Bloom & Be

Category: Life

  • A Home Birth Story: Why I Chose It and How It Happened

    So why a home birth this time? I had a great hospital birth with my daughter; natural, unmedicated, and uncomplicated. I went in at 5 am, had her by 12:30 pm, and we were home the next day. I assumed I’d do the same thing again. But after one not-so-great OBGYN appointment (mediocre doctor, long wait, zero connection), I started questioning if that route still made sense for me. My life looked different this time around. I wanted something more personal and peaceful. I started looking into midwives and home birth, and once I found the right midwife, I knew I was in good hands. She made me feel safe, seen, and supported. Choosing a home birth was the best decision I could have made, and if I ever had another baby, I’d do it the same way all over again. It was truly wonderful.

    Now for the birth story. 

    I woke up on August 13 still pregnant. Eleven days overdue and just done. It was a Sunday, so everyone was home. My roommates, my partner, my kid. Plus we had friends coming over. We were planning to have sloppy joes for dinner and hang out. It felt like a normal day… until it wasn’t.

    Around noon, I started having contractions. I tracked them for a few hours. I was in the kitchen chopping bell peppers and onions, just breathing through it and trying to stay chill. After being overdue this long, I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it. No one needed to know I was in labor. We had a Sunday to enjoy.

    By 4, I finally admitted to myself that it was happening. I let my roommate know and my aunt came. My aunt was my support person. She was there when my daughter was born. She braided my hair between contractions. I was on my birth ball, swaying and breathing, just trying to stay grounded.

    While in labor, I missed my mom so much. She was by my side when I had my daughter, helping me stay strong and focused. I had wanted a natural birth back then, but in the thick of it I begged for the drugs and she reminded me what I really wanted. She held that boundary for me when I couldn’t. With my son, I remember one especially strong contraction before things got really intense, and I just broke down crying and blurted out, “Stupid bitch should be here.” I say that in my head almost every day. Stupid bitch should be here. And I’m not sorry for saying it… she’d absolutely laugh.

    I texted the midwife around 4 to give her a heads-up. By 5, we knew it was go-time. She got there around 6:30 pm. After that, things started to blur a bit.

    At some point I started passing gas (which I guess is a great sign), threw up, and ended up trying this awful medieval-looking birthing chair. Hated it. But it worked. My body got serious after that.

    My water broke with way more fluid than I expected. Things ramped up hard after that. The sun was going down, which means things were about to get serious. At one point, my partner stepped out to cuddle the dog, some emotional regulation. His mom showed up. More people came. I wasn’t really paying attention by then. I was in active labor. 

    Then things got tense. Baby’s heart rate dropped, and my midwife had me lay on my side to stabilize things. It worked. She told me to slow down and let my body do the work. I didn’t need to push hard, just follow the rhythm.

    Then it was time. I felt that pressure, that stretch, that burn, and suddenly, the head was out. I looked down and whispered, “Oh baby.” One more contraction, and the rest of him followed. Pure relief..

    Baby was here. The placenta came soon after. I got to see my placenta and that was super cool. It looks like the tree of life, which is so fitting. I think I caught him and immediately handed him to someone, my partner, my roommate, my midwife… I don’t remember who help him first. But I do remember my roommate gently wiping him clean and everything starting to settle.

    I took a shower. Truly the best shower of my life. I wanted nothing more than a shower! Got one little stitch. My daughter came in to meet her brother and burst into tears. It was very sweet. Then, we all crawled into bed just after midnight.

    That’s how it went. Wild, beautiful, and somehow still soft around the edges.

    —

  • Buying a House in this Economy and How I did it

    Any millennial knows that buying a house has become the holy grail. Something most of us dream about but can’t actually do. So let me be honest from the start:  I wouldn’t have been able to buy a house if my mom hadn’t died.

    Fuck.

    I’m a millennial in my 30s. I graduated high school right after the 2008 recession, so I missed out on all the housing crash deals. I was just getting my career going during the chaos of COVID. Again, not in a financial position to benefit from anything then either. My income wasn’t consistent and I wasn’t in a place to buy a home, no matter how much I wanted to.

    Back in 2019, I started seriously saving for a house. I was stashing away anything I could. I started teaching and finally had consistent income. I was proud of what I was building. Then life happened, as it does. I left my daughter’s dad and had to use some savings to survive. Then I got pregnant and used more of that savings to pay for my midwife because I wanted a home birth (I’ll share about that, too). Then, in 2023, my mom died and I had to take time off work to grieve and to breathe, plus I was 7 months pregnant. And again, I dipped into my savings to get through.

    When she died, my mom left me some life insurance money.  That money is the reason I was able to stay home with my son for a year and buy a house.


    All of this happened within about a year. Here’s a short timeline.

    • June 2023: My mom passed away. I stopped working.
    • August 2023: I gave birth to my son.
    • August 2024: I bought a house and returned to work.

    Yeah. It was fucking crazy

    The Numbers: What It Took to Buy a House

    Let’s talk actual numbers because transparency matters, and people deserve to see what this really looks like.

    • The house was listed at $320,000
    • We negotiated down to $315,000 because the septic tank has a crack
    • Our loan is for $270,000 at an interest rate of 6.325%
    • Our monthly payment is $2,229.45, but I round it up and pay $2,300/month

    Here’s the wild part:
    I’ve made 9 payments of $2,300 — which adds up to about $20,700 so far.
    And in that time? My loan balance has only gone down by $3,200.

    The system is… something.

    But I have a house. I have stability. I have a yard, and walls, and a place for my kids to grow. And even though the numbers and the reality of how I got here make me want to scream, I’m still incredibly thankful.

    Buying this house wasn’t a triumph of financial planning. It wasn’t a reward for grinding it out or saving perfectly. It happened because of loss. A huge loss, I miss my mom. While I’m grateful for what I have, I’m also painfully aware of what it cost me to get here.

    If you’re still waiting to buy your first home or wondering why it feels impossible, I see you. I was there. And I won’t pretend it’s easy, or that it just takes hustle. 

    Sometimes it takes tragedy and that’s the truth we don’t say out loud.

    —

    ,

  • Ew, Money: Talking Honestly About Finances and Budgets

    Money is such a weird thing to talk about. It always feels taboo, and I’m not entirely sure why. Maybe it’s the shame society wraps around finances. Maybe it’s because people have been taken advantage of, or because money really does set people apart. It’s seen as private, but I’ve never understood that. I wish more people talked about money openly and honestly. Struggling alone is no fun. Knowledge is power, right? Misery loves company, sure… but I’m not miserable and I don’t want you to be either. I just want to share a little piece of my reality with you. Maybe it helps you feel better about your own situation. Maybe it just helps you feel a little less alone.

    In an effort to take a more honest look at my finances, I bought a budget dashboard. I’ve been tracking our expenses since the beginning of the year because I finally wanted to know where our money was going. Before this, I was just focused on buying a house and surviving. I definitely could’ve spent my money better in my 20s, but such is life. You live and you learn.

    I’ve barely scratched the surface of filling out the dashboard, and already it’s asking the tough question; like whether a purchase is a need or a want. Well… fuck. I buy a lot of shit I just want. But also? I don’t buy useless crap. So that’s something to grapple with.

    Like I mentioned, I’ve been tracking our expenses for a while now, and no surprise, groceries are our biggest cost. We’re a family of four who eats every meal at home. I work from home. My partner is a stay-at-home parent. My preteen homeschools. My toddler is here. We are all home, all day, eating all the time. Shit is expensive. I’d like to get our grocery spending a little lower. I’ll share actual numbers in a future post once I have them all laid out.

    I also know I’ve spent extra on the garden. Hobbies aren’t cheap to start or to maintain (I’m a crafter, I know how this goes). And honestly? I’m not sure the money has been worth it yet. I’m frustrated with the garden, which definitely colors my opinion. But I’m stubborn, so I’ll keep at it. Check back to see if it finally brings me joy. I do love the flowers. They’re beautiful. So maybe it has brought me some joy? Whatever. It’s annoying.

    Money touches everything; our routines, our choices, our joy, and our stress. I have no idea what I’m doing. But I’m trying to be more intentional, more aware, and more honest with myself. Tracking where our money goes has already taught me a lot about what I value, what I want more of, and what I’m willing to let go of. I’ll keep sharing what I learn along the way, because if we’re all figuring it out anyway, we might as well do it together.

    —

    ,

  • Life After the Leaving Classroom: What I’m Doing Now

    So, I left the classroom. After five years of teaching through a pandemic, pregnancy, grief, and burnout, I walked away.

    So what am I doing now?

    Short answer: Living.
    Longer answer: A lot. But also, intentionally… a lot less.

    Here’s what life looks like now that I’m not standing in front of a whiteboard at 8:30 a.m. every weekday.

    I’m home schooling my daughter. This has been the biggest and most rewarding shift. I build her curriculum myself with a blend of structure, freedom, and rabbit-hole learning. We follow her interests, take our time, and skip the part where 27 kids fight over who moved the pencil sharpener. School is for her and so far, it’s working.

    I’m home with my baby. I’m not missing the milestones. I’m here for the firsts, the laughs, the words, the learning. I get to be home and I don’t take that for granted. I’m tired, but not like I was. This tired is a softer one. I’m okay with this tired.

    I’m working from home and I love it. I found a remote position at a public charter school. I support families, help guide students, and offer encouragement. Tt’s more of a counselor-style role and it fits me in all the right ways. It’s meaningful work, without the burnout that used to eat me alive. I get to help people without losing myself.

    I’m creating again. Leaving the classroom gave me something I didn’t even realize I’d been missing… space to be creative. I’ve been crafting more. I enjoy crocheting and cross-stitching. I’m learning to garden. I started a blog, this one. I’m sharing pieces of my life.

    I’m breathing again. I don’t set alarms before sunrise. I don’t spend two hours commuting. I don’t live with the constant background noise of classroom management and system-level dysfunction. My nervous system is still recovering, but for the first time in a long time… I feel a sense of peace.

    Leaving the classroom gave me room for my family, for myself, and for a life that feels more aligned.

    But I am forever grateful for the time I spent there. The classroom shaped me, stretched me, and ultimately gave me the tools to build this life. It also gave me something lasting: a deep love and devotion to education. Even though I’m not teaching in the traditional sense anymore, I know I’ll always be connected to education.
    It’s woven into who I am and it always will be.

    —

    ,

  • Leaving the Classroom

    My teaching career has been… unique. I started in the 2019–2020 school year the COVID year. The world shut down just as I was getting started. Schools closed. Life changed overnight. And everything I thought teaching would be? It wasn’t.

    When schools reopened nearly a year later, it was hybrid. Half-days. Rotating schedules. Constant uncertainty. Then came the 2021–2022 school year… the “back to normal” year. Except… it wasn’t.

    The trauma of the pandemic never really got addressed. It just followed everyone back into the classroom. Students didn’t know how to “do” school anymore. They were overstimulated, emotionally raw, and, honestly, overwhelmed. And frankly, so were the teachers. We had little to no support. Admin didn’t have answers. No one did.

    I remember hearing, “We are building the plane while we fly it.” REPEATEDLY. No one knew what they were doing.

    I had always told myself I’d reassess my career choice after five years. So when I started my fourth year in the classroom, I had that in mind. I wasn’t burned out yet, but I was definitely on the path. I was tired. Worn down. But I had a plan and a finish line.

    Then, SURPRISE, I found out I was pregnant right around Thanksgiving.

    I was pregnant throughout most the school year. The pregnancy wasn’t bad. I was healthy, baby was healthy. But I was tired, nauseous, in pain, and working full-time. Teaching while pregnant is no joke. That school year was brutal.

    By summer 2023, I was six months pregnant. I chose to teach summer school anyway becaues I needed the money. Teachers don’t get paid maternity leave in America. (Yeah. Make it make sense.)

    That summer ended up being one of the hardest of my life. At the end of first semester, my mom passed away. I didn’t go back for second semester. I couldn’t. I needed time.

    My son was due in August 2023, and I originally planned to return to work in October. Then it was November… December. Then maybe after spring break. Maybe I’ll teach summer school… Nope. Then… August 2024. I told myself, Okay. That’s it. Back to work. Baby’s one. Time to go back.

    So I did. And I was miserable.

    The moment I returned, I knew. I was overstimulated, anxious, and constantly stressed. I missed my baby. I missed my family. I was commuting over two hours a day. I cried. I was anxious. I felt completely disconnected from myself and the life I had fought to create. I had worked so hard to create peace in my life.

    By October 2024, I knew I was done.
    I turned in my resignation that November.
    And I haven’t looked back.

    Leaving the classroom was one of the hardest decisions I’ve made and also one of the best.

    I’m happier now. I’m present. I’m healing. I’m creating the peace I need. And I’m learning how to be whole again.

    Now, will I ever return to the classroom? I don’t know.

    Some days, I miss it. But more on that later.

    —

    ,