by Milana Jacks
(Alpha Horde, #1)
Publication date: October 29th 2018
Genres: New Adult, Romance, Science Fiction
Pregnancy is deemed the best phase of being a woman. Being born a woman attains full glory when she becomes a mother.
But it’s also the timeline where you get to hear a lot of myths. Not only in our Country, it happens all over the world. So let me list them down for you and you can comment if you came across something more. So let’s get those myths busted.
It starts with the date you conceive. Add the month of conception to your age, the total is even it’s a girl else you’re in for a boy.
Then comes morning sickness, if you have it throughout your first trimester then it’s a girl else if you don’t experience it you have a boy.
Pregnancy glow People have different versions here.
“You’re glowing you definitely will have a girl” is what you hear and if it’s the other way , you look tired and dull they say you are having a boy , since the male child draws out all the energy.
Rest of the world:
If you’re dull it means you have a girl, since she takes up all your glow. And if you are glowing and look fabulous you will have a boy.
Carrying high or low, wide or outward:
If you are carrying low and belly is outward, you are probably carrying a boy.
If you are carrying high and belly is wide you are carrying a girl.
If you crave sweets and dairy rich stuff, you are probably carrying a girl.
If you crave salty and spicy food, you are probably carrying a boy.
Doesn’t it depend on what the woman usually wants to eat?
Fetal heart rate:
If it is over 140 per second you are carrying a girl and if it’s below, you are carrying a boy.
Swelling of nose:
They say if you have a swollen nose it’s probably a girl.
But the actual fact our noses swollen up due to increased estrogen levels.
Wedding ring myth:
Tie a strand of the father’s hair to your wedding ring and swing it over your belly, you are probably carrying a girl if it goes in circles; if it swings back and forth then it’s a boy.
Doesn’t it depend on wind direction?
Stepping over ropes:
It’s considered that stepping on a rope results in umbilical cord coiling around the fetus neck.
In modern days, now it extends to electric chords as well.
Usage of hands:
Ancient days people say If the pregnant woman is seated on floor and when she tries to get up, if she uses her left hand first it would be a boy; if its right you would be carrying a girl.
I don’t think that would change once a woman becomes pregnant. Even when she was ten she would have been using the same hand to get up.
Whatever the above points seem to convey what all mothers want is to have a healthy, cheerful baby. Gender discrimination should not be taking a priority here. No mother will want to abandon a child just because she was expecting the other gender. In the end, he/she is another tiny living human being created by her and who is now dependent on her.
Keep having positive thoughts, surround yourself with loads of happiness, positive vibes and most importantly people with positive vibes. Keep yourself well hydrated and well-fed. And that is all that takes to see your little dude/duddette.
Let’s hear those myths coming and keep nodding heads; get the myths busted. I will always love my baby no matter he/she. A baby is a baby.
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Through the Layer by RH Tucker
Published Sept. 17th, 2018
Second chances are for suckers.
Micah’s heard that expression before. With his first year of college in the books, catching his girlfriend cheating on him—again—he learns that lesson firsthand. The girl he thought could’ve been his high school sweetheart, turns out to be nothing more than a liar, completely destroying his trust.
No one has ever called Veronica fat. Thick? Okay. Curvy? Sure. However, they’ve never come right out and told her she’s overweight. Not unless you count the kids in third grade who called her roly-poly. Grade school or freshman year of college, it doesn’t matter. Guys usually go for the tall, thin girls. Girls like Micah’s ex.
Despite their hang-ups, and their pasts, Micah and Veronica find something in each other that quells their concerns. But when old faces return, and unsettling truths are revealed, will either of them be able to work through the layers and find one another again?
Through the Layers is a standalone YA/NA romance in the Rumor Has It series.
Amazon US: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07H29YMWW
Amazon UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B07H29YMWW
Amazon CA: https://www.amazon.ca/dp/B07H29YMWW
Amazon AU: https://www.amazon.com.au/dp/B07H29YMWW
Amazon IN: https://www.amazon.in/dp/B07H29YMWW
I knock again and pull out my phone. Maybe I should call him.
The door swings open and Micah stands there, dripping wet, holding a towel around his waist. “Hey, you’re early.”
“I … I …” I’m trying to form words, but my brain has gone to pudding. I can feel it, all squishy, sloshing around inside of my skull. He opens the door wider to let me in, but I just stand there, admiring—gawking—at the water dripping down his chest. The beads of water trail over his muscles, down his stomach, to somewhere underneath the towel.
“You gonna stay out there all night?”
My eyes shoot back up, and he’s smiling. “Would you like to come inside or did you want to get to business out there?” My mouth drops, and he laughs.
Finally realizing he’s teasing me, I find some kind of strength to not stare at him, and go inside.
“Just give me a second to dry off.”
I stop and stand behind the sofa. Usually, I’d feel comfortable enough to go to the kitchen and grab something to drink, or just lounge around on their couch, or even head straight into his bedroom and turn on the TV and start to watch something. Now, I’m stuck.
What should I do? Does he expect me to do something or say something? Should we have something to drink first? I know they usually have some alcohol in the apartment, maybe he wants to relax first. Should I change already? Why is it they make it look so much easier in the movies and on TV when it comes to this sort of stuff?
“What are you doing?” Micah asks, coming back out of the bathroom. He’s got on a pair of shorts and a shirt that fits him snuggly, but I can’t erase—nor do I want to—the mental image of him opening the door in nothing but a towel.
“Um …” I look around, unsure how to answer.
He gives me a hug and kisses the top of my head, before walking to the kitchen. “Happy birthday. I ordered a pizza. I would’ve gone all out, but you said you just wanted a chill night. Is that okay?”
“Mm-hm.” I nod.
Turning around, he stares at me still standing there. “Are you okay?”
Get it together, V. This was your idea!
RH Tucker lives in Southern California and writes character-driven stories with people who have real heart. At least, he tries to. He also consumes too much caffeine, eats too much pizza, and firmly believes Rocky Road is the best flavor of ice cream.
This post is for the book blitz organised by Xpressobooktours.
“I am a good Mother; I do my best as a Mother.
Each day I am getting better, life can’t get any better.”
This is my mantra these days. I keep saying this to myself. No, I am not under any pressure or depressed.
Repeating this gives me a boost; a sense of accomplishment and gives me a push to go that extra mile and do whatever it takes to keep my daughter happy.
A great start for the day is a lovable hug when she’s up. Though I am up early, (okay let’s say just a couple of minutes or rarely hours), before her, that wait for her hug is so special.
When there are so many things running in your mind and your running here and there, that monosyllable “MAA” from her makes me forget everything.
Though I get angry with things lying around, after she’s left at my mom’s place in the morning I do enjoy replaying stuff in my mind- the tiny blocks or alphabet chunks lying around, the vessels and Tupperware boxes misplaced, that cute teddy inside my coffee filter. All these make me forget that this is part of a household chore that I am doing.
Those teeny tiny hands mixing an empty bowl with spoon and feeding you, pulling your hair is all instances that need to linger around in mind always.
Even if you try concentrating hard at work, a corner of your mind just keeps thinking that she is okay. Those blank phone calls or the beep beep sounds from the keypad when you call her is all a bliss.
When you reach home and you know she is there waiting for you, and watch her eyes glow in excitement on seeing you makes you the happiest person in the word.
Listening to her stories of what she did throughout the day (okay technically not stories) I mean even if it is gibberish, it’s good to hear.
Cuddling her, getting her dressed to bed, making her sleep and falling asleep with her is indeed the best way to end my day. And so the next day starts, yes with the same mantra.
“I am a good Mother; I do my best as a Mother.
Each day I am getting better, life can’t get any better.”
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I am so happy to share this really cool book with you and reveal its amazing trailer! If you like the cover, wait to you see this! There is also a chance to win a digital copy of Dead Steam, so make sure to enter the giveaway at the bottom!
Dead Steam: A Chilling Collection of Dreadpunk Tales of the Dark and Supernatural
Expected Publication Date: October 1st, 2018
Genre: Anthology/ Dreadpunk/ Dark Steampunk/ Horror
Reader beware: to open this tome is to invite dread into your heart. Every page you turn will bring you closer to something wicked. And when the dead begin to rise from the steaming pits of hell, only then will you discover that it is already too late. Your life is forfeit.
Featuring an introduction by Leanna Renee Hieber, author of the Eterna Files and Strangely Beautiful saga, DeadSteam plays host to the scintillating writing of David Lee Summers (Owl Dance, The Brazen Shark), Jen Ponce (The Bazaar, Demon’s Cradle), Wendy Nikel (The Continuum), Karen J Carlisle (The Adventures of Viola Stewart), Jonah Buck (Carrion Safari), and more…
With seventeen chilling tales of Dreadpunk, Gaslamp, and Dark Steampunk, DeadSteam will leave you tearing at the pages, desperate for more. For within these pages, the dead rise from their graves to haunt the London Underground, witches whisper their incantations to the wind, a sisterhood of bitten necks hunts fog-drenched alleyways lit only by gaslight, and only one thing is certain: that dread will follow you until you turn that final page.
And that sinking feeling in the pit of your chest? That fear that something is following you, watching you, hunting you? It is not for nothing. Look over your shoulder, dear reader. Watch behind you. Listen to the whispers in the darkness.
But know this…it is all inevitable.
Amazon Hardcover: https://www.amazon.com/dp/0995276765
Amazon Paperback & Kindle: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07GFV5X49
Barnes & Noble Paperback & Nook: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/deadsteam-bryce-raffle/1128997727
Barnes & Noble Hardcover: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/deadsteam-bryce-raffle/1129305698
*Link will go live Sept. 17th
Burke Street Station
The city was frost and fog. Icy crystals formed on the windows of the train station. Breath drifted up in a hazy clouds like puffs of
smoke as Theodore tried to warm his hands, blowing hot breath onto his stiff, cold fingers and rubbing his hands together vigorously. When that failed, he thrust them back into his coat pockets, cursing under his breath. His threadbare coat offered little warmth. Drafts of wind found their way through the broken stitching and the tears in his sleeves like rats scrambling through the cracks in the station walls. A discarded page of newsprint, caught in the rushing wind, tumbled and turned in the air and landed, crumpled and torn, at Theodore’s feet.
He stooped over, picked it up, and glanced at the engraving of a wanted man. Even without a skill for reading, he knew what name was printed beneath the picture of masked man on the page. Anthony Tidkins.
Wanted, he read. That was one word Theodore recognized. Crimes was another, and then, finally…murder.
Rubbish. The newspapers always tried to make villains out of the radical thinkers of the world. The Resurrectionists, who named their organization after the sack-em-up men who provided the anatomists with subjects for their scientific endeavors, were scientists. They had provided the world with aether, revolutionizing air travel. They had brought Prince Charles back from the brink of death. They had devised the engines for the London Underground. Anthony Tidkins himself promised to cure death. Yet the newspaper men still called for his blood. Theodore balled up the page and shoved it in his pocket.
He pulled out his trick coin as he approached the gate. The station master was asleep at his booth, a little dribble of spit running down his chin. Typical. Thoedore stuck his coin in the machine, waited for the gate to open, and then, with a light tug on the fishing line threaded through a little hole in the tip of the coin, it popped back out. Easy. He was in before anybody noticed what he had done. He pocketed the coin and started down the hallway.
Tap-tap, clack, tap-tap, clack, his shoes beat a rhythm on the stone steps. The sole of his left shoe was beginning to wear, and the heel of his shoe tapped against the heel of his foot as he walked. He puffed on his hands again, and peeked over his shoulder. No one was after him. He had done this trick a thousand times before. So why did he feel like there was someone watching him?
Clack, tap-tap, clack. Again, he glanced over his shoulder. The odd double-rhythm of his broken shoe was suddenly unnerving in the deserted station. Where were all the other passengers? Nice folks avoided this place like the plague, especially after midnight. The oil lamps that lit Burke Street Station were so routinely out of oil that he could hardly find his own feet in front of him, but still, Theodore expected to see other passengers. But where were the other vagrants? They should be sleeping in the dark corners of the hallway under blankets made of rags. And the boys from the blacking factory should be heading home from their long shifts, fingers stained black with powders and oil. But there was no one. Only the rats skittering through rat tunnels to keep him company.
Tap-tap, clack, tap-tap, clack.
Another set of footsteps began to follow his own, beating out a different rhythm. A steady tap, tap, tap, tap. He paused to listen, and nothing but silence greeted him. He glanced over his shoulder. Nobody there.
He continued onward, and again, a second set of footsteps started up behind him. He paused to listen. This time, they didn’t stop.
Tap, tap, tap, tap.
Whoever it was, they were getting closer. Closer and closer, louder and louder, tapping out a steady rhythm as they approached down the long, dark hallway. He could almost make out the solitary figure in the gloomy, hazy light, but then the fog grew thicker, and whatever he thought he’d seen was gone. The footsteps kept on getting louder, though, and closer. He turned and ran down the hallway.
A long flight of steps delved deeper into the darkness of Burke Street Station, down, down toward the platform. The train was already rumbling, announcing its approach. It vibrated through Theodore’s toes to the tip of his spine, rattling his bones.
He grabbed the railing all but flew down the staircase. The rumble of the train grew louder and clearer.
“Shit,” Theodore cursed. Taking the steps two at a time, he hurtled down the steps and didn’t stop when he reached the bottom.
Nails on a blackboard. The tines of silverware scraping against a ceramic plate. The screaming madmen at Newgate Asylum. The anguished cry of a mother weeping over her stillborn babe. Theodore had heard these sounds all, but not one compared to the shrill screech of an automatic train rolling into Burke Street. Iron wheels grinding against iron tracks. Hot metal sending up sparks, belching out steam as black as sin. The carriages rattling and clanging against one another. The hiss of hot coal burning in the engines. The shriek of brakes as the train ground to a halt. If it went on long enough, it would surely drive a man mad. Theodore covered his ears with his hands, pressing them against his head to muffle out the deafening noise, and waited for the thundering train to come to a halt.
When it did, he realized it must have drowned out the sound of the steadily approaching footsteps he’d heard in the hallway, because he could hear them again, and they were closer. So close he half expected to feel someone’s hot breath on his neck. He whirled around, but there was no one there. Silence greeted him like an old friend. His heart hammered against his chest.
“There’s no one there,” he muttered to himself. But he didn’t sound convinced.
A smell lingered in the air, as if something foul had passed through. The smell was familiar enough, the breath of a man with rotting teeth. It was a foul, cloying stench. He spun around again, and this time found himself face to face with the man to whom those dreaded footsteps belonged.
Only he wasn’t a man. Not really.
About the Author
Bryce Raffle writes steampunk, horror, and fantasy. He was the lead writer for Ironclad Games’ multiplayer online game Sins of A Dark Age and is the founder of Grimmer & Grimmer Books. His short stories have appeared in numerous anthologies, including Hideous Progeny: Classic Horror Goes Punk, Denizens of Steam and Den of Antiquity. His short story, The Complications of Avery Vane, was awarded Best Steampunk Short in the Preditors and Editors Reader’s Poll in 2016. He lives in beautiful Vancouver, Canada, where he works in the film industry.
Bryce is giving away a digital copy of Dead Steam to one lucky winner. The giveaway will run from Sept. 17th to Sept. 20th so make sure you enter!
Book Trailer Reveal Organized By
R&R Book Tours
THIS BOOK IS FOR ALL THOSE DARING HEARTS, WHO HAVE SECRETS OF THEIR OWN AND WOULD WANT TO CONFESS A FEW IN FRONT OF OTHERS. Sneak Peak will take you through a time when APPLE was still a fruit, children spend time playing with each other rather than in front of computers and a time when people rescued a dying person instead of taking their video and posting on Facebook. There was a simpler time in the 80’s and 90’s and those who lived those times and who didn’t, will equally love what you are going to read here. It’s not my story but it is yours too! The hero of this story is not Dhyankumar but the story itself. Here Dhyankumar closely post-mortems the various phases in his life, how he felt and how different it would have been, or should have been, had he thought in a different way. The book deeply emphasizes the values of friendship and how it can change one’s life and sometimes destroy the same.
The book is of a different genre from the current trend that prevails. I felt like reading out from a diary of kind born in 90’s, keeping in mind I am one such. It brings out numerous nostalgic incidents.
It speaks about an era of no social media intervention. Yes, that’s right no mobile phones, no tabs. Leading a simple life enjoying a vacation with no social media check-ins, hanging out with cousins, TV series and cartoon and most important of all staying with our grandparents. Isn’t that a wonderful feel, staying as a complete family with many people and relatives, helping each other out, laughing, sharing. This I feel is something that the current generation is missing out on.
Though we have several advancements in technology and comforts at all levels, the concrete jungle can never equal the above mentioned joys.
The book is about a protagonist Dhyankumar who introspects the various phases of his life. The narration portrays his life filled with love and affection as a boon of staying with grandparents. A couple of mischievous events and few confessions make it an interesting read.
The pace of the story seems to be slow at places and characterization needs betterment. The cover design could have been improved. With no surprise elements the narration is pretty good except for the slow-paced parts which seem dragging. The language is simple and crisp making this a good choice for one time read.
Writing and Presentation: 4/5
The book is available on Amazon https://amzn.to/2O3kW7d
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Beaten and brutally raped, her body is never found. However, the killers make one mistake. They leave a witness, a witness who has nothing to live for except revenge. And when he crosses the boundaries of time to make the guilty pay, a whole lot of dark characters come to light. There is Valentine, the superstar brand ambassador who sells anything for a price; there is Medici, a pharmaceutical company fraudulently manufacturing banned drugs; there is the perverted and sinister minded Dr Ranga and there is Este, the prostitute whose dark secret will blow up a daughter’s sanity. So, is there another murder waiting to happen? Will Police Inspector Dorab Silva be able to connect the clues to prevent another crime? Will these gods of greed be exposed? And yes, you will be surprised by who you will find there, finally. Deeply unsettling, Hungry Gods takes a hard look at greed for wealth and power.
The first thing that struck me when I was asked if I can review this book was what made the author choose this name. I initially thought that it was something of mythological sorts but when I googled and saw the cover my opinion was completely proved wrong. The cover design conveys a lot. In fact that’s one of the stand out features of this book. I went through the blurb and which made me even more anxious that was eagerly waiting that the book would get delivered to me sooner.
The book is based on the tagline Drugs, Sex Cults, a horrific crime and an unthinkable revenge. The revenge here is by a son who witnesses him mom being abused and killed by a group. Bu the way in which the narration is taken is what which makes the book stand out among similar books of this genre.
It is very difficult to keep track of all characters since there are a lot of them, a LOT I say. The writing style of the author is on par with that of international authors. Its crisp, subtle and brilliant. She has a good command over the language and an extensive vocabulary.
The narration is from first and third person perspective which is confusing a times to relate the consecutive events. A clearer description of the place and time could have made it better.
Writing was very intriguing and intense but applauds to the author, the surprise element was kept up till the end. The nail biting sequences of pre climax and climax was outstanding.
Overall, Hungry Gods was a bold representation of the present sadistic world we live in and can very well be made into a movie.
But I would like to leave a disclaimer that the book is not for light hearted ones.
Writing and Presentation: 5/5
The book is available on amazon https://amzn.to/2x1jHy5
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Hungry Gods is Richa Lakhera’s third novel, she has previously written Item Girl, a crime novel and Garbage Beat, a satire on the Indian entertainment industry. A libertarian addicted to absurdism, she works as Deputy Editor at NDTV. She has a Master’s in Organic Chemistry and Bio-technology and is the recipient of the Indian Council for UN Relations (ICUNR) Award for Excellence in Journalism. Richa divides her time between New Delhi and Mumbai and is currently working on her next crime fiction novel.
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Vihaan looked at the skies, took a deep breath and shouted, ‘I want to be on the hoarding outside Raina’s flat!’ Parth did not react right away. After a few minutes, he asked, ‘Sorry? What is that?’ ‘She said she doesn’t want to see my face. So, now I want to ensure she sees my face every day the first thing in the morning.’ Parth took a step towards Vihaan. He shrugged his shoulders, confusedly. ‘I don’t understand.’ ‘There’s a hoarding outside her flat.’ ‘And you want to be on it?’ ‘Yes!’ Turns out, the hoarding outside Raina’s flat was the most expensive in the city! Witness the roller coaster journey of Vihaan, a college dropout and Parth, an illiterate tea vendor, who have an accumulative savings of 3500, set out to earn 20 Lakh in 18 months to buy the coveted hoarding space.
The story does not fall into any specific genre, but has elements of all romance, fiction.
The plot is about two boys from contrast background who have different perspectives.
Vihaan is a rich kid who is kind of arrogant, impatient and is determined not to continue business studies and take over his father’s kite business. HE wants to pursue at SLS .
On the other hand, we have Parth, whose father is a tea seller. Parth wants to set up his own business but does not know how.
The story starts with childhood scenes from Vihaan’s life. A train journey where Vihaan’s father is worried about his business. One idea from Vihaan and he is all successful.
Here at Parth’s end, his father wants him to be a good salesman so that he can sell more cups of tea.
After his father’s death he starts working at an IT company and is very successful selling software.
Their paths cross and they both end up in the same hostel.
Vihaan falls in love with Raina, things speed up here and finally the girl rejects him and conveys she does not wish to see face. This ignites Vihaan’s ego.
So Vihaan and Parth decide to become successful. Vihaan wants to put up his hoarding near Raina’s apartment so she wakes up to it every morning, ironically see his face every day. Parth helps him. Do the love birds reunite, does Vihaan get a hoarding, Is Parth successful in setting up his own Business is what we will have to wait and watch.
The book has a perfect blend of all feelings- love, ambition, most importantly bromance. We also see a couple of business concepts being clearly explained. The book is a pleasant read with lucid writing. The characterization could have been improved especially that of Raina, who seems to be missing for a really long duration and just comes up finally at the end.
The book is a light enjoyable read and I would recommend it as a one-time read. The book uses some unsuitable talks which may not be suitable for a bit younger audience.
Book Title: 3.5/5
Book Cover: 4/5
Language & Grammar: 3.5/5
Final Rating: 4/5
The book is available on Amazon https://amzn.to/2MSOlo8
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Hetansh Desai is the Founder and CEO of Vital20Communication, a marketing consultancy based out of Mumbai. He has pursued his graduation in Liberal Studies and post-graduation in Entrepreneurial Leadership from Babson college, USA. You can find him in Ahmadabad- as his family lives there- or in Mumbai, or on a cheap, midnight SpiceJet flight.
In his free time, he loves playing and watching cricket, reading the Bhagavad Gita over and over again and listening to music. His hobbies include writing and public speaking.
Today is a very special day in our life. It’s your 30th birthday, my better half. Though we’ve only been married three years, you know it gives me a feeling like we’ve shared a lifetime of experiences.
We have been blessed to have an awesome life, to travel for our love of adventure, to stand with each other through thick and thin, to support each other through job losses and new ventures, to constant encouragement and uplifting of each other. Having you as my partner-in-crime is something I thank God for every day.
I spent so many days thinking about what I should be doing for you to make this birthday amazing and to figure out what to get the man who gives me everything. Nothing was as earnest as me wishing you a happy day, not just today, but every day. It’s simple, your contentment and satisfaction is mine.
Gifts are just one way to show love. But frankly saying, it can never compare to the gift you’ve already given me: a life with you and a life from you(Cheeni). The memories we made together after we met and just the opportunity to walk side by side through all our adventures. I couldn’t have chosen a better person and I am so thankful that God chose you to be mine. You’re the best gift I’ve ever been given
It feels kind of amazing to know, how a once stranger person can now mean the whole world to you? The best part is when you become so close to him, that you begin to say the same things, steal lines from each other, and have an analogous sense of humor or a hidden joke just by exchange of glances because you have such a strong connection with them. That’s what I got lucky and found in you.
You made me learn a lot of things, being independent is just one of them. You came around and changed everything. You enforced me to grow up as an individual and learn to look at all the angles. I would say that our relationship is far from perfect. We’re still learning and growing as individuals while getting over past mistakes. We’re learning to trust each other, while continuing to build our relationship.
Words can never describe how lucky I am to have you in my life and especially to be by my side, you are my font of my happiness and we have made so many incredible memories.
I keep looking at our photos, because even behind those okayish photos of me, we have some utterly beautiful memories. I have never met a kinder, more generous, intelligent, maddening, loving and honest person in my life.
You are kid at heart especially with the sense of humor and mockery and that is something that makes me fall in love with you all over again.
Honestly saying I wouldn’t be here without you, you are my absolute rock. You always inspire me to be a better person, to never stop achieving, to keep going, to forgive and to enjoy the present.
Today I am thankful for your parents and to those who brought you up and for those who came before that I never even knew.
Thank you for putting up with me when I’m cranky and tired. Thank you for knowing when I need to take a break. Thank you for always being game for something new, no matter how silly it seems Thank you for motivating me when I want to desperately give up. Thank you for encouraging me to be me.
Today I am thankful to be your wife. I’m thankful that you chose me, and that you continue to choose me daily, despite my imperfections and annoying habits.
Thank you for the most amazing 3 years. I love you more than words can ever say and even when I get super cranky with you, but you are the other half of me, and you complete my life.
We have so many fun adventures to look back on already and I know we have so many amazing adventures ahead of us. Happy 30th birthday my love, I am so gratified to be your wife! I am blessed by you every single day. May this year be full of God’s healing and favor in your life. I love you!
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Even before I knew you were coming I named you, my little angel. I found a new reason for my existence when I saw those two pink lines. We (your Dad and I) fell in love within seconds listening to the magical sound of your heartbeat. I thought it was a myth to identify gender based on heart rate, but I knew it was you, my special rainbow baby.
I knew it from those constant kicks and strokes you gave me while you grew inside me. They were such a gift, a signal that you were alive and growing. The times I sing to you and read out to you when I was alone, I felt a strong connection. Those moments of acknowledgement when I talk to you, the signs of reciprocation kept me going even when I was tired or feeling low. Even today I try holding on to what it felt like to have you kicking and stretching the limbs of your tiny body inside my body, safe and sound. These are moments etched in memory for lifetime.
I wasn’t the only person counting down to your arrival. No words to express the excitement of your Grandparents (all four of them) and both aunts as I was nearing my due date. You see, you are their first grandchild and their first niece. The countless number of phone calls showing that they can’t stop talking about you, to see if it’s time. I really feel so blessed to see how many people love you.
I was so eager to be the mom you so deserve. Disclaimer: I may not get it right at first, but I promise to try my very best and I promise to love you unconditionally until my last breath on earth.
I celebrated my first Mother’s Day with you, my baby. I feel this irresistible need to tell you some things about what it means to me to be your mother. So exciting that I now have a girl of my own who will wish me “happy mother’s day”. Now that’s a change from me wishing my mom and all elder woman in family.
I replay the first moment I saw you, at times when I try sleeping at night. The first eye contact I had with you on the labor bed, when the nurse gave you to me, by placing you on my chest. That moment of relief, happiness, pain all at the same time.
And What about your Dad? You are so lucky to have him of course. I have never doubted his ability to make a fantastic father. And now I know you will be the girl(second) who ultimately melts his heart with just one look.
You’ve had such an intense impact on our existence here. And now, you will become the best and worst parts of us.
You have my eyes, and your dad’s hair, my round cheeks and his long fingers, but you are unique.
And destiny will tell us if you are as bold as him or as quiet as me. We have so much ahead of us.
You are a daddy’s daughter too but sometimes the feel that you’re all mine at least secretly gives me a sense of pride and accomplishment. He does travel along for the ride but you and me… We’ve got a special thing going.
There would be times where it gets tough, but I do know that we can get through tough times, and I want you to know that I’m always trying my best. I want to be a good mother and I’ll try my best to do what’s right for you.
All I would wish for you is to Create a life that gives YOU happiness. Nothing would make me prouder.
You will have plenty of days to thank me, but I would thank you on every Mother’s day for making me a mom and I am so happy to be yours.
I can strongly say there is no word in English language that sounds as delightful to a woman as the word, “Mom.” God must have coined it after a long thought. One shout out of the word “Mom!” — every woman turns her head. And that is how special it is to be a mother.
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