Posted in Uncategorized

Our Rainbow Baby Ballad

“To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under heaven; A time to be born, a time to die… a time to laugh, a time to weep” – Lyrics by the Byrds.

I am writing my story with the utmost sensitivity – because I have something important  to share with you -while I simultaneously tell the story of how infertility has a grip on my life in a much deeper way than I ever comprehended.

Before I begin I want You to know that I see you! I see you crying alone as your family has all drifted to sleep. I see you suffer a pain that only you understand. I see your hopes and wishes cast amongst the stars. I see you kneeling in prayer. I see you sitting in scared silence at the fertility clinic, I see you feeling alone and abandoned, and I hear you longing. I acknowledge your every emotion, we will always be sisters of this fretful tribe.

I never want my experiences to hurt you or discourage you because I understand neither of us have control over how these things play out. Each of our stories are painful and important, and one will never be more meaningful than the other. That’s why I want to share with you as sensitively as possible that…

We are finally expecting our Rainbow baby! And while I honor my own excitement, I also acknowledge you – and your aching heart. I pray instead of hurt and broken you can feel a restored hope in the gifts that are waiting for you. And – while we are filled with gratitude – we still haven’t completely embraced this ourselves.

The abuse of infertility and the long-term damage it has left on our lives has made it difficult to trust this pregnancy. Even after I spent meal times avoiding the kitchen, and many moments hugging the toilet, our heads remind us to deny our baby’s presence in order to protect our hearts.

Even when we were the only two that knew our secret we still never made mention of the pregnancy for nearly two and a half months. It was a lonely and painful time for both of us. We were so consumed with the fear of disappointment that we couldn’t possibly acknowledge its realness. I didn’t sleep, and instead of celebrating I cried almost daily while preparing myself for another loss. I googled symptoms, side effects, and pregnancy statistics to create stories in my head about the demise of my pregnancy.  I know you understand these frustrations.

Although a very happy outcome, it has been far from the emotionally freeing journey I thought this would be.

The morning of my ultrasound (a very long and torturous six weeks after I found out I was pregnant) we sat quietly in the waiting room playing out the scenario we were convinced was about to happen (No heartbeat – No sign of life – leaving in tears… Again) Instead we were shocked and surprised to see a healthy heartbeat, and everything measuring right on target, but we still didn’t know how to displace our expectation of disappointment and allow ourselves to feel the excitement we deserved; so we still kept it to ourselves.

And in the back of my mind there was always you! With your own unique tales of infertility, and I never wanted my miracle to be hurtful for you.

Now here we are – safely in our 2nd trimester – cautiously optimistic and holding onto the hope that our chance at miscarriage is now less than 5%, but also with a debilitating fear that I am that 5%.

I am in a different stage of this journey, but I am still here with you, and I still hear you! I still pray for you, alongside my own prayers for a healthy pregnancy, and I send you the peaceful heart we all need in this process, no matter where in this journey we have gotten so far. I wish you all the blessings your heart desires.

For those of you who haven’t experienced infertility or loss I hope that by sharing our truth you can understand our hesitation to sound the sirens and spread our news so boldly. I simply ask that you give us time to let this sink in, to embark on this long journey of healing from all our brokenness, and fill our lives with your wishes and prayers as we live each day of the next seven months in anxious waiting for our rainbow to appear.

Tight Squeeze!


Posted in Uncategorized

Fertility Medical Care; My Honest Experience

Forewarning; This may read as jaded, bitter, and angry and it likely does have a bit of that laced throughout these paragraphs, but as you read this – Truth Bomb – you might find what I am saying as eerily relatable – or if you are in healthcare, like me, you might read this as a horror story for Canadian medical care.

I want you to understand that mine wasn’t the Spa-like experience you see on TV…. no, instead I got the bargain basement clinic, and lack luster care. A loud blood processing machine hums incessantly to the left of the administration desk, bankers boxes are piled in corners, and the room is lined with unlocked filing cabinets with Client files of past, present, and future visible for everyone to see. The carpet is stained the walls are yellowed, in short, esthetically it isn’t the place you come with a hopeful heart and expect to leave with your dreams come true.

The accessory staff are friendly, though, not one ever greeted me with their name and designation, so even months later I cant tell you if they are nurses or technicians or what have you… but they were definitely the friendly ones, so I held on to that.

I first met with my Doctor in early 2012. My initial reaction from our very brief encounter was that he was pompous, forward, and rude. It is my understanding he acknowledges this about himself and makes no apologies. but does that really make it any more acceptable?

I’ve been argued with over my thoughts and experiences here, so I will say that I understand that being smacked in the face with the truth instead of having it served delicately on a platter is what some clients like, I don’t agree, but I am glad to have cleared that up.

The message I got from that first (I will be gracious) ten minute meeting was loud and clear, he could tell by the hair pattern on my jawline that I had PCOS, and just like that it was added to my forever medical record – a very technical process you know! I left the office strangely self-conscious of my appearance and with a carbon copy prescription for my new medication, and some requisitions for day 21 Blood work.

I want to be very clear here aside from being instructed to take this pill on cycle days 3-7 I was not provided with enough information about this medication in order to provide informed consent to taking it. He didn’t care… and whether he is confident in what he is doing or not, he didn’t care that whether I left feeling confident about this endeavor. Maybe he was overbooked that day, maybe he was tired, maybe he was behind on paperwork –  but none of that was my fault and none of that has anything to do with whether or not I should have been given the opportunity to provide informed consent.

I left incredibly angry. I waited a whopping six months for this appointment. I invested what trust I could muster from my broken state into that small token of hope he handed me, and figured what harm could come of this. Truthfully though, I was angry that he didn’t do a work-up, how quick he was to decide that my sole issue was PCOS (which he wasn’t wrong about) but I wanted to rule out the hundreds of other factors that affect fertility – a blocked tube, an inhospitable uterus, a heart-shaped or tilted uterus (which I also have by the way), low sperm motility/quality, hormonal imbalances (also me), endometriosis, polyps/cysts/ or fibroids… the amount of other factors out there is practically endless. Long- story short my diagnoses wasn’t spawned out of due diligence, it wasn’t even really an educated guess, it was an assumption because he had seen hundreds of other women sit in that same chair with the same facial hair pattern and jumped to this conclusion.

In short, I placed my bet on the roulette table and three months later I rolled a winner. There was no sure thing, there was no medical certainty… he got lucky that he was right and he got me pregnant so he could add my name to the list of successes, further proof of his hasty assumption about me.

Here is what happened that my Doctor didn’t disclose with me;

I miscarried the first month because unbeknownst to me (and I later learned from a gynecologist I was seeing) that it isn’t good practice to attempt to get pregnant that first month on medication, because a woman’s body can release immature or damaged eggs. Even after I returned the following month with complaints that “My period was the worst I had in my life” and he informed me that I had miscarried as evidenced by my blood work, he still didn’t share this little piece of valuable knowledge with me.

It took only a quick three months and two visits with my Doctor to finally have a viable pregnancy, but by this point I already knew I wanted my prenatal experience far more informed, empowering, and supported then that of my experiences with Fertility treatment. So, I never told my Doctor or his office that I got pregnant and as far as I was concerned this chapter of my life was closed. My midwives made up for everything this Doctor lacked and more, and restored my faith in our healthcare system.

This next time around I did everything in my power to try to avoid revisiting this local clinic. I requested to see a Gynecologist and spent a lengthy amount of time with this new Doctor trying the oral medications again. When we weren’t getting anywhere on the oral medications I visited my GP and requested a transfer to a fertility specialist that I had assumed would be a better experience than my last. Low and behold it was the same fertility Docs office that called me, and I battled with the decision to return to his clinic.

Its funny how these things go, fertility completely destroys you, so by the time you crawl into his office you are ready to accept any and all flaws as long as there is a glimmer of hope that you might get pregnant. My husband came to our intake appointment, and perhaps he was a little more demanding a presence than I was, but our Doctor actually (briefly) seemed better. This time around (and because I had more history and a few more miscarriages under my belt) he did order the full work-up I had been hoping for all these years.

I cant remember the complete details, but I remember a lot of confusion regarding when to take my oral medications and when to skip taking it. I distinctly remember my Doctor telling me not to take it during the month that I had my sonohystogram, but when I returned the following month he was frustrated with me for not taking it after all. It threw off my cycles and put us behind again. At one point my husband pleaded with the Doctor to give me something to battle the monthly migranes I started getting with my oral meds, and his only response was to go back to my GP and get him to prescribe me something, then provided me with a list of particulars about what to tell my GP to prescribe. I was very unclear about why my fertility Doctor couldn’t just prescribe it himself given that it was to counteract the medications he was giving me. When my husband canvassed him on the idea of me taking a sick leave from work to facilite my attending the clinic as often as I had to Our Doctors careless and unconcerning response was “What for? She isn’t sick”. Actually Yes Doc. Infertility is an illness, just like any other!

My first cycle monitoring followed shortly after, where I discovered a very unfriendly member of the medical team. I can only assume she was the ultrasound tech, though, she never told me. She never spoke to me at all actually! She just stood in that room day in and day out performing internal ultrasounds on me without ever really acknowledging my existence.  Even during my first cycle I went in and bled on that bed nervous that maybe I shouldn’t be there doing this while I was still menstruating, I tried to strike up a conversation about it because I didn’t really want to go through with it that day – but I got no answers for her.

I didn’t see my Doctor after that. Month after month went by and his staff arranged my progression to injections, then adjusted my dosages when everything failed. During one cycle, I produced a large number of follicles, and while I longed to have a conversation about what my options were to do with them, they called me at home and told me not to come in until the beginning of my next cycle. I would have been more than willing to extract and donate those follicles and be empowered once again by helping other struggling couples, but that wasn’t an option not even a topic of conversation for me there.

After my third cycle attempt that required a closer monitoring program and day to day adjustment of my dosing, It was finally time for my IUI. My husband came in to leave his sample, and to my horror the staff prepared the sperm wash at the administration desk while simultaneously preparing another one for another couple. I was mixed with disbelief but more so a level of desperation that clouded my judgement as I am sure happens with most if not all of the clients that come through that clinic. I went into that room, with my faith held high in their abilities as professionals, despite having witnessed questionable practice. Then as I laid on that sterile bed in the breezy and cold room, I was in no state to notice that she didn’t even verify my identity before administering the IUI.

Aside from all that, she also prepared my bill which typically signifies a cycle completion and provided me with the instructions for follow-up for the IUI (Start taking your progesterone in 2 days – test in 2 weeks – call us if its positive) but completely failed to inform my husband or I to return the following day for a second IUI. When I didn’t return the next day and they called me at home no one acknowledged responsibility for this mistake, they simply implied that I had been told and had forgotten. It was insulting to say the least, and also a heartbreaking turn of events as we worried that we missed a crucial step in another very expensive monthly cycle.

As icing on the cake, a couple weeks later I received an intake package from another fertility clinic, one that manages IVF that I had been referred to by my current fertility Doctor. I hadn’t even had an actual appointment with my Doctor for months and at no point had I had a conversation with him about wanting to pursue IVF or given consent for him to send my referral and file details to this new clinic.

I’ve been worried sick about my experiences, I am left feeling powerless, and assured more than ever that I should be seeking fertility medical care elsewhere. I have been navigating avenues for reporting what I have experienced and sharing with you today because we all deserve better in our medical care experiences. I pray your fertility journeys are peaceful and empowering, and if you feel yourself relating to my story I implore you to speak up or look for alternative medical care.

Tight Squeeze,


Posted in Elliott, Family, Oliver

A lesson in Motherhood – A future letter to my boys

Now that you have gotten much older, you both likely reflect on many events from your past and woven through those memories are your interpretations of my behaviour as a mother, so I want to clear this all up for you here and now.

I know you have always thought I treat your brother differently.

You are absolutely right!

You two were not born the same,  you both possess different genetic matter (albeit from the same gene pool) and with that comes entirely different preferences, opinions, and needs. While you will never understand this until you are a parent of your own, I did treat you differently, but not by accident and not by any favouring of one of you over the other – but simply because it was my absolute intention to fulfil your emotional, physical and mental needs to the best of my ability. Maybe not in your day, but in ours there is this misconception that parenthood is simply the ‘forming’ of children in our image, but this isn’t true, our mission is to honour the form that you brought into the world and teach you how use it, refine it, and build upon it. Parenthood isn’t about spreading myself amongst you in fairness and equality but about learning and adapting to each of you independently, and each of your needs as they present themselves.

Just the other morning, for example, Elliott, you cried as the bus reached our stop and it was time for us to part ways. I was shocked and annoyed by the situation because up until that very moment you were perfectly prepared to return to school after the Christmas break, but as the bus pulled away and you stared out the window at me with your tear stained face, I realized something monumental in our relationship. You hide your emotions, you bury them deep inside you and avoid its release until it is inevitable and you need me. Earlier that morning, while I busied myself in the kitchen preparing your lunch and organizing your school bag, you were reeling with the conflict of leaving the house and I had no idea. You needed me – differently than your younger brother, who gathers his things and runs out the door at every opportunity – you needed a whisper of hope, you needed assurance, you needed reminders of all the wonderful experiences that school holds for you, you needed me to prepare you; that nothing is different that this school day is still the same as all those you had prior to the break because change is something that intimidates you.

I only hope in all the days we have spent together as mother and son, you understand how much I love and appreciate you for who you are. While, I sometimes seem annoyed that your nervous intimidation inconveniences me, I am more honoured and humbled by it than anything. It keeps you safe and it keeps you needing me and wanting me, it keeps you seeking answers and assurances that you deserve. My only condolence to you for this day, is that I vow to move forward holding your hand as we respect your sense of nervousness, while recognizing when it could be holding you back from living and breathing new experiences. I am forever thankful to you for this lesson.

I have learned by now, in the four years of motherhood you have gifted to me, that you are never comforted with showings of affection. While sometimes a brief hug can settle your anxiety it isn’t the long-term answer. You need your personal space, and a quiet moment to process your feelings. You need to meet with me alone and sit in silence for a moment, before I canvas you about your fears. Sometimes I have to pry the information from you, before we can brainstorm a plan and solution together. I cherish this new way of seeing life unfold.

Oliver, you have entirely different strategies for handling change. You embrace the unknown and jump in feet first with very little hesitation. You pride yourself on being brave and adventurous and socialize easily. You expend so much energy in a day with all your activity, that when you return to me you need to be refreshed. You will never turn down a cuddle and want to be smothered with kisses. I am happy to oblige. I also know – much to your dismay – that you need your sleep so I often invoke your nap times to keep you grounded and feeling in control. I know at 3 that seems counterproductive to you, but I promise I have had your best interests at heart. You challenge me in ways that your older brother never did, and so everything we share together as mother and child is also a new exploration into the realm of parenthood. You have an intense conviction to your beliefs and choices and I commend you for that, but it certainly isn’t an easy trait to parent, especially because I know we share this conviction and we are often not on the same page. Still, I know you are filled with amazing potential and it will truly shine in your adulthood, I know this with certainty, because that is where I am at now.

My frustrations are never about you two, they are birthed from an inner conflict with myself because I know in these moments I have failed you. Motherhood isn’t perfect, in fact, perfection in parenting is probably the least achievable thing we will ever attempt in our lives, it is a variable education that we can never be prepared for.

So, Yes! I do treat you both differently, with reason and intent for the betterment of your well-being, and while you may not always see your childhood though my eyes, and you may never understand my intentions, I vow to preserve your organic self – because that is what parenthood truly means.

Tight squeeze!


Posted in How Tos, Recipes

Apple Pecan Two-Bite Trifle


Ok… so my last trifle was such a hit I decided to get creative and mix things up in the dessert kitchen this morning. Unfortunately I’m introducing this far too late for our Canadian thanksgiving, but perhaps our American friends can find some inspiration here just in time for their Thanksgiving festivities. Either way, it’s totally Kismet for Fall!

As with my other trifle, it serves best in a trifle dish so all those delicious layers adorn your table beautifully.


  • 1 full-sized angel food cake
  • 1 box Dr. Otker English Toffee pudding mix
  • 1 small package of chopped pecans
  • 10 apples
  • 1/3 Cup Sugar
  • 3 Tbsp maple syrup
  • 1 tub of Cool Whip
  • 1 pkg of Two-bite brownies (approx. a dozen)

If you have your supplies on hand you are ready to get Prepping, (can be made up to 24hrs in advance)

Step 1: Peel and finely slice your apples. 10 should do.

Step 2: Blend your Dr. Otkers pudding mix, and refrigerate until your apple slices are ready

Step 3: Toss apple slices with 1/3 cup of sugar

Step 4: sautee in a frying pan drizzled with maple syrup – until golden and soft.

Step 5: (while waiting for apples to cook ) Cut all two-bite brownies into fours.

Step 6: Refrigerate apples until chilled (do not drain the liquid)

Step 7: slice angel food cake into 3 sliced rounds

Step 8: place the smallest round of angel food into the trifle bowl.

Step 9: Layer with 1/3 of the pudding

Step 10: Toss on 1/4 of the brownie chunks

Step: 11: Layer on 1/3 of the whipped cream and spread evenly

Step 12: Pour on 1/3 of the apple slices and liquid

Step 13: Sprinkle on 1/3 of the pecan bits

Step 14: Repeat steps 8-13 two more times. (Using the largest angel food round last) Be sure to top well with your apple slices and pecans, add the extra layer of brownie chunks for aesthetic appeal.

Voila! Make ahead and keep chilled until ready to serve!

So good, you might just want to skip dinner and dive right into dessert! Let’s hope my MIL is equally as delighted when we serve this for her birthday tonight!

Tight squeeze!


Posted in Design, DIY

Hutch makeover Inspo. 

Current dining room Situation


It’s finally time! I’ve worked up the nerve to tackle the daunting task of refinishing my found and foraged dining room hutch. It has only been sitting hopeful on my to-do list for a good seven or eight years, patiently waiting for his number to be called. He shall be named, Henry, and while he isn’t exactly the “ruler of (our) home”, he definitely has a presence here. I can not wait to see him in all of his transformed glory…. for now, I will share a few of my Pinterest inspirations with you as I narrow in on the look I really want! 

Classic Farmhouse Via Pinterest

While, I am sort of over the whole farmhouse thing, I do quite enjoy the Light and bright look of all the white furniture pieces. They are easy to capture In a photo and would make a nice bright backdrop for a Holiday family dinner. Bonus points for it’s compatability with decor of all color schemes including those holiday specific pieces. 

Ultra Feminine via Pinterest

I’m totally having a love affair with both pinks and florals right now, and obviously this is the direction my dining room has been taking for awhile. I’m Just not certain that will last too long, and I would hate to go to all that effort just to tire of it in a year or two. 

Black Tie Affair via Pinterest

Um…. black! YES!!!! Especially perched against a white wall and a few scattered pieces of bold color decor (like my neon pink chairs the flank the head and foot of our table). But… I don’t know how I feel about a piece Of Henry’s stature in all black, it might present as a looming black cloud over our average sized dining room. 

Touch of Modern via Pinterest

Again… that whole country thing, I’m over it…. unless it’s country music, well then! 

Bold Statement via Pinterest

Bold, bright and unexpected, everything Yes! I love color, I love living in the unexpected. But for a week long project like Henry can I love it for the longterm???

What are your thoughts??? 

Tight squeeze!


Posted in Elliott, Family, Oliver

Why I will no longer say that my kids drive me to drink and other ridiculous nonsense 

Yesterday I joked to my co-workers that it isn’t so much my job that drives me to drink but that my kids sure do…

This morning, in my infinite post-slumber wisdom, I woke up full of guilt and immediately wished I could take back those ridiculous words.

I’ve heard it time-and-time again, and I’ve said it myself but I’ve suddenly become aware of the implications of that statement – and not on the alcohol front – but what this (and other equally ill-suited statements) says about my children.

There is actually nothing painful about a three or four year old, in fact, they are by nature the windows into the soul of Mother Earth, the most organic form of humankind to exist. Pure, neutral, and loving. It’s not my kids, it’s really just motherhood as a whole that gets our panties all in a bunch.

This totally exhausting, completely unerving stage of motherhood is filled with amazing humans and to say that THEY drive me to drink is really just implying there is some kind of fault with them as children – which thank my lucky stars – there certainly is not! They are prefect beings acting completely in tune with themselves exploring curiosity, practicing conflict, learning their physical limitations, and expanding their mindset. They are truly in harmony with themselves and their authenticity and when I think about placing blame on them because I can’t keep up with these systemic expectations of motherhood, well that is just absurd!

The responsibility of motherhood, on the other hand, is what interferes with my ability to bask in all the glorious adventure my children bring to me.

You know… Motherhood; the toppling laundry piles, nagging house keeping tasks, home cooked meals waiting to be made, honey do lists, daycare planning, Taxi service scheduling. It’s all those looming accessories to childhood that really get to us. Add in this new millenial motherhood where we needlessly busy ourselves sweeping dirty laundry under the area rug so we can post a perfectly curated picture of ‘real life’ on social media, Document a reality tv show via live story options, and post minute-by-minute twitter updates of the goings on of our lives.

So let us give credit where credit is due; our  preschoolers and early elementary children are just busy living their intended life, and being awesome at it! If we are struggling to stay above it all, we need to shed a thing or two from the mundane task lists and take more time quietly enjoying our kids.

Forgive yourself mama! Motherhood is the scariest hood you will ever go through, so drink that wine (or otherwise choice of chill-out beverage) just don’t make your children the “excuse” you think you need!

Tight Squeeze!


Posted in Mental Health

The ‘Harvey Weinstein’ Talk We must have!

Today I made the mistake of spending my kid-free time trolling the internet response to the Harvey Weinstein scandal. I am shocked and appaled at the outpouring of negative opinions and women to women victim shaming involved here.

Let’s make something very clear,  If we don’t stand with these women (Celebrity or not) we are standing against them, there is no middle ground. This kind of angry outcry from desensitized internet trolls is exactly the dialogue people like Harvey Weinstein are hoping for; devaluing the magnitude of his criminal behaviour, minimizing sexual assault, and aiming the spotlight away from the empire that is the Weinstein company and the hundreds of men and women who probably knew about and facilitated these ‘hotel meetings’.

First and foremost our responsiblity as the  public should simply be to listen. Let us listen intently to their stories, feel their emotion, and provide them with a judgement-free platform for which to tell and retell their stories. Because if we do we actually open up a more powerful dialogue of resistance and unacceptace of sexually inappropriate behaviours. More women will be able break free from the bondage of their corporate corruption and speak out against sexual harassment in the workplace. But mostly, listening will help them to spread the shockingly ‘new’ expectation that we should not tolerate this behaviour anywhere and at anytime.

Let there be no mistake, Harvey was powerful because he had a tribe of men and women for whom he assumed power and whether by fear, or ignorance, or otherwise involved in these predatory acts they sheltered him, encouraged him, and facilitated this long-time abusive business tactic. What we know about powerful empires, is that they do not topple easily.

Mass opinion has been that these women chose not to come forward before they bank rolled millions from under his corporate wing. Why thirty years later?

Celebrities have historically been using media covered outlets to make cracks in the foundation of his power;  from Gwenyth Paltrow on Letterman, Rose McGowen on twitter, to Seth Macfarlane at the 2013 Oscars. They spoke about it amongst each other, they loathed this man that ran Hollywood, for God sakes, they called it his “Open Secret”. Don’t underestimate this ‘new’ movement for one minute, it has been a long time coming, these women have been quietly forcing momentum on these tides, until the waves could no longer be ignored.

Our very pathetic reality is that thirty year ago corporate Hollywood would not have tolerated these accusations. We are naive to think that women’s rights were better thirty years ago, naive to think that women were as highly valued in the industry. To topple this empire, his little black book of assaulted women had to rise to alarming numbers, because we all know when one or a few come forward it is never enough. Even still, had he been convicted, he would never had been robbed of his role in Hollywood and people would still be turning a blind eye. So, yes! It had to be now, not because these women are older and established in their wealth and fame, but inspite of that.

What we won’t hear about, Is what happened to those twenty-something aspiring actresses that forcefully resisted his advances, and refused to work with him, because without established fame he would have made damn sure they simply disappeared! Blacklisted from hollywood, and silenced by remaining nameless and unpopular in the public eye. Did it do themselves or the public any good to speak out back then? No! He continued to negotiate sexual tasks and favors for success in the industry.

Let’s acknowledge talent where talent is due. These Celebrity women coming forward that have didn’t achieve status because they were sexual vixons, but because they are artists and believed in themselves and their talents and firmly believed these roles were meant for them, and on some level, Harvey knew he needed them too – regardless if they were sexually complacent.

When we engage in conversation about how a woman behaved, or whether or not she accepted fame, wealth or status as a result, we minimize the fact that sexual harassment, assault or otherwise has zero place in the workplace. Period. So just stop!

Other internet naysayers were particularly hung up on the fact that these celebrities willingly met Harvey in his hotel room. <eye roll> First of all, since when did we decide entering a hotel room was open invitation for sexual assault? Secondly, use some perspective, I would assume that a high class Hollywood movie moguls hotel room was hardly just that. He likely wined and dined in the penthouse suites which consisted not only of a bed, but of a living room, a kitchen, and <gasp of shock> an office area… you know, for conducting business.

The most overrated public response to these accusations is, how can these women live a double standard and depict nudity whilst complaining about their trama as victims. I can hardly stand to give this one a response because it’s so obvious to me, but I will let you in on this little secret. Acting is their art form, and human bodies in the nude are the rawist most authentic form of art in existence! If this isn’t enough for you to understand, please consider also, that often times victims of sexual abuse become disinhibited in their sexuality therefore resulting in promiscuity. It doesn’t make them the target of their abuse, it is the result of it.

I wasn’t among the millions of women who posted a #metoo hashtag on social media because I honestly can’t think of a time where I’ve felt any form of unwanted sexual advances, but #insolidarity with women across the world I will engage in healthy conversation regarding sexual assault. I don’t have to have a daughter, to want differently for the children of our future. I hope you will consider the same!