Halloween is here & if you're like me, scrolling through my social media gives me "costume envy" !

Juggling parental duties leaves very little time for our creative side to shine through, but Halloween opens that door.

I have pushed myself to keep Cruz "photo ready" this 1st year of his life. I'd like to give you all a few ideas for this trick-or-treat season!

Let me know your favorite in the comments :) Also, please share this post with those mommies that may need a little help!

 I am a black woman that grew up in a white household.

My family showered me with overwhelming love, and I had a beautiful childhood that allowed me to spread love to every person that I meet in my adult life.

The person who deserves the most credit is Nana, my 78-year-old grandmother, who was recently displaced after Hurricane Harvey. Once we found out that her house was damaged beyond repair, we decided that she would live with us permanently.
She is my responsibility and I am honored to have her with me!

We have had several “mini race” conversations, but for the most part- our chats avoid controversy. Her stance has always been that she “does not see color”, and that was always enough for me….until now.

Last night, she scoffed at the t.v. and yelled for me to come help her change the channel. “What’s wrong?”, I asked. “I am tired of hearing about these black athletes kneeling for our country’s flag!” My head jerked back in shock and I asked what she meant, just in case I was hearing her incorrectly. “Here we go again – we just want to watch football!”

Growing up, I let a lot of things slide to keep the peace. Hell, I didn’t even correct Paw Paw for saying the N word in our home until I was 18 years old. He and others in our family felt so comfortable saying it around me, because in their minds “I wasn’t black”, but he had to be held accountable. After an uncomfortable, explosive argument with him- my grandfather never used the N word ( at least not in my presence) again!

It was time for me to hold my grandmother accountable, or at least educate her. In my heart, I know that she is not racist, but I am fully aware of her upbringing in Alabama and then Texas. She has always been surrounded by individuals who were disgusted by black people. Which is so strange, because then her son brought me home… 😊 That’s a separate topic for another day!
To ease into the conversation, I sat on the bed and asked her if her family owned slaves.  Her response was “we didn’t have enough money for that.” The part that stung me about the response was that she didn’t mention that owning slaves was awful, she pointed out that her family couldn’t afford such things..as if I was talking about taking a vacation or a BMW. This small opening allowed me to understand that racism is not always direct!
 
Not the best start, but let me jump right into the subject- “Why do you think black athletes are kneeling? Not because of President Trump calling them S.O.B.s- I’m talking about the original silent protest of not standing and then kneeling during the national anthem?” By her face and my tone asking the question, I could tell that she recognized the tension and that this may or may not be a trick question. “I think they are kneeling because they do not have respect for the flag or the country. If they think race is an issue, it can be talked about outside of football.”

BINGO! I knew I had her then…that was the perfect setup..
 
I asked for her to propose a few places that could be used to discuss the police brutality, continued oppression and other injustices across our nation. None of ideas were big enough platforms to allow a country to recognize the subtle cruel treatment, the covert racism, or the blatant continuation of wrongful murders of black people.

It was easy for me to explain- America loves football! To grab the attention, to start the conversation, and to really get people disturbed enough to talk about these uncomfortable topics- we had to interrupt the regularly scheduled American program…
I allowed her to defend the flag, the people who have fought for this country, and for the national anthem itself, but she could not defend the fact that in 2017, black people are still considered and in many instances treated as less than human, disgusting, ignorant and like animals by many people. We both agree that there are SO MANY wonderful souls in this country, but we had to speak up on the not so wonderful..

I had to remind her that although the NFL players “do not have bad lives” and living well, they are actually kneeling and bringing awareness to the mistreatment of others! Imagine that- selfless advocates.

I told her that the new racism is simply pretending that racism does not exist.

Her wheels were turning and I decided to wrap up the conversation with this:

“Kneeling for the national anthem is a way for individuals with a popular platform to interrupt our regular scheduled program. It is to make those that just want to zone out and tune into their favorite sport actually listen to the conversation at hand. In 2017, there are still ways that people of color are being oppressed. With Black Americans making up less than 15% of the population, we need white people to help make a change.

 I have visited 20 countries and if I had to choose tomorrow where I would live, it would be America. I think that we are comprehensively great.  I am forever grateful to those service men and women who have fought for this great country, but the issue on race is mutually exclusive. It has nothing to do with my gratitude, but everything to do with my desperation to make this place better before Cruz has to face it all. If that means that football players kneeling is an icebreaker for me to talk to white family members and friends about real issues- I will take it!”
Her response was this- “I am with you. When you get on that internet to tell them what I said, make sure you say this- I love my country and all armed forces, but we have to do something about how we treat blacks.”


That was heavy enough and real enough for us to hug and head to the couch to watch Netflix and chill…until next time.. We are working on it here!

Ever since the first day that I met her, Mom made it known that she was not scared of death.
She had been living each year like it was going to be her last. She would always say that she had
no interest growing old, and that she was surprised that she has lasted this long. While she was
still around, she still wanted to be her best. I wanted to call her bluff at the end.
I have never felt the anxiety that I felt the week before going home to help my mother
prepare for death. I couldn't sleep without self-medicating on brown liquor and Tylenol pm. One
of my dear friends, Tina, flew in from Dubai. She spent the week trying to help me come to terms with
the trip. I can't imagine how my friends felt during this time. They were all so amazing. The
night before my flight they had a small support party to calm my nerves before the trip.

With a bottle of jack, two suitcases and a strong heart- I entered her room. Her face lit up, my
heart almost beat out of chest and I crawled in the hospice bed with her. She wrapped her arms
around my entire body and squeezed tight. I couldn't help it, I burst out into the most painful cry
that I had ever felt. We both sobbed and made the entire bed shake. There was nothing to talk
about. She was dying, I was hurt. As I sat up, I looked her up and down. She looked so sad. Her
fine little pieces of hair were sticking up with nowhere else to go and barely hanging on. I could see her limp body and obvious chest bones now protruding out of her hospital gown. She used to
always say how important it was for her to die with dignity. I know that this is not what she
meant.
​
The hours ran together and the next three days felt like they all happen within one. The first
night, she was the most lucid and continued to normal conversation as we always had. Her
stories got a bit funnier directly following the morphine injections, but I understood all of it. She
dozed in and out of sleep and I took advantage of this and napped with her. My body and my
mind were both exhausted. The eighteen hour journey was nothing but an anxiety stricken
waiting game. The pull out couch wasn’t awful, but the room was freezing and it wasn’t the most
comfortable situation Mom tossed and turned in her sleep and moan quite a bit. Once the nurse
would come in and give her more meds, she would be out again and comfortable.
She had many visitors on the second day and she was still in high spirits. Her conversation
began to slow down and I noticed that she was having much harder time breathing on day two.
My friends were extremely supportive and kept the family room full. Everyone was respectful of
the fact that I didn’t want everyone crowding her in the room, so they sat and kept each other
company. They just wanted me to feel their presence and it definitely made a difference.

Day three began and I wasn’t prepared for it. I woke up early to see that she was picking at
the breakfast tray that they brought in the room. I asked if she wanted me to get her something
else, she scrunched up her nose and shook her head. I stayed up late and read plenty of articles
on the signs of our final days. No one wants to eat when they are dying. The body decides that it
is no longer hungry.
I couldn’t accept this. “ What about Le Peep breakfast, Mom? It’s your favorite!” She gave a
small smile and nodding yes. I am positive that she was only doing this for me. My denial
allowed me to play along. I rushed to get dressed and drove to Le Peep for two breakfast orders
to-go. When I returned, my appetite was actually gone as well. The thought of all of this moving
so fast was making me nauseous. We both picked at our food for about thirty minutes. She
looked like she was in more pain and she wanted to sleep.
The main doctor made her typical Monday rounds and stopped to check her finger nails, toe
nails, and the rest of the full assessment. As mom was nodding off to sleep, the doctor asked me
to step outside. She didn’t sugar coat a thing. “Hi Lacey. I am happy that you made it in to be
with your mom. I know that this is a very difficult time, but I want to be direct. We are now in
the final hours. No one can know for sure. I never try to play God, but if you want my best
guess- I would say that she’ll let go today or tomorrow. “ I didn’t have a response. The doctor
asked if I had any questions. I had plenty, but none that she could help me with. My cousin Brandy walked in ten minutes later. I was alone and had just received the news.
She was right on time with flowers in her hand and a small card. She sat with me for a little
while and let me tell her about how scared I was to let go. I read the card that she left for Mom. “
Bettie, You have been a blessing to me and my family. Thank you for giving us Lacey!” My
heart sank and I was grateful to have a family that loved me so much.

A few other friends came and went. Candace agreed to stay the night with me. I am sure I
looked terrified to face the night alone, after the report that was given by the doctor. It was a
terrible night. We all three fell asleep quite quickly. She fought the nurses in the late hours of her
last night and tried to pull her IV out of her neck. The drugs weren't allowing her to stay awake
any longer. As soon as they would wear off, she was back to gasping for air. Her lungs were
quickly filling with fluid and the cancer that spread to her spinal cord was now shutting down the
rest her mobility. She was extremely irritable and was trying to rip off her hospital gown. She
grabbed my arm tight and I covered my face with my t-shirt. It was awful to watch her suffer and
gasp for air. I pressed the button to call for the nurse. She came in with extra morphine and said,
she was basically drowning. Mom eyes got really big as the nurse injected the needle
into the IV,

Mom faded to sleep mumbling that she was scared. Her last words were - "I''m scared."
​
The nurse explained that this would be the final phase and the most painful. She
recommended that we keep her comfortable by increasing the morphine. At least she wouldn’t
have to experience the scary stages of drowning. I agreed to the recommendation. I called my brother and a few of my close friends. We all gathered in the room with a lot of whiskey and kept
the conversation going as steadily as possible.
It was starting to get late, so Ryan suggested that we all gather around her and say a home
going prayer for peace. I sobbed the entire way through it, but it did actually make the entire
room feel better. Mom had been breathing the exact same all day. One of us read an article that
stated that playing music helps to calm the nerves of people that may be frightened or holding
on. We turned on a soft R&B song at the edge of the bed and as soon as it started playing, her
breathing changed. Everyone was shocked. I pressed the call button for the nurse. She came to
check with her stethoscope on her chest. She announced that these would be her last few breaths.
My friends all looked at me and took the cue to rush out.

It was just my brother and I on each side of the bed. The music continued to softly play. We
both just stared in shock like zombies. We both kissed her cheeks gently and felt her chest with
our hands. As the music stopped, mom took her last small breath. We both froze and time stood
still. Her soul was leaving her body and leaving us here in this room. The nurses came in again,
checked her heartbeat and looked at us both. “She’s gone. God bless her soul.”

5 days indoors..the rain is finally starting to let up..but the flooding is nowhere close to gone..

​Thursday: We had real thoughts of evacuating, but something felt a bit "bluffy" about how bad it would truly get..(Optimistic)

Friday: Darrance and I sat down on the couch for a real decision moment- "To go or not to go?"...It wasn't that we don't have friends in safer areas or that we didn't have money for a hotel..despite the news- we still had a feeling of surreal outcomes & unnecessary travel away..we stayed. (Confidently nervous..)

Saturday: I was in 100% regret of the decision. The rain started coming hard and fast. Every 10 minutes, our cellphones were buzzing with tornado warnings for our area and every news station was using extreme adjectives that made us feel completely on edge! (Anxious)

Sunday: We were checking out of every window in the house every hour! The street began to flood, the trench behind our backyard started to rise close to the fence and the rain continued to pour down. We moved all inportant items upstairs and had a plan to camp out up there..the entrance for our neighborhood was completely under water.."trapped"..(Scared)

​Monday: We were well into our hurricane snacks & nervous eating! Glued to the tv, our hearts began to melt as we watched families being rescued by boat and stories of those losing everything with homes completely under water. We couldn't even leave to help if we wanted..(Guilty)

Tuesday: After skyping/facetiming all distant family members and friends to confirm our safety, we started to get word of the water in my hometown. The house I grew up in was beginning to feel with water & my grandmother has to evacuate. (Heavy)

Sitting on the couch with my husband & 5 month old, binge watching comedies and holding each other to feel connected during such a grim time- I feel grateful!

We will donate toiletries & blow up mattresses to a nearby civic center tomorrow and hope that it brings small comfort to a few people..

The real work will come when the flooding clears...when the damage can be viewed in the light and normalcy is the goal for all..so many people will need help..we are ready to get out there!

P.S. Cruz has been completely unbothered..

​I'm going to try to express my feelings without making this awkward.. my intention is for you to feel me..
 
Mother's Day was very different for me this year. As I held my 5 week old baby in my arms, I thought about you and your 5 year old baby. I thought one very distinct phrase- "what the hell have I been thinking?" 
 
The first year of co-parenting has gone down in the books, and I have to apologize! I need to say sorry for not giving you the time that you deserved. I rushed you! I forced my way into your life without much warning and expected quick acceptance. I moved home last January and immediately started to build a relationship with your son. You had very little say in the way I interacted with him and the time we spent together. That had to be so difficult! 
 
I have to admit though, from Day 1- my intentions have been 100% genuine and from a good place, but how were you supposed to know that?! I was a stranger! Kids are so much more forgiving and easier to cling on, so little man had no problems. While quickly getting close to him, I should have considered your feelings more. I should have taken it slowly and waited for an organic transition, but the control freak inside just wouldn't let that happen. I wanted fast results and for us all to be one big, happy family. I caused the opposite. 
 
As for dad, he got caught in the middle. I put so much pressure on him to make this all work. Our relationship was moving quickly and I gave him zero slack in the parenting department. I owe him an apology as well. He would have handled this year a lot better if I would have fully let him drive this ship, but I pushed too hard and tried to take over. You know his heart, and that he's not cold- he was just trying to respect me and balance that with you. It came off wrong..that was my fault, not his..
 
Instead of allowing him to reconcile his past, it's almost like I wanted him to forget it. Let me rephrase that, I wanted him to forget you. Now having a baby of my own, I realize how impossible that is..
 
No one can forget such a beautiful exchange of love while creating a life. There is so much magic that occurs while staring at a baby that was made by two people in love. I guess I was afraid to accept that and allow that to be our reality, but I have to ...I know now the beauty of accepting you. I know the beauty of admiring your strength to deal with me. I know the power of positive thoughts towards you instead of negative. After 9 months of carrying a life and only 5 weeks of no sleep and infinite hormones, I have a different respect for you and an apology has been in my heart since the first day that I saw my son. How would I feel in your shoes? 
 
I can't take back any of the hurt that I caused you this past year, but I can make steps to a better relationship. 
 
I don't want to start over. That would mean we didn't learn anything from this year, but I do want to start fresh with a clear heart. 
 
So here's to you. The woman who made him a dad first. My heart has softened to your situation, my respect level has risen to the reality of your strength and my ego has let down to accept our future. We are in this for a long time...may our road be more pleasant than our hearts can ever imagine! 
 
Happy Mother's Day!

Are babies magical? YES! Is it magical to be 41 weeks.... big and pregnant & have to be induced into labor because your kid is so comfortable up there? No!

Those that followed my pregnancy know that I had a pretty pleasant 9 months! Check out my youtube channel for weekly Pregnant with Lacey videos, if you missed those updates. https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCoJOKQnEy8_9TQl3w8pNKGg

When it came time for this little booger to arrive, he literally refused! It didn't help that we were in the process of closing on our new home and signed the papers a day after his due date. We laugh and say that he was already a posh baby- refusing to come out and live in our apartment.

Preparation:
On Friday, April 7th- we checked into the hospital to be induced. My cervix was showing no signs of opening and pushing Cruz into this world, so we started the 12 hour "softening" process.
While at the hospital, I glanced over at my completely drained husband! He was like the energizer bunny- moving our life from a 2 bedroom apartment to this 2 story home. He got everything in and settled in 2 days. By the time it was game on for the baby, he was already running on fumes.

The nurse woke us up at 4:40am Saturday morning to begin the Pitocin in my IV. This medication was going to bring on some hard and fast contractions and start opening up my cervix to get this kid out of there! It was a slowwwww day! My family arrived about 9am with "Team Cruz" t-shirts. I was only 1 cm dilated, so I felt terrible that they would have to wait so long.

By 6pm Saturday evening, I was only 2cm dilated. My OBGYN came in and saw the disappointment on my face. She decided that it was time to break my water herself. OUCCHHHHH!! She reached up there with a tool that looked like a knitting needle and POP! "That should get this party started!"
10 mins later- WOW! My contractions started coming with zero warning. My grandmother came to my side and told me to squeeze and started going on a rant about how easy her labor experiences were and I just zoned out. I was in extreme pain- every 2 minutes at this point. My nurse had just left for her break and I wanted to scream. I only endured those crazy, earthquake type contractions for 30 minutes before requesting my epidural!
​

The anesthesiologist came in and it all happened so fast. They asked my family and Darrance to leave the room. They didn't want him passing out while seeing the needle going into my back!
I squeezed the pillow through a hard contraction, tried not to budge while he stuck this crazy thing into my back...& just like that- ahhhhhh, MAGIC!! I felt nothing and I was in heaven!

At 9pm, We were only at 4cm dilated- so I sent everyone home to rest. My grandmother told the doctor, "I'm not going anywhere until this baby comes and if you all let her sit here too long- I'm going to do this D-Section myself!" She had a serious and threatening tone that made us all laugh. My doctor said calmly, " Well, it's a C- section and when we get to that bridge, your granddaughter will have to make that call."

My poor grandmother snuggled as best she could onto that hard, small couch next to my bed. My aunt nestled at her feet and Darrance placed pillows on the ground for a little bed. My poor baby!
We all tried to get a little rest until 1 am. The nurse checked and said, " Oh yeah! We are at 9cm- let's get ready!" What?! Get Ready? How? It was show time and I had no idea what that meant. She got everything set up in the room, big lights came out of the ceiling and she placed a large mirror at the foot of the bed for me to watch. "I don't think I want to see," I said. The nurse felt like it would be motivation to push harder.

Delivery:
I was nervous with only the nurse in the room as I started to push. She reassured me that the doctor and other nurses would come just in time....ummmm what?
It was a short period, but it felt like 2 days of awkward pushing. I could see his head coming out, but I was soooo tired! I felt defeated and as if they were going to have to suction this baby out...I felt like I was failing him as a mom already.
The nurse called for back up and in 2 mins, the room was filled. I pushed for less than 5 minutes with this team in the room and out came my screaming baby! They took him out and placed him directly on my chest. He was slippery and sliding everywhere, they were trying to suction him, I was in complete shock and everything was...just fine! We were all ok! 2:32am, April 9, 2017- He was perfect! 


​

Darrance cut the umbilical cord and his proud face was one that I will never forget! I felt a rush of peace and the only thing I could do was tell Cruz, "Mommy is here baby...everything is going to be ok...shhh, shh, shh.."

The next few hours were a blur! We were both so exhausted and being shoved immediately into parent mode was crazy. I couldn't even use the bathroom on my own, Darrance couldn't keep his eyes open and they pull Cruz next to my bed as my full responsibility. The nurse walked out and I was so confused- wait!! That's it? He started to cry and I knew it was time for some boobie action...I don't know how, but we survived that first day! ....barely... Cruz choked on my milk and started turning blue, we pat his back several times but were scared to death, ringing the nurse call button over and over again. She arrived super calm and smiling. LADY!! My baby is choking! Welcome to parenthood, Lacey...

Postpartum:
We didn't say a word to each other as we drove 50 mph all the way home, with Cruz in the backseat and all of our eyes weary. We pulled into our new neighborhood and my heart started beating at a lively pace and I couldn't fight back a big smile. I rubbed my husband's back with pride as we pulled up to our new home with our new baby- " We did it, baby!"

Well, we did that part...but the next two weeks- WHOA!

Breastfeed, they all said. It will be fun and healthy, they all said......Whyyyyy?? Ok, let me stop being dramatic! Knowing all of the health benefits for this sweet baby, I will stop complaining.
To sum up our first two weeks, I'll say that we did the best we could! With minimal sleep, tons of visitors and overall adjustments to life with a newborn- we were completely drained and completed full at the same time!! 

There is no other appropriate response to this whole process other than gratitude...abundant gratitude! Thanks, God....Thank you, Darrance...We are doing it, baby!
​

I can’t remember a time when I didn’t long to be a mother. I’ve idolized the role in such a special way, and I haven’t wanted anything more than this…so why am I now scared?

I'm getting used to the name Madre and the sweetness of the sound. I have adjusted to my role as a bonus mom and feel honored to be a part of this special young man's life. I felt immediately accepted by him, loved my him and I felt fun. With this little boy in my womb right now, I am terrified!!
I guess there is no reason for me to state the obvious- the not so sexy side of a growing belly and weird bodily happenings, the most anticipated event for a woman to actually deliver an 8lb baby from her lemon sized vagina, or the tremendous lack of sleep that comes post-delivery. That’s not the scary part for me.

I’m more scared of the pedestal type position that I have always created for the title “mother”. It was so easy for me to picture being a wonderful mom when I was little. Although I had a beautiful village of women who supported me, I didn’t have a mom growing up. I would dream of the type of mom I wanted and the type that I wanted to be, and most images were perfect…unrealistically perfect.

When I met my mother at 18 years old, I could now compare my dreams with reality. The disappointment was unreal. She felt it and I felt it, but it wasn’t fair. She was literally competing with a fairy tale. While my friends all had time to go through the “ I hate my mom” phase or “ she doesn’t know anything” phase, I was behind. I now had to juggle all feelings about my mother in a way that was productive and in a way that could sustain our friendship. The balance was impossible. Our expectations collided and it took us 9 years to fully accept our relationship as our beautiful, unique possession. It took me 9 years to forgive her for not living up to my expectation and realizing that she was so much more! She was an amazing soul. I needed more time to love and appreciate her.
​
What if baby boy comes with expectations for his mother. Not what if- it’s when he does.. how do I manage his expectations and avoid years of disappointment, just for being myself. That is terrifying! What if Karma decides that I deserve the harsh criteria that I placed on my mom? What if baby boy grows up blaming me for so many things and then waits until I’m on my way out of this world to forgive me?

I’m not scared of childbirth. I’m not scared of losing sleep. I’m scared of losing my favorite pieces of myself, while just trying to be a good mom. I’m scared of my personality not lining up with what he deems “cool” and even at a young age, him realizing that his dreams in my womb were something more magnificent than this…

..as terrified as I am, I’m ready..y’all pray for me…

​

Is an afro a no go in the corporate setting?..that has been a big question. When I look in the mirror these days, I don’t feel that I look “professional”. I feel that I look fun, creative and well, for lack of wanting to hide my thoughts, black. I look black with this hair. The way my mane is growing full and thick, and without any pattern or any shape that is easy to tame, I feel free. I am happy to admit that black is no longer a negative image for me. I feel ethnic, urban, or fill in the blank with any other adjective and match that with successful. I have matured enough to know that the image of success does not come in a certain shape, color or style. I am mastering the art of self love and that makes this journey successful. 


As I transition home and think about moving back into the Corporate American world, you would think I would have other fears. I could be worried that living abroad for 3 years has altered my ability to articulate my business views in a clear way for those that understand English as a first language, but I’m not. I could be worried that I have slipped behind on the latest healthcare IT jargon and U.S. standards, but I’m not.


Instead, I’m worried about these wild curls that I have let grow wild and free for the past year. There are lots of styles that could make my look appear more of a business style…but wait…what am I saying? Do I feel like this afro is not made for business meetings and a normal corporate setting? Do I feel embarrassed or ashamed that my hair doesn’t slick back in a neat bun or lay down with the fine flow that I often envy? Yes, that is exactly how I feel. Well, how I used to feel. 


My mind is changing and evolving with my natural state.  Everyday,  I feel more comfortable and confident with this hair. There are still moments that I miss my long, straight tresses that were silky to the touch and made me feel beautiful as it ran down my back. There are still days that I feel that quickly whipping up some chemicals and relaxing this hair down while killing my curls would be much easier, but I’m committed. 


This is not some crazy cry for attention. This is not my claim to never straighten my hair again. Quite frankly, I believe that our hair is an expression and we should be able to style it as our moods change. My main goal is to accept myself and my hair for the unique look that I was given and feel comfortable going to work with this look. I don’t want to feel out of place or as if my hair is a distraction from my intellect. There is no statement to be made, but rather a bold request to make this normal. At first, it will feel awkward, but eventually it will become an image that is matched with the value added to a great business. It will become an image that is not challenged by radical views of what beauty or professional women should look like. 


Growing up, I hated my hair because no one around me looked that way that I did. If I had one successful woman who embraced her natural hair and wore it with confidence and acceptance, I would have admired her. I would have felt comfortable saying no to the long processes that strip every wave and every curl. I would have abandoned all negative thoughts of how my look would hold me back from certain successes. 


I want to help little girls with their self images. I want to encourage anyone who doesn’t feel they are pretty in their natural state, and open them up to accepting beauty as a feeling, not a look. More than anything, I admit that maybe I am writing this blog out of fear. Maybe I am writing this blog to build my own confidence as I prepare for my first business meetings next week. Maybe I am writing this blog to tell you that you are not alone in your feelings, but that change is here. Before I grab my hair gel and bobby pins to face these clients next week, I want to ask myself one serious question- Do I feel comfortable and pretty? Just go…"let em’ see you kid!"
Two of my biggest inspirations can be found at the youtube channel "Naturally GG" Subscribe and let these young queens encourage you with amazing styles and beauty tips with your hair! Thank you for paving the way! https://www.youtube.com/user/NaturallyGG

​I wish that I had the luxury of telling you that I don’t understand grief. Yes, I consider it a luxury to be protected from the deep, heart wrenching pain. I consider those around me to be lucky when they still have both parents, grandparents, and only 1 or 2 funerals under their belt. That is not fair. I realized that I was comparing myself and becoming envious of these blessed lives that seem to be so blissful, but I was wrong. This is my journey, and all of the loss that I have faced does not make them lucky- it makes me hurt. I have no idea what type of demons others may be facing. The truth remains that my biggest hurdle and my biggest victory has been death.

Here are 7 hard lessons that came from recent deaths:

1.       Don’t forget about those that helped you through childhood- Being raised by my grandparents, it took an entire village (literally) to help out. My grandmother’s baby sister was one of those helping hands. She took me along to plays, movie theatres, shopping, church events, etc. When I was old enough to do all of these things myself, I don’t think that I properly repaid the favor. By her bedside for the last time, I told her thank you for everything. We need to repay people with beautiful experiences before it’s too late. Don’t ever get too busy for these people!

2.       We are not invincible- They said that she had a bit too much to drink. The car accident spread throughout our community quickly. She was one of my childhood best friends, and the news of her death literally took my breath away. I felt sick and thought of her young, vibrant life. It is easy for us to think that "it will never be me".  When I drink, I am responsible now. I think of her and it shakes me up- get a cab!

3.       Show up when parents die- It is very convenient to send condolences through a quick text or on Facebook. It makes us feel like we have done our job, but we haven’t. Several of my dear friends have lost a parent recently, and I am also a part of that “club”. If you are able, make a physical appearance to show your heart. I didn’t have any words that would make 2 of my friends feel any better when they loss their mothers, but I had plane tickets. I flew home to Texas and the other was a flight to South Korea. We drank, I rubbed their backs and let them cry. Just be there!

4.       LOVE is all that matters- Watching my grandmother at his bedside, completely heartbroken, showed me what really matters at the end. Over 5 decades, she spent loving a man who took care of her and everyone around us. I sat on the couch and my whole body shook as I watched her hang on. The money they earned and lost, the jobs they worked, the fights they had, the long list of hardships and celebrations: nothing mattered now. She loved another human with all of her soul. I want that and not one ounce less!

5.       Stress WILL harm you- Healthy lifestyles and trending food prep should not annoy you. Young people are catching on to the reality that our grandparents are outliving some of our parents. We can control this. Don’t let the burdens of everyone around you take over. Take your emotional health very seriously and treat your body right! My dear brother was overwhelmed, but he carried it every day. His body suffered while he tried to juggle everything in an unhealthy way. Take care of your heart, young people!

6.       Forgive your mother- We put a lot of pressure on our moms. They have really tough jobs and not to mention the pressure of the world on top of that. I have never felt a friendship more delicate than that of my mother and I. We had huge expectations for each other, but our souls LITERALLY wrapped around one another. I met her 10 years ago, and the day she died, I have never felt that much pain in my life. She had a lot of guilt for giving me up, but to be honest, my life has been amazing. I am happy that we became friends and that I forgave her. Be gentle with her...Love wins!

7.       People are hurting: Don’t judge them-  Drug addictions will forever be a sensitive topic. I have watched drug and alcohol abuse flip entire lives upside down. The biggest problem is that you lose control. You lose your perception of what is real and what is important. I don’t make excuses for the substance, but I understand it’s manipulation. The day that my brother took his life, I felt the immediate impact of mental health imbalance. This subject is tricky, because sometimes people pretend they don’t want or need help. Don’t give up on them!
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After recent events, I almost feel like a death expert, but that’s not possible. We all process it differently, and I pray that peace and love is the only outcome. You don’t have to be ashamed of grief..take it easy.  Take a deep breath and keep living… I am with you!