Courtney Boulware lives in the Midwest with her husband and two children, and enjoys library book sales, reading, college football, binge-watching The Office, and anything chocolate. She also pretends to enjoy working out (yay fitness!). Courtney blogs with her sister-in-law at www.letterseed.com.
I have a girlfriend who has a lake house just over an hour away. It’s in a small town that has a local Mexican restaurant with a fun, easy-going staff that feels like they have to be family. There have been times over the last few years that something about that casual, bright restaurant with its rowdy waiters and surprisingly outstanding, cheap food makes me feel so content. The small lake town is not that far from home, but it feels far enough away to be unavailable to my responsibilities and have a tiny piece of that vacation vibe (without...
We were told she wouldn’t make it to 20 weeks. When she made it, we were told she wouldn’t survive to full-term. When she survived to full-term, we were told she wouldn’t grow properly. When she grew, she thrived. When she thrived, she confused the doctors. RELATED: Keep Fighting, Little Miracle When the doctors tried to find the science to explain away her defeating all the odds, I had the answers. God. Prayers. Miracles. At 10 weeks when I found out about her condition, I prayed. I gathered my prayer warriors, and we prayed. Ultrasound after ultrasound, the technician was...
We’ve been through this before, so we know the waves of emotions that roll through us. When our kids graduate—be it from preschool, elementary school, middle school, high school, or college—we moms come to terms with one season ending and a new one beginning. RELATED: I Blinked and You Went From Kindergarten to College When it’s your last child who is graduating from college, this can feel like uncharted territory. Yes, we know that we find new rhythms to our relationship from having gone through this with our other child(ren). But we as moms have not yet left the college...
Lucy wears tall riding boots and a helmet that looks like a bonnet when it’s hot out. Her hair is curly, but sometimes she straightens it. When I first met Lucy, she was wearing plaid pajama pants. My little girl, Ada, refuses to trim her nails because she wants them to be long, “just like Lucy’s.” I met Lucy almost four years ago when she was only 14. She carried herself like she was older. The ends of her hair were bleached, she had a quiet confidence that reminded me of an old friend. She took my daughter outside to...
If I were to do an inventory of my home of 42 years, I would get a grip on what should be thrown out, given away, or kept. The older I become, the more difficult it is for me to make these decisions. I attempted making a list of personal items I would like each of my sons to have (not that they wouldn’t get rid of them after I am gone) and have started thinking about items to bequeath to grandchildren. I believe I know which son would be happy to acquire books, which son would gladly be the...
Before you, boy, I never knew that little boys could get so dirty. Play so rough. Climb so high. Assess your risks. Make me hold my breath. Messes everywhere. Before you, boy, I never knew how much my lap will make room for you. My arms will stretch to swallow you up in endless hugs and just hold you close. And love you to the moon and back. And back again. Snuggling and snuggling. RELATED: I Met a Boy and He Changed Everything Before you, boy, I never knew that there would be so much wrestling. And superheroes, and far-off...
It was nothing as I pictured. Really. Nothing about it was how I thought it’d look, feel or be. I mean I knew I’d be emotional, duh, but all the rest of it was like a dream or something. A feeling I really can’t describe because it’s not how I’ve ever allowed myself to feel. All of the huge moments leading up to these past few days have been so insane. And the fact that I am who I am—and am obsessed with embracing them all and truly eating them up individually—had them come one by one but at lightning speed....
When you were almost two years old, we were driving home from the library and a song that used to be one of your lullabies, the old Irish folk song “Carrickfergus,” was playing in the car. You put your hand to your heart and said “ohhh,” as if it was so beautiful to listen to that it was almost a little painful, which any good song can feel like. You weren’t quite speaking in total full sentences, but you were already super verbal. It was just one of those moments where you didn’t have to be though, because I understood...
I remember growing up, the best thing in the world was calling “shotgun!” and beating my sisters to the front seat of the car. The coveted seat next to my mom or dad—seeing the world from the grown-up view, instead of craning my neck around the huge barrel seats of our station wagon, trying to catch a glimpse of the wide world ahead of me. Somewhere along the way, early in my teen years, I stopped calling shotgun and headed straight for the back. While the view was smaller, it was mine alone. Facing out the rearview with my headphones...
It’s the flower food packet that gets you. That little plastic packet with the powder that keeps your flowers alive longer. The little packet you know you’ll never use because these flowers aren’t going in a vase. They’re going on the ground. RELATED: The Impossible Grief of Child Loss Hurts Forever Buying flowers for my baby’s grave is a normal process for me. Every so often, and especially around the time of year we lost our boy, I grab a bunch at our local grocer. I lay them carefully on top of where his very tiny body was laid to...
By Courtney Boulware 
by Megan Kewaza 
by Sydnei Kaplan 
by Krystal Sieben 
by Melissa Burnett 
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by Debra Caffrey 
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