What I learned in 2025

It is December 30 at around 8:30PM and I’m laying in my bed munching on chocolate covered pretzels certain of two things: I will not finish this piece by 2026 and I will not see the ball drop. My eyes are heavy and my snack was a comforting way to close out the year. I start scrolling through my entire camera roll to relive the peaks and the valleys of this past year. We learned, and will continue to learn all the days of this wild and beautiful life.

I learned that joy, grief and self expression are not reserved for anyone in particular. They’re accessible to all and the bedrock of our humanity. Emotion is the great equalizer. You don’t need money or shiny things, status or perfect perception; you just need to feel.

I learned that shopping lists will become treasures. My father in law called with his orders for Giant Eagle and I always snuck in the requested sweet treats that he shouldn’t have had, but he had a zest for life and Marie Callender cream pie. God rest his soul.

I tried to tune out the noise because the only voice I often needed to hear was my own along with some guidance from the good Lord. No one can tell you what you need and no one’s coming to rescue you so take up your arms and do it yourself and give grace and kindness and let others flourish while you quietly and patiently unwrap the gift of your life.

I found solace in a cozy garden center, collecting stuffed animals, Gregory’s Coffee drive through, cemetary drive-bys, and lots of trail mix.

I re-learned that special events are especially likely to be an emotional and logistical mess. Lower your expectations or opt out of events that trigger bad feelings and overwhelm.

I learned that grief evolves. I realize I compare the present day to the way it used to be. Before the pandemic, or the breakup, or you stopped drinking finally, or your Papa died or whatever your pivotal moment was. For me it was when nana and even our Mimi hosted parties and Papa ate everything in sight and recycled all the little ginger ale bottles and read the paper with his coffee. And Nonny picked the chicken bones clean and Homer ate fusilli and Wilma made apple crumble and Carl enjoyed her meatloaf sandwiches. When James and I had more time to just be, when gatherings felt safe, and there was a little less tension in the air. I also realize if we continually compare the imperfect present to the perceived glory of a past we long for, we will always feel a tinge of sadness. But I want to enjoy what we have and how far we have come and relish the gifts of our babies, and the noise, and the graying hair and soft belly that made life, and the extra effort required to find your misplaced grace, and the sweet release of accepting the flawed within all of us.

I keep relearning that reinforcing something makes it significant; what you resist persists.

I learned that Purely Obsessional OCD is still a doozy and the postpartum varietal is really monstrous. But feelings aren’t facts, you’re not the sum of your fears, and you will continue to be ok.

I learned about symbiosis…as in the baby, well sturdy toddler now, and I have become quite symbiotic. We actually fell into co-sleeping which is something I didn’t envision for us. I chose not to breastfeed and I know that breeds a lot of closeness so we started contact napping. I savor every day the chance to rest with the baby. And while it's a responsibility and sacrifice when a life relies on you for sleep, it has been such a gift of pause and calm and sweet serenity. His chest rising and falling in cadence with mine, searching for me in the night, nestling his tussled hair atop my chin or in the crook of my neck, the air of evening milk I shouldn’t have offered but you do what you must, and the release of a periodic snore.

While it can be seen as limiting, it’s been the joy of my life to be a sanctuary for this child. I am not certain we will have any others. I was not certain we would even have him. So I relish the naps and I relish the nights and I pray that I'll always remember the feeling of his little body next to mine breathing in deeply in perfect peace, and also an occasional head butt! Let’s be realistic.

I’ve learned it is squarely our responsibility to regulate our emotions, navigate our outcomes, and handle our responses. As a reassurance seeker and a people pleaser it is common for me to seek cohesion, advice, and comfort from those near and dear, but you also have to find a way to create a safe place unto yourself.

I've learned that I'm virtually replaceable everywhere in the world except within the four* walls of my home. In the role of mother I am irreplaceable in this moment in time. Thus I pray, I may always have the strength and the longevity to fulfill this role. And while motherhood is glorious, it also comes with pockets of rage, overwhelm and loneliness. I think we have to be transparent about how indeed hard it is. Does the irritability and strain ever pass if we place impossible expectations on ourselves? Likely not.

I've learned that little boys are wild. Positively wild. Curious, and clumsy but all the while determined, with an infectious laugh like a drunken college student running naked through the hall. Nothing is safe! Nothing is safe. But they make you laugh, and keep you on your toes and you love them all the while and Google should my toddler wear a helmet many times throughout the day.

Even the tantrums and big emotions are endearing. When I was in therapy navigating life with JJ, my therapist said it was quite courageous to demand that your needs are met. To do whatever is necessary to enact change in the way that you need changing. Somehow, as we age or maybe this is just me projecting, I do not always fight for or demand what I need. I may sulk or moan in perfect passive aggressive fashion, but this little person not even on the earth for two years already knows what to do to get his needs met. And I will use him as my example to garner the outcomes I am seeking.

The love between JJ and Jameson continues to nurture my soul. They have a connection that is incomparable and it warms my heart to know that while they were not birthed by the same woman, they are connected in life as soul brothers. And my first born Tiernan is becoming such a strong willed and ethereal spirit. I love listening to her sing song renditions of favorite music and when she tells me all the best secrets.

I learned about fungal diaper rash, and whoa is it funky. So much poop!

Individuals very dear to me said goodbye to their grandmothers this past year and I learned that while our parents’ love can be grand a grandmother's love is indomitable and transcends space and time. To my dear ones who buried someone that they adored in 2025, I pray that you see their smile in every star in the sky.

I'm still learning so much about my husband. I feel like nothing tests you or exposes your weaknesses like a tiny human, staring at you with beautiful bold eyes, taking in every effort and word like a sponge at the bottom of the ocean. We were married 10 years this past October and there and chapters we've yet to read, and I find it especially fragile to unearth these next chapters with the steady gaze of a child looking on.

I learned to do quite a bit while nap trapped. I actually wrote Christmas cards that were not on time. They will never be on time. I also made little trinkets for my mother and father's anniversary party. I learned a few basic stitches and embroidery, and I read new books. Well, not really. I read parts of books and then lost interest because my attention span is abysmal. I answered lots of emails cocooned next to the once hopelessly busy, now dormant little man for our daily siesta.

I learned how to cheat the algorithm. I started a brand new account where I only follow toys, crafts and stuffed animals. I also learned how to not consume or scroll so much. I don’t want the baby to inherit my phone addiction so I use the Meta app to post and share some tidbits. I do not take in content unless I am on my laptop which is way less accessible than my phone. I want to keep my toes in the world of media, but more prominently be in the actual world through its highs and its more accurate woes.

If you've something super important to tell me and we are in real life friends, please text or call me. I might miss it on Instagram!

I learned that friendship can span the sea. And age and culture bear no importance for twin flames.

I learned about forgiveness. By the grace of God, many people came together to comprise the village caring for a very special teenage boy, now 18 and staring at me in the face with his eyes full of hope and wonder, despite all he has navigated.

I learned I still have so much to learn but with earnest effort the pursuit continues. May 2026 and may you be kind to you.

The summer I turned down the volume

I took my personal Instagram account off my phone about a month or so ago in the midst of so many unthinkable happenings. It began to feel like consuming grief and outrage as readily as Cheerios and milk…on the news, in our palms, in our ears, so very loud.

In these moments of upheaval, we rush to assert a stance, identifying who to hate and to blame, versus who to rally behind and associate with…who to excommunicate from our lives and vow never to speak to again. I wanted to sit with myself and my thoughts, no matter how uncomfortable, so I stayed logged out and tuned out, within reason, and played with toys and sang songs and tried to cherish the glimmers that make it so special to be alive.

With the volume lowered, I made room for silence. On the morning I turned 36 the baby went shopping with his dad and came home with a bouquet of flowers, a Bluey banner and the vacuum I've been asking for. Between the cats and this busy little man it's the dust bowl around here and I could not be happier to have such an ordinary but useful item at my disposal.

I made challah with Jewish friends, mostly grandmothers, for the new year. I've always been welcomed whole heartedly, even as a Gentile, at Friendship Circle and I'll forever be grateful to them for the care and grace they showed JJ in our darkest moments.

We made the simple, extraordinary. The car isn’t exempt from crumbs and glee so we went to the car wash on repeat with the steady hum and smell of soap. Those two minutes in neutral in the dark are wildly cathartic. We made mud kitchens, slipped down slides, explored pretend fairy woods, and buried sensory stones.

We savored Daniela's gazpacho and Raya’s ice cream cake, treats from the farmers market and new bakeries, and leaned into our toxic trait of grabbing an iced latte every time we left the house. The cats feasted on a solitary potato that the baby lovingly prepared for them and tried to snag a Jellycat or two.

We discovered the Descendants and watched them all, and each sing along too. Pro tip: sing “What’s My Name” and sub in “mama” for the character Uma. It’s very empowering and fun! We also stumbled on performances of beloved musicals at the Hollywood Bowl and put faces to cartoon voices. And: A Whole New Sound! Imagine Warped Tour meets Disney heroes.

We had really impactful and loud arguments that were clarifying, shining a light on shadowy corners that have been neglected for too long. We are grateful for the candles and voice notes from an earth angel in Galway.

Stray cats came “home” again and we received free landscaping from hungry deer with a hankering for crab apples.

I do not want to be ignorant or avoidant, but resolve and courage begin with small actions at home, in our communities and among our neighbors. We will do our best to teach the children to love and include, and to value the sanctity of life. But sometimes sheep stray from their flock, so we will also entrust God with guiding their steps and pray for lighthouses in the bleakest of places.

The irony of reporting back on Instagram how it feels to be logged off of Instagram is not lost on me, but as a child of this era I'll leave a few of my digital crumbs here or it didn’t happen.

What I learned in 2024

2024 was one for the books. After navigating one of the hardest years of my life, the clouds parted and not one but two boys found their way (back) to me. One a gift from God, I never thought I was going to receive, Jameson was born on June 22nd with his daddy’s face. He had a few health setbacks, and we spent much of July in the hospital, but now he’s strong and jovial, and truly a child of light. The second was my gift from the stars as I say. Big boy John is 17 now. I met him when he was only 14 and grieving the unimaginable, the death of his beloved mother. How far he has come. We are unbelievably grateful for the community that has helped John heal and continues to surround us with support and guidance. I learned first hand that redemption is possible.

In hindsight I learned it takes courage to ask for help, prioritizing yourself and your welfare. I’m still coming up against difficulty saying no when I need to say no and please help when I need help. People pleasing is a hard habit to break. When we derive much value from being useful and helpful and proverbially saving the day, we forget that we are already enough when we just sit still and do nothing. But this little person I am charged with taking care of and protecting is teaching me lessons daily. To slow down, give grace, and recalibrate.

I learned that you can be 35 years old and still know very little. Conversely, you can be six months old and embody all that is truly important. To lean towards love, to be vocal about what you need, to forgive, to wake up smiling, to be unashamed, and to take up the space that you inhabit without apology or condition.

I learned the world and the organizations that you participate in don't combust if you can't perform like you had prior. People make do, slack is picked up. You're not that important in the cosmic sense, but to a precious few you are the whole universe.

Perfectionism and improvement may have their place and I think we can all endeavor to be our best selves but if you find yourself somewhere lower on that continuum know that you are in good company and are still worthy and deserving of all the love in the world.

I learned people evolve. My husband held my hand the entirety of my C-section. We typically don’t hold hands. It’s not really his style, maybe the combat veteran in him, and I honor who he is as he is. But it doesn’t mean I don’t long for those small interactions. But the day my dear Jameson was born, James held my hand and it was beautiful. It may be intrinsic in our nature to look at the world and see how we don’t necessarily add up to the aspirational. But something that gave me comfort was my Nana sharing that my beloved Papa never really held her hand, when we were gabbing one day. He was the most magnificent man I’ve ever known and thus it was illuminating. You’re allowed to imagine things you’d like and also allowed to find beauty in the way your life deviates from what is deemed typical or desirable. It can all concurrently be true.

I reread “A Return to Love” by Marianne Williamson. I had needed a tuneup after navigating highs and lows of postpartum. I’m reminded that it is profound when people come together, not as two broken pieces, but as two full entities that can amplify the vibration of one another, such that you might reach higher peaks and more graciously navigate the valleys that are inevitable.

I learned that you can have much that you desire and still have a hard time. Things can still be challenging. Mothering is supremely difficult and also magic. Having the job or the relationship or the house or the opportunity that you’ve always dreamt of can set your soul on fire and simultaneously frighten you to death. Anything fragile and beautiful presents the ability to lose something dear and that’s a lot to hold.

Relationships change and people come and go. Your world may become more insulated as you age. But nothing is lost and even if seasons are brief, they matter. Every engagement is a thread in the tapestry of your life as it unfolds.

This year was a year for the boys. A child of my bearing and a child who found me. JJ is doing beautifully well in the world and in the community. He has a team that empowers him and helps him to thrive. He’s reaching new levels of independence with the right help. And my little person is learning and growing day to day. The time they spend together is the loveliest to behold. Add Tiernan to the mix and it’s a party!

I lost one of my indoor cats that I saved from outside and oddly enough her kittens’ dad that stayed outside. They found their way back to one another.

You can’t be everything to everyone. Not even remotely. You have to make choices and sacrifice certain parts of yourself to nurture the other parts.  You will let people down but the important thing is not to let yourself down or anyone whose welfare you’re supremely responsible for. I must remember this when I’m running to and fro with a baby in tow.

I learned your body is pretty remarkable. It can go through arduous events and still heal. The scars, the extra weight, the thinning hair and the aches made a baby.

I might not actually like to cook as much as I used too. Or I could just be tired, but I’m still certain I love to be fed.

I learned about the gift of clarity that comes with sickness. The bubble of Jameson’s hospital stay was wrenching and frightening, but also oddly peaceful. We were surrounded by doctors and nurses willing to help us around the clock. The housekeeping crew became my friends, and trips to the ice machine or across the street for a coffee became my routine. My husband wasn’t going to work and we just sat together on those uncomfortable couches and stared at our baby and prayed for his welfare. If only to practice this same humbling surrender in our other worldly power struggles.

I learned we aren’t done learning yet, not even close.

A tale of two boys

My feet are staring at me and they are the size of Italian subs. I just got released from my bed and waddled over to the bathroom to have a quick cleanup. I labored for 20 hours or so and had a C-section anyway as my cervix wasn’t quite ready for the early blood pressure compelled induction… but I birthed a son. We have a son. His name is Jameson Conrad and he is magnificent. The scar from my C section hurts, but the joy in my heart trumps all adversity. We never thought this day would come. James always kept the faith, but I had moved on from imagining this was possible after year after year of being childless. God had other plans for us though…a beautiful young man named John Joseph walked into our lives after the death of his mom, his only parent, and we were catapulted in a new direction and thankfully so. I ended up with two soulmates and a perspective forever changed.

We assessed the route of adoption a few years back and filled out a home-study, which is one of the more invasive things you can do, but also a cool exploratory experiment for you and your partner to unlock all the topics you never really talked about. Under scrutiny and for a lot of money you get social workers to assess if you’re capable of being parents. In the midst of getting on the waiting list to adopt a baby, we met JJ. He lived in our town, only growing up about a mile from us. He frequented our church and even our bank and yet our paths never crossed. We had an informal meet and greet and decided very quickly that we would be a family. This 14 year-old child had lost his only parent and deserved a place to safely land.

One of those old adages says make plans and God laughs and it’s true. We ran headfirst into this undertaking, imagining it would be peachy, believing love would be enough, but our special guy needed some support that we weren’t able to provide. We navigated trauma, grief and loss together and travelled to the darkest caverns, but we had each other. We slowly unraveled and got to a desperate point of needing external support to keep ourselves and this beautiful boy safe. I know regardless of the outcome looking different than anticipated, that he was meant to find us, and us him. As a culture, we definitely need to be more honest and open about families, living in crisis and navigating the sector of disability. I have much to say on that and will continue to investigate this critical space. But today is a happy tale because John is doing so well on his healing road. He is the most resilient and transformative figure I’ve ever met and changed our world and worldview. There are no mistakes.

When John left home to get some more support, grief filled my soul…he was not dead, but to me he was not there either. A few months later I went for routine check up as us ladies have to do. A miracle happened; our precious miracle. My doctor said that she saw something on the screen and I giggled because for years there was nothing on the screen. In my stubbornness I never actually tested for fertility, not quite wanting the truth to be revealed. The pregnancy test was positive. We were going to have a baby eight years into our marriage.

We found out the gender because being pregnant was enough of a surprise and settled on the name Jameson, son of James. James never gave up faith that we would have a baby. I myself had surrendered to God that I just wanted our boy John Joseph to be safe. I did not need to give birth. I would be JJ’s soul mom and I would be my beautiful niece’s cool aunt and it would be enough. But by the grace of God we are here. On June 22 a delicate little life joined us with beautiful beaming eyes, a sweet smile, and a full head of hair. I pray he has my grandfather’s heart. We’re over the moon with a chance to love not one but two remarkable boys. We are humbled by the chance to parent the child of our flesh and love the child of our soul who found us. Families don’t always look the same and we didn’t have an easy road. There were no guarantees that life would be fair but here we are, and there is joy.

For everyone still navigating childlessness and trying desperately to find a way to make the dream of motherhood come true, I hold space for you. I have sat in your seat for nearly a decade. My prayer for you is that if a baby is not birthed by you that a life is meant still to be loved by you. Your dream might be disguised in a traumatized teen, or a precious niece who rewrite your story and adjust your sails. Motherhood is not made one size fits all. We mother how we can, we mother where there is a need, we mother the miracles that we find thrust upon us, and we mother the miracles we make.

Love Francesca, James, JJ & Jameson

What I learned in 2023

Another year has passed where I didn’t write very much, but I surely lived more than I was able to put on a page. 2023 began with much promise but turned out to be the hardest albeit the most formative year of my life thus far. I learned lessons I had not wanted to learn and experienced a range of situations I had not predicted but likely needed in the grand scheme of this one miraculous life we are entrusted with.

I learned about the resilience of the human spirit, housed in a teenage boy who lost too much and still found a way to go forward. A boy who navigated trauma, grief, and loss without a roadmap. Who captured my heart and taught me humility, who confounded me, scared me, and saved me all in one fell swoop. I learned that a mother may leave this physical world but never leaves her baby in the ultimate sense. I learned that we will go to the ends of the earth to make sense of a loss we were not ready for, nor should have been ready for. But there are no guarantees, and us mere mortals can only do our best. Sometimes our best falls short but it does not mean anything was in vein.

I learned that love is the strongest force on earth but sometimes more is needed to remediate a situation. Love remains unending though and the circle is unbroken.

I learned about desperation, and fell to the depths of distress but at the bottom I had the opportunity to rise again. There is no growth without adversity, no connection without vulnerability, no salvation without sorrow.

Boundaries! Lack of them, the need for them, and the difficulty in erecting them.

I learned about friendship. Real friendship. Lifeline sort of friendship. And the type of friends that show up in your darkest hour, and don’t look away. I also learned you find heroes in the unlikeliest of places.

I fell on my face, I cried my eyes out, and I pleaded with God. I also laughed, found peace, grew up immensely, and learned the true meaning of sacrifice.

I learned that families look different. They don’t always live under the same roof, but their souls can be tethered. And I was introduced to ambiguous grief, the type of grief that happens when you mourn someone who is not dead, but who is not with you.

I learned that all we have is our truth. People may threaten to take it away from you, or to change it to meet their narrative…but at the base of your soul resting right between your gut and your heart, you know what is true, you know what you’ve seen and you know what you’ve navigated. You have to have faith and conviction that whatever is meant for the highest good will transpire, and an aura of light will protect you from the stones that are cast in your direction. 

I learned that we so often diminish children. We treat them like they should conform and adhere to standards that are unrealistic. To quell their big feelings, to comport themselves a certain way, to not undergo any changes in response to the life events that would rattle any adult to their bones. We need our grace to extend to children and especially children with disabilities.

I learned that miracles happen, but sometimes they are disguised in a hue you had not anticipated. On the matter of hue, I learned that life can take on darker shades but to embrace the storm, because when we try to avoid it, the turbulence finds us and by then we are fatigued from running away. We need all our strength and all our wits for the road we are on.