My name is Sasha.
I am 28 years old and I live in Colorado. This is my blog.
I believe in God, gay rights, and a woman’s right to make her own decisions. You are more than welcome to disagree with me, as long as you’re polite about it. If you can’t remember your manners I have no problem telling you to fuck off, and likely deleting you in the process. Like I said, this is my blog.
I used to smoke, I used to drink, and I still swear too much. If I offend you? You are more than welcome to navigate away from my pages. I won’t take it personally. Cause I won’t know. :)
My life pretty much revolves around four things, my husband, my step-son, my dog, and lately, possibly most centrally, is my
unborn child newborn son.
Roger is 34 and the love of my life. He works in IT and is terribly passionate about Western Martial Arts. He teaches and trains and constantly learns every new bit of WMA material he can get his hands on. We met about 8 years ago when he started teaching me to fence. A couple of years later we realized we were each put on this Earth to complete each other. We’ve fought hard for the relationship we have now, and we appreciate it all the more for it, I think. I am blessed to have him in my life.
He told me a few days ago “We can survive alone, but we’re better together.” I adore him.
Kelson, AKA Fanchild, is my dearest child. After living with his mother exclusively for 8 years it became apparent that he was desperately in need of his father. So after a long car-ride with Grandpa he returned to Phoenix, Arizona from Pennsylvania and he’s been with us ever since. August 2nd, 2005, if I recall correctly.
In the last few years we have discovered that a long-ago diagnoses of ADHD wasn’t correct, and he’s actually one of the rising number of Asberger’s “sufferers.” Learning how to care for a child with special needs has been one of the most challenging and rewarding experiences of my life. Learning to interpret the world through his eyes has been enlightening. It’s hard. And some days I want to roll over and cry. But he’s worth it. He’ll always be worth it.
Over the last few years his bio-mom and I have forged a fast and loyal friendship. She gave birth to a child I love like my own, and I took on the task of raising him as such. We respect one another, which I think is more important than our mutual love of geekery, knitting, and snickering at all the really dumb things prepubescent boys do. :) We are blessed to have her and her partner as “co-parents” – all any of us want is what’s best for him, and we never lose sight of that.
Samwise is my small, fluffy, prissy, grumpy old man of a dog. He was rescued right off the streets seven years ago, and found his way into my home and my heart. He’s neurotic, and clingy, and old. But he’s my baby. And my life will be less bright when he leaves it.
Tiny James, AKA Fanbaby, is my
Unborn first born. He’s currently 18 35 weeks old (as of Thanksgiving day.) And has very impressive flailing abilities. I spend my days feeling him kick and spin and flail and it makes me smile every time. He is my miracle, I love him. There’s nothing more special about him than any other baby in the world. He was conceived naturally, with very little effort, he has no health issues, no defects. He’s simply the same kind of miracle every other tiny human is. But he’s mine. We can’t wait to meet him. six days old. He was born on December 15th after 43 hours of labor. He is perfect and beautiful and I could not love him more.
He’s named after his uncles. James, Roger’s younger brother who passed away a few years ago after a life-long struggle with diabetes, and Chance, my younger brother who is happily married and living in Utah with his brilliant and beautiful wife. It just feels right to name Kelson’s younger brother after the younger brothers we’ve loved so much.
Five years ago I was diagnosed with type II bipolar disorder. Mostly it’s a non-issue in our lives, I have good meds and a patient and understanding husband. I’ve learned to live with my emotional disability, to overcome it. But some days it makes life hell, and you’re likely to hear about it. Being pregnant certainly isn’t making it any easier to cope with.
My name is Sasha, and this is my blog.