Lift Your Sisters Up

I’ve been in my head a lot this past year.









The mind is a crazy place. It does so much to us. And so much for us.

I’m going to be completely honest in this post. Not that I’m ever dishonest. But rarely do we bare it all.

It’s too embarrassing.

Too shameful.

After a painful ending to an important venture I had created – I questioned my value. My worth. My importance. I was then hit hard with two big losses in my personal life. I was really hurting. I think I’ve been incredibly lucky to have not suffered much in my life time. I suppose all good things come to an end. And perhaps sometimes we just need to be tested.

But even during my dark days I was surrounded by love.


Good souls.

People who believed in me.

And wanted to see me whole again.

They had faith in me that I didn’t have. Maybe I lost it. Maybe I never had it in the first place.

Now a couple things happened here.

And a couple things occurred to me.


During this time I started a new practice: With the intention of supporting women along their journey to and through motherhood, specializing in fertility and postpartum support. For the past four years I had been doing this, not as a business, but because I truly wanted to create a safe space for women to connect, feel less alone and receive love, guidance and resources from myself and each other. Before the business, when it was just the Warriors groups – I spoke to women during every second of free (or not so free) time that I had. I helped with doctors visits. Insurance questions. Injection concerns. Generally emotional well-being. Shared in exciting pregnancy news. Empathized at the losses. I did this because I didn’t have this kind of support during my own journey and no one should feel isolated during this journey. So I started the business, and I think, I thought – people have been coming to me for years – they’ll pay to come to me now too. I had a confidence that perhaps was unwarranted. I’m not entirely sure. Needless to say, there are still hours open in my day that I didn’t expect.

So I was discouraged. And again questioned myself. What am I doing wrong. Am I not the person I thought, they thought?

I know, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that I’m too hard on myself. I’m sure many of us are. But I also seem to keep finding myself in situations, or with people, who support my inner narrative: you’re just not good enough.

And it fucking sucks.

I’ve also been holding on to it for so long that I wonder if there’s a comfort in it? (You would think that 35 years of therapy I’d have figured this out.)

Another thing that happened:

I’ve been spending far too much time on social media. I’ve been using it for research, who can I start writing for, what Instagram hashtags should I use, where should I begin to market myself. But if I’m being totally honest, I use it to waste time and not actually focus on what needs to be focused on – mostly.

But during this time. This research. These wasted moments. Here is what I found. That I have to say truly surprised me. Inspired me.

For far too long I’ve seen social media used harshly.

It makes it easy to judge people.

It makes it easy to be envious.

It makes it easy to be mean, behind the safety of a screen and anonymity.

It makes it easy to make yourself feel better/or worse because of what other people are putting out there – true or not.

I see a new trend. Though. And it’s a beautiful one. I don’t know if it’s the #MeToo movement, the currently political climate, or just true human nature rising above and shining through. But for the first time I see women really truly supporting each other. And maybe I’ve been blind to it – maybe it’s always been there. But during the generation of Mean Girls, Social Media, Plastic Surgery, Insane Wealth – it’s been so each to fall into trash talk, judgement, jealousy. And from what I’ve seen personally – some people have the capacity to be truly hurtful to one another.

But. Now. There seems to be a generation of women who are out to help each other. Out to lift each other up. Out to see each other succeed. Authentically and genuinely rooting for each other. Who revel in #transformationtuesday stories of others. Who cheer from the sidelines when someone needs the cheerleaders.

I saw a picture of a woman who had just given birth in a post two days ago and it stuck with me. She looked stunning. Perfect. Like she’d just spent the day at the spa and topped it off with a make-up artist to the stars session. Instead, she was in a hospital bed and had just pushed an 8lb human out of her vagina. I imagined most people’s immediate reaction would have been. Eye Roll. Or ‘give me a break, no one looks like that after birth.’ Truthfully – that was my gut response. But the post from @wearerobyn was exactly that. Why judge? Why not just be elated for her that she just met her new baby. And they’re both healthy. And good for her! The last line of the post was, “lift your sisters up.” Because. Of course we should. Why wouldn’t we? Why would anything else but happiness and positivity be our first reaction?

I’ve been one to quickly jump on something, someone with an eye roll or preconceived notion. But shame on me. There is no benefit to this reaction. No benefit to them. And certainly not to me. Living in negativity is not a place to grow and prosper. And is just simply, never used for good.

Yesterday morning I invited 6 friends over. None of them knew each other. But they are all good people. Wonderful women. Fantastic mothers. Solid humans. Busy with jobs, businesses or children.

I invited them over because I trust them. And they know me from different aspects of my life. I literally sent a text to them saying. “Wanna come over and talk about me with people you don’t know?”

And guess what.

They fucking did. Every single one of them. None of them canceled. None of them no-showed. I even sent a follow up text to qualify the invite. “It’s not JUST about me”. Because god forbid I should sound narcissistic. But each one of them said, no, “we love this idea – we want to help you reach your potential. We believe in you.”

It was actually mind blowing and heart warming. These women came over, an hour before I used to wake up in the morning. Took 2 or 3 hours out of their day to help me brainstorm. To help me see. To help me believe. That I am worthy. That I am important. That I do have so much to offer. That I can do and be whatever the fuck I want.

That we all can do whatever the fuck we want. And we all can have the support we need. And we can all help each other figure it out. And we should. And we do. And we must.

There’s a lot out there that we are unfortunately contending with. But we each have the ability to find our people. Find our community. Do good. Be good. Figure out what and who we want to be when we grow up. And then set our sails for the life we know we’re meant to lead.

If we all just lift our sisters and brothers up – the sky is the limit.

To 2020.

To new beginnings.

To allowing in love and support.

To admitting when we need help.

To accepting help.

To changing your narrative.

To leaving negativity behind.

To a new approach, a new vision, a new intention.

To keeping the good people close – and believing that truly, people are good.

To giving people the benefit of the doubt.

To leading with positivity.

To being open and present.

To forgiveness, for yourself and others.

To going into everything with an open heart and mind.

To smiling more.

To lifting your sisters up.

If you’re interested in reading more about my crazy life – please follow me @bexhasbabies or to learn about how I support women through their motherhood journey, @itsconceivablebyrebekahrosler.


A Day In The Life

I’ve been feeling..stunted recently. Some things happened to me this year that took my passion, my drive, my motivation, my heart – away.

I’ve wanted to write.

I’ve wanted to do.

But the fire just hasn’t been there.

Every time I feel the urge, I can’t find the words. Someone said to me the other day, we feel like you’ve disappeared. I hated hearing that. But she was right. I felt the same way. I have been feeling empty. Luckily not in a depressed way, just haven’t felt like me. I’m used to giving, sharing, offering, creating, participating.

But 2019 just hasn’t been my year.

I’ve been looking towards 2020 as a new beginning.

Something to focus on.

Something to recharge me.

Something to bring me back.

I was relying on January 1, 2020 to be my turning point – for no other reason than I needed something to believe in, something that would refocus me.

I was going to write again.

I was going to be present again.

I was going to share again. I was going to focus on a super important test I need to take for my career. 2020 man, that was going to be it, and I was counting down the days. I had pretty much called it in for 2019.

But then the most outrageous thing happened to me today. And I’m actually sitting in my car BEYOND alternate side hours just so I can get it all out. And after you finish reading you will feel extra badly for me that I’m still sitting In the car, in the cold, with no coat on.

You see. I had a coat on when I got to the car at 9:30am. It was a little wet from the rain. But that’s to be expected. After a training I went to on Friday I became extra motivated to continue my work. Helping women become mothers. I rode my peloton this morning – I rode it for me, but also as a reminder and a thank you – my incredible fertility support group raised money to get it for me last year.

They believe in me, I need to do the same.

So I got on the bike – pushed myself, I could have pushed harder, but can’t we always? I finished the ride. Popped a pill – I take meds for ADD because it’s literally impossible for me to complete a project if I’m not on something and today was the first day of my study plan. Quickly jumped in the shower. Made a coffee. Grabbed my study guides and planner and ran to the car to arrive before alternate side parking began – got there at 9:29am just in time to sit for an hour and a half. While I don’t have a salary it would irresponsible for us to keep the car in a lot. But since we need the car from time to time to travel anywhere with our broad – we’ve been keeping it in the city. This just means – as I have a flexible schedule – I’ve been sitting in the car Monday and Thursday from 9:30-11. Today I was going to be productive. Use this time, and my focused brain power – for good use. So I started immersing myself in the book. Getting anxious about taking the test – but also excited about finally having my clinical license. I’m a terrible test taker – but this is a really important one for me personally and professionally for a number of reasons.

So I’m studying, but also acutely aware of the sensation creeping up on me that I’m going to have to pee soon.

Time goes on.

Studying does too.

Then I’m starting to really have to pee. You see, I’m directly outside of my apartment building – where both my apartment and laundry room have a bathroom. I’m also directly across from my doctors’ office. But. If I cop came for the 2 1/2 minutes I was in there, I would have gotten a $65 ticket. I kept seeing people pass by and was tempted to ask them to just stand next to my car while I ran in. Then I thought – its only 30 minutes. Maybe I can handle it. But. I did drink two bottles of water and a large coffee – so really. I couldn’t.

At 10:40, with 20 minutes to go I was texting with a friend about career plans because focusing on studying when you’re about to pee yourself is a near impossibility. I then shared with her that I couldn’t possibly discuss anything other than my immense need to pee. She asked if I had a wide bottle. In truth I almost opened the front and back door of the car and peed on the ground – circa tailgating concert days. But people kept walking by. I looked down and sure enough a yellow paw patrol kids’ bowl that was shaped like a dog bowl was on the ground. Fuck it – I thought. This is wide and my bladder is about to burst. I saw tissues and paper towels on the floor as well but was so desperate I couldn’t even muster the energy to grab them or think through a plan of action. I quickly pulled down my pants. Coat still on. In the front seat of the car, legs under the steering wheel. Stuck Chase and his crew under my crotch and let go. I want to say I felt relief immediately – but, no. Apparently two water bottles and a coffee are more liquid than one small paw patrol bowl can handle. Because not only did I need to dump one full bowl out of the car (by the way – how the fuck to you pull a full-to-the-brim bowl of urine out from under you without spilling? Answer : you don’t) I then had to fill up another without serious dripping and splatter (nope). I regret having to share the news but, the overflow component was more than I could bare. I am 40 years old. Completely sober. It’s 10:50am, And I just peed everywhere. I mean, everywhere. All over the car seat. My coat. My shirt. My pants. My hands. And now, 20 minutes later I am still sitting in it. Because the urge to write and share this outrageous story sparked something in me. I will edit this later. For now I need to discreetly extricate myself from the car, throw a laundry in, take a scalding hot shower, see how much dry cleaning for a winter – not water proof coat – coat is, and learn how the hell you clean a car seat.

Ah well, the car is solidly in a spot for two more days, before I get to do this all over again. And we saved $65 on a ticket…that can now be used to pay for hundreds of dollars of cleaning.

It seems I’m back.

Look out 2019, you’ve not seen the last of me.

2020, I’m armed with a bladder, a yellow paw patrol bowl and a reason to write – you’ll be hearing from me soon.

If you’re interested in reading more about my crazy life – please follow me @bexhasbabies or to learn about how I support women through their motherhood journey, @itsconceivablebyrebekahrosler.