Musings of a Louisville St. Louisan

Acrylic on Canvas by Dorothy Inman It has been a little over three weeks since that fateful Saturday afternoon when an unarmed African American teen, Michael Brown, was shot by a white police officer, Darren Wilson, in Ferguson, MO.  To be quite honest, I have had a  difficult time wrapping my brain around everything that has transpired and how I, a Christ follower, should respond to this tragedy.  I've had Facebook friends who were quick to say that Michael Brown's shooter was a racist, bigot and deserved to be hanged on the spot.  And others join groups to raise money for the cop and his family or and saying this shouldn't be a "white" and "black" issue because racism doesn't exist anymore.  I have read comments on pages regarding the incident where people have encouraged the African American population to stop shopping and supporting at white places of business.  I have also witnessed other people saying that Mike Brown deserved to be shot.  P...

I dedicate this blog to my foodie champion mom Vicki Smith.  Since I lost my little girl, Ezraela on 12.31.2013 at 18 weeks pregnant, I have not felt like cooking, much less posting a food blog.  However, every time I did post a picture of what I made for dinner(as I realized eating out every night probably couldn't continue unless you were indeed a Gilmore Girl with very high metabolism and a rocket high food budget), she was the first to tell me how amazing it looked.  Her sweet daughter, Jamie Rose Smith (who is one of my IC sisters) told me the other day that her mom gets so excited when I post those pictures.  So, Vicki, this one is for you.  This is definitely a milestone towards recovery for me.    Get In My Belly! Mexican food is a staple in our house.  And when we go out to eat, half of the time it is to a Mexican restaurant.  Sometimes we eat it once a week and sometimes we eat it four times a week.  Why, you may...

It has been six months since I lost my Ezraela Eaven .  Her due date has come and gone.  She would have been 4 weeks old.  When I look down and I see that my arms are empty, my heart heart breaks.  There is a certain song we sing at church and every time I hear it I cry.  Each verse of the song makes me relive that terrible day.  Seeing a new baby, reading birth announcements or gender announcements on Facebook still makes my heart sink.  As I write this at my favorite bagel joint, my eyes are still tearing up.  I still remember the day that she was born dead and I held her in the palm of my hand.  However, as time has passed I have been able to see a little bit of sunshine through the rain.  Despite the fact that I am a melancholic, I have always tried to be an optimistic person, looking for the good in things even when they are devastatingly horrendous.  With all of the suffering I have experienced in my life, that is the on...

The other night as I was spending way too much time on Facebook, I came across a blog titled, "A Birth Story" , written by a woman, named Carrie, who had a biological child and then later, adopted a second little girl into her home.  She spoke about the stresses of labor as she delivered her first child and uncertainties of the adoption of her second child.  She said, "And in that moment, our daughter was born. But to be perfectly honest, it isn’t when I feel like I fully became her mother." Smashed Nose, Smashed Ear Profile I thought back to the birth of my sweet little girl, Alexandria, who just recently had her third birthday.  I had to deliver her by c-section because she was breeched.  The doctors attempted to do an ECV prior to the c-section, but I have a septum in my uterus, so Alexandria (much like her spicy little temperament) would not budge.  She was bright red when she came out from all of the pushing and her poor little nose was crooked and h...

The day started in the wee hours of the morning with the cries of our almost 3 year old daughter, Alexandria.  Her sleep habits had been off the past few months since she was potty training and that day was no exception.  She ended up in our bed and amidst my strange dreams and fitful sleep, her Dada went and slept in her room.  Just a few hours later I woke up to the rumble of thunder and the crash of lightening.  I am not going to worry, I am not going to worry.  This does not mean anything.   I told myself as I groggily reached for my glasses and made my way to the bathroom.  I gently closed the door, so not to wake my sleeping child, and reached for my phone.  As fast as my fingers could fly, I navigated my way to check the weather.  Things did not look good.  After closer inspection on my computer at the radar maps, things looked pretty bad.  Rain, lightening, thunder for the entire day.   The websites could not keep ...