it existed at the beginning of this journey.
I've been at 3cm dilated, 90% effaced, with contractions at 3 to 8 minutes for the last sixteen days. At first, I didn't register them contractions as contractions; it felt like any discomfort I learned to live with in my life. I really only found out the were contractions after my doctor measured them since the baby had already dropped. But time has gone on and they have become progressively more frustrating, though not closer together. My doctor checked me last Thursday and, to my dismay, sees absolutely no dilation progression. My feet are very swollen. We're talking extreme cankles and feet that don't even fit “comfort sandals” meant to be for edema. My contractions, themselves, don't register as pain as much as they paralyze me. I feel my uterus hardening to the point that I cannot move without feeling like it will tear. I feel forced to crouch or squat. And I feel major discomfort in my back. But perhaps the most annoying part of this all is not what I feel physically, but what I feel mentally. My doctor describes prodromal labor as "real labor in shifts" and these shifts are wearing me out.
I have been soaking my feet in hot water and epsom salt, and trying to walk and stretch. All of it helps, at least mentally. I feel so ready to get this going and am trying so hard to feel less frustrated at my lack of control over when he arrives. But isn’t that just the best parenting lesson he is already teaching me without even exiting the womb: my time is not my own anymore.
And, truthfully, I could have always used a lesson in patience. This is probably it. My due date by LMP (Last Menstrual Period) is still around the corner, so I may just have to learn to do the thing I am worst at—wait.
So now we wait. |
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