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Kara Keough Top 100 Instagram Photos and Posts

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Most liked photo of Kara Keough with over 510K likes is the following photo

Most liked Instagram photo of Kara Keough
We have around 101 most liked photos of Kara Keough with the thumbnails listed below. Click on any of them to view the full image along with its caption, like count, and a button to download the photo.

Kara Keough Instagram - In this house, some of us are overwhelmed and exhausted. And some of us are Decker.
Kara Keough Instagram - After McCoy died, sharing my sorrow with you all helped. Grieving out loud helped me name my feelings and confront them. Like a monster under the bed, they felt less scary in the daylight. Like maybe they couldn’t drag me down and eat me alive if I kept them well lit. So I hung my heart out for all to see, and swept exactly none of the muck under any damn rugs. Fuck a rug; I wanted to feel it all. And then, when I found out I was pregnant with Vaughn, I quietly unfurled all the rugs. I lined every inch of my life with their insulating padding. I quit my job. I ignored phone calls and texts. I didn’t leave my house unless I had to (thanks Covid). I didn’t share our news with anyone that didn’t need to know. And when I did share, it sounded like I was telling them “I have ulcers.” It was not a joyous celebration. It was a painstaking and brutal admission: “I’m at risk for another heart-shattering catastrophe.” I was cocooned in a world of pain and did my best to shield myself from as many landmines as possible. I wanted to keep our joy private. I stuck my head in the sand and just prayed to God that our baby would live - even though I reminded myself every day that he might not. Maybe what the all-knowing “they” say about time is true, though. Because THIS time, we want to celebrate every second we have with this soul. We told the kids the day we got the positive test. Decker tells every person willing to listen that she’s the oldest of four kids as she lovingly strokes my belly. The joy spills out of her; she can’t wait to tell the world about Baby “Four.” I’ve clawed my way on board with Decker for her sake, and Vaughn’s, and McCoy’s. It SHOULD be a happy occasion that they’re getting another sibling. For me, there’s just a cautious reluctance to let the excitement fully absorb. But I can’t deny that it feels right that those that have sat with us on our grieving bench should have a seat in our joyous swings too. So, for that reason (and because Decker and her grandmother @jeanakeough can’t keep a secret for shit), I’m proud and scared as hell to announce Baby Bosworth #4 - due in November. 📸:@meredith.black
Kara Keough Instagram - After McCoy died, sharing my sorrow with you all helped. Grieving out loud helped me name my feelings and confront them. Like a monster under the bed, they felt less scary in the daylight. Like maybe they couldn’t drag me down and eat me alive if I kept them well lit. So I hung my heart out for all to see, and swept exactly none of the muck under any damn rugs. Fuck a rug; I wanted to feel it all. And then, when I found out I was pregnant with Vaughn, I quietly unfurled all the rugs. I lined every inch of my life with their insulating padding. I quit my job. I ignored phone calls and texts. I didn’t leave my house unless I had to (thanks Covid). I didn’t share our news with anyone that didn’t need to know. And when I did share, it sounded like I was telling them “I have ulcers.” It was not a joyous celebration. It was a painstaking and brutal admission: “I’m at risk for another heart-shattering catastrophe.” I was cocooned in a world of pain and did my best to shield myself from as many landmines as possible. I wanted to keep our joy private. I stuck my head in the sand and just prayed to God that our baby would live - even though I reminded myself every day that he might not. Maybe what the all-knowing “they” say about time is true, though. Because THIS time, we want to celebrate every second we have with this soul. We told the kids the day we got the positive test. Decker tells every person willing to listen that she’s the oldest of four kids as she lovingly strokes my belly. The joy spills out of her; she can’t wait to tell the world about Baby “Four.” I’ve clawed my way on board with Decker for her sake, and Vaughn’s, and McCoy’s. It SHOULD be a happy occasion that they’re getting another sibling. For me, there’s just a cautious reluctance to let the excitement fully absorb. But I can’t deny that it feels right that those that have sat with us on our grieving bench should have a seat in our joyous swings too. So, for that reason (and because Decker and her grandmother @jeanakeough can’t keep a secret for shit), I’m proud and scared as hell to announce Baby Bosworth #4 - due in November. 📸:@meredith.black
Kara Keough Instagram - After McCoy died, sharing my sorrow with you all helped. Grieving out loud helped me name my feelings and confront them. Like a monster under the bed, they felt less scary in the daylight. Like maybe they couldn’t drag me down and eat me alive if I kept them well lit. So I hung my heart out for all to see, and swept exactly none of the muck under any damn rugs. Fuck a rug; I wanted to feel it all. And then, when I found out I was pregnant with Vaughn, I quietly unfurled all the rugs. I lined every inch of my life with their insulating padding. I quit my job. I ignored phone calls and texts. I didn’t leave my house unless I had to (thanks Covid). I didn’t share our news with anyone that didn’t need to know. And when I did share, it sounded like I was telling them “I have ulcers.” It was not a joyous celebration. It was a painstaking and brutal admission: “I’m at risk for another heart-shattering catastrophe.” I was cocooned in a world of pain and did my best to shield myself from as many landmines as possible. I wanted to keep our joy private. I stuck my head in the sand and just prayed to God that our baby would live - even though I reminded myself every day that he might not. Maybe what the all-knowing “they” say about time is true, though. Because THIS time, we want to celebrate every second we have with this soul. We told the kids the day we got the positive test. Decker tells every person willing to listen that she’s the oldest of four kids as she lovingly strokes my belly. The joy spills out of her; she can’t wait to tell the world about Baby “Four.” I’ve clawed my way on board with Decker for her sake, and Vaughn’s, and McCoy’s. It SHOULD be a happy occasion that they’re getting another sibling. For me, there’s just a cautious reluctance to let the excitement fully absorb. But I can’t deny that it feels right that those that have sat with us on our grieving bench should have a seat in our joyous swings too. So, for that reason (and because Decker and her grandmother @jeanakeough can’t keep a secret for shit), I’m proud and scared as hell to announce Baby Bosworth #4 - due in November. 📸:@meredith.black
Kara Keough Instagram - After McCoy died, sharing my sorrow with you all helped. Grieving out loud helped me name my feelings and confront them. Like a monster under the bed, they felt less scary in the daylight. Like maybe they couldn’t drag me down and eat me alive if I kept them well lit. So I hung my heart out for all to see, and swept exactly none of the muck under any damn rugs. Fuck a rug; I wanted to feel it all. And then, when I found out I was pregnant with Vaughn, I quietly unfurled all the rugs. I lined every inch of my life with their insulating padding. I quit my job. I ignored phone calls and texts. I didn’t leave my house unless I had to (thanks Covid). I didn’t share our news with anyone that didn’t need to know. And when I did share, it sounded like I was telling them “I have ulcers.” It was not a joyous celebration. It was a painstaking and brutal admission: “I’m at risk for another heart-shattering catastrophe.” I was cocooned in a world of pain and did my best to shield myself from as many landmines as possible. I wanted to keep our joy private. I stuck my head in the sand and just prayed to God that our baby would live - even though I reminded myself every day that he might not. Maybe what the all-knowing “they” say about time is true, though. Because THIS time, we want to celebrate every second we have with this soul. We told the kids the day we got the positive test. Decker tells every person willing to listen that she’s the oldest of four kids as she lovingly strokes my belly. The joy spills out of her; she can’t wait to tell the world about Baby “Four.” I’ve clawed my way on board with Decker for her sake, and Vaughn’s, and McCoy’s. It SHOULD be a happy occasion that they’re getting another sibling. For me, there’s just a cautious reluctance to let the excitement fully absorb. But I can’t deny that it feels right that those that have sat with us on our grieving bench should have a seat in our joyous swings too. So, for that reason (and because Decker and her grandmother @jeanakeough can’t keep a secret for shit), I’m proud and scared as hell to announce Baby Bosworth #4 - due in November. 📸:@meredith.black
Kara Keough Instagram - After McCoy died, sharing my sorrow with you all helped. Grieving out loud helped me name my feelings and confront them. Like a monster under the bed, they felt less scary in the daylight. Like maybe they couldn’t drag me down and eat me alive if I kept them well lit. So I hung my heart out for all to see, and swept exactly none of the muck under any damn rugs. Fuck a rug; I wanted to feel it all. And then, when I found out I was pregnant with Vaughn, I quietly unfurled all the rugs. I lined every inch of my life with their insulating padding. I quit my job. I ignored phone calls and texts. I didn’t leave my house unless I had to (thanks Covid). I didn’t share our news with anyone that didn’t need to know. And when I did share, it sounded like I was telling them “I have ulcers.” It was not a joyous celebration. It was a painstaking and brutal admission: “I’m at risk for another heart-shattering catastrophe.” I was cocooned in a world of pain and did my best to shield myself from as many landmines as possible. I wanted to keep our joy private. I stuck my head in the sand and just prayed to God that our baby would live - even though I reminded myself every day that he might not. Maybe what the all-knowing “they” say about time is true, though. Because THIS time, we want to celebrate every second we have with this soul. We told the kids the day we got the positive test. Decker tells every person willing to listen that she’s the oldest of four kids as she lovingly strokes my belly. The joy spills out of her; she can’t wait to tell the world about Baby “Four.” I’ve clawed my way on board with Decker for her sake, and Vaughn’s, and McCoy’s. It SHOULD be a happy occasion that they’re getting another sibling. For me, there’s just a cautious reluctance to let the excitement fully absorb. But I can’t deny that it feels right that those that have sat with us on our grieving bench should have a seat in our joyous swings too. So, for that reason (and because Decker and her grandmother @jeanakeough can’t keep a secret for shit), I’m proud and scared as hell to announce Baby Bosworth #4 - due in November. 📸:@meredith.black
Kara Keough Instagram - After McCoy died, sharing my sorrow with you all helped. Grieving out loud helped me name my feelings and confront them. Like a monster under the bed, they felt less scary in the daylight. Like maybe they couldn’t drag me down and eat me alive if I kept them well lit. So I hung my heart out for all to see, and swept exactly none of the muck under any damn rugs. Fuck a rug; I wanted to feel it all. And then, when I found out I was pregnant with Vaughn, I quietly unfurled all the rugs. I lined every inch of my life with their insulating padding. I quit my job. I ignored phone calls and texts. I didn’t leave my house unless I had to (thanks Covid). I didn’t share our news with anyone that didn’t need to know. And when I did share, it sounded like I was telling them “I have ulcers.” It was not a joyous celebration. It was a painstaking and brutal admission: “I’m at risk for another heart-shattering catastrophe.” I was cocooned in a world of pain and did my best to shield myself from as many landmines as possible. I wanted to keep our joy private. I stuck my head in the sand and just prayed to God that our baby would live - even though I reminded myself every day that he might not. Maybe what the all-knowing “they” say about time is true, though. Because THIS time, we want to celebrate every second we have with this soul. We told the kids the day we got the positive test. Decker tells every person willing to listen that she’s the oldest of four kids as she lovingly strokes my belly. The joy spills out of her; she can’t wait to tell the world about Baby “Four.” I’ve clawed my way on board with Decker for her sake, and Vaughn’s, and McCoy’s. It SHOULD be a happy occasion that they’re getting another sibling. For me, there’s just a cautious reluctance to let the excitement fully absorb. But I can’t deny that it feels right that those that have sat with us on our grieving bench should have a seat in our joyous swings too. So, for that reason (and because Decker and her grandmother @jeanakeough can’t keep a secret for shit), I’m proud and scared as hell to announce Baby Bosworth #4 - due in November. 📸:@meredith.black
Kara Keough Instagram - After McCoy died, sharing my sorrow with you all helped. Grieving out loud helped me name my feelings and confront them. Like a monster under the bed, they felt less scary in the daylight. Like maybe they couldn’t drag me down and eat me alive if I kept them well lit. So I hung my heart out for all to see, and swept exactly none of the muck under any damn rugs. Fuck a rug; I wanted to feel it all. And then, when I found out I was pregnant with Vaughn, I quietly unfurled all the rugs. I lined every inch of my life with their insulating padding. I quit my job. I ignored phone calls and texts. I didn’t leave my house unless I had to (thanks Covid). I didn’t share our news with anyone that didn’t need to know. And when I did share, it sounded like I was telling them “I have ulcers.” It was not a joyous celebration. It was a painstaking and brutal admission: “I’m at risk for another heart-shattering catastrophe.” I was cocooned in a world of pain and did my best to shield myself from as many landmines as possible. I wanted to keep our joy private. I stuck my head in the sand and just prayed to God that our baby would live - even though I reminded myself every day that he might not. Maybe what the all-knowing “they” say about time is true, though. Because THIS time, we want to celebrate every second we have with this soul. We told the kids the day we got the positive test. Decker tells every person willing to listen that she’s the oldest of four kids as she lovingly strokes my belly. The joy spills out of her; she can’t wait to tell the world about Baby “Four.” I’ve clawed my way on board with Decker for her sake, and Vaughn’s, and McCoy’s. It SHOULD be a happy occasion that they’re getting another sibling. For me, there’s just a cautious reluctance to let the excitement fully absorb. But I can’t deny that it feels right that those that have sat with us on our grieving bench should have a seat in our joyous swings too. So, for that reason (and because Decker and her grandmother @jeanakeough can’t keep a secret for shit), I’m proud and scared as hell to announce Baby Bosworth #4 - due in November. 📸:@meredith.black
Kara Keough Instagram - After McCoy died, sharing my sorrow with you all helped. Grieving out loud helped me name my feelings and confront them. Like a monster under the bed, they felt less scary in the daylight. Like maybe they couldn’t drag me down and eat me alive if I kept them well lit. So I hung my heart out for all to see, and swept exactly none of the muck under any damn rugs. Fuck a rug; I wanted to feel it all. And then, when I found out I was pregnant with Vaughn, I quietly unfurled all the rugs. I lined every inch of my life with their insulating padding. I quit my job. I ignored phone calls and texts. I didn’t leave my house unless I had to (thanks Covid). I didn’t share our news with anyone that didn’t need to know. And when I did share, it sounded like I was telling them “I have ulcers.” It was not a joyous celebration. It was a painstaking and brutal admission: “I’m at risk for another heart-shattering catastrophe.” I was cocooned in a world of pain and did my best to shield myself from as many landmines as possible. I wanted to keep our joy private. I stuck my head in the sand and just prayed to God that our baby would live - even though I reminded myself every day that he might not. Maybe what the all-knowing “they” say about time is true, though. Because THIS time, we want to celebrate every second we have with this soul. We told the kids the day we got the positive test. Decker tells every person willing to listen that she’s the oldest of four kids as she lovingly strokes my belly. The joy spills out of her; she can’t wait to tell the world about Baby “Four.” I’ve clawed my way on board with Decker for her sake, and Vaughn’s, and McCoy’s. It SHOULD be a happy occasion that they’re getting another sibling. For me, there’s just a cautious reluctance to let the excitement fully absorb. But I can’t deny that it feels right that those that have sat with us on our grieving bench should have a seat in our joyous swings too. So, for that reason (and because Decker and her grandmother @jeanakeough can’t keep a secret for shit), I’m proud and scared as hell to announce Baby Bosworth #4 - due in November. 📸:@meredith.black
Kara Keough Instagram - After McCoy died, sharing my sorrow with you all helped. Grieving out loud helped me name my feelings and confront them. Like a monster under the bed, they felt less scary in the daylight. Like maybe they couldn’t drag me down and eat me alive if I kept them well lit. So I hung my heart out for all to see, and swept exactly none of the muck under any damn rugs. Fuck a rug; I wanted to feel it all. And then, when I found out I was pregnant with Vaughn, I quietly unfurled all the rugs. I lined every inch of my life with their insulating padding. I quit my job. I ignored phone calls and texts. I didn’t leave my house unless I had to (thanks Covid). I didn’t share our news with anyone that didn’t need to know. And when I did share, it sounded like I was telling them “I have ulcers.” It was not a joyous celebration. It was a painstaking and brutal admission: “I’m at risk for another heart-shattering catastrophe.” I was cocooned in a world of pain and did my best to shield myself from as many landmines as possible. I wanted to keep our joy private. I stuck my head in the sand and just prayed to God that our baby would live - even though I reminded myself every day that he might not. Maybe what the all-knowing “they” say about time is true, though. Because THIS time, we want to celebrate every second we have with this soul. We told the kids the day we got the positive test. Decker tells every person willing to listen that she’s the oldest of four kids as she lovingly strokes my belly. The joy spills out of her; she can’t wait to tell the world about Baby “Four.” I’ve clawed my way on board with Decker for her sake, and Vaughn’s, and McCoy’s. It SHOULD be a happy occasion that they’re getting another sibling. For me, there’s just a cautious reluctance to let the excitement fully absorb. But I can’t deny that it feels right that those that have sat with us on our grieving bench should have a seat in our joyous swings too. So, for that reason (and because Decker and her grandmother @jeanakeough can’t keep a secret for shit), I’m proud and scared as hell to announce Baby Bosworth #4 - due in November. 📸:@meredith.black
Kara Keough Instagram - After McCoy died, sharing my sorrow with you all helped. Grieving out loud helped me name my feelings and confront them. Like a monster under the bed, they felt less scary in the daylight. Like maybe they couldn’t drag me down and eat me alive if I kept them well lit. So I hung my heart out for all to see, and swept exactly none of the muck under any damn rugs. Fuck a rug; I wanted to feel it all. And then, when I found out I was pregnant with Vaughn, I quietly unfurled all the rugs. I lined every inch of my life with their insulating padding. I quit my job. I ignored phone calls and texts. I didn’t leave my house unless I had to (thanks Covid). I didn’t share our news with anyone that didn’t need to know. And when I did share, it sounded like I was telling them “I have ulcers.” It was not a joyous celebration. It was a painstaking and brutal admission: “I’m at risk for another heart-shattering catastrophe.” I was cocooned in a world of pain and did my best to shield myself from as many landmines as possible. I wanted to keep our joy private. I stuck my head in the sand and just prayed to God that our baby would live - even though I reminded myself every day that he might not. Maybe what the all-knowing “they” say about time is true, though. Because THIS time, we want to celebrate every second we have with this soul. We told the kids the day we got the positive test. Decker tells every person willing to listen that she’s the oldest of four kids as she lovingly strokes my belly. The joy spills out of her; she can’t wait to tell the world about Baby “Four.” I’ve clawed my way on board with Decker for her sake, and Vaughn’s, and McCoy’s. It SHOULD be a happy occasion that they’re getting another sibling. For me, there’s just a cautious reluctance to let the excitement fully absorb. But I can’t deny that it feels right that those that have sat with us on our grieving bench should have a seat in our joyous swings too. So, for that reason (and because Decker and her grandmother @jeanakeough can’t keep a secret for shit), I’m proud and scared as hell to announce Baby Bosworth #4 - due in November. 📸:@meredith.black
Kara Keough Instagram - Decker wanted to join in on @dressember and in the fight against human trafficking. Gigi too! @jeanakeough 💪 check the link in my bio to donate!
Kara Keough Instagram - You would have been two months old today. You’d have found your favorite pacifier by now, and I’d be grateful that I was finally able to get those first (beautiful) 6 hour stretches of sleep that make me feel like a Disney Princess with birds tweeting above my head. Instead, I’m clocking in 12 hours every night because sleeping is decidedly easier than my waking hours. We should be cleaning up your blowouts, instead we’re dealing with our own shit. At this point, you would be finding your voice - squawking and squealing and making our hearts explode. Our hearts have still detonated, but for different reasons. I should be looking at your face for most of my day, instead I have to search for you elsewhere. I see you in songs, in the sky, in the sea, in your sister’s face, in your daddy’s arms. I’ll keep looking for you for as long as I live. Being without you is hard, but being your mom is one of my favorite things about myself. I love you, McCoy Casey.
Kara Keough Instagram - “It’s a girl!” Decker announced to an excited room on 11.1.23 at 5:43pm. Baby sister arrived three weeks early like her big brother Vaughn, weighing in at 8lbs 5oz and rocking a full head of dark hair. The first thing I saw was McCoy’s sweet chunky cheeks as we met our newest heaven-sent squish. She came screaming into our hearts and hasn’t stopped squawking since - earning @kyleboz’s best nickname yet: “Squeaks.” I can hear my dad’s voice as he would have said it, so I know it’s just right. Thank you to our birth team @fullcirclejax @4thtrimesterfitnessmethod for the most dreamy induction a girl could ask for - starting with a foley bulb comfy enough to trick-or-treat in (I went as Wonder Woman obviously) and ending with a hasty labor tub transition. The cherry on top was holding hands with Decker the Doula/Birth Photographer-In-Training as I brought her longest held wish earth-side: a baby sister. So many people prayed fiercely over this birth and we are seeping with gratitude that we got exactly what we prayed for: to bring our baby home. If you need me, I’ll be thanking God and pinching myself savoring the magic of Stetson Lou Bosworth.
Kara Keough Instagram - “It’s a girl!” Decker announced to an excited room on 11.1.23 at 5:43pm. Baby sister arrived three weeks early like her big brother Vaughn, weighing in at 8lbs 5oz and rocking a full head of dark hair. The first thing I saw was McCoy’s sweet chunky cheeks as we met our newest heaven-sent squish. She came screaming into our hearts and hasn’t stopped squawking since - earning @kyleboz’s best nickname yet: “Squeaks.” I can hear my dad’s voice as he would have said it, so I know it’s just right. Thank you to our birth team @fullcirclejax @4thtrimesterfitnessmethod for the most dreamy induction a girl could ask for - starting with a foley bulb comfy enough to trick-or-treat in (I went as Wonder Woman obviously) and ending with a hasty labor tub transition. The cherry on top was holding hands with Decker the Doula/Birth Photographer-In-Training as I brought her longest held wish earth-side: a baby sister. So many people prayed fiercely over this birth and we are seeping with gratitude that we got exactly what we prayed for: to bring our baby home. If you need me, I’ll be thanking God and pinching myself savoring the magic of Stetson Lou Bosworth.
Kara Keough Instagram - “It’s a girl!” Decker announced to an excited room on 11.1.23 at 5:43pm. Baby sister arrived three weeks early like her big brother Vaughn, weighing in at 8lbs 5oz and rocking a full head of dark hair. The first thing I saw was McCoy’s sweet chunky cheeks as we met our newest heaven-sent squish. She came screaming into our hearts and hasn’t stopped squawking since - earning @kyleboz’s best nickname yet: “Squeaks.” I can hear my dad’s voice as he would have said it, so I know it’s just right. Thank you to our birth team @fullcirclejax @4thtrimesterfitnessmethod for the most dreamy induction a girl could ask for - starting with a foley bulb comfy enough to trick-or-treat in (I went as Wonder Woman obviously) and ending with a hasty labor tub transition. The cherry on top was holding hands with Decker the Doula/Birth Photographer-In-Training as I brought her longest held wish earth-side: a baby sister. So many people prayed fiercely over this birth and we are seeping with gratitude that we got exactly what we prayed for: to bring our baby home. If you need me, I’ll be thanking God and pinching myself savoring the magic of Stetson Lou Bosworth.
Kara Keough Instagram - “It’s a girl!” Decker announced to an excited room on 11.1.23 at 5:43pm. Baby sister arrived three weeks early like her big brother Vaughn, weighing in at 8lbs 5oz and rocking a full head of dark hair. The first thing I saw was McCoy’s sweet chunky cheeks as we met our newest heaven-sent squish. She came screaming into our hearts and hasn’t stopped squawking since - earning @kyleboz’s best nickname yet: “Squeaks.” I can hear my dad’s voice as he would have said it, so I know it’s just right. Thank you to our birth team @fullcirclejax @4thtrimesterfitnessmethod for the most dreamy induction a girl could ask for - starting with a foley bulb comfy enough to trick-or-treat in (I went as Wonder Woman obviously) and ending with a hasty labor tub transition. The cherry on top was holding hands with Decker the Doula/Birth Photographer-In-Training as I brought her longest held wish earth-side: a baby sister. So many people prayed fiercely over this birth and we are seeping with gratitude that we got exactly what we prayed for: to bring our baby home. If you need me, I’ll be thanking God and pinching myself savoring the magic of Stetson Lou Bosworth.
Kara Keough Instagram - “It’s a girl!” Decker announced to an excited room on 11.1.23 at 5:43pm. Baby sister arrived three weeks early like her big brother Vaughn, weighing in at 8lbs 5oz and rocking a full head of dark hair. The first thing I saw was McCoy’s sweet chunky cheeks as we met our newest heaven-sent squish. She came screaming into our hearts and hasn’t stopped squawking since - earning @kyleboz’s best nickname yet: “Squeaks.” I can hear my dad’s voice as he would have said it, so I know it’s just right. Thank you to our birth team @fullcirclejax @4thtrimesterfitnessmethod for the most dreamy induction a girl could ask for - starting with a foley bulb comfy enough to trick-or-treat in (I went as Wonder Woman obviously) and ending with a hasty labor tub transition. The cherry on top was holding hands with Decker the Doula/Birth Photographer-In-Training as I brought her longest held wish earth-side: a baby sister. So many people prayed fiercely over this birth and we are seeping with gratitude that we got exactly what we prayed for: to bring our baby home. If you need me, I’ll be thanking God and pinching myself savoring the magic of Stetson Lou Bosworth.
Kara Keough Instagram - “It’s a girl!” Decker announced to an excited room on 11.1.23 at 5:43pm. Baby sister arrived three weeks early like her big brother Vaughn, weighing in at 8lbs 5oz and rocking a full head of dark hair. The first thing I saw was McCoy’s sweet chunky cheeks as we met our newest heaven-sent squish. She came screaming into our hearts and hasn’t stopped squawking since - earning @kyleboz’s best nickname yet: “Squeaks.” I can hear my dad’s voice as he would have said it, so I know it’s just right. Thank you to our birth team @fullcirclejax @4thtrimesterfitnessmethod for the most dreamy induction a girl could ask for - starting with a foley bulb comfy enough to trick-or-treat in (I went as Wonder Woman obviously) and ending with a hasty labor tub transition. The cherry on top was holding hands with Decker the Doula/Birth Photographer-In-Training as I brought her longest held wish earth-side: a baby sister. So many people prayed fiercely over this birth and we are seeping with gratitude that we got exactly what we prayed for: to bring our baby home. If you need me, I’ll be thanking God and pinching myself savoring the magic of Stetson Lou Bosworth.
Kara Keough Instagram - “It’s a girl!” Decker announced to an excited room on 11.1.23 at 5:43pm. Baby sister arrived three weeks early like her big brother Vaughn, weighing in at 8lbs 5oz and rocking a full head of dark hair. The first thing I saw was McCoy’s sweet chunky cheeks as we met our newest heaven-sent squish. She came screaming into our hearts and hasn’t stopped squawking since - earning @kyleboz’s best nickname yet: “Squeaks.” I can hear my dad’s voice as he would have said it, so I know it’s just right. Thank you to our birth team @fullcirclejax @4thtrimesterfitnessmethod for the most dreamy induction a girl could ask for - starting with a foley bulb comfy enough to trick-or-treat in (I went as Wonder Woman obviously) and ending with a hasty labor tub transition. The cherry on top was holding hands with Decker the Doula/Birth Photographer-In-Training as I brought her longest held wish earth-side: a baby sister. So many people prayed fiercely over this birth and we are seeping with gratitude that we got exactly what we prayed for: to bring our baby home. If you need me, I’ll be thanking God and pinching myself savoring the magic of Stetson Lou Bosworth.
Kara Keough Instagram - “It’s a girl!” Decker announced to an excited room on 11.1.23 at 5:43pm. Baby sister arrived three weeks early like her big brother Vaughn, weighing in at 8lbs 5oz and rocking a full head of dark hair. The first thing I saw was McCoy’s sweet chunky cheeks as we met our newest heaven-sent squish. She came screaming into our hearts and hasn’t stopped squawking since - earning @kyleboz’s best nickname yet: “Squeaks.” I can hear my dad’s voice as he would have said it, so I know it’s just right. Thank you to our birth team @fullcirclejax @4thtrimesterfitnessmethod for the most dreamy induction a girl could ask for - starting with a foley bulb comfy enough to trick-or-treat in (I went as Wonder Woman obviously) and ending with a hasty labor tub transition. The cherry on top was holding hands with Decker the Doula/Birth Photographer-In-Training as I brought her longest held wish earth-side: a baby sister. So many people prayed fiercely over this birth and we are seeping with gratitude that we got exactly what we prayed for: to bring our baby home. If you need me, I’ll be thanking God and pinching myself savoring the magic of Stetson Lou Bosworth.
Kara Keough Instagram - “It’s a girl!” Decker announced to an excited room on 11.1.23 at 5:43pm. Baby sister arrived three weeks early like her big brother Vaughn, weighing in at 8lbs 5oz and rocking a full head of dark hair. The first thing I saw was McCoy’s sweet chunky cheeks as we met our newest heaven-sent squish. She came screaming into our hearts and hasn’t stopped squawking since - earning @kyleboz’s best nickname yet: “Squeaks.” I can hear my dad’s voice as he would have said it, so I know it’s just right. Thank you to our birth team @fullcirclejax @4thtrimesterfitnessmethod for the most dreamy induction a girl could ask for - starting with a foley bulb comfy enough to trick-or-treat in (I went as Wonder Woman obviously) and ending with a hasty labor tub transition. The cherry on top was holding hands with Decker the Doula/Birth Photographer-In-Training as I brought her longest held wish earth-side: a baby sister. So many people prayed fiercely over this birth and we are seeping with gratitude that we got exactly what we prayed for: to bring our baby home. If you need me, I’ll be thanking God and pinching myself savoring the magic of Stetson Lou Bosworth.
Kara Keough Instagram - “It’s a girl!” Decker announced to an excited room on 11.1.23 at 5:43pm. Baby sister arrived three weeks early like her big brother Vaughn, weighing in at 8lbs 5oz and rocking a full head of dark hair. The first thing I saw was McCoy’s sweet chunky cheeks as we met our newest heaven-sent squish. She came screaming into our hearts and hasn’t stopped squawking since - earning @kyleboz’s best nickname yet: “Squeaks.” I can hear my dad’s voice as he would have said it, so I know it’s just right. Thank you to our birth team @fullcirclejax @4thtrimesterfitnessmethod for the most dreamy induction a girl could ask for - starting with a foley bulb comfy enough to trick-or-treat in (I went as Wonder Woman obviously) and ending with a hasty labor tub transition. The cherry on top was holding hands with Decker the Doula/Birth Photographer-In-Training as I brought her longest held wish earth-side: a baby sister. So many people prayed fiercely over this birth and we are seeping with gratitude that we got exactly what we prayed for: to bring our baby home. If you need me, I’ll be thanking God and pinching myself savoring the magic of Stetson Lou Bosworth.
Kara Keough Instagram - A happy heavenly happy birthday to our sweet baby boy. 🎼: Highlands (Song of Ascent) by @hillsongunited 📷: @8.08photography
Kara Keough Instagram - Three years ago, we held you for the last time. We inhaled you with every breath and cried endless tears over your perfect body. It was the hardest day of our lives. I hate the 12th of April. Hate it, hate it, hate it. Hate that babies can die. Hate it all. But I’ll take April 12th if it means I’ll always have April 11th, 10th, 9th, 8th, 7th, and 6th - those days that we had with you. And the 9 months before that. I’ll never take back the pain of losing you since it’s intertwined with the bliss of loving you. Thank you, God, for every minute of McCoy.
Kara Keough Instagram - All Four 🤍🤍🤍🤍 📷: @meredith.black
Kara Keough Instagram - Just over 11 years ago, this beautiful man came home from football practice and said, “Let’s get married today.” So we did. Our “secret October wedding” before our big February wedding is still one of my best days. It rained on us as we exited the Dallas courthouse that day - a hint at the litter of kids we’d eventually have, I guess. If you asked me 11 years ago if I take this man, and you warned me of the pain and sadness we’d face together, I still would. I still do. You’re stuck with me, honey. So maybe just get used to the empty Amazon boxes perma-piled in the garage and learn to love walking into empty rooms of our house to turn off all my lights. (Hi McCoy ✨)
Kara Keough Instagram - The year McCoy died, I didn’t send out a holiday card. Couldn’t. The idea of our family pictured without him crushed me. Feeling like I’d stolen something from Decker’s childhood by freezing our family traditions, I decided to continue with a holiday card in 2021. By that time, I’d figured out a way to continue our holiday tradition in a way that could both honor our boy and hold space for him. His name is on our card; he is a part of our family - for always. There will be a blue heart on our cards each year. Can you spot the other ways I brought McCoy to our family photo shoot? And can you spot the ways he showed up for us? 💙 🦋🌈☀️✨
Kara Keough Instagram - It doesn’t hurt to think of you most of the time. And I do think of you most of the time. You’re always there, in the same way your brother and sister are. Even when my babies aren’t in my arms, or throwing elbows into my soft bits, or putting sticky fingers in my hair, or leaning into my sturdiness, or cradling their faces into the crook of my neck; they’re right there with me in my every breath. It’s like that with you, McCoy. Since the moment you were born - three years ago today - I’ve been tethered to you. You’re so very here in the big things. You’re here in the Easter baskets, the birthday pancakes, the stockings at Christmas. The weddings, the reunions, the lingering hugs with friends in pain, the begging prayers to God. There’s a card “from” you for every occasion. But you’re also here in the little things, like when people ask how many kids we have. Or that feeling I get watching the rising sun color outside the lines of the ocean’s edge. You’re another face peering over the freezer drawer, in search of popsicles. You’re among the pitter patter of human and furry feet that rush the front door when there’s a knock. You’re in Charlie’s overflowing and almost preteen-like confidence. You’re in Caden’s heart for baseball, his body for football. You’re in Quinn’s scrunchy-nosed, squinty-eyed smile. You’re in Duke’s baby blues and in the way he peers up at his mama. You’re there in the way Tucker Beau follows his daddy around, a shrunken copy just inside the wake of the original. You’re in Rhett’s gleeful, puppy-like body rolls in the grass. You’re in the absolutely divine gift of Palmer Grey. You’re in the 3-kid circus of the Wells house. You’re in the old friendships that were given new life after your death - like with the Patels and Herzlichs. You’re in the way your uncles make me laugh. You’re in your daddy’s skin, his playfulness. You’re in your sister’s love for your brother. You’re in Vaughn’s strut and his obsession with Chapstick. You’re the chorus of laughter we hear from the park. You’re in all good things. You’re in all our happy moments, and the hard ones, too. You are everywhere to me. And you always will be. Happy Big 3, honey pot.
Kara Keough Instagram - It doesn’t hurt to think of you most of the time. And I do think of you most of the time. You’re always there, in the same way your brother and sister are. Even when my babies aren’t in my arms, or throwing elbows into my soft bits, or putting sticky fingers in my hair, or leaning into my sturdiness, or cradling their faces into the crook of my neck; they’re right there with me in my every breath. It’s like that with you, McCoy. Since the moment you were born - three years ago today - I’ve been tethered to you. You’re so very here in the big things. You’re here in the Easter baskets, the birthday pancakes, the stockings at Christmas. The weddings, the reunions, the lingering hugs with friends in pain, the begging prayers to God. There’s a card “from” you for every occasion. But you’re also here in the little things, like when people ask how many kids we have. Or that feeling I get watching the rising sun color outside the lines of the ocean’s edge. You’re another face peering over the freezer drawer, in search of popsicles. You’re among the pitter patter of human and furry feet that rush the front door when there’s a knock. You’re in Charlie’s overflowing and almost preteen-like confidence. You’re in Caden’s heart for baseball, his body for football. You’re in Quinn’s scrunchy-nosed, squinty-eyed smile. You’re in Duke’s baby blues and in the way he peers up at his mama. You’re there in the way Tucker Beau follows his daddy around, a shrunken copy just inside the wake of the original. You’re in Rhett’s gleeful, puppy-like body rolls in the grass. You’re in the absolutely divine gift of Palmer Grey. You’re in the 3-kid circus of the Wells house. You’re in the old friendships that were given new life after your death - like with the Patels and Herzlichs. You’re in the way your uncles make me laugh. You’re in your daddy’s skin, his playfulness. You’re in your sister’s love for your brother. You’re in Vaughn’s strut and his obsession with Chapstick. You’re the chorus of laughter we hear from the park. You’re in all good things. You’re in all our happy moments, and the hard ones, too. You are everywhere to me. And you always will be. Happy Big 3, honey pot.
Kara Keough Instagram - It doesn’t hurt to think of you most of the time. And I do think of you most of the time. You’re always there, in the same way your brother and sister are. Even when my babies aren’t in my arms, or throwing elbows into my soft bits, or putting sticky fingers in my hair, or leaning into my sturdiness, or cradling their faces into the crook of my neck; they’re right there with me in my every breath. It’s like that with you, McCoy. Since the moment you were born - three years ago today - I’ve been tethered to you. You’re so very here in the big things. You’re here in the Easter baskets, the birthday pancakes, the stockings at Christmas. The weddings, the reunions, the lingering hugs with friends in pain, the begging prayers to God. There’s a card “from” you for every occasion. But you’re also here in the little things, like when people ask how many kids we have. Or that feeling I get watching the rising sun color outside the lines of the ocean’s edge. You’re another face peering over the freezer drawer, in search of popsicles. You’re among the pitter patter of human and furry feet that rush the front door when there’s a knock. You’re in Charlie’s overflowing and almost preteen-like confidence. You’re in Caden’s heart for baseball, his body for football. You’re in Quinn’s scrunchy-nosed, squinty-eyed smile. You’re in Duke’s baby blues and in the way he peers up at his mama. You’re there in the way Tucker Beau follows his daddy around, a shrunken copy just inside the wake of the original. You’re in Rhett’s gleeful, puppy-like body rolls in the grass. You’re in the absolutely divine gift of Palmer Grey. You’re in the 3-kid circus of the Wells house. You’re in the old friendships that were given new life after your death - like with the Patels and Herzlichs. You’re in the way your uncles make me laugh. You’re in your daddy’s skin, his playfulness. You’re in your sister’s love for your brother. You’re in Vaughn’s strut and his obsession with Chapstick. You’re the chorus of laughter we hear from the park. You’re in all good things. You’re in all our happy moments, and the hard ones, too. You are everywhere to me. And you always will be. Happy Big 3, honey pot.
Kara Keough Instagram - It doesn’t hurt to think of you most of the time. And I do think of you most of the time. You’re always there, in the same way your brother and sister are. Even when my babies aren’t in my arms, or throwing elbows into my soft bits, or putting sticky fingers in my hair, or leaning into my sturdiness, or cradling their faces into the crook of my neck; they’re right there with me in my every breath. It’s like that with you, McCoy. Since the moment you were born - three years ago today - I’ve been tethered to you. You’re so very here in the big things. You’re here in the Easter baskets, the birthday pancakes, the stockings at Christmas. The weddings, the reunions, the lingering hugs with friends in pain, the begging prayers to God. There’s a card “from” you for every occasion. But you’re also here in the little things, like when people ask how many kids we have. Or that feeling I get watching the rising sun color outside the lines of the ocean’s edge. You’re another face peering over the freezer drawer, in search of popsicles. You’re among the pitter patter of human and furry feet that rush the front door when there’s a knock. You’re in Charlie’s overflowing and almost preteen-like confidence. You’re in Caden’s heart for baseball, his body for football. You’re in Quinn’s scrunchy-nosed, squinty-eyed smile. You’re in Duke’s baby blues and in the way he peers up at his mama. You’re there in the way Tucker Beau follows his daddy around, a shrunken copy just inside the wake of the original. You’re in Rhett’s gleeful, puppy-like body rolls in the grass. You’re in the absolutely divine gift of Palmer Grey. You’re in the 3-kid circus of the Wells house. You’re in the old friendships that were given new life after your death - like with the Patels and Herzlichs. You’re in the way your uncles make me laugh. You’re in your daddy’s skin, his playfulness. You’re in your sister’s love for your brother. You’re in Vaughn’s strut and his obsession with Chapstick. You’re the chorus of laughter we hear from the park. You’re in all good things. You’re in all our happy moments, and the hard ones, too. You are everywhere to me. And you always will be. Happy Big 3, honey pot.
Kara Keough Instagram - It doesn’t hurt to think of you most of the time. And I do think of you most of the time. You’re always there, in the same way your brother and sister are. Even when my babies aren’t in my arms, or throwing elbows into my soft bits, or putting sticky fingers in my hair, or leaning into my sturdiness, or cradling their faces into the crook of my neck; they’re right there with me in my every breath. It’s like that with you, McCoy. Since the moment you were born - three years ago today - I’ve been tethered to you. You’re so very here in the big things. You’re here in the Easter baskets, the birthday pancakes, the stockings at Christmas. The weddings, the reunions, the lingering hugs with friends in pain, the begging prayers to God. There’s a card “from” you for every occasion. But you’re also here in the little things, like when people ask how many kids we have. Or that feeling I get watching the rising sun color outside the lines of the ocean’s edge. You’re another face peering over the freezer drawer, in search of popsicles. You’re among the pitter patter of human and furry feet that rush the front door when there’s a knock. You’re in Charlie’s overflowing and almost preteen-like confidence. You’re in Caden’s heart for baseball, his body for football. You’re in Quinn’s scrunchy-nosed, squinty-eyed smile. You’re in Duke’s baby blues and in the way he peers up at his mama. You’re there in the way Tucker Beau follows his daddy around, a shrunken copy just inside the wake of the original. You’re in Rhett’s gleeful, puppy-like body rolls in the grass. You’re in the absolutely divine gift of Palmer Grey. You’re in the 3-kid circus of the Wells house. You’re in the old friendships that were given new life after your death - like with the Patels and Herzlichs. You’re in the way your uncles make me laugh. You’re in your daddy’s skin, his playfulness. You’re in your sister’s love for your brother. You’re in Vaughn’s strut and his obsession with Chapstick. You’re the chorus of laughter we hear from the park. You’re in all good things. You’re in all our happy moments, and the hard ones, too. You are everywhere to me. And you always will be. Happy Big 3, honey pot.
Kara Keough Instagram - It doesn’t hurt to think of you most of the time. And I do think of you most of the time. You’re always there, in the same way your brother and sister are. Even when my babies aren’t in my arms, or throwing elbows into my soft bits, or putting sticky fingers in my hair, or leaning into my sturdiness, or cradling their faces into the crook of my neck; they’re right there with me in my every breath. It’s like that with you, McCoy. Since the moment you were born - three years ago today - I’ve been tethered to you. You’re so very here in the big things. You’re here in the Easter baskets, the birthday pancakes, the stockings at Christmas. The weddings, the reunions, the lingering hugs with friends in pain, the begging prayers to God. There’s a card “from” you for every occasion. But you’re also here in the little things, like when people ask how many kids we have. Or that feeling I get watching the rising sun color outside the lines of the ocean’s edge. You’re another face peering over the freezer drawer, in search of popsicles. You’re among the pitter patter of human and furry feet that rush the front door when there’s a knock. You’re in Charlie’s overflowing and almost preteen-like confidence. You’re in Caden’s heart for baseball, his body for football. You’re in Quinn’s scrunchy-nosed, squinty-eyed smile. You’re in Duke’s baby blues and in the way he peers up at his mama. You’re there in the way Tucker Beau follows his daddy around, a shrunken copy just inside the wake of the original. You’re in Rhett’s gleeful, puppy-like body rolls in the grass. You’re in the absolutely divine gift of Palmer Grey. You’re in the 3-kid circus of the Wells house. You’re in the old friendships that were given new life after your death - like with the Patels and Herzlichs. You’re in the way your uncles make me laugh. You’re in your daddy’s skin, his playfulness. You’re in your sister’s love for your brother. You’re in Vaughn’s strut and his obsession with Chapstick. You’re the chorus of laughter we hear from the park. You’re in all good things. You’re in all our happy moments, and the hard ones, too. You are everywhere to me. And you always will be. Happy Big 3, honey pot.
Kara Keough Instagram - It doesn’t hurt to think of you most of the time. And I do think of you most of the time. You’re always there, in the same way your brother and sister are. Even when my babies aren’t in my arms, or throwing elbows into my soft bits, or putting sticky fingers in my hair, or leaning into my sturdiness, or cradling their faces into the crook of my neck; they’re right there with me in my every breath. It’s like that with you, McCoy. Since the moment you were born - three years ago today - I’ve been tethered to you. You’re so very here in the big things. You’re here in the Easter baskets, the birthday pancakes, the stockings at Christmas. The weddings, the reunions, the lingering hugs with friends in pain, the begging prayers to God. There’s a card “from” you for every occasion. But you’re also here in the little things, like when people ask how many kids we have. Or that feeling I get watching the rising sun color outside the lines of the ocean’s edge. You’re another face peering over the freezer drawer, in search of popsicles. You’re among the pitter patter of human and furry feet that rush the front door when there’s a knock. You’re in Charlie’s overflowing and almost preteen-like confidence. You’re in Caden’s heart for baseball, his body for football. You’re in Quinn’s scrunchy-nosed, squinty-eyed smile. You’re in Duke’s baby blues and in the way he peers up at his mama. You’re there in the way Tucker Beau follows his daddy around, a shrunken copy just inside the wake of the original. You’re in Rhett’s gleeful, puppy-like body rolls in the grass. You’re in the absolutely divine gift of Palmer Grey. You’re in the 3-kid circus of the Wells house. You’re in the old friendships that were given new life after your death - like with the Patels and Herzlichs. You’re in the way your uncles make me laugh. You’re in your daddy’s skin, his playfulness. You’re in your sister’s love for your brother. You’re in Vaughn’s strut and his obsession with Chapstick. You’re the chorus of laughter we hear from the park. You’re in all good things. You’re in all our happy moments, and the hard ones, too. You are everywhere to me. And you always will be. Happy Big 3, honey pot.
Kara Keough Instagram - It doesn’t hurt to think of you most of the time. And I do think of you most of the time. You’re always there, in the same way your brother and sister are. Even when my babies aren’t in my arms, or throwing elbows into my soft bits, or putting sticky fingers in my hair, or leaning into my sturdiness, or cradling their faces into the crook of my neck; they’re right there with me in my every breath. It’s like that with you, McCoy. Since the moment you were born - three years ago today - I’ve been tethered to you. You’re so very here in the big things. You’re here in the Easter baskets, the birthday pancakes, the stockings at Christmas. The weddings, the reunions, the lingering hugs with friends in pain, the begging prayers to God. There’s a card “from” you for every occasion. But you’re also here in the little things, like when people ask how many kids we have. Or that feeling I get watching the rising sun color outside the lines of the ocean’s edge. You’re another face peering over the freezer drawer, in search of popsicles. You’re among the pitter patter of human and furry feet that rush the front door when there’s a knock. You’re in Charlie’s overflowing and almost preteen-like confidence. You’re in Caden’s heart for baseball, his body for football. You’re in Quinn’s scrunchy-nosed, squinty-eyed smile. You’re in Duke’s baby blues and in the way he peers up at his mama. You’re there in the way Tucker Beau follows his daddy around, a shrunken copy just inside the wake of the original. You’re in Rhett’s gleeful, puppy-like body rolls in the grass. You’re in the absolutely divine gift of Palmer Grey. You’re in the 3-kid circus of the Wells house. You’re in the old friendships that were given new life after your death - like with the Patels and Herzlichs. You’re in the way your uncles make me laugh. You’re in your daddy’s skin, his playfulness. You’re in your sister’s love for your brother. You’re in Vaughn’s strut and his obsession with Chapstick. You’re the chorus of laughter we hear from the park. You’re in all good things. You’re in all our happy moments, and the hard ones, too. You are everywhere to me. And you always will be. Happy Big 3, honey pot.
Kara Keough Instagram - It doesn’t hurt to think of you most of the time. And I do think of you most of the time. You’re always there, in the same way your brother and sister are. Even when my babies aren’t in my arms, or throwing elbows into my soft bits, or putting sticky fingers in my hair, or leaning into my sturdiness, or cradling their faces into the crook of my neck; they’re right there with me in my every breath. It’s like that with you, McCoy. Since the moment you were born - three years ago today - I’ve been tethered to you. You’re so very here in the big things. You’re here in the Easter baskets, the birthday pancakes, the stockings at Christmas. The weddings, the reunions, the lingering hugs with friends in pain, the begging prayers to God. There’s a card “from” you for every occasion. But you’re also here in the little things, like when people ask how many kids we have. Or that feeling I get watching the rising sun color outside the lines of the ocean’s edge. You’re another face peering over the freezer drawer, in search of popsicles. You’re among the pitter patter of human and furry feet that rush the front door when there’s a knock. You’re in Charlie’s overflowing and almost preteen-like confidence. You’re in Caden’s heart for baseball, his body for football. You’re in Quinn’s scrunchy-nosed, squinty-eyed smile. You’re in Duke’s baby blues and in the way he peers up at his mama. You’re there in the way Tucker Beau follows his daddy around, a shrunken copy just inside the wake of the original. You’re in Rhett’s gleeful, puppy-like body rolls in the grass. You’re in the absolutely divine gift of Palmer Grey. You’re in the 3-kid circus of the Wells house. You’re in the old friendships that were given new life after your death - like with the Patels and Herzlichs. You’re in the way your uncles make me laugh. You’re in your daddy’s skin, his playfulness. You’re in your sister’s love for your brother. You’re in Vaughn’s strut and his obsession with Chapstick. You’re the chorus of laughter we hear from the park. You’re in all good things. You’re in all our happy moments, and the hard ones, too. You are everywhere to me. And you always will be. Happy Big 3, honey pot.
Kara Keough Instagram - Salud 2022 🍾
Kara Keough Instagram - Four years ago on Easter, McCoy died in my arms. Three years ago today, Vaughn cried in my arms. In that single second, he brought color back into my world and mended so many of the cracks of my shattered heart. Since that moment, our rainbow boy has splashed vibrant color over every dark shadow of my soul. I blinked and now he’s three. He wants to Hulk-Smash, peel eggs, drink mama’s “eyectroyites” and clean windows like a big boy, but he also asks to be held and rocked “like I’m a baby”. He demands to be included in everything “Do me! Do me!!” and is an expert in comfort. He watches emotional pain with a keen eye, an open heart, and an outstretched hand… it’s apparent that when God knit him together, He knew the role Vaughn would play in our family. His teachers comment on Vaughn’s skill mending spats between his friends. I’ve never seen a child so young act as a broker between suffering and healing… He’s a band-aid getting, hug-squeezing, kiss-giving guy whose favorite phrase is “It’s okay.” He loves bubble gum and talking about buttholes. To me, he’s perfection. He beautifully balances fun with respectful caution, like he already knows how precious and precarious a life truly is - a unique gift from his brother to his mother, no doubt. He enjoys tinkering with things like a wise old man, and searches for answers in the faces of his trusted people. He’s affectionate and gentle with his infant sister in a way one would never expect from a child his age. Vaughn loves riding in Daddy’s Jeep and washing cars. He’s always down to wrestle his big sister and to snuggle his mama. The only thing better than seeing him as a brother to Stetson and Decker, would be to see him with McCoy too. We love you, Nonnie. Happy birthday, my son.
Kara Keough Instagram - For all those wishing there was one more hand to hold today… you’re not alone 🤍
Kara Keough Instagram - Is he embracing my face because watching me give birth makes him fall in love with me all over again? Or is he wiping me off because I had baby cheese all over my face? We’ll never know, but I love you like crazy in either case. In 🤍and in 🧀, @kyleboz.
Kara Keough Instagram - When I first saw you shirtless, I was convinced you could be a Chippendale dancer. Then I saw you dance, & I suspected you already were a Chippendale dancer. I was sure your hands were the most attractive part about you, despite all the competition they had. They had to compete with your eyes - or your “magic pools of water,” as your mama calls them. They had to compete with your torso, which qualified for enshrinement as a marble bust in any museum. And your thick maple hair, which is now streaked with the sexiest dash of silver. And your braces-less teeth - which forms the sweetest cheeky smile, one that our kids all wear today. I’ve been crazy about you since 2010. You were the kindest man I’d ever met. After getting to know you & your twin brother @koreybosworth, I was convinced that men were just better off when raised by single mothers. I was convinced that you were the best version of manhood: one who loved lifting heavy things, but also cartoons. One who loved playing sports, but didn’t really care to watch them. One who had a Texas “y’all,” but wasn’t afraid to whip out a California “bro” when necessary. One who loved anything I cooked for him, but was protective of his mama’s meatloaf. In my eyes, real men - like this one I was falling in love with - love strong and smart women and aren’t threatened by their “cerebral brains.” Real men call their moms often & tell their friends they love them. Real men play make believe with their kids. Real men help their wives feel safe, respected, & treasured. Real men have integrity. Thanks for showing me that men can be trusted. Thanks for showing me the value of being a good apologizer, so that we don’t spend too much time in the petty & stubborn anger that steals so many minutes of too many marriages. Thanks for being a warm hug on the coldest days, & the only place I want to crawl into when I miss our boy. I chose so well when I chose you. Happy birthday to a guy who literally does not wash his face & somehow has perfect skin. Happy birthday to the owner of the greatest ass/shelf which probably still holds the squat record at UCLA. Happy birthday to my real man. Happy birthday @kyleboz.
Kara Keough Instagram - When I first saw you shirtless, I was convinced you could be a Chippendale dancer. Then I saw you dance, & I suspected you already were a Chippendale dancer. I was sure your hands were the most attractive part about you, despite all the competition they had. They had to compete with your eyes - or your “magic pools of water,” as your mama calls them. They had to compete with your torso, which qualified for enshrinement as a marble bust in any museum. And your thick maple hair, which is now streaked with the sexiest dash of silver. And your braces-less teeth - which forms the sweetest cheeky smile, one that our kids all wear today. I’ve been crazy about you since 2010. You were the kindest man I’d ever met. After getting to know you & your twin brother @koreybosworth, I was convinced that men were just better off when raised by single mothers. I was convinced that you were the best version of manhood: one who loved lifting heavy things, but also cartoons. One who loved playing sports, but didn’t really care to watch them. One who had a Texas “y’all,” but wasn’t afraid to whip out a California “bro” when necessary. One who loved anything I cooked for him, but was protective of his mama’s meatloaf. In my eyes, real men - like this one I was falling in love with - love strong and smart women and aren’t threatened by their “cerebral brains.” Real men call their moms often & tell their friends they love them. Real men play make believe with their kids. Real men help their wives feel safe, respected, & treasured. Real men have integrity. Thanks for showing me that men can be trusted. Thanks for showing me the value of being a good apologizer, so that we don’t spend too much time in the petty & stubborn anger that steals so many minutes of too many marriages. Thanks for being a warm hug on the coldest days, & the only place I want to crawl into when I miss our boy. I chose so well when I chose you. Happy birthday to a guy who literally does not wash his face & somehow has perfect skin. Happy birthday to the owner of the greatest ass/shelf which probably still holds the squat record at UCLA. Happy birthday to my real man. Happy birthday @kyleboz.
Kara Keough Instagram - When I first saw you shirtless, I was convinced you could be a Chippendale dancer. Then I saw you dance, & I suspected you already were a Chippendale dancer. I was sure your hands were the most attractive part about you, despite all the competition they had. They had to compete with your eyes - or your “magic pools of water,” as your mama calls them. They had to compete with your torso, which qualified for enshrinement as a marble bust in any museum. And your thick maple hair, which is now streaked with the sexiest dash of silver. And your braces-less teeth - which forms the sweetest cheeky smile, one that our kids all wear today. I’ve been crazy about you since 2010. You were the kindest man I’d ever met. After getting to know you & your twin brother @koreybosworth, I was convinced that men were just better off when raised by single mothers. I was convinced that you were the best version of manhood: one who loved lifting heavy things, but also cartoons. One who loved playing sports, but didn’t really care to watch them. One who had a Texas “y’all,” but wasn’t afraid to whip out a California “bro” when necessary. One who loved anything I cooked for him, but was protective of his mama’s meatloaf. In my eyes, real men - like this one I was falling in love with - love strong and smart women and aren’t threatened by their “cerebral brains.” Real men call their moms often & tell their friends they love them. Real men play make believe with their kids. Real men help their wives feel safe, respected, & treasured. Real men have integrity. Thanks for showing me that men can be trusted. Thanks for showing me the value of being a good apologizer, so that we don’t spend too much time in the petty & stubborn anger that steals so many minutes of too many marriages. Thanks for being a warm hug on the coldest days, & the only place I want to crawl into when I miss our boy. I chose so well when I chose you. Happy birthday to a guy who literally does not wash his face & somehow has perfect skin. Happy birthday to the owner of the greatest ass/shelf which probably still holds the squat record at UCLA. Happy birthday to my real man. Happy birthday @kyleboz.
Kara Keough Instagram - When I first saw you shirtless, I was convinced you could be a Chippendale dancer. Then I saw you dance, & I suspected you already were a Chippendale dancer. I was sure your hands were the most attractive part about you, despite all the competition they had. They had to compete with your eyes - or your “magic pools of water,” as your mama calls them. They had to compete with your torso, which qualified for enshrinement as a marble bust in any museum. And your thick maple hair, which is now streaked with the sexiest dash of silver. And your braces-less teeth - which forms the sweetest cheeky smile, one that our kids all wear today. I’ve been crazy about you since 2010. You were the kindest man I’d ever met. After getting to know you & your twin brother @koreybosworth, I was convinced that men were just better off when raised by single mothers. I was convinced that you were the best version of manhood: one who loved lifting heavy things, but also cartoons. One who loved playing sports, but didn’t really care to watch them. One who had a Texas “y’all,” but wasn’t afraid to whip out a California “bro” when necessary. One who loved anything I cooked for him, but was protective of his mama’s meatloaf. In my eyes, real men - like this one I was falling in love with - love strong and smart women and aren’t threatened by their “cerebral brains.” Real men call their moms often & tell their friends they love them. Real men play make believe with their kids. Real men help their wives feel safe, respected, & treasured. Real men have integrity. Thanks for showing me that men can be trusted. Thanks for showing me the value of being a good apologizer, so that we don’t spend too much time in the petty & stubborn anger that steals so many minutes of too many marriages. Thanks for being a warm hug on the coldest days, & the only place I want to crawl into when I miss our boy. I chose so well when I chose you. Happy birthday to a guy who literally does not wash his face & somehow has perfect skin. Happy birthday to the owner of the greatest ass/shelf which probably still holds the squat record at UCLA. Happy birthday to my real man. Happy birthday @kyleboz.
Kara Keough Instagram - When I first saw you shirtless, I was convinced you could be a Chippendale dancer. Then I saw you dance, & I suspected you already were a Chippendale dancer. I was sure your hands were the most attractive part about you, despite all the competition they had. They had to compete with your eyes - or your “magic pools of water,” as your mama calls them. They had to compete with your torso, which qualified for enshrinement as a marble bust in any museum. And your thick maple hair, which is now streaked with the sexiest dash of silver. And your braces-less teeth - which forms the sweetest cheeky smile, one that our kids all wear today. I’ve been crazy about you since 2010. You were the kindest man I’d ever met. After getting to know you & your twin brother @koreybosworth, I was convinced that men were just better off when raised by single mothers. I was convinced that you were the best version of manhood: one who loved lifting heavy things, but also cartoons. One who loved playing sports, but didn’t really care to watch them. One who had a Texas “y’all,” but wasn’t afraid to whip out a California “bro” when necessary. One who loved anything I cooked for him, but was protective of his mama’s meatloaf. In my eyes, real men - like this one I was falling in love with - love strong and smart women and aren’t threatened by their “cerebral brains.” Real men call their moms often & tell their friends they love them. Real men play make believe with their kids. Real men help their wives feel safe, respected, & treasured. Real men have integrity. Thanks for showing me that men can be trusted. Thanks for showing me the value of being a good apologizer, so that we don’t spend too much time in the petty & stubborn anger that steals so many minutes of too many marriages. Thanks for being a warm hug on the coldest days, & the only place I want to crawl into when I miss our boy. I chose so well when I chose you. Happy birthday to a guy who literally does not wash his face & somehow has perfect skin. Happy birthday to the owner of the greatest ass/shelf which probably still holds the squat record at UCLA. Happy birthday to my real man. Happy birthday @kyleboz.
Kara Keough Instagram - When I first saw you shirtless, I was convinced you could be a Chippendale dancer. Then I saw you dance, & I suspected you already were a Chippendale dancer. I was sure your hands were the most attractive part about you, despite all the competition they had. They had to compete with your eyes - or your “magic pools of water,” as your mama calls them. They had to compete with your torso, which qualified for enshrinement as a marble bust in any museum. And your thick maple hair, which is now streaked with the sexiest dash of silver. And your braces-less teeth - which forms the sweetest cheeky smile, one that our kids all wear today. I’ve been crazy about you since 2010. You were the kindest man I’d ever met. After getting to know you & your twin brother @koreybosworth, I was convinced that men were just better off when raised by single mothers. I was convinced that you were the best version of manhood: one who loved lifting heavy things, but also cartoons. One who loved playing sports, but didn’t really care to watch them. One who had a Texas “y’all,” but wasn’t afraid to whip out a California “bro” when necessary. One who loved anything I cooked for him, but was protective of his mama’s meatloaf. In my eyes, real men - like this one I was falling in love with - love strong and smart women and aren’t threatened by their “cerebral brains.” Real men call their moms often & tell their friends they love them. Real men play make believe with their kids. Real men help their wives feel safe, respected, & treasured. Real men have integrity. Thanks for showing me that men can be trusted. Thanks for showing me the value of being a good apologizer, so that we don’t spend too much time in the petty & stubborn anger that steals so many minutes of too many marriages. Thanks for being a warm hug on the coldest days, & the only place I want to crawl into when I miss our boy. I chose so well when I chose you. Happy birthday to a guy who literally does not wash his face & somehow has perfect skin. Happy birthday to the owner of the greatest ass/shelf which probably still holds the squat record at UCLA. Happy birthday to my real man. Happy birthday @kyleboz.
Kara Keough Instagram - When I first saw you shirtless, I was convinced you could be a Chippendale dancer. Then I saw you dance, & I suspected you already were a Chippendale dancer. I was sure your hands were the most attractive part about you, despite all the competition they had. They had to compete with your eyes - or your “magic pools of water,” as your mama calls them. They had to compete with your torso, which qualified for enshrinement as a marble bust in any museum. And your thick maple hair, which is now streaked with the sexiest dash of silver. And your braces-less teeth - which forms the sweetest cheeky smile, one that our kids all wear today. I’ve been crazy about you since 2010. You were the kindest man I’d ever met. After getting to know you & your twin brother @koreybosworth, I was convinced that men were just better off when raised by single mothers. I was convinced that you were the best version of manhood: one who loved lifting heavy things, but also cartoons. One who loved playing sports, but didn’t really care to watch them. One who had a Texas “y’all,” but wasn’t afraid to whip out a California “bro” when necessary. One who loved anything I cooked for him, but was protective of his mama’s meatloaf. In my eyes, real men - like this one I was falling in love with - love strong and smart women and aren’t threatened by their “cerebral brains.” Real men call their moms often & tell their friends they love them. Real men play make believe with their kids. Real men help their wives feel safe, respected, & treasured. Real men have integrity. Thanks for showing me that men can be trusted. Thanks for showing me the value of being a good apologizer, so that we don’t spend too much time in the petty & stubborn anger that steals so many minutes of too many marriages. Thanks for being a warm hug on the coldest days, & the only place I want to crawl into when I miss our boy. I chose so well when I chose you. Happy birthday to a guy who literally does not wash his face & somehow has perfect skin. Happy birthday to the owner of the greatest ass/shelf which probably still holds the squat record at UCLA. Happy birthday to my real man. Happy birthday @kyleboz.
Kara Keough Instagram - When I first saw you shirtless, I was convinced you could be a Chippendale dancer. Then I saw you dance, & I suspected you already were a Chippendale dancer. I was sure your hands were the most attractive part about you, despite all the competition they had. They had to compete with your eyes - or your “magic pools of water,” as your mama calls them. They had to compete with your torso, which qualified for enshrinement as a marble bust in any museum. And your thick maple hair, which is now streaked with the sexiest dash of silver. And your braces-less teeth - which forms the sweetest cheeky smile, one that our kids all wear today. I’ve been crazy about you since 2010. You were the kindest man I’d ever met. After getting to know you & your twin brother @koreybosworth, I was convinced that men were just better off when raised by single mothers. I was convinced that you were the best version of manhood: one who loved lifting heavy things, but also cartoons. One who loved playing sports, but didn’t really care to watch them. One who had a Texas “y’all,” but wasn’t afraid to whip out a California “bro” when necessary. One who loved anything I cooked for him, but was protective of his mama’s meatloaf. In my eyes, real men - like this one I was falling in love with - love strong and smart women and aren’t threatened by their “cerebral brains.” Real men call their moms often & tell their friends they love them. Real men play make believe with their kids. Real men help their wives feel safe, respected, & treasured. Real men have integrity. Thanks for showing me that men can be trusted. Thanks for showing me the value of being a good apologizer, so that we don’t spend too much time in the petty & stubborn anger that steals so many minutes of too many marriages. Thanks for being a warm hug on the coldest days, & the only place I want to crawl into when I miss our boy. I chose so well when I chose you. Happy birthday to a guy who literally does not wash his face & somehow has perfect skin. Happy birthday to the owner of the greatest ass/shelf which probably still holds the squat record at UCLA. Happy birthday to my real man. Happy birthday @kyleboz.
Kara Keough Instagram - When I first saw you shirtless, I was convinced you could be a Chippendale dancer. Then I saw you dance, & I suspected you already were a Chippendale dancer. I was sure your hands were the most attractive part about you, despite all the competition they had. They had to compete with your eyes - or your “magic pools of water,” as your mama calls them. They had to compete with your torso, which qualified for enshrinement as a marble bust in any museum. And your thick maple hair, which is now streaked with the sexiest dash of silver. And your braces-less teeth - which forms the sweetest cheeky smile, one that our kids all wear today. I’ve been crazy about you since 2010. You were the kindest man I’d ever met. After getting to know you & your twin brother @koreybosworth, I was convinced that men were just better off when raised by single mothers. I was convinced that you were the best version of manhood: one who loved lifting heavy things, but also cartoons. One who loved playing sports, but didn’t really care to watch them. One who had a Texas “y’all,” but wasn’t afraid to whip out a California “bro” when necessary. One who loved anything I cooked for him, but was protective of his mama’s meatloaf. In my eyes, real men - like this one I was falling in love with - love strong and smart women and aren’t threatened by their “cerebral brains.” Real men call their moms often & tell their friends they love them. Real men play make believe with their kids. Real men help their wives feel safe, respected, & treasured. Real men have integrity. Thanks for showing me that men can be trusted. Thanks for showing me the value of being a good apologizer, so that we don’t spend too much time in the petty & stubborn anger that steals so many minutes of too many marriages. Thanks for being a warm hug on the coldest days, & the only place I want to crawl into when I miss our boy. I chose so well when I chose you. Happy birthday to a guy who literally does not wash his face & somehow has perfect skin. Happy birthday to the owner of the greatest ass/shelf which probably still holds the squat record at UCLA. Happy birthday to my real man. Happy birthday @kyleboz.
Kara Keough Instagram - When I first saw you shirtless, I was convinced you could be a Chippendale dancer. Then I saw you dance, & I suspected you already were a Chippendale dancer. I was sure your hands were the most attractive part about you, despite all the competition they had. They had to compete with your eyes - or your “magic pools of water,” as your mama calls them. They had to compete with your torso, which qualified for enshrinement as a marble bust in any museum. And your thick maple hair, which is now streaked with the sexiest dash of silver. And your braces-less teeth - which forms the sweetest cheeky smile, one that our kids all wear today. I’ve been crazy about you since 2010. You were the kindest man I’d ever met. After getting to know you & your twin brother @koreybosworth, I was convinced that men were just better off when raised by single mothers. I was convinced that you were the best version of manhood: one who loved lifting heavy things, but also cartoons. One who loved playing sports, but didn’t really care to watch them. One who had a Texas “y’all,” but wasn’t afraid to whip out a California “bro” when necessary. One who loved anything I cooked for him, but was protective of his mama’s meatloaf. In my eyes, real men - like this one I was falling in love with - love strong and smart women and aren’t threatened by their “cerebral brains.” Real men call their moms often & tell their friends they love them. Real men play make believe with their kids. Real men help their wives feel safe, respected, & treasured. Real men have integrity. Thanks for showing me that men can be trusted. Thanks for showing me the value of being a good apologizer, so that we don’t spend too much time in the petty & stubborn anger that steals so many minutes of too many marriages. Thanks for being a warm hug on the coldest days, & the only place I want to crawl into when I miss our boy. I chose so well when I chose you. Happy birthday to a guy who literally does not wash his face & somehow has perfect skin. Happy birthday to the owner of the greatest ass/shelf which probably still holds the squat record at UCLA. Happy birthday to my real man. Happy birthday @kyleboz.
Kara Keough Instagram - Today was a good day. #ShesAKeough
Kara Keough Instagram - Today was a good day. #ShesAKeough
Kara Keough Instagram - Today was a good day. #ShesAKeough
Kara Keough Instagram - Today was a good day. #ShesAKeough
Kara Keough Instagram - Today was a good day. #ShesAKeough
Kara Keough Instagram - Today was a good day. #ShesAKeough
Kara Keough Instagram - 1 month of lovin’ Stetsy Lou 🤍
Kara Keough Instagram - 1 month of lovin’ Stetsy Lou 🤍
Kara Keough Instagram - 1 month of lovin’ Stetsy Lou 🤍
Kara Keough Instagram - 1 month of lovin’ Stetsy Lou 🤍
Kara Keough Instagram - 1 month of lovin’ Stetsy Lou 🤍
Kara Keough Instagram - 1 month of lovin’ Stetsy Lou 🤍
Kara Keough Instagram - 1 month of lovin’ Stetsy Lou 🤍
Kara Keough Instagram - 1 month of lovin’ Stetsy Lou 🤍
Kara Keough Instagram - Always saving room for McCoy 💙
Kara Keough Instagram - April 12th, 2020: suffering, pity, guilt, pain, anger, and a sadness so deep I thought we’d never take another breath that didn’t hurt. We kissed our baby a million times that day knowing we’d never see him alive again. He died in our arms and I hope to never know that unique hell ever again. April 12, 2024: grateful. Grateful to nurses and doctors and EMS workers that gave us 6 days to love McCoy on land. Grateful to friends, neighbors, teachers, and strangers that circled around our grief and held room for us, for him. Grateful for two rainbow babies that shine light unto the darkest parts of parenting after baby loss. Grateful to Decker, who’s an expert and beautiful griever. She still cries for McCoy alongside me and also is the first to shout his name in joy. She’s the fucking BEST big sister to an angel. Grateful for social media, for bringing so many other loss moms into my orbit so I could share and listen and feel less alone in this. Grateful to McCoy’s gorgeous daddy for being the best version of himself when I was the worst version of myself in 2020, 2021, 2023 and 2024 … Because when your baby dies, you’re jaded, ugly, sensitive, angry, sad, messy… and he loves me through that mess. He “grows flowers in the darkest parts” of me and centers me when the spiral starts to pull me down. Grateful that my dad is watching over McCoy, and that they’re both made whole and perfect in heaven. Grateful that dying someday doesn’t feel scary anymore, because imagining hearing McCoy’s voice for the first time as he screams “Mama!” and runs into my arms just makes me feel warm and happy. Until we meet again, Mack. I love you like crazy, baby.
Kara Keough Instagram - Today, on McCoy’s 5th birthday, we say goodbye to our family home before we hand the keys over tomorrow. The walls of this home were a witness. They’ve seen love and laughter, pain and suffering, hurt and healing. They’ve seen birth, death, painful goodbyes, and new beginnings. These walls have held us during a pandemic, the loss of our son, the death of my dad. More of my tears have fallen inside this house than in all the other places my tears have ever fallen combined. The shower alone probably has a Tears Spilled Record individually, but our bedroom beats that out by at least half a million tons. Childhood has flared brilliantly within these walls, mainly ignited by my magnificently playful husband. McCoy’s spirit has raced equally playfully down these halls every day since he was born inside of it - opening doors, turning toys on, flashing lights, always finding ways to make us feel him. And while I’ve brought two other newborn babies home “to” it, only he was born into it, and therefore of it. This place is undeniably linked to him and saying goodbye to it rips something open inside me again. But hopefully what all those fit meatheads say is true when they explain: “It’s the microtears that make you stronger.” Beyond the walls, something even more treasured was built brick-by-brick: a community of friends that became family. God knew what was coming for us before He put us on “the Best Street in America,”  and these folks surrounded us in our time of grief, and loved us so damn well. I refuse to say goodbye to them, because these friendships we’ve made aren’t ones that are bound by proximity - no, these are those “no-matter-what” kinda friends. The night McCoy died, we walked to the end of the cul-de-sac to see the little garden the neighborhood kids planted for him while he was on life support in the NICU. As we walked, we noticed blue hearts hung on each door of our loving street. Every year, on his birthday, these no-matter-what friends throw him (and us) a party that makes each understandably hard milestone a day to look forward to. Each year, this day brings less pain and more joy. I think they call that healing, so thanks to my healers on the Court💙
Kara Keough Instagram - Today, on McCoy’s 5th birthday, we say goodbye to our family home before we hand the keys over tomorrow. The walls of this home were a witness. They’ve seen love and laughter, pain and suffering, hurt and healing. They’ve seen birth, death, painful goodbyes, and new beginnings. These walls have held us during a pandemic, the loss of our son, the death of my dad. More of my tears have fallen inside this house than in all the other places my tears have ever fallen combined. The shower alone probably has a Tears Spilled Record individually, but our bedroom beats that out by at least half a million tons. Childhood has flared brilliantly within these walls, mainly ignited by my magnificently playful husband. McCoy’s spirit has raced equally playfully down these halls every day since he was born inside of it - opening doors, turning toys on, flashing lights, always finding ways to make us feel him. And while I’ve brought two other newborn babies home “to” it, only he was born into it, and therefore of it. This place is undeniably linked to him and saying goodbye to it rips something open inside me again. But hopefully what all those fit meatheads say is true when they explain: “It’s the microtears that make you stronger.” Beyond the walls, something even more treasured was built brick-by-brick: a community of friends that became family. God knew what was coming for us before He put us on “the Best Street in America,”  and these folks surrounded us in our time of grief, and loved us so damn well. I refuse to say goodbye to them, because these friendships we’ve made aren’t ones that are bound by proximity - no, these are those “no-matter-what” kinda friends. The night McCoy died, we walked to the end of the cul-de-sac to see the little garden the neighborhood kids planted for him while he was on life support in the NICU. As we walked, we noticed blue hearts hung on each door of our loving street. Every year, on his birthday, these no-matter-what friends throw him (and us) a party that makes each understandably hard milestone a day to look forward to. Each year, this day brings less pain and more joy. I think they call that healing, so thanks to my healers on the Court💙
Kara Keough Instagram - Today, on McCoy’s 5th birthday, we say goodbye to our family home before we hand the keys over tomorrow. The walls of this home were a witness. They’ve seen love and laughter, pain and suffering, hurt and healing. They’ve seen birth, death, painful goodbyes, and new beginnings. These walls have held us during a pandemic, the loss of our son, the death of my dad. More of my tears have fallen inside this house than in all the other places my tears have ever fallen combined. The shower alone probably has a Tears Spilled Record individually, but our bedroom beats that out by at least half a million tons. Childhood has flared brilliantly within these walls, mainly ignited by my magnificently playful husband. McCoy’s spirit has raced equally playfully down these halls every day since he was born inside of it - opening doors, turning toys on, flashing lights, always finding ways to make us feel him. And while I’ve brought two other newborn babies home “to” it, only he was born into it, and therefore of it. This place is undeniably linked to him and saying goodbye to it rips something open inside me again. But hopefully what all those fit meatheads say is true when they explain: “It’s the microtears that make you stronger.” Beyond the walls, something even more treasured was built brick-by-brick: a community of friends that became family. God knew what was coming for us before He put us on “the Best Street in America,”  and these folks surrounded us in our time of grief, and loved us so damn well. I refuse to say goodbye to them, because these friendships we’ve made aren’t ones that are bound by proximity - no, these are those “no-matter-what” kinda friends. The night McCoy died, we walked to the end of the cul-de-sac to see the little garden the neighborhood kids planted for him while he was on life support in the NICU. As we walked, we noticed blue hearts hung on each door of our loving street. Every year, on his birthday, these no-matter-what friends throw him (and us) a party that makes each understandably hard milestone a day to look forward to. Each year, this day brings less pain and more joy. I think they call that healing, so thanks to my healers on the Court💙
Kara Keough Instagram - Today, on McCoy’s 5th birthday, we say goodbye to our family home before we hand the keys over tomorrow. The walls of this home were a witness. They’ve seen love and laughter, pain and suffering, hurt and healing. They’ve seen birth, death, painful goodbyes, and new beginnings. These walls have held us during a pandemic, the loss of our son, the death of my dad. More of my tears have fallen inside this house than in all the other places my tears have ever fallen combined. The shower alone probably has a Tears Spilled Record individually, but our bedroom beats that out by at least half a million tons. Childhood has flared brilliantly within these walls, mainly ignited by my magnificently playful husband. McCoy’s spirit has raced equally playfully down these halls every day since he was born inside of it - opening doors, turning toys on, flashing lights, always finding ways to make us feel him. And while I’ve brought two other newborn babies home “to” it, only he was born into it, and therefore of it. This place is undeniably linked to him and saying goodbye to it rips something open inside me again. But hopefully what all those fit meatheads say is true when they explain: “It’s the microtears that make you stronger.” Beyond the walls, something even more treasured was built brick-by-brick: a community of friends that became family. God knew what was coming for us before He put us on “the Best Street in America,”  and these folks surrounded us in our time of grief, and loved us so damn well. I refuse to say goodbye to them, because these friendships we’ve made aren’t ones that are bound by proximity - no, these are those “no-matter-what” kinda friends. The night McCoy died, we walked to the end of the cul-de-sac to see the little garden the neighborhood kids planted for him while he was on life support in the NICU. As we walked, we noticed blue hearts hung on each door of our loving street. Every year, on his birthday, these no-matter-what friends throw him (and us) a party that makes each understandably hard milestone a day to look forward to. Each year, this day brings less pain and more joy. I think they call that healing, so thanks to my healers on the Court💙
Kara Keough Instagram - Today, on McCoy’s 5th birthday, we say goodbye to our family home before we hand the keys over tomorrow. The walls of this home were a witness. They’ve seen love and laughter, pain and suffering, hurt and healing. They’ve seen birth, death, painful goodbyes, and new beginnings. These walls have held us during a pandemic, the loss of our son, the death of my dad. More of my tears have fallen inside this house than in all the other places my tears have ever fallen combined. The shower alone probably has a Tears Spilled Record individually, but our bedroom beats that out by at least half a million tons. Childhood has flared brilliantly within these walls, mainly ignited by my magnificently playful husband. McCoy’s spirit has raced equally playfully down these halls every day since he was born inside of it - opening doors, turning toys on, flashing lights, always finding ways to make us feel him. And while I’ve brought two other newborn babies home “to” it, only he was born into it, and therefore of it. This place is undeniably linked to him and saying goodbye to it rips something open inside me again. But hopefully what all those fit meatheads say is true when they explain: “It’s the microtears that make you stronger.” Beyond the walls, something even more treasured was built brick-by-brick: a community of friends that became family. God knew what was coming for us before He put us on “the Best Street in America,”  and these folks surrounded us in our time of grief, and loved us so damn well. I refuse to say goodbye to them, because these friendships we’ve made aren’t ones that are bound by proximity - no, these are those “no-matter-what” kinda friends. The night McCoy died, we walked to the end of the cul-de-sac to see the little garden the neighborhood kids planted for him while he was on life support in the NICU. As we walked, we noticed blue hearts hung on each door of our loving street. Every year, on his birthday, these no-matter-what friends throw him (and us) a party that makes each understandably hard milestone a day to look forward to. Each year, this day brings less pain and more joy. I think they call that healing, so thanks to my healers on the Court💙
Kara Keough Instagram - Today, on McCoy’s 5th birthday, we say goodbye to our family home before we hand the keys over tomorrow. The walls of this home were a witness. They’ve seen love and laughter, pain and suffering, hurt and healing. They’ve seen birth, death, painful goodbyes, and new beginnings. These walls have held us during a pandemic, the loss of our son, the death of my dad. More of my tears have fallen inside this house than in all the other places my tears have ever fallen combined. The shower alone probably has a Tears Spilled Record individually, but our bedroom beats that out by at least half a million tons. Childhood has flared brilliantly within these walls, mainly ignited by my magnificently playful husband. McCoy’s spirit has raced equally playfully down these halls every day since he was born inside of it - opening doors, turning toys on, flashing lights, always finding ways to make us feel him. And while I’ve brought two other newborn babies home “to” it, only he was born into it, and therefore of it. This place is undeniably linked to him and saying goodbye to it rips something open inside me again. But hopefully what all those fit meatheads say is true when they explain: “It’s the microtears that make you stronger.” Beyond the walls, something even more treasured was built brick-by-brick: a community of friends that became family. God knew what was coming for us before He put us on “the Best Street in America,”  and these folks surrounded us in our time of grief, and loved us so damn well. I refuse to say goodbye to them, because these friendships we’ve made aren’t ones that are bound by proximity - no, these are those “no-matter-what” kinda friends. The night McCoy died, we walked to the end of the cul-de-sac to see the little garden the neighborhood kids planted for him while he was on life support in the NICU. As we walked, we noticed blue hearts hung on each door of our loving street. Every year, on his birthday, these no-matter-what friends throw him (and us) a party that makes each understandably hard milestone a day to look forward to. Each year, this day brings less pain and more joy. I think they call that healing, so thanks to my healers on the Court💙
Kara Keough Instagram - Today, on McCoy’s 5th birthday, we say goodbye to our family home before we hand the keys over tomorrow. The walls of this home were a witness. They’ve seen love and laughter, pain and suffering, hurt and healing. They’ve seen birth, death, painful goodbyes, and new beginnings. These walls have held us during a pandemic, the loss of our son, the death of my dad. More of my tears have fallen inside this house than in all the other places my tears have ever fallen combined. The shower alone probably has a Tears Spilled Record individually, but our bedroom beats that out by at least half a million tons. Childhood has flared brilliantly within these walls, mainly ignited by my magnificently playful husband. McCoy’s spirit has raced equally playfully down these halls every day since he was born inside of it - opening doors, turning toys on, flashing lights, always finding ways to make us feel him. And while I’ve brought two other newborn babies home “to” it, only he was born into it, and therefore of it. This place is undeniably linked to him and saying goodbye to it rips something open inside me again. But hopefully what all those fit meatheads say is true when they explain: “It’s the microtears that make you stronger.” Beyond the walls, something even more treasured was built brick-by-brick: a community of friends that became family. God knew what was coming for us before He put us on “the Best Street in America,”  and these folks surrounded us in our time of grief, and loved us so damn well. I refuse to say goodbye to them, because these friendships we’ve made aren’t ones that are bound by proximity - no, these are those “no-matter-what” kinda friends. The night McCoy died, we walked to the end of the cul-de-sac to see the little garden the neighborhood kids planted for him while he was on life support in the NICU. As we walked, we noticed blue hearts hung on each door of our loving street. Every year, on his birthday, these no-matter-what friends throw him (and us) a party that makes each understandably hard milestone a day to look forward to. Each year, this day brings less pain and more joy. I think they call that healing, so thanks to my healers on the Court💙
Kara Keough Instagram - Today, on McCoy’s 5th birthday, we say goodbye to our family home before we hand the keys over tomorrow. The walls of this home were a witness. They’ve seen love and laughter, pain and suffering, hurt and healing. They’ve seen birth, death, painful goodbyes, and new beginnings. These walls have held us during a pandemic, the loss of our son, the death of my dad. More of my tears have fallen inside this house than in all the other places my tears have ever fallen combined. The shower alone probably has a Tears Spilled Record individually, but our bedroom beats that out by at least half a million tons. Childhood has flared brilliantly within these walls, mainly ignited by my magnificently playful husband. McCoy’s spirit has raced equally playfully down these halls every day since he was born inside of it - opening doors, turning toys on, flashing lights, always finding ways to make us feel him. And while I’ve brought two other newborn babies home “to” it, only he was born into it, and therefore of it. This place is undeniably linked to him and saying goodbye to it rips something open inside me again. But hopefully what all those fit meatheads say is true when they explain: “It’s the microtears that make you stronger.” Beyond the walls, something even more treasured was built brick-by-brick: a community of friends that became family. God knew what was coming for us before He put us on “the Best Street in America,”  and these folks surrounded us in our time of grief, and loved us so damn well. I refuse to say goodbye to them, because these friendships we’ve made aren’t ones that are bound by proximity - no, these are those “no-matter-what” kinda friends. The night McCoy died, we walked to the end of the cul-de-sac to see the little garden the neighborhood kids planted for him while he was on life support in the NICU. As we walked, we noticed blue hearts hung on each door of our loving street. Every year, on his birthday, these no-matter-what friends throw him (and us) a party that makes each understandably hard milestone a day to look forward to. Each year, this day brings less pain and more joy. I think they call that healing, so thanks to my healers on the Court💙
Kara Keough Instagram - Today, on McCoy’s 5th birthday, we say goodbye to our family home before we hand the keys over tomorrow. The walls of this home were a witness. They’ve seen love and laughter, pain and suffering, hurt and healing. They’ve seen birth, death, painful goodbyes, and new beginnings. These walls have held us during a pandemic, the loss of our son, the death of my dad. More of my tears have fallen inside this house than in all the other places my tears have ever fallen combined. The shower alone probably has a Tears Spilled Record individually, but our bedroom beats that out by at least half a million tons. Childhood has flared brilliantly within these walls, mainly ignited by my magnificently playful husband. McCoy’s spirit has raced equally playfully down these halls every day since he was born inside of it - opening doors, turning toys on, flashing lights, always finding ways to make us feel him. And while I’ve brought two other newborn babies home “to” it, only he was born into it, and therefore of it. This place is undeniably linked to him and saying goodbye to it rips something open inside me again. But hopefully what all those fit meatheads say is true when they explain: “It’s the microtears that make you stronger.” Beyond the walls, something even more treasured was built brick-by-brick: a community of friends that became family. God knew what was coming for us before He put us on “the Best Street in America,”  and these folks surrounded us in our time of grief, and loved us so damn well. I refuse to say goodbye to them, because these friendships we’ve made aren’t ones that are bound by proximity - no, these are those “no-matter-what” kinda friends. The night McCoy died, we walked to the end of the cul-de-sac to see the little garden the neighborhood kids planted for him while he was on life support in the NICU. As we walked, we noticed blue hearts hung on each door of our loving street. Every year, on his birthday, these no-matter-what friends throw him (and us) a party that makes each understandably hard milestone a day to look forward to. Each year, this day brings less pain and more joy. I think they call that healing, so thanks to my healers on the Court💙
Kara Keough Instagram - Today, on McCoy’s 5th birthday, we say goodbye to our family home before we hand the keys over tomorrow. The walls of this home were a witness. They’ve seen love and laughter, pain and suffering, hurt and healing. They’ve seen birth, death, painful goodbyes, and new beginnings. These walls have held us during a pandemic, the loss of our son, the death of my dad. More of my tears have fallen inside this house than in all the other places my tears have ever fallen combined. The shower alone probably has a Tears Spilled Record individually, but our bedroom beats that out by at least half a million tons. Childhood has flared brilliantly within these walls, mainly ignited by my magnificently playful husband. McCoy’s spirit has raced equally playfully down these halls every day since he was born inside of it - opening doors, turning toys on, flashing lights, always finding ways to make us feel him. And while I’ve brought two other newborn babies home “to” it, only he was born into it, and therefore of it. This place is undeniably linked to him and saying goodbye to it rips something open inside me again. But hopefully what all those fit meatheads say is true when they explain: “It’s the microtears that make you stronger.” Beyond the walls, something even more treasured was built brick-by-brick: a community of friends that became family. God knew what was coming for us before He put us on “the Best Street in America,”  and these folks surrounded us in our time of grief, and loved us so damn well. I refuse to say goodbye to them, because these friendships we’ve made aren’t ones that are bound by proximity - no, these are those “no-matter-what” kinda friends. The night McCoy died, we walked to the end of the cul-de-sac to see the little garden the neighborhood kids planted for him while he was on life support in the NICU. As we walked, we noticed blue hearts hung on each door of our loving street. Every year, on his birthday, these no-matter-what friends throw him (and us) a party that makes each understandably hard milestone a day to look forward to. Each year, this day brings less pain and more joy. I think they call that healing, so thanks to my healers on the Court💙
Kara Keough Instagram - 11 years ago, we said our vows in front of our people. Today, we chased our little babies around a soccer tournament while we cheered for our biggest baby. Tonight, we danced to our wedding song with each other then with our kids. It’s such a precious moment in time with these little crotch goblins, and I know we’ll look back at these ages and just wish it hadn’t gone by so fast. So, this year, there was no better way to celebrate the history of us than with the legacy of us. Happy Anniversary, lover boy.
Kara Keough Instagram - 3 (and 3/4) months of this cutie. #StetsonLou #4thkidproblems
Kara Keough Instagram - 3 (and 3/4) months of this cutie. #StetsonLou #4thkidproblems
Kara Keough Instagram - 3 (and 3/4) months of this cutie. #StetsonLou #4thkidproblems
Kara Keough Instagram - 3 (and 3/4) months of this cutie. #StetsonLou #4thkidproblems
Kara Keough Instagram - Beautiful day showering @flkeough @shanekeough & Baby Girl MK 🤍
Kara Keough Instagram - Beautiful day showering @flkeough @shanekeough & Baby Girl MK 🤍
Kara Keough Instagram - Beautiful day showering @flkeough @shanekeough & Baby Girl MK 🤍
Kara Keough Instagram - Beautiful day showering @flkeough @shanekeough & Baby Girl MK 🤍
Kara Keough Instagram - Beautiful day showering @flkeough @shanekeough & Baby Girl MK 🤍
Kara Keough Instagram - Beautiful day showering @flkeough @shanekeough & Baby Girl MK 🤍
Kara Keough Instagram - I’ve never had a four year old boy before. Today, on McCoy’s 4th Heavenly Birthday, I would like to know what it’s like to have one. Tell me the funniest thing your favorite four year old boy has ever said or done. This year, it feels okay to laugh and smile on April 6th, and I want to do that. Happy Birthday, baby 💙
Kara Keough Instagram - When she isn’t squawking, she’s pretty sweet 😍
Kara Keough Instagram - When she isn’t squawking, she’s pretty sweet 😍
Kara Keough Instagram - When she isn’t squawking, she’s pretty sweet 😍
Kara Keough Instagram - When she isn’t squawking, she’s pretty sweet 😍
Kara Keough Instagram - When she isn’t squawking, she’s pretty sweet 😍
Kara Keough Instagram - When she isn’t squawking, she’s pretty sweet 😍
Kara Keough Instagram - 🐆
Kara Keough Instagram - I kiss these cheeks 7,389x a day and I don’t care to slow that pace anytime soon. #StetsonLou
Kara Keough Instagram - 9 months of Lou Lou Bugs 🐞 Her voice is still SO loud and high pitched, but she loves to give us her “cheese” smile and then we quickly forgive her for bursting our ear drums. She’s crawling and pulling up and making our hearts swell. If she let me sleep through the night, I’d want 1,000 more of her. Kissing her chubby cheeks reminds me so much of our angel McCoy, and it feels like a little slice of heaven. She has 5 teeth and eats more than her 8 year old sister. She’s delicious and can make even the grumpiest person smile (it me, I’m the grumpiest person). We love you, Stetson Lou!
Kara Keough Instagram - Alex, I don’t know crap about soccer, but watching you play the last 17 years has felt a lot like witnessing a hero’s journey. I’ve cheered along as you’ve taken on the gauntlet that has been your life and earned genuine respect from a wider and wider circle, until the whole world couldn’t help but tip their cap to you. A salute to a trailblazer who does so much for sports, for women, for girls, but also for her friends and family. Being really really really really good at soccer is only the 70th best thing about you, but last night, as you walked off the pitch, I looked around at a stadium full of crying and smiling little girls. I watched moms and dads hugging their daughters, reassuring them - “It’s okay, it’s gonna be okay.” And they’re right. Because of you and all that you’ve done on and off the field, it IS gonna be okay. So while a stadium full of little dreamers saw their hero hang up her boots last night, they’ll soon see that this doesn’t mean you’ve taken off your cape. Can’t wait to see what you do next, Al.
Kara Keough Instagram - Alex, I don’t know crap about soccer, but watching you play the last 17 years has felt a lot like witnessing a hero’s journey. I’ve cheered along as you’ve taken on the gauntlet that has been your life and earned genuine respect from a wider and wider circle, until the whole world couldn’t help but tip their cap to you. A salute to a trailblazer who does so much for sports, for women, for girls, but also for her friends and family. Being really really really really good at soccer is only the 70th best thing about you, but last night, as you walked off the pitch, I looked around at a stadium full of crying and smiling little girls. I watched moms and dads hugging their daughters, reassuring them - “It’s okay, it’s gonna be okay.” And they’re right. Because of you and all that you’ve done on and off the field, it IS gonna be okay. So while a stadium full of little dreamers saw their hero hang up her boots last night, they’ll soon see that this doesn’t mean you’ve taken off your cape. Can’t wait to see what you do next, Al.
Kara Keough - 510K Likes - In this house, some of us are overwhelmed and exhausted. And some of us are Decker.

510K Likes – Kara Keough Instagram

Caption : In this house, some of us are overwhelmed and exhausted. And some of us are Decker.
Likes : 509970Kara Keough - 65.7K Likes - After McCoy died, sharing my sorrow with you all helped. Grieving out loud helped me name my feelings and confront them. Like a monster under the bed, they felt less scary in the daylight. Like maybe they couldn’t drag me down and eat me alive if I kept them well lit. So I hung my heart out for all to see, and swept exactly none of the muck under any damn rugs. Fuck a rug; I wanted to feel it all. And then, when I found out I was pregnant with Vaughn, I quietly unfurled all the rugs. I lined every inch of my life with their insulating padding. I quit my job. I ignored phone calls and texts. I didn’t leave my house unless I had to (thanks Covid). I didn’t share our news with anyone that didn’t need to know. And when I did share, it sounded like I was telling them “I have ulcers.” It was not a joyous celebration. It was a painstaking and brutal admission: “I’m at risk for another heart-shattering catastrophe.” I was cocooned in a world of pain and did my best to shield myself from as many landmines as possible. I wanted to keep our joy private. I stuck my head in the sand and just prayed to God that our baby would live - even though I reminded myself every day that he might not. Maybe what the all-knowing “they” say about time is true, though. Because THIS time, we want to celebrate every second we have with this soul. We told the kids the day we got the positive test. Decker tells every person willing to listen that she’s the oldest of four kids as she lovingly strokes my belly. The joy spills out of her; she can’t wait to tell the world about Baby “Four.” I’ve clawed my way on board with Decker for her sake, and Vaughn’s, and McCoy’s. It SHOULD be a happy occasion that they’re getting another sibling. For me, there’s just a cautious reluctance to let the excitement fully absorb. But I can’t deny that it feels right that those that have sat with us on our grieving bench should have a seat in our joyous swings too. So, for that reason (and because Decker and her grandmother @jeanakeough can’t keep a secret for shit), I’m proud and scared as hell to announce Baby Bosworth #4 - due in November. 📸:@meredith.black

65.7K Likes – Kara Keough Instagram

Caption : After McCoy died, sharing my sorrow with you all helped. Grieving out loud helped me name my feelings and confront them. Like a monster under the bed, they felt less scary in the daylight. Like maybe they couldn’t drag me down and eat me alive if I kept them well lit. So I hung my heart out for all to see, and swept exactly none of the muck under any damn rugs. Fuck a rug; I wanted to feel it all. And then, when I found out I was pregnant with Vaughn, I quietly unfurled all the rugs. I lined every inch of my life with their insulating padding. I quit my job. I ignored phone calls and texts. I didn’t leave my house unless I had to (thanks Covid). I didn’t share our news with anyone that didn’t need to know. And when I did share, it sounded like I was telling them “I have ulcers.” It was not a joyous celebration. It was a painstaking and brutal admission: “I’m at risk for another heart-shattering catastrophe.” I was cocooned in a world of pain and did my best to shield myself from as many landmines as possible. I wanted to keep our joy private. I stuck my head in the sand and just prayed to God that our baby would live – even though I reminded myself every day that he might not. Maybe what the all-knowing “they” say about time is true, though. Because THIS time, we want to celebrate every second we have with this soul. We told the kids the day we got the positive test. Decker tells every person willing to listen that she’s the oldest of four kids as she lovingly strokes my belly. The joy spills out of her; she can’t wait to tell the world about Baby “Four.” I’ve clawed my way on board with Decker for her sake, and Vaughn’s, and McCoy’s. It SHOULD be a happy occasion that they’re getting another sibling. For me, there’s just a cautious reluctance to let the excitement fully absorb. But I can’t deny that it feels right that those that have sat with us on our grieving bench should have a seat in our joyous swings too. So, for that reason (and because Decker and her grandmother @jeanakeough can’t keep a secret for shit), I’m proud and scared as hell to announce Baby Bosworth #4 – due in November. 📸:@meredith.black
Likes : 65749Kara Keough - 65.7K Likes - After McCoy died, sharing my sorrow with you all helped. Grieving out loud helped me name my feelings and confront them. Like a monster under the bed, they felt less scary in the daylight. Like maybe they couldn’t drag me down and eat me alive if I kept them well lit. So I hung my heart out for all to see, and swept exactly none of the muck under any damn rugs. Fuck a rug; I wanted to feel it all. And then, when I found out I was pregnant with Vaughn, I quietly unfurled all the rugs. I lined every inch of my life with their insulating padding. I quit my job. I ignored phone calls and texts. I didn’t leave my house unless I had to (thanks Covid). I didn’t share our news with anyone that didn’t need to know. And when I did share, it sounded like I was telling them “I have ulcers.” It was not a joyous celebration. It was a painstaking and brutal admission: “I’m at risk for another heart-shattering catastrophe.” I was cocooned in a world of pain and did my best to shield myself from as many landmines as possible. I wanted to keep our joy private. I stuck my head in the sand and just prayed to God that our baby would live - even though I reminded myself every day that he might not. Maybe what the all-knowing “they” say about time is true, though. Because THIS time, we want to celebrate every second we have with this soul. We told the kids the day we got the positive test. Decker tells every person willing to listen that she’s the oldest of four kids as she lovingly strokes my belly. The joy spills out of her; she can’t wait to tell the world about Baby “Four.” I’ve clawed my way on board with Decker for her sake, and Vaughn’s, and McCoy’s. It SHOULD be a happy occasion that they’re getting another sibling. For me, there’s just a cautious reluctance to let the excitement fully absorb. But I can’t deny that it feels right that those that have sat with us on our grieving bench should have a seat in our joyous swings too. So, for that reason (and because Decker and her grandmother @jeanakeough can’t keep a secret for shit), I’m proud and scared as hell to announce Baby Bosworth #4 - due in November. 📸:@meredith.black

65.7K Likes – Kara Keough Instagram

Caption : After McCoy died, sharing my sorrow with you all helped. Grieving out loud helped me name my feelings and confront them. Like a monster under the bed, they felt less scary in the daylight. Like maybe they couldn’t drag me down and eat me alive if I kept them well lit. So I hung my heart out for all to see, and swept exactly none of the muck under any damn rugs. Fuck a rug; I wanted to feel it all. And then, when I found out I was pregnant with Vaughn, I quietly unfurled all the rugs. I lined every inch of my life with their insulating padding. I quit my job. I ignored phone calls and texts. I didn’t leave my house unless I had to (thanks Covid). I didn’t share our news with anyone that didn’t need to know. And when I did share, it sounded like I was telling them “I have ulcers.” It was not a joyous celebration. It was a painstaking and brutal admission: “I’m at risk for another heart-shattering catastrophe.” I was cocooned in a world of pain and did my best to shield myself from as many landmines as possible. I wanted to keep our joy private. I stuck my head in the sand and just prayed to God that our baby would live – even though I reminded myself every day that he might not. Maybe what the all-knowing “they” say about time is true, though. Because THIS time, we want to celebrate every second we have with this soul. We told the kids the day we got the positive test. Decker tells every person willing to listen that she’s the oldest of four kids as she lovingly strokes my belly. The joy spills out of her; she can’t wait to tell the world about Baby “Four.” I’ve clawed my way on board with Decker for her sake, and Vaughn’s, and McCoy’s. It SHOULD be a happy occasion that they’re getting another sibling. For me, there’s just a cautious reluctance to let the excitement fully absorb. But I can’t deny that it feels right that those that have sat with us on our grieving bench should have a seat in our joyous swings too. So, for that reason (and because Decker and her grandmother @jeanakeough can’t keep a secret for shit), I’m proud and scared as hell to announce Baby Bosworth #4 – due in November. 📸:@meredith.black
Likes : 65749Kara Keough - 65.7K Likes - After McCoy died, sharing my sorrow with you all helped. Grieving out loud helped me name my feelings and confront them. Like a monster under the bed, they felt less scary in the daylight. Like maybe they couldn’t drag me down and eat me alive if I kept them well lit. So I hung my heart out for all to see, and swept exactly none of the muck under any damn rugs. Fuck a rug; I wanted to feel it all. And then, when I found out I was pregnant with Vaughn, I quietly unfurled all the rugs. I lined every inch of my life with their insulating padding. I quit my job. I ignored phone calls and texts. I didn’t leave my house unless I had to (thanks Covid). I didn’t share our news with anyone that didn’t need to know. And when I did share, it sounded like I was telling them “I have ulcers.” It was not a joyous celebration. It was a painstaking and brutal admission: “I’m at risk for another heart-shattering catastrophe.” I was cocooned in a world of pain and did my best to shield myself from as many landmines as possible. I wanted to keep our joy private. I stuck my head in the sand and just prayed to God that our baby would live - even though I reminded myself every day that he might not. Maybe what the all-knowing “they” say about time is true, though. Because THIS time, we want to celebrate every second we have with this soul. We told the kids the day we got the positive test. Decker tells every person willing to listen that she’s the oldest of four kids as she lovingly strokes my belly. The joy spills out of her; she can’t wait to tell the world about Baby “Four.” I’ve clawed my way on board with Decker for her sake, and Vaughn’s, and McCoy’s. It SHOULD be a happy occasion that they’re getting another sibling. For me, there’s just a cautious reluctance to let the excitement fully absorb. But I can’t deny that it feels right that those that have sat with us on our grieving bench should have a seat in our joyous swings too. So, for that reason (and because Decker and her grandmother @jeanakeough can’t keep a secret for shit), I’m proud and scared as hell to announce Baby Bosworth #4 - due in November. 📸:@meredith.black

65.7K Likes – Kara Keough Instagram

Caption : After McCoy died, sharing my sorrow with you all helped. Grieving out loud helped me name my feelings and confront them. Like a monster under the bed, they felt less scary in the daylight. Like maybe they couldn’t drag me down and eat me alive if I kept them well lit. So I hung my heart out for all to see, and swept exactly none of the muck under any damn rugs. Fuck a rug; I wanted to feel it all. And then, when I found out I was pregnant with Vaughn, I quietly unfurled all the rugs. I lined every inch of my life with their insulating padding. I quit my job. I ignored phone calls and texts. I didn’t leave my house unless I had to (thanks Covid). I didn’t share our news with anyone that didn’t need to know. And when I did share, it sounded like I was telling them “I have ulcers.” It was not a joyous celebration. It was a painstaking and brutal admission: “I’m at risk for another heart-shattering catastrophe.” I was cocooned in a world of pain and did my best to shield myself from as many landmines as possible. I wanted to keep our joy private. I stuck my head in the sand and just prayed to God that our baby would live – even though I reminded myself every day that he might not. Maybe what the all-knowing “they” say about time is true, though. Because THIS time, we want to celebrate every second we have with this soul. We told the kids the day we got the positive test. Decker tells every person willing to listen that she’s the oldest of four kids as she lovingly strokes my belly. The joy spills out of her; she can’t wait to tell the world about Baby “Four.” I’ve clawed my way on board with Decker for her sake, and Vaughn’s, and McCoy’s. It SHOULD be a happy occasion that they’re getting another sibling. For me, there’s just a cautious reluctance to let the excitement fully absorb. But I can’t deny that it feels right that those that have sat with us on our grieving bench should have a seat in our joyous swings too. So, for that reason (and because Decker and her grandmother @jeanakeough can’t keep a secret for shit), I’m proud and scared as hell to announce Baby Bosworth #4 – due in November. 📸:@meredith.black
Likes : 65749Kara Keough - 65.7K Likes - After McCoy died, sharing my sorrow with you all helped. Grieving out loud helped me name my feelings and confront them. Like a monster under the bed, they felt less scary in the daylight. Like maybe they couldn’t drag me down and eat me alive if I kept them well lit. So I hung my heart out for all to see, and swept exactly none of the muck under any damn rugs. Fuck a rug; I wanted to feel it all. And then, when I found out I was pregnant with Vaughn, I quietly unfurled all the rugs. I lined every inch of my life with their insulating padding. I quit my job. I ignored phone calls and texts. I didn’t leave my house unless I had to (thanks Covid). I didn’t share our news with anyone that didn’t need to know. And when I did share, it sounded like I was telling them “I have ulcers.” It was not a joyous celebration. It was a painstaking and brutal admission: “I’m at risk for another heart-shattering catastrophe.” I was cocooned in a world of pain and did my best to shield myself from as many landmines as possible. I wanted to keep our joy private. I stuck my head in the sand and just prayed to God that our baby would live - even though I reminded myself every day that he might not. Maybe what the all-knowing “they” say about time is true, though. Because THIS time, we want to celebrate every second we have with this soul. We told the kids the day we got the positive test. Decker tells every person willing to listen that she’s the oldest of four kids as she lovingly strokes my belly. The joy spills out of her; she can’t wait to tell the world about Baby “Four.” I’ve clawed my way on board with Decker for her sake, and Vaughn’s, and McCoy’s. It SHOULD be a happy occasion that they’re getting another sibling. For me, there’s just a cautious reluctance to let the excitement fully absorb. But I can’t deny that it feels right that those that have sat with us on our grieving bench should have a seat in our joyous swings too. So, for that reason (and because Decker and her grandmother @jeanakeough can’t keep a secret for shit), I’m proud and scared as hell to announce Baby Bosworth #4 - due in November. 📸:@meredith.black

65.7K Likes – Kara Keough Instagram

Caption : After McCoy died, sharing my sorrow with you all helped. Grieving out loud helped me name my feelings and confront them. Like a monster under the bed, they felt less scary in the daylight. Like maybe they couldn’t drag me down and eat me alive if I kept them well lit. So I hung my heart out for all to see, and swept exactly none of the muck under any damn rugs. Fuck a rug; I wanted to feel it all. And then, when I found out I was pregnant with Vaughn, I quietly unfurled all the rugs. I lined every inch of my life with their insulating padding. I quit my job. I ignored phone calls and texts. I didn’t leave my house unless I had to (thanks Covid). I didn’t share our news with anyone that didn’t need to know. And when I did share, it sounded like I was telling them “I have ulcers.” It was not a joyous celebration. It was a painstaking and brutal admission: “I’m at risk for another heart-shattering catastrophe.” I was cocooned in a world of pain and did my best to shield myself from as many landmines as possible. I wanted to keep our joy private. I stuck my head in the sand and just prayed to God that our baby would live – even though I reminded myself every day that he might not. Maybe what the all-knowing “they” say about time is true, though. Because THIS time, we want to celebrate every second we have with this soul. We told the kids the day we got the positive test. Decker tells every person willing to listen that she’s the oldest of four kids as she lovingly strokes my belly. The joy spills out of her; she can’t wait to tell the world about Baby “Four.” I’ve clawed my way on board with Decker for her sake, and Vaughn’s, and McCoy’s. It SHOULD be a happy occasion that they’re getting another sibling. For me, there’s just a cautious reluctance to let the excitement fully absorb. But I can’t deny that it feels right that those that have sat with us on our grieving bench should have a seat in our joyous swings too. So, for that reason (and because Decker and her grandmother @jeanakeough can’t keep a secret for shit), I’m proud and scared as hell to announce Baby Bosworth #4 – due in November. 📸:@meredith.black
Likes : 65749Kara Keough - 65.7K Likes - After McCoy died, sharing my sorrow with you all helped. Grieving out loud helped me name my feelings and confront them. Like a monster under the bed, they felt less scary in the daylight. Like maybe they couldn’t drag me down and eat me alive if I kept them well lit. So I hung my heart out for all to see, and swept exactly none of the muck under any damn rugs. Fuck a rug; I wanted to feel it all. And then, when I found out I was pregnant with Vaughn, I quietly unfurled all the rugs. I lined every inch of my life with their insulating padding. I quit my job. I ignored phone calls and texts. I didn’t leave my house unless I had to (thanks Covid). I didn’t share our news with anyone that didn’t need to know. And when I did share, it sounded like I was telling them “I have ulcers.” It was not a joyous celebration. It was a painstaking and brutal admission: “I’m at risk for another heart-shattering catastrophe.” I was cocooned in a world of pain and did my best to shield myself from as many landmines as possible. I wanted to keep our joy private. I stuck my head in the sand and just prayed to God that our baby would live - even though I reminded myself every day that he might not. Maybe what the all-knowing “they” say about time is true, though. Because THIS time, we want to celebrate every second we have with this soul. We told the kids the day we got the positive test. Decker tells every person willing to listen that she’s the oldest of four kids as she lovingly strokes my belly. The joy spills out of her; she can’t wait to tell the world about Baby “Four.” I’ve clawed my way on board with Decker for her sake, and Vaughn’s, and McCoy’s. It SHOULD be a happy occasion that they’re getting another sibling. For me, there’s just a cautious reluctance to let the excitement fully absorb. But I can’t deny that it feels right that those that have sat with us on our grieving bench should have a seat in our joyous swings too. So, for that reason (and because Decker and her grandmother @jeanakeough can’t keep a secret for shit), I’m proud and scared as hell to announce Baby Bosworth #4 - due in November. 📸:@meredith.black

65.7K Likes – Kara Keough Instagram

Caption : After McCoy died, sharing my sorrow with you all helped. Grieving out loud helped me name my feelings and confront them. Like a monster under the bed, they felt less scary in the daylight. Like maybe they couldn’t drag me down and eat me alive if I kept them well lit. So I hung my heart out for all to see, and swept exactly none of the muck under any damn rugs. Fuck a rug; I wanted to feel it all. And then, when I found out I was pregnant with Vaughn, I quietly unfurled all the rugs. I lined every inch of my life with their insulating padding. I quit my job. I ignored phone calls and texts. I didn’t leave my house unless I had to (thanks Covid). I didn’t share our news with anyone that didn’t need to know. And when I did share, it sounded like I was telling them “I have ulcers.” It was not a joyous celebration. It was a painstaking and brutal admission: “I’m at risk for another heart-shattering catastrophe.” I was cocooned in a world of pain and did my best to shield myself from as many landmines as possible. I wanted to keep our joy private. I stuck my head in the sand and just prayed to God that our baby would live – even though I reminded myself every day that he might not. Maybe what the all-knowing “they” say about time is true, though. Because THIS time, we want to celebrate every second we have with this soul. We told the kids the day we got the positive test. Decker tells every person willing to listen that she’s the oldest of four kids as she lovingly strokes my belly. The joy spills out of her; she can’t wait to tell the world about Baby “Four.” I’ve clawed my way on board with Decker for her sake, and Vaughn’s, and McCoy’s. It SHOULD be a happy occasion that they’re getting another sibling. For me, there’s just a cautious reluctance to let the excitement fully absorb. But I can’t deny that it feels right that those that have sat with us on our grieving bench should have a seat in our joyous swings too. So, for that reason (and because Decker and her grandmother @jeanakeough can’t keep a secret for shit), I’m proud and scared as hell to announce Baby Bosworth #4 – due in November. 📸:@meredith.black
Likes : 65749Kara Keough - 65.7K Likes - After McCoy died, sharing my sorrow with you all helped. Grieving out loud helped me name my feelings and confront them. Like a monster under the bed, they felt less scary in the daylight. Like maybe they couldn’t drag me down and eat me alive if I kept them well lit. So I hung my heart out for all to see, and swept exactly none of the muck under any damn rugs. Fuck a rug; I wanted to feel it all. And then, when I found out I was pregnant with Vaughn, I quietly unfurled all the rugs. I lined every inch of my life with their insulating padding. I quit my job. I ignored phone calls and texts. I didn’t leave my house unless I had to (thanks Covid). I didn’t share our news with anyone that didn’t need to know. And when I did share, it sounded like I was telling them “I have ulcers.” It was not a joyous celebration. It was a painstaking and brutal admission: “I’m at risk for another heart-shattering catastrophe.” I was cocooned in a world of pain and did my best to shield myself from as many landmines as possible. I wanted to keep our joy private. I stuck my head in the sand and just prayed to God that our baby would live - even though I reminded myself every day that he might not. Maybe what the all-knowing “they” say about time is true, though. Because THIS time, we want to celebrate every second we have with this soul. We told the kids the day we got the positive test. Decker tells every person willing to listen that she’s the oldest of four kids as she lovingly strokes my belly. The joy spills out of her; she can’t wait to tell the world about Baby “Four.” I’ve clawed my way on board with Decker for her sake, and Vaughn’s, and McCoy’s. It SHOULD be a happy occasion that they’re getting another sibling. For me, there’s just a cautious reluctance to let the excitement fully absorb. But I can’t deny that it feels right that those that have sat with us on our grieving bench should have a seat in our joyous swings too. So, for that reason (and because Decker and her grandmother @jeanakeough can’t keep a secret for shit), I’m proud and scared as hell to announce Baby Bosworth #4 - due in November. 📸:@meredith.black

65.7K Likes – Kara Keough Instagram

Caption : After McCoy died, sharing my sorrow with you all helped. Grieving out loud helped me name my feelings and confront them. Like a monster under the bed, they felt less scary in the daylight. Like maybe they couldn’t drag me down and eat me alive if I kept them well lit. So I hung my heart out for all to see, and swept exactly none of the muck under any damn rugs. Fuck a rug; I wanted to feel it all. And then, when I found out I was pregnant with Vaughn, I quietly unfurled all the rugs. I lined every inch of my life with their insulating padding. I quit my job. I ignored phone calls and texts. I didn’t leave my house unless I had to (thanks Covid). I didn’t share our news with anyone that didn’t need to know. And when I did share, it sounded like I was telling them “I have ulcers.” It was not a joyous celebration. It was a painstaking and brutal admission: “I’m at risk for another heart-shattering catastrophe.” I was cocooned in a world of pain and did my best to shield myself from as many landmines as possible. I wanted to keep our joy private. I stuck my head in the sand and just prayed to God that our baby would live – even though I reminded myself every day that he might not. Maybe what the all-knowing “they” say about time is true, though. Because THIS time, we want to celebrate every second we have with this soul. We told the kids the day we got the positive test. Decker tells every person willing to listen that she’s the oldest of four kids as she lovingly strokes my belly. The joy spills out of her; she can’t wait to tell the world about Baby “Four.” I’ve clawed my way on board with Decker for her sake, and Vaughn’s, and McCoy’s. It SHOULD be a happy occasion that they’re getting another sibling. For me, there’s just a cautious reluctance to let the excitement fully absorb. But I can’t deny that it feels right that those that have sat with us on our grieving bench should have a seat in our joyous swings too. So, for that reason (and because Decker and her grandmother @jeanakeough can’t keep a secret for shit), I’m proud and scared as hell to announce Baby Bosworth #4 – due in November. 📸:@meredith.black
Likes : 65749Kara Keough - 65.7K Likes - After McCoy died, sharing my sorrow with you all helped. Grieving out loud helped me name my feelings and confront them. Like a monster under the bed, they felt less scary in the daylight. Like maybe they couldn’t drag me down and eat me alive if I kept them well lit. So I hung my heart out for all to see, and swept exactly none of the muck under any damn rugs. Fuck a rug; I wanted to feel it all. And then, when I found out I was pregnant with Vaughn, I quietly unfurled all the rugs. I lined every inch of my life with their insulating padding. I quit my job. I ignored phone calls and texts. I didn’t leave my house unless I had to (thanks Covid). I didn’t share our news with anyone that didn’t need to know. And when I did share, it sounded like I was telling them “I have ulcers.” It was not a joyous celebration. It was a painstaking and brutal admission: “I’m at risk for another heart-shattering catastrophe.” I was cocooned in a world of pain and did my best to shield myself from as many landmines as possible. I wanted to keep our joy private. I stuck my head in the sand and just prayed to God that our baby would live - even though I reminded myself every day that he might not. Maybe what the all-knowing “they” say about time is true, though. Because THIS time, we want to celebrate every second we have with this soul. We told the kids the day we got the positive test. Decker tells every person willing to listen that she’s the oldest of four kids as she lovingly strokes my belly. The joy spills out of her; she can’t wait to tell the world about Baby “Four.” I’ve clawed my way on board with Decker for her sake, and Vaughn’s, and McCoy’s. It SHOULD be a happy occasion that they’re getting another sibling. For me, there’s just a cautious reluctance to let the excitement fully absorb. But I can’t deny that it feels right that those that have sat with us on our grieving bench should have a seat in our joyous swings too. So, for that reason (and because Decker and her grandmother @jeanakeough can’t keep a secret for shit), I’m proud and scared as hell to announce Baby Bosworth #4 - due in November. 📸:@meredith.black

65.7K Likes – Kara Keough Instagram

Caption : After McCoy died, sharing my sorrow with you all helped. Grieving out loud helped me name my feelings and confront them. Like a monster under the bed, they felt less scary in the daylight. Like maybe they couldn’t drag me down and eat me alive if I kept them well lit. So I hung my heart out for all to see, and swept exactly none of the muck under any damn rugs. Fuck a rug; I wanted to feel it all. And then, when I found out I was pregnant with Vaughn, I quietly unfurled all the rugs. I lined every inch of my life with their insulating padding. I quit my job. I ignored phone calls and texts. I didn’t leave my house unless I had to (thanks Covid). I didn’t share our news with anyone that didn’t need to know. And when I did share, it sounded like I was telling them “I have ulcers.” It was not a joyous celebration. It was a painstaking and brutal admission: “I’m at risk for another heart-shattering catastrophe.” I was cocooned in a world of pain and did my best to shield myself from as many landmines as possible. I wanted to keep our joy private. I stuck my head in the sand and just prayed to God that our baby would live – even though I reminded myself every day that he might not. Maybe what the all-knowing “they” say about time is true, though. Because THIS time, we want to celebrate every second we have with this soul. We told the kids the day we got the positive test. Decker tells every person willing to listen that she’s the oldest of four kids as she lovingly strokes my belly. The joy spills out of her; she can’t wait to tell the world about Baby “Four.” I’ve clawed my way on board with Decker for her sake, and Vaughn’s, and McCoy’s. It SHOULD be a happy occasion that they’re getting another sibling. For me, there’s just a cautious reluctance to let the excitement fully absorb. But I can’t deny that it feels right that those that have sat with us on our grieving bench should have a seat in our joyous swings too. So, for that reason (and because Decker and her grandmother @jeanakeough can’t keep a secret for shit), I’m proud and scared as hell to announce Baby Bosworth #4 – due in November. 📸:@meredith.black
Likes : 65749Kara Keough - 65.7K Likes - After McCoy died, sharing my sorrow with you all helped. Grieving out loud helped me name my feelings and confront them. Like a monster under the bed, they felt less scary in the daylight. Like maybe they couldn’t drag me down and eat me alive if I kept them well lit. So I hung my heart out for all to see, and swept exactly none of the muck under any damn rugs. Fuck a rug; I wanted to feel it all. And then, when I found out I was pregnant with Vaughn, I quietly unfurled all the rugs. I lined every inch of my life with their insulating padding. I quit my job. I ignored phone calls and texts. I didn’t leave my house unless I had to (thanks Covid). I didn’t share our news with anyone that didn’t need to know. And when I did share, it sounded like I was telling them “I have ulcers.” It was not a joyous celebration. It was a painstaking and brutal admission: “I’m at risk for another heart-shattering catastrophe.” I was cocooned in a world of pain and did my best to shield myself from as many landmines as possible. I wanted to keep our joy private. I stuck my head in the sand and just prayed to God that our baby would live - even though I reminded myself every day that he might not. Maybe what the all-knowing “they” say about time is true, though. Because THIS time, we want to celebrate every second we have with this soul. We told the kids the day we got the positive test. Decker tells every person willing to listen that she’s the oldest of four kids as she lovingly strokes my belly. The joy spills out of her; she can’t wait to tell the world about Baby “Four.” I’ve clawed my way on board with Decker for her sake, and Vaughn’s, and McCoy’s. It SHOULD be a happy occasion that they’re getting another sibling. For me, there’s just a cautious reluctance to let the excitement fully absorb. But I can’t deny that it feels right that those that have sat with us on our grieving bench should have a seat in our joyous swings too. So, for that reason (and because Decker and her grandmother @jeanakeough can’t keep a secret for shit), I’m proud and scared as hell to announce Baby Bosworth #4 - due in November. 📸:@meredith.black

65.7K Likes – Kara Keough Instagram

Caption : After McCoy died, sharing my sorrow with you all helped. Grieving out loud helped me name my feelings and confront them. Like a monster under the bed, they felt less scary in the daylight. Like maybe they couldn’t drag me down and eat me alive if I kept them well lit. So I hung my heart out for all to see, and swept exactly none of the muck under any damn rugs. Fuck a rug; I wanted to feel it all. And then, when I found out I was pregnant with Vaughn, I quietly unfurled all the rugs. I lined every inch of my life with their insulating padding. I quit my job. I ignored phone calls and texts. I didn’t leave my house unless I had to (thanks Covid). I didn’t share our news with anyone that didn’t need to know. And when I did share, it sounded like I was telling them “I have ulcers.” It was not a joyous celebration. It was a painstaking and brutal admission: “I’m at risk for another heart-shattering catastrophe.” I was cocooned in a world of pain and did my best to shield myself from as many landmines as possible. I wanted to keep our joy private. I stuck my head in the sand and just prayed to God that our baby would live – even though I reminded myself every day that he might not. Maybe what the all-knowing “they” say about time is true, though. Because THIS time, we want to celebrate every second we have with this soul. We told the kids the day we got the positive test. Decker tells every person willing to listen that she’s the oldest of four kids as she lovingly strokes my belly. The joy spills out of her; she can’t wait to tell the world about Baby “Four.” I’ve clawed my way on board with Decker for her sake, and Vaughn’s, and McCoy’s. It SHOULD be a happy occasion that they’re getting another sibling. For me, there’s just a cautious reluctance to let the excitement fully absorb. But I can’t deny that it feels right that those that have sat with us on our grieving bench should have a seat in our joyous swings too. So, for that reason (and because Decker and her grandmother @jeanakeough can’t keep a secret for shit), I’m proud and scared as hell to announce Baby Bosworth #4 – due in November. 📸:@meredith.black
Likes : 65749Kara Keough - 65.7K Likes - After McCoy died, sharing my sorrow with you all helped. Grieving out loud helped me name my feelings and confront them. Like a monster under the bed, they felt less scary in the daylight. Like maybe they couldn’t drag me down and eat me alive if I kept them well lit. So I hung my heart out for all to see, and swept exactly none of the muck under any damn rugs. Fuck a rug; I wanted to feel it all. And then, when I found out I was pregnant with Vaughn, I quietly unfurled all the rugs. I lined every inch of my life with their insulating padding. I quit my job. I ignored phone calls and texts. I didn’t leave my house unless I had to (thanks Covid). I didn’t share our news with anyone that didn’t need to know. And when I did share, it sounded like I was telling them “I have ulcers.” It was not a joyous celebration. It was a painstaking and brutal admission: “I’m at risk for another heart-shattering catastrophe.” I was cocooned in a world of pain and did my best to shield myself from as many landmines as possible. I wanted to keep our joy private. I stuck my head in the sand and just prayed to God that our baby would live - even though I reminded myself every day that he might not. Maybe what the all-knowing “they” say about time is true, though. Because THIS time, we want to celebrate every second we have with this soul. We told the kids the day we got the positive test. Decker tells every person willing to listen that she’s the oldest of four kids as she lovingly strokes my belly. The joy spills out of her; she can’t wait to tell the world about Baby “Four.” I’ve clawed my way on board with Decker for her sake, and Vaughn’s, and McCoy’s. It SHOULD be a happy occasion that they’re getting another sibling. For me, there’s just a cautious reluctance to let the excitement fully absorb. But I can’t deny that it feels right that those that have sat with us on our grieving bench should have a seat in our joyous swings too. So, for that reason (and because Decker and her grandmother @jeanakeough can’t keep a secret for shit), I’m proud and scared as hell to announce Baby Bosworth #4 - due in November. 📸:@meredith.black

65.7K Likes – Kara Keough Instagram

Caption : After McCoy died, sharing my sorrow with you all helped. Grieving out loud helped me name my feelings and confront them. Like a monster under the bed, they felt less scary in the daylight. Like maybe they couldn’t drag me down and eat me alive if I kept them well lit. So I hung my heart out for all to see, and swept exactly none of the muck under any damn rugs. Fuck a rug; I wanted to feel it all. And then, when I found out I was pregnant with Vaughn, I quietly unfurled all the rugs. I lined every inch of my life with their insulating padding. I quit my job. I ignored phone calls and texts. I didn’t leave my house unless I had to (thanks Covid). I didn’t share our news with anyone that didn’t need to know. And when I did share, it sounded like I was telling them “I have ulcers.” It was not a joyous celebration. It was a painstaking and brutal admission: “I’m at risk for another heart-shattering catastrophe.” I was cocooned in a world of pain and did my best to shield myself from as many landmines as possible. I wanted to keep our joy private. I stuck my head in the sand and just prayed to God that our baby would live – even though I reminded myself every day that he might not. Maybe what the all-knowing “they” say about time is true, though. Because THIS time, we want to celebrate every second we have with this soul. We told the kids the day we got the positive test. Decker tells every person willing to listen that she’s the oldest of four kids as she lovingly strokes my belly. The joy spills out of her; she can’t wait to tell the world about Baby “Four.” I’ve clawed my way on board with Decker for her sake, and Vaughn’s, and McCoy’s. It SHOULD be a happy occasion that they’re getting another sibling. For me, there’s just a cautious reluctance to let the excitement fully absorb. But I can’t deny that it feels right that those that have sat with us on our grieving bench should have a seat in our joyous swings too. So, for that reason (and because Decker and her grandmother @jeanakeough can’t keep a secret for shit), I’m proud and scared as hell to announce Baby Bosworth #4 – due in November. 📸:@meredith.black
Likes : 65749Kara Keough - 65.7K Likes - After McCoy died, sharing my sorrow with you all helped. Grieving out loud helped me name my feelings and confront them. Like a monster under the bed, they felt less scary in the daylight. Like maybe they couldn’t drag me down and eat me alive if I kept them well lit. So I hung my heart out for all to see, and swept exactly none of the muck under any damn rugs. Fuck a rug; I wanted to feel it all. And then, when I found out I was pregnant with Vaughn, I quietly unfurled all the rugs. I lined every inch of my life with their insulating padding. I quit my job. I ignored phone calls and texts. I didn’t leave my house unless I had to (thanks Covid). I didn’t share our news with anyone that didn’t need to know. And when I did share, it sounded like I was telling them “I have ulcers.” It was not a joyous celebration. It was a painstaking and brutal admission: “I’m at risk for another heart-shattering catastrophe.” I was cocooned in a world of pain and did my best to shield myself from as many landmines as possible. I wanted to keep our joy private. I stuck my head in the sand and just prayed to God that our baby would live - even though I reminded myself every day that he might not. Maybe what the all-knowing “they” say about time is true, though. Because THIS time, we want to celebrate every second we have with this soul. We told the kids the day we got the positive test. Decker tells every person willing to listen that she’s the oldest of four kids as she lovingly strokes my belly. The joy spills out of her; she can’t wait to tell the world about Baby “Four.” I’ve clawed my way on board with Decker for her sake, and Vaughn’s, and McCoy’s. It SHOULD be a happy occasion that they’re getting another sibling. For me, there’s just a cautious reluctance to let the excitement fully absorb. But I can’t deny that it feels right that those that have sat with us on our grieving bench should have a seat in our joyous swings too. So, for that reason (and because Decker and her grandmother @jeanakeough can’t keep a secret for shit), I’m proud and scared as hell to announce Baby Bosworth #4 - due in November. 📸:@meredith.black

65.7K Likes – Kara Keough Instagram

Caption : After McCoy died, sharing my sorrow with you all helped. Grieving out loud helped me name my feelings and confront them. Like a monster under the bed, they felt less scary in the daylight. Like maybe they couldn’t drag me down and eat me alive if I kept them well lit. So I hung my heart out for all to see, and swept exactly none of the muck under any damn rugs. Fuck a rug; I wanted to feel it all. And then, when I found out I was pregnant with Vaughn, I quietly unfurled all the rugs. I lined every inch of my life with their insulating padding. I quit my job. I ignored phone calls and texts. I didn’t leave my house unless I had to (thanks Covid). I didn’t share our news with anyone that didn’t need to know. And when I did share, it sounded like I was telling them “I have ulcers.” It was not a joyous celebration. It was a painstaking and brutal admission: “I’m at risk for another heart-shattering catastrophe.” I was cocooned in a world of pain and did my best to shield myself from as many landmines as possible. I wanted to keep our joy private. I stuck my head in the sand and just prayed to God that our baby would live – even though I reminded myself every day that he might not. Maybe what the all-knowing “they” say about time is true, though. Because THIS time, we want to celebrate every second we have with this soul. We told the kids the day we got the positive test. Decker tells every person willing to listen that she’s the oldest of four kids as she lovingly strokes my belly. The joy spills out of her; she can’t wait to tell the world about Baby “Four.” I’ve clawed my way on board with Decker for her sake, and Vaughn’s, and McCoy’s. It SHOULD be a happy occasion that they’re getting another sibling. For me, there’s just a cautious reluctance to let the excitement fully absorb. But I can’t deny that it feels right that those that have sat with us on our grieving bench should have a seat in our joyous swings too. So, for that reason (and because Decker and her grandmother @jeanakeough can’t keep a secret for shit), I’m proud and scared as hell to announce Baby Bosworth #4 – due in November. 📸:@meredith.black
Likes : 65749Kara Keough - 59.5K Likes - Decker wanted to join in on @dressember and in the fight against human trafficking. Gigi too! @jeanakeough 💪 check the link in my bio to donate!

59.5K Likes – Kara Keough Instagram

Caption : Decker wanted to join in on @dressember and in the fight against human trafficking. Gigi too! @jeanakeough 💪 check the link in my bio to donate!
Likes : 59516Kara Keough - 49.6K Likes - You would have been two months old today. You’d have found your favorite pacifier by now, and I’d be grateful that I was finally able to get those first (beautiful) 6 hour stretches of sleep that make me feel like a Disney Princess with birds tweeting above my head. Instead, I’m clocking in 12 hours every night because sleeping is decidedly easier than my waking hours. We should be cleaning up your blowouts, instead we’re dealing with our own shit. At this point, you would be finding your voice - squawking and squealing and making our hearts explode. Our hearts have still detonated, but for different reasons. I should be looking at your face for most of my day, instead I have to search for you elsewhere. I see you in songs, in the sky, in the sea, in your sister’s face, in your daddy’s arms. I’ll keep looking for you for as long as I live. Being without you is hard, but being your mom is one of my favorite things about myself. I love you, McCoy Casey.

49.6K Likes – Kara Keough Instagram

Caption : You would have been two months old today. You’d have found your favorite pacifier by now, and I’d be grateful that I was finally able to get those first (beautiful) 6 hour stretches of sleep that make me feel like a Disney Princess with birds tweeting above my head. Instead, I’m clocking in 12 hours every night because sleeping is decidedly easier than my waking hours. We should be cleaning up your blowouts, instead we’re dealing with our own shit. At this point, you would be finding your voice – squawking and squealing and making our hearts explode. Our hearts have still detonated, but for different reasons. I should be looking at your face for most of my day, instead I have to search for you elsewhere. I see you in songs, in the sky, in the sea, in your sister’s face, in your daddy’s arms. I’ll keep looking for you for as long as I live. Being without you is hard, but being your mom is one of my favorite things about myself. I love you, McCoy Casey.
Likes : 49564Kara Keough - 48.1K Likes - “It’s a girl!” Decker announced to an excited room on 11.1.23 at 5:43pm. Baby sister arrived three weeks early like her big brother Vaughn, weighing in at 8lbs 5oz and rocking a full head of dark hair. The first thing I saw was McCoy’s sweet chunky cheeks as we met our newest heaven-sent squish. She came screaming into our hearts and hasn’t stopped squawking since - earning @kyleboz’s best nickname yet: “Squeaks.” I can hear my dad’s voice as he would have said it, so I know it’s just right. Thank you to our birth team @fullcirclejax @4thtrimesterfitnessmethod for the most dreamy induction a girl could ask for - starting with a foley bulb comfy enough to trick-or-treat in (I went as Wonder Woman obviously) and ending with a hasty labor tub transition. The cherry on top was holding hands with Decker the Doula/Birth Photographer-In-Training as I brought her longest held wish earth-side: a baby sister. So many people prayed fiercely over this birth and we are seeping with gratitude that we got exactly what we prayed for: to bring our baby home. If you need me, I’ll be thanking God and pinching myself savoring the magic of Stetson Lou Bosworth.

48.1K Likes – Kara Keough Instagram

Caption : “It’s a girl!” Decker announced to an excited room on 11.1.23 at 5:43pm. Baby sister arrived three weeks early like her big brother Vaughn, weighing in at 8lbs 5oz and rocking a full head of dark hair. The first thing I saw was McCoy’s sweet chunky cheeks as we met our newest heaven-sent squish. She came screaming into our hearts and hasn’t stopped squawking since – earning @kyleboz’s best nickname yet: “Squeaks.” I can hear my dad’s voice as he would have said it, so I know it’s just right. Thank you to our birth team @fullcirclejax @4thtrimesterfitnessmethod for the most dreamy induction a girl could ask for – starting with a foley bulb comfy enough to trick-or-treat in (I went as Wonder Woman obviously) and ending with a hasty labor tub transition. The cherry on top was holding hands with Decker the Doula/Birth Photographer-In-Training as I brought her longest held wish earth-side: a baby sister. So many people prayed fiercely over this birth and we are seeping with gratitude that we got exactly what we prayed for: to bring our baby home. If you need me, I’ll be thanking God and pinching myself savoring the magic of Stetson Lou Bosworth.
Likes : 48080Kara Keough - 48.1K Likes - “It’s a girl!” Decker announced to an excited room on 11.1.23 at 5:43pm. Baby sister arrived three weeks early like her big brother Vaughn, weighing in at 8lbs 5oz and rocking a full head of dark hair. The first thing I saw was McCoy’s sweet chunky cheeks as we met our newest heaven-sent squish. She came screaming into our hearts and hasn’t stopped squawking since - earning @kyleboz’s best nickname yet: “Squeaks.” I can hear my dad’s voice as he would have said it, so I know it’s just right. Thank you to our birth team @fullcirclejax @4thtrimesterfitnessmethod for the most dreamy induction a girl could ask for - starting with a foley bulb comfy enough to trick-or-treat in (I went as Wonder Woman obviously) and ending with a hasty labor tub transition. The cherry on top was holding hands with Decker the Doula/Birth Photographer-In-Training as I brought her longest held wish earth-side: a baby sister. So many people prayed fiercely over this birth and we are seeping with gratitude that we got exactly what we prayed for: to bring our baby home. If you need me, I’ll be thanking God and pinching myself savoring the magic of Stetson Lou Bosworth.

48.1K Likes – Kara Keough Instagram

Caption : “It’s a girl!” Decker announced to an excited room on 11.1.23 at 5:43pm. Baby sister arrived three weeks early like her big brother Vaughn, weighing in at 8lbs 5oz and rocking a full head of dark hair. The first thing I saw was McCoy’s sweet chunky cheeks as we met our newest heaven-sent squish. She came screaming into our hearts and hasn’t stopped squawking since – earning @kyleboz’s best nickname yet: “Squeaks.” I can hear my dad’s voice as he would have said it, so I know it’s just right. Thank you to our birth team @fullcirclejax @4thtrimesterfitnessmethod for the most dreamy induction a girl could ask for – starting with a foley bulb comfy enough to trick-or-treat in (I went as Wonder Woman obviously) and ending with a hasty labor tub transition. The cherry on top was holding hands with Decker the Doula/Birth Photographer-In-Training as I brought her longest held wish earth-side: a baby sister. So many people prayed fiercely over this birth and we are seeping with gratitude that we got exactly what we prayed for: to bring our baby home. If you need me, I’ll be thanking God and pinching myself savoring the magic of Stetson Lou Bosworth.
Likes : 48080Kara Keough - 48.1K Likes - “It’s a girl!” Decker announced to an excited room on 11.1.23 at 5:43pm. Baby sister arrived three weeks early like her big brother Vaughn, weighing in at 8lbs 5oz and rocking a full head of dark hair. The first thing I saw was McCoy’s sweet chunky cheeks as we met our newest heaven-sent squish. She came screaming into our hearts and hasn’t stopped squawking since - earning @kyleboz’s best nickname yet: “Squeaks.” I can hear my dad’s voice as he would have said it, so I know it’s just right. Thank you to our birth team @fullcirclejax @4thtrimesterfitnessmethod for the most dreamy induction a girl could ask for - starting with a foley bulb comfy enough to trick-or-treat in (I went as Wonder Woman obviously) and ending with a hasty labor tub transition. The cherry on top was holding hands with Decker the Doula/Birth Photographer-In-Training as I brought her longest held wish earth-side: a baby sister. So many people prayed fiercely over this birth and we are seeping with gratitude that we got exactly what we prayed for: to bring our baby home. If you need me, I’ll be thanking God and pinching myself savoring the magic of Stetson Lou Bosworth.

48.1K Likes – Kara Keough Instagram

Caption : “It’s a girl!” Decker announced to an excited room on 11.1.23 at 5:43pm. Baby sister arrived three weeks early like her big brother Vaughn, weighing in at 8lbs 5oz and rocking a full head of dark hair. The first thing I saw was McCoy’s sweet chunky cheeks as we met our newest heaven-sent squish. She came screaming into our hearts and hasn’t stopped squawking since – earning @kyleboz’s best nickname yet: “Squeaks.” I can hear my dad’s voice as he would have said it, so I know it’s just right. Thank you to our birth team @fullcirclejax @4thtrimesterfitnessmethod for the most dreamy induction a girl could ask for – starting with a foley bulb comfy enough to trick-or-treat in (I went as Wonder Woman obviously) and ending with a hasty labor tub transition. The cherry on top was holding hands with Decker the Doula/Birth Photographer-In-Training as I brought her longest held wish earth-side: a baby sister. So many people prayed fiercely over this birth and we are seeping with gratitude that we got exactly what we prayed for: to bring our baby home. If you need me, I’ll be thanking God and pinching myself savoring the magic of Stetson Lou Bosworth.
Likes : 48080Kara Keough - 48.1K Likes - “It’s a girl!” Decker announced to an excited room on 11.1.23 at 5:43pm. Baby sister arrived three weeks early like her big brother Vaughn, weighing in at 8lbs 5oz and rocking a full head of dark hair. The first thing I saw was McCoy’s sweet chunky cheeks as we met our newest heaven-sent squish. She came screaming into our hearts and hasn’t stopped squawking since - earning @kyleboz’s best nickname yet: “Squeaks.” I can hear my dad’s voice as he would have said it, so I know it’s just right. Thank you to our birth team @fullcirclejax @4thtrimesterfitnessmethod for the most dreamy induction a girl could ask for - starting with a foley bulb comfy enough to trick-or-treat in (I went as Wonder Woman obviously) and ending with a hasty labor tub transition. The cherry on top was holding hands with Decker the Doula/Birth Photographer-In-Training as I brought her longest held wish earth-side: a baby sister. So many people prayed fiercely over this birth and we are seeping with gratitude that we got exactly what we prayed for: to bring our baby home. If you need me, I’ll be thanking God and pinching myself savoring the magic of Stetson Lou Bosworth.

48.1K Likes – Kara Keough Instagram

Caption : “It’s a girl!” Decker announced to an excited room on 11.1.23 at 5:43pm. Baby sister arrived three weeks early like her big brother Vaughn, weighing in at 8lbs 5oz and rocking a full head of dark hair. The first thing I saw was McCoy’s sweet chunky cheeks as we met our newest heaven-sent squish. She came screaming into our hearts and hasn’t stopped squawking since – earning @kyleboz’s best nickname yet: “Squeaks.” I can hear my dad’s voice as he would have said it, so I know it’s just right. Thank you to our birth team @fullcirclejax @4thtrimesterfitnessmethod for the most dreamy induction a girl could ask for – starting with a foley bulb comfy enough to trick-or-treat in (I went as Wonder Woman obviously) and ending with a hasty labor tub transition. The cherry on top was holding hands with Decker the Doula/Birth Photographer-In-Training as I brought her longest held wish earth-side: a baby sister. So many people prayed fiercely over this birth and we are seeping with gratitude that we got exactly what we prayed for: to bring our baby home. If you need me, I’ll be thanking God and pinching myself savoring the magic of Stetson Lou Bosworth.
Likes : 48080Kara Keough - 48.1K Likes - “It’s a girl!” Decker announced to an excited room on 11.1.23 at 5:43pm. Baby sister arrived three weeks early like her big brother Vaughn, weighing in at 8lbs 5oz and rocking a full head of dark hair. The first thing I saw was McCoy’s sweet chunky cheeks as we met our newest heaven-sent squish. She came screaming into our hearts and hasn’t stopped squawking since - earning @kyleboz’s best nickname yet: “Squeaks.” I can hear my dad’s voice as he would have said it, so I know it’s just right. Thank you to our birth team @fullcirclejax @4thtrimesterfitnessmethod for the most dreamy induction a girl could ask for - starting with a foley bulb comfy enough to trick-or-treat in (I went as Wonder Woman obviously) and ending with a hasty labor tub transition. The cherry on top was holding hands with Decker the Doula/Birth Photographer-In-Training as I brought her longest held wish earth-side: a baby sister. So many people prayed fiercely over this birth and we are seeping with gratitude that we got exactly what we prayed for: to bring our baby home. If you need me, I’ll be thanking God and pinching myself savoring the magic of Stetson Lou Bosworth.

48.1K Likes – Kara Keough Instagram

Caption : “It’s a girl!” Decker announced to an excited room on 11.1.23 at 5:43pm. Baby sister arrived three weeks early like her big brother Vaughn, weighing in at 8lbs 5oz and rocking a full head of dark hair. The first thing I saw was McCoy’s sweet chunky cheeks as we met our newest heaven-sent squish. She came screaming into our hearts and hasn’t stopped squawking since – earning @kyleboz’s best nickname yet: “Squeaks.” I can hear my dad’s voice as he would have said it, so I know it’s just right. Thank you to our birth team @fullcirclejax @4thtrimesterfitnessmethod for the most dreamy induction a girl could ask for – starting with a foley bulb comfy enough to trick-or-treat in (I went as Wonder Woman obviously) and ending with a hasty labor tub transition. The cherry on top was holding hands with Decker the Doula/Birth Photographer-In-Training as I brought her longest held wish earth-side: a baby sister. So many people prayed fiercely over this birth and we are seeping with gratitude that we got exactly what we prayed for: to bring our baby home. If you need me, I’ll be thanking God and pinching myself savoring the magic of Stetson Lou Bosworth.
Likes : 48080Kara Keough - 48.1K Likes - “It’s a girl!” Decker announced to an excited room on 11.1.23 at 5:43pm. Baby sister arrived three weeks early like her big brother Vaughn, weighing in at 8lbs 5oz and rocking a full head of dark hair. The first thing I saw was McCoy’s sweet chunky cheeks as we met our newest heaven-sent squish. She came screaming into our hearts and hasn’t stopped squawking since - earning @kyleboz’s best nickname yet: “Squeaks.” I can hear my dad’s voice as he would have said it, so I know it’s just right. Thank you to our birth team @fullcirclejax @4thtrimesterfitnessmethod for the most dreamy induction a girl could ask for - starting with a foley bulb comfy enough to trick-or-treat in (I went as Wonder Woman obviously) and ending with a hasty labor tub transition. The cherry on top was holding hands with Decker the Doula/Birth Photographer-In-Training as I brought her longest held wish earth-side: a baby sister. So many people prayed fiercely over this birth and we are seeping with gratitude that we got exactly what we prayed for: to bring our baby home. If you need me, I’ll be thanking God and pinching myself savoring the magic of Stetson Lou Bosworth.

48.1K Likes – Kara Keough Instagram

Caption : “It’s a girl!” Decker announced to an excited room on 11.1.23 at 5:43pm. Baby sister arrived three weeks early like her big brother Vaughn, weighing in at 8lbs 5oz and rocking a full head of dark hair. The first thing I saw was McCoy’s sweet chunky cheeks as we met our newest heaven-sent squish. She came screaming into our hearts and hasn’t stopped squawking since – earning @kyleboz’s best nickname yet: “Squeaks.” I can hear my dad’s voice as he would have said it, so I know it’s just right. Thank you to our birth team @fullcirclejax @4thtrimesterfitnessmethod for the most dreamy induction a girl could ask for – starting with a foley bulb comfy enough to trick-or-treat in (I went as Wonder Woman obviously) and ending with a hasty labor tub transition. The cherry on top was holding hands with Decker the Doula/Birth Photographer-In-Training as I brought her longest held wish earth-side: a baby sister. So many people prayed fiercely over this birth and we are seeping with gratitude that we got exactly what we prayed for: to bring our baby home. If you need me, I’ll be thanking God and pinching myself savoring the magic of Stetson Lou Bosworth.
Likes : 48080Kara Keough - 48.1K Likes - “It’s a girl!” Decker announced to an excited room on 11.1.23 at 5:43pm. Baby sister arrived three weeks early like her big brother Vaughn, weighing in at 8lbs 5oz and rocking a full head of dark hair. The first thing I saw was McCoy’s sweet chunky cheeks as we met our newest heaven-sent squish. She came screaming into our hearts and hasn’t stopped squawking since - earning @kyleboz’s best nickname yet: “Squeaks.” I can hear my dad’s voice as he would have said it, so I know it’s just right. Thank you to our birth team @fullcirclejax @4thtrimesterfitnessmethod for the most dreamy induction a girl could ask for - starting with a foley bulb comfy enough to trick-or-treat in (I went as Wonder Woman obviously) and ending with a hasty labor tub transition. The cherry on top was holding hands with Decker the Doula/Birth Photographer-In-Training as I brought her longest held wish earth-side: a baby sister. So many people prayed fiercely over this birth and we are seeping with gratitude that we got exactly what we prayed for: to bring our baby home. If you need me, I’ll be thanking God and pinching myself savoring the magic of Stetson Lou Bosworth.

48.1K Likes – Kara Keough Instagram

Caption : “It’s a girl!” Decker announced to an excited room on 11.1.23 at 5:43pm. Baby sister arrived three weeks early like her big brother Vaughn, weighing in at 8lbs 5oz and rocking a full head of dark hair. The first thing I saw was McCoy’s sweet chunky cheeks as we met our newest heaven-sent squish. She came screaming into our hearts and hasn’t stopped squawking since – earning @kyleboz’s best nickname yet: “Squeaks.” I can hear my dad’s voice as he would have said it, so I know it’s just right. Thank you to our birth team @fullcirclejax @4thtrimesterfitnessmethod for the most dreamy induction a girl could ask for – starting with a foley bulb comfy enough to trick-or-treat in (I went as Wonder Woman obviously) and ending with a hasty labor tub transition. The cherry on top was holding hands with Decker the Doula/Birth Photographer-In-Training as I brought her longest held wish earth-side: a baby sister. So many people prayed fiercely over this birth and we are seeping with gratitude that we got exactly what we prayed for: to bring our baby home. If you need me, I’ll be thanking God and pinching myself savoring the magic of Stetson Lou Bosworth.
Likes : 48080Kara Keough - 48.1K Likes - “It’s a girl!” Decker announced to an excited room on 11.1.23 at 5:43pm. Baby sister arrived three weeks early like her big brother Vaughn, weighing in at 8lbs 5oz and rocking a full head of dark hair. The first thing I saw was McCoy’s sweet chunky cheeks as we met our newest heaven-sent squish. She came screaming into our hearts and hasn’t stopped squawking since - earning @kyleboz’s best nickname yet: “Squeaks.” I can hear my dad’s voice as he would have said it, so I know it’s just right. Thank you to our birth team @fullcirclejax @4thtrimesterfitnessmethod for the most dreamy induction a girl could ask for - starting with a foley bulb comfy enough to trick-or-treat in (I went as Wonder Woman obviously) and ending with a hasty labor tub transition. The cherry on top was holding hands with Decker the Doula/Birth Photographer-In-Training as I brought her longest held wish earth-side: a baby sister. So many people prayed fiercely over this birth and we are seeping with gratitude that we got exactly what we prayed for: to bring our baby home. If you need me, I’ll be thanking God and pinching myself savoring the magic of Stetson Lou Bosworth.

48.1K Likes – Kara Keough Instagram

Caption : “It’s a girl!” Decker announced to an excited room on 11.1.23 at 5:43pm. Baby sister arrived three weeks early like her big brother Vaughn, weighing in at 8lbs 5oz and rocking a full head of dark hair. The first thing I saw was McCoy’s sweet chunky cheeks as we met our newest heaven-sent squish. She came screaming into our hearts and hasn’t stopped squawking since – earning @kyleboz’s best nickname yet: “Squeaks.” I can hear my dad’s voice as he would have said it, so I know it’s just right. Thank you to our birth team @fullcirclejax @4thtrimesterfitnessmethod for the most dreamy induction a girl could ask for – starting with a foley bulb comfy enough to trick-or-treat in (I went as Wonder Woman obviously) and ending with a hasty labor tub transition. The cherry on top was holding hands with Decker the Doula/Birth Photographer-In-Training as I brought her longest held wish earth-side: a baby sister. So many people prayed fiercely over this birth and we are seeping with gratitude that we got exactly what we prayed for: to bring our baby home. If you need me, I’ll be thanking God and pinching myself savoring the magic of Stetson Lou Bosworth.
Likes : 48080Kara Keough - 48.1K Likes - “It’s a girl!” Decker announced to an excited room on 11.1.23 at 5:43pm. Baby sister arrived three weeks early like her big brother Vaughn, weighing in at 8lbs 5oz and rocking a full head of dark hair. The first thing I saw was McCoy’s sweet chunky cheeks as we met our newest heaven-sent squish. She came screaming into our hearts and hasn’t stopped squawking since - earning @kyleboz’s best nickname yet: “Squeaks.” I can hear my dad’s voice as he would have said it, so I know it’s just right. Thank you to our birth team @fullcirclejax @4thtrimesterfitnessmethod for the most dreamy induction a girl could ask for - starting with a foley bulb comfy enough to trick-or-treat in (I went as Wonder Woman obviously) and ending with a hasty labor tub transition. The cherry on top was holding hands with Decker the Doula/Birth Photographer-In-Training as I brought her longest held wish earth-side: a baby sister. So many people prayed fiercely over this birth and we are seeping with gratitude that we got exactly what we prayed for: to bring our baby home. If you need me, I’ll be thanking God and pinching myself savoring the magic of Stetson Lou Bosworth.

48.1K Likes – Kara Keough Instagram

Caption : “It’s a girl!” Decker announced to an excited room on 11.1.23 at 5:43pm. Baby sister arrived three weeks early like her big brother Vaughn, weighing in at 8lbs 5oz and rocking a full head of dark hair. The first thing I saw was McCoy’s sweet chunky cheeks as we met our newest heaven-sent squish. She came screaming into our hearts and hasn’t stopped squawking since – earning @kyleboz’s best nickname yet: “Squeaks.” I can hear my dad’s voice as he would have said it, so I know it’s just right. Thank you to our birth team @fullcirclejax @4thtrimesterfitnessmethod for the most dreamy induction a girl could ask for – starting with a foley bulb comfy enough to trick-or-treat in (I went as Wonder Woman obviously) and ending with a hasty labor tub transition. The cherry on top was holding hands with Decker the Doula/Birth Photographer-In-Training as I brought her longest held wish earth-side: a baby sister. So many people prayed fiercely over this birth and we are seeping with gratitude that we got exactly what we prayed for: to bring our baby home. If you need me, I’ll be thanking God and pinching myself savoring the magic of Stetson Lou Bosworth.
Likes : 48080Kara Keough - 48.1K Likes - “It’s a girl!” Decker announced to an excited room on 11.1.23 at 5:43pm. Baby sister arrived three weeks early like her big brother Vaughn, weighing in at 8lbs 5oz and rocking a full head of dark hair. The first thing I saw was McCoy’s sweet chunky cheeks as we met our newest heaven-sent squish. She came screaming into our hearts and hasn’t stopped squawking since - earning @kyleboz’s best nickname yet: “Squeaks.” I can hear my dad’s voice as he would have said it, so I know it’s just right. Thank you to our birth team @fullcirclejax @4thtrimesterfitnessmethod for the most dreamy induction a girl could ask for - starting with a foley bulb comfy enough to trick-or-treat in (I went as Wonder Woman obviously) and ending with a hasty labor tub transition. The cherry on top was holding hands with Decker the Doula/Birth Photographer-In-Training as I brought her longest held wish earth-side: a baby sister. So many people prayed fiercely over this birth and we are seeping with gratitude that we got exactly what we prayed for: to bring our baby home. If you need me, I’ll be thanking God and pinching myself savoring the magic of Stetson Lou Bosworth.

48.1K Likes – Kara Keough Instagram

Caption : “It’s a girl!” Decker announced to an excited room on 11.1.23 at 5:43pm. Baby sister arrived three weeks early like her big brother Vaughn, weighing in at 8lbs 5oz and rocking a full head of dark hair. The first thing I saw was McCoy’s sweet chunky cheeks as we met our newest heaven-sent squish. She came screaming into our hearts and hasn’t stopped squawking since – earning @kyleboz’s best nickname yet: “Squeaks.” I can hear my dad’s voice as he would have said it, so I know it’s just right. Thank you to our birth team @fullcirclejax @4thtrimesterfitnessmethod for the most dreamy induction a girl could ask for – starting with a foley bulb comfy enough to trick-or-treat in (I went as Wonder Woman obviously) and ending with a hasty labor tub transition. The cherry on top was holding hands with Decker the Doula/Birth Photographer-In-Training as I brought her longest held wish earth-side: a baby sister. So many people prayed fiercely over this birth and we are seeping with gratitude that we got exactly what we prayed for: to bring our baby home. If you need me, I’ll be thanking God and pinching myself savoring the magic of Stetson Lou Bosworth.
Likes : 48080Kara Keough - 35.1K Likes - A happy heavenly happy birthday to our sweet baby boy. 🎼: Highlands (Song of Ascent) by @hillsongunited 📷: @8.08photography

35.1K Likes – Kara Keough Instagram

Caption : A happy heavenly happy birthday to our sweet baby boy. 🎼: Highlands (Song of Ascent) by @hillsongunited 📷: @8.08photography
Likes : 35081Kara Keough - 26.9K Likes - Three years ago, we held you for the last time. We inhaled you with every breath and cried endless tears over your perfect body. It was the hardest day of our lives. I hate the 12th of April. Hate it, hate it, hate it. Hate that babies can die. Hate it all. But I’ll take April 12th if it means I’ll always have April 11th, 10th, 9th, 8th, 7th, and 6th - those days that we had with you. And the 9 months before that. I’ll never take back the pain of losing you since it’s intertwined with the bliss of loving you. Thank you, God, for every minute of McCoy.

26.9K Likes – Kara Keough Instagram

Caption : Three years ago, we held you for the last time. We inhaled you with every breath and cried endless tears over your perfect body. It was the hardest day of our lives. I hate the 12th of April. Hate it, hate it, hate it. Hate that babies can die. Hate it all. But I’ll take April 12th if it means I’ll always have April 11th, 10th, 9th, 8th, 7th, and 6th – those days that we had with you. And the 9 months before that. I’ll never take back the pain of losing you since it’s intertwined with the bliss of loving you. Thank you, God, for every minute of McCoy.
Likes : 26900Kara Keough - 22.2K Likes - All Four 🤍🤍🤍🤍 📷: @meredith.black

22.2K Likes – Kara Keough Instagram

Caption : All Four 🤍🤍🤍🤍 📷: @meredith.black
Likes : 22165Kara Keough - 21.8K Likes - Just over 11 years ago, this beautiful man came home from football practice and said, “Let’s get married today.” So we did. Our “secret October wedding” before our big February wedding is still one of my best days. It rained on us as we exited the Dallas courthouse that day - a hint at the litter of kids we’d eventually have, I guess. If you asked me 11 years ago if I take this man, and you warned me of the pain and sadness we’d face together, I still would. I still do. You’re stuck with me, honey. So maybe just get used to the empty Amazon boxes perma-piled in the garage and learn to love walking into empty rooms of our house to turn off all my lights. (Hi McCoy ✨)

21.8K Likes – Kara Keough Instagram

Caption : Just over 11 years ago, this beautiful man came home from football practice and said, “Let’s get married today.” So we did. Our “secret October wedding” before our big February wedding is still one of my best days. It rained on us as we exited the Dallas courthouse that day – a hint at the litter of kids we’d eventually have, I guess. If you asked me 11 years ago if I take this man, and you warned me of the pain and sadness we’d face together, I still would. I still do. You’re stuck with me, honey. So maybe just get used to the empty Amazon boxes perma-piled in the garage and learn to love walking into empty rooms of our house to turn off all my lights. (Hi McCoy ✨)
Likes : 21788Kara Keough - 21.1K Likes - The year McCoy died, I didn’t send out a holiday card. Couldn’t. The idea of our family pictured without him crushed me. Feeling like I’d stolen something from Decker’s childhood by freezing our family traditions, I decided to continue with a holiday card in 2021. By that time, I’d figured out a way to continue our holiday tradition in a way that could both honor our boy and hold space for him. His name is on our card; he is a part of our family - for always. There will be a blue heart on our cards each year. Can you spot the other ways I brought McCoy to our family photo shoot? And can you spot the ways he showed up for us? 💙 🦋🌈☀️✨

21.1K Likes – Kara Keough Instagram

Caption : The year McCoy died, I didn’t send out a holiday card. Couldn’t. The idea of our family pictured without him crushed me. Feeling like I’d stolen something from Decker’s childhood by freezing our family traditions, I decided to continue with a holiday card in 2021. By that time, I’d figured out a way to continue our holiday tradition in a way that could both honor our boy and hold space for him. His name is on our card; he is a part of our family – for always. There will be a blue heart on our cards each year. Can you spot the other ways I brought McCoy to our family photo shoot? And can you spot the ways he showed up for us? 💙 🦋🌈☀️✨
Likes : 21128Kara Keough - 18.8K Likes - It doesn’t hurt to think of you most of the time. And I do think of you most of the time. You’re always there, in the same way your brother and sister are. Even when my babies aren’t in my arms, or throwing elbows into my soft bits, or putting sticky fingers in my hair, or leaning into my sturdiness, or cradling their faces into the crook of my neck; they’re right there with me in my every breath. It’s like that with you, McCoy. Since the moment you were born - three years ago today - I’ve been tethered to you. You’re so very here in the big things. You’re here in the Easter baskets, the birthday pancakes, the stockings at Christmas. The weddings, the reunions, the lingering hugs with friends in pain, the begging prayers to God. There’s a card “from” you for every occasion. But you’re also here in the little things, like when people ask how many kids we have. Or that feeling I get watching the rising sun color outside the lines of the ocean’s edge. You’re another face peering over the freezer drawer, in search of popsicles. You’re among the pitter patter of human and furry feet that rush the front door when there’s a knock. You’re in Charlie’s overflowing and almost preteen-like confidence. You’re in Caden’s heart for baseball, his body for football. You’re in Quinn’s scrunchy-nosed, squinty-eyed smile. You’re in Duke’s baby blues and in the way he peers up at his mama. You’re there in the way Tucker Beau follows his daddy around, a shrunken copy just inside the wake of the original. You’re in Rhett’s gleeful, puppy-like body rolls in the grass. You’re in the absolutely divine gift of Palmer Grey. You’re in the 3-kid circus of the Wells house. You’re in the old friendships that were given new life after your death - like with the Patels and Herzlichs. You’re in the way your uncles make me laugh. You’re in your daddy’s skin, his playfulness. You’re in your sister’s love for your brother. You’re in Vaughn’s strut and his obsession with Chapstick. You’re the chorus of laughter we hear from the park. You’re in all good things. You’re in all our happy moments, and the hard ones, too. You are everywhere to me. And you always will be. Happy Big 3, honey pot.

18.8K Likes – Kara Keough Instagram

Caption : It doesn’t hurt to think of you most of the time. And I do think of you most of the time. You’re always there, in the same way your brother and sister are. Even when my babies aren’t in my arms, or throwing elbows into my soft bits, or putting sticky fingers in my hair, or leaning into my sturdiness, or cradling their faces into the crook of my neck; they’re right there with me in my every breath. It’s like that with you, McCoy. Since the moment you were born – three years ago today – I’ve been tethered to you. You’re so very here in the big things. You’re here in the Easter baskets, the birthday pancakes, the stockings at Christmas. The weddings, the reunions, the lingering hugs with friends in pain, the begging prayers to God. There’s a card “from” you for every occasion. But you’re also here in the little things, like when people ask how many kids we have. Or that feeling I get watching the rising sun color outside the lines of the ocean’s edge. You’re another face peering over the freezer drawer, in search of popsicles. You’re among the pitter patter of human and furry feet that rush the front door when there’s a knock. You’re in Charlie’s overflowing and almost preteen-like confidence. You’re in Caden’s heart for baseball, his body for football. You’re in Quinn’s scrunchy-nosed, squinty-eyed smile. You’re in Duke’s baby blues and in the way he peers up at his mama. You’re there in the way Tucker Beau follows his daddy around, a shrunken copy just inside the wake of the original. You’re in Rhett’s gleeful, puppy-like body rolls in the grass. You’re in the absolutely divine gift of Palmer Grey. You’re in the 3-kid circus of the Wells house. You’re in the old friendships that were given new life after your death – like with the Patels and Herzlichs. You’re in the way your uncles make me laugh. You’re in your daddy’s skin, his playfulness. You’re in your sister’s love for your brother. You’re in Vaughn’s strut and his obsession with Chapstick. You’re the chorus of laughter we hear from the park. You’re in all good things. You’re in all our happy moments, and the hard ones, too. You are everywhere to me. And you always will be. Happy Big 3, honey pot.
Likes : 18750Kara Keough - 18.8K Likes - It doesn’t hurt to think of you most of the time. And I do think of you most of the time. You’re always there, in the same way your brother and sister are. Even when my babies aren’t in my arms, or throwing elbows into my soft bits, or putting sticky fingers in my hair, or leaning into my sturdiness, or cradling their faces into the crook of my neck; they’re right there with me in my every breath. It’s like that with you, McCoy. Since the moment you were born - three years ago today - I’ve been tethered to you. You’re so very here in the big things. You’re here in the Easter baskets, the birthday pancakes, the stockings at Christmas. The weddings, the reunions, the lingering hugs with friends in pain, the begging prayers to God. There’s a card “from” you for every occasion. But you’re also here in the little things, like when people ask how many kids we have. Or that feeling I get watching the rising sun color outside the lines of the ocean’s edge. You’re another face peering over the freezer drawer, in search of popsicles. You’re among the pitter patter of human and furry feet that rush the front door when there’s a knock. You’re in Charlie’s overflowing and almost preteen-like confidence. You’re in Caden’s heart for baseball, his body for football. You’re in Quinn’s scrunchy-nosed, squinty-eyed smile. You’re in Duke’s baby blues and in the way he peers up at his mama. You’re there in the way Tucker Beau follows his daddy around, a shrunken copy just inside the wake of the original. You’re in Rhett’s gleeful, puppy-like body rolls in the grass. You’re in the absolutely divine gift of Palmer Grey. You’re in the 3-kid circus of the Wells house. You’re in the old friendships that were given new life after your death - like with the Patels and Herzlichs. You’re in the way your uncles make me laugh. You’re in your daddy’s skin, his playfulness. You’re in your sister’s love for your brother. You’re in Vaughn’s strut and his obsession with Chapstick. You’re the chorus of laughter we hear from the park. You’re in all good things. You’re in all our happy moments, and the hard ones, too. You are everywhere to me. And you always will be. Happy Big 3, honey pot.

18.8K Likes – Kara Keough Instagram

Caption : It doesn’t hurt to think of you most of the time. And I do think of you most of the time. You’re always there, in the same way your brother and sister are. Even when my babies aren’t in my arms, or throwing elbows into my soft bits, or putting sticky fingers in my hair, or leaning into my sturdiness, or cradling their faces into the crook of my neck; they’re right there with me in my every breath. It’s like that with you, McCoy. Since the moment you were born – three years ago today – I’ve been tethered to you. You’re so very here in the big things. You’re here in the Easter baskets, the birthday pancakes, the stockings at Christmas. The weddings, the reunions, the lingering hugs with friends in pain, the begging prayers to God. There’s a card “from” you for every occasion. But you’re also here in the little things, like when people ask how many kids we have. Or that feeling I get watching the rising sun color outside the lines of the ocean’s edge. You’re another face peering over the freezer drawer, in search of popsicles. You’re among the pitter patter of human and furry feet that rush the front door when there’s a knock. You’re in Charlie’s overflowing and almost preteen-like confidence. You’re in Caden’s heart for baseball, his body for football. You’re in Quinn’s scrunchy-nosed, squinty-eyed smile. You’re in Duke’s baby blues and in the way he peers up at his mama. You’re there in the way Tucker Beau follows his daddy around, a shrunken copy just inside the wake of the original. You’re in Rhett’s gleeful, puppy-like body rolls in the grass. You’re in the absolutely divine gift of Palmer Grey. You’re in the 3-kid circus of the Wells house. You’re in the old friendships that were given new life after your death – like with the Patels and Herzlichs. You’re in the way your uncles make me laugh. You’re in your daddy’s skin, his playfulness. You’re in your sister’s love for your brother. You’re in Vaughn’s strut and his obsession with Chapstick. You’re the chorus of laughter we hear from the park. You’re in all good things. You’re in all our happy moments, and the hard ones, too. You are everywhere to me. And you always will be. Happy Big 3, honey pot.
Likes : 18750Kara Keough - 18.8K Likes - It doesn’t hurt to think of you most of the time. And I do think of you most of the time. You’re always there, in the same way your brother and sister are. Even when my babies aren’t in my arms, or throwing elbows into my soft bits, or putting sticky fingers in my hair, or leaning into my sturdiness, or cradling their faces into the crook of my neck; they’re right there with me in my every breath. It’s like that with you, McCoy. Since the moment you were born - three years ago today - I’ve been tethered to you. You’re so very here in the big things. You’re here in the Easter baskets, the birthday pancakes, the stockings at Christmas. The weddings, the reunions, the lingering hugs with friends in pain, the begging prayers to God. There’s a card “from” you for every occasion. But you’re also here in the little things, like when people ask how many kids we have. Or that feeling I get watching the rising sun color outside the lines of the ocean’s edge. You’re another face peering over the freezer drawer, in search of popsicles. You’re among the pitter patter of human and furry feet that rush the front door when there’s a knock. You’re in Charlie’s overflowing and almost preteen-like confidence. You’re in Caden’s heart for baseball, his body for football. You’re in Quinn’s scrunchy-nosed, squinty-eyed smile. You’re in Duke’s baby blues and in the way he peers up at his mama. You’re there in the way Tucker Beau follows his daddy around, a shrunken copy just inside the wake of the original. You’re in Rhett’s gleeful, puppy-like body rolls in the grass. You’re in the absolutely divine gift of Palmer Grey. You’re in the 3-kid circus of the Wells house. You’re in the old friendships that were given new life after your death - like with the Patels and Herzlichs. You’re in the way your uncles make me laugh. You’re in your daddy’s skin, his playfulness. You’re in your sister’s love for your brother. You’re in Vaughn’s strut and his obsession with Chapstick. You’re the chorus of laughter we hear from the park. You’re in all good things. You’re in all our happy moments, and the hard ones, too. You are everywhere to me. And you always will be. Happy Big 3, honey pot.

18.8K Likes – Kara Keough Instagram

Caption : It doesn’t hurt to think of you most of the time. And I do think of you most of the time. You’re always there, in the same way your brother and sister are. Even when my babies aren’t in my arms, or throwing elbows into my soft bits, or putting sticky fingers in my hair, or leaning into my sturdiness, or cradling their faces into the crook of my neck; they’re right there with me in my every breath. It’s like that with you, McCoy. Since the moment you were born – three years ago today – I’ve been tethered to you. You’re so very here in the big things. You’re here in the Easter baskets, the birthday pancakes, the stockings at Christmas. The weddings, the reunions, the lingering hugs with friends in pain, the begging prayers to God. There’s a card “from” you for every occasion. But you’re also here in the little things, like when people ask how many kids we have. Or that feeling I get watching the rising sun color outside the lines of the ocean’s edge. You’re another face peering over the freezer drawer, in search of popsicles. You’re among the pitter patter of human and furry feet that rush the front door when there’s a knock. You’re in Charlie’s overflowing and almost preteen-like confidence. You’re in Caden’s heart for baseball, his body for football. You’re in Quinn’s scrunchy-nosed, squinty-eyed smile. You’re in Duke’s baby blues and in the way he peers up at his mama. You’re there in the way Tucker Beau follows his daddy around, a shrunken copy just inside the wake of the original. You’re in Rhett’s gleeful, puppy-like body rolls in the grass. You’re in the absolutely divine gift of Palmer Grey. You’re in the 3-kid circus of the Wells house. You’re in the old friendships that were given new life after your death – like with the Patels and Herzlichs. You’re in the way your uncles make me laugh. You’re in your daddy’s skin, his playfulness. You’re in your sister’s love for your brother. You’re in Vaughn’s strut and his obsession with Chapstick. You’re the chorus of laughter we hear from the park. You’re in all good things. You’re in all our happy moments, and the hard ones, too. You are everywhere to me. And you always will be. Happy Big 3, honey pot.
Likes : 18750Kara Keough - 18.8K Likes - It doesn’t hurt to think of you most of the time. And I do think of you most of the time. You’re always there, in the same way your brother and sister are. Even when my babies aren’t in my arms, or throwing elbows into my soft bits, or putting sticky fingers in my hair, or leaning into my sturdiness, or cradling their faces into the crook of my neck; they’re right there with me in my every breath. It’s like that with you, McCoy. Since the moment you were born - three years ago today - I’ve been tethered to you. You’re so very here in the big things. You’re here in the Easter baskets, the birthday pancakes, the stockings at Christmas. The weddings, the reunions, the lingering hugs with friends in pain, the begging prayers to God. There’s a card “from” you for every occasion. But you’re also here in the little things, like when people ask how many kids we have. Or that feeling I get watching the rising sun color outside the lines of the ocean’s edge. You’re another face peering over the freezer drawer, in search of popsicles. You’re among the pitter patter of human and furry feet that rush the front door when there’s a knock. You’re in Charlie’s overflowing and almost preteen-like confidence. You’re in Caden’s heart for baseball, his body for football. You’re in Quinn’s scrunchy-nosed, squinty-eyed smile. You’re in Duke’s baby blues and in the way he peers up at his mama. You’re there in the way Tucker Beau follows his daddy around, a shrunken copy just inside the wake of the original. You’re in Rhett’s gleeful, puppy-like body rolls in the grass. You’re in the absolutely divine gift of Palmer Grey. You’re in the 3-kid circus of the Wells house. You’re in the old friendships that were given new life after your death - like with the Patels and Herzlichs. You’re in the way your uncles make me laugh. You’re in your daddy’s skin, his playfulness. You’re in your sister’s love for your brother. You’re in Vaughn’s strut and his obsession with Chapstick. You’re the chorus of laughter we hear from the park. You’re in all good things. You’re in all our happy moments, and the hard ones, too. You are everywhere to me. And you always will be. Happy Big 3, honey pot.

18.8K Likes – Kara Keough Instagram

Caption : It doesn’t hurt to think of you most of the time. And I do think of you most of the time. You’re always there, in the same way your brother and sister are. Even when my babies aren’t in my arms, or throwing elbows into my soft bits, or putting sticky fingers in my hair, or leaning into my sturdiness, or cradling their faces into the crook of my neck; they’re right there with me in my every breath. It’s like that with you, McCoy. Since the moment you were born – three years ago today – I’ve been tethered to you. You’re so very here in the big things. You’re here in the Easter baskets, the birthday pancakes, the stockings at Christmas. The weddings, the reunions, the lingering hugs with friends in pain, the begging prayers to God. There’s a card “from” you for every occasion. But you’re also here in the little things, like when people ask how many kids we have. Or that feeling I get watching the rising sun color outside the lines of the ocean’s edge. You’re another face peering over the freezer drawer, in search of popsicles. You’re among the pitter patter of human and furry feet that rush the front door when there’s a knock. You’re in Charlie’s overflowing and almost preteen-like confidence. You’re in Caden’s heart for baseball, his body for football. You’re in Quinn’s scrunchy-nosed, squinty-eyed smile. You’re in Duke’s baby blues and in the way he peers up at his mama. You’re there in the way Tucker Beau follows his daddy around, a shrunken copy just inside the wake of the original. You’re in Rhett’s gleeful, puppy-like body rolls in the grass. You’re in the absolutely divine gift of Palmer Grey. You’re in the 3-kid circus of the Wells house. You’re in the old friendships that were given new life after your death – like with the Patels and Herzlichs. You’re in the way your uncles make me laugh. You’re in your daddy’s skin, his playfulness. You’re in your sister’s love for your brother. You’re in Vaughn’s strut and his obsession with Chapstick. You’re the chorus of laughter we hear from the park. You’re in all good things. You’re in all our happy moments, and the hard ones, too. You are everywhere to me. And you always will be. Happy Big 3, honey pot.
Likes : 18750Kara Keough - 18.8K Likes - It doesn’t hurt to think of you most of the time. And I do think of you most of the time. You’re always there, in the same way your brother and sister are. Even when my babies aren’t in my arms, or throwing elbows into my soft bits, or putting sticky fingers in my hair, or leaning into my sturdiness, or cradling their faces into the crook of my neck; they’re right there with me in my every breath. It’s like that with you, McCoy. Since the moment you were born - three years ago today - I’ve been tethered to you. You’re so very here in the big things. You’re here in the Easter baskets, the birthday pancakes, the stockings at Christmas. The weddings, the reunions, the lingering hugs with friends in pain, the begging prayers to God. There’s a card “from” you for every occasion. But you’re also here in the little things, like when people ask how many kids we have. Or that feeling I get watching the rising sun color outside the lines of the ocean’s edge. You’re another face peering over the freezer drawer, in search of popsicles. You’re among the pitter patter of human and furry feet that rush the front door when there’s a knock. You’re in Charlie’s overflowing and almost preteen-like confidence. You’re in Caden’s heart for baseball, his body for football. You’re in Quinn’s scrunchy-nosed, squinty-eyed smile. You’re in Duke’s baby blues and in the way he peers up at his mama. You’re there in the way Tucker Beau follows his daddy around, a shrunken copy just inside the wake of the original. You’re in Rhett’s gleeful, puppy-like body rolls in the grass. You’re in the absolutely divine gift of Palmer Grey. You’re in the 3-kid circus of the Wells house. You’re in the old friendships that were given new life after your death - like with the Patels and Herzlichs. You’re in the way your uncles make me laugh. You’re in your daddy’s skin, his playfulness. You’re in your sister’s love for your brother. You’re in Vaughn’s strut and his obsession with Chapstick. You’re the chorus of laughter we hear from the park. You’re in all good things. You’re in all our happy moments, and the hard ones, too. You are everywhere to me. And you always will be. Happy Big 3, honey pot.

18.8K Likes – Kara Keough Instagram

Caption : It doesn’t hurt to think of you most of the time. And I do think of you most of the time. You’re always there, in the same way your brother and sister are. Even when my babies aren’t in my arms, or throwing elbows into my soft bits, or putting sticky fingers in my hair, or leaning into my sturdiness, or cradling their faces into the crook of my neck; they’re right there with me in my every breath. It’s like that with you, McCoy. Since the moment you were born – three years ago today – I’ve been tethered to you. You’re so very here in the big things. You’re here in the Easter baskets, the birthday pancakes, the stockings at Christmas. The weddings, the reunions, the lingering hugs with friends in pain, the begging prayers to God. There’s a card “from” you for every occasion. But you’re also here in the little things, like when people ask how many kids we have. Or that feeling I get watching the rising sun color outside the lines of the ocean’s edge. You’re another face peering over the freezer drawer, in search of popsicles. You’re among the pitter patter of human and furry feet that rush the front door when there’s a knock. You’re in Charlie’s overflowing and almost preteen-like confidence. You’re in Caden’s heart for baseball, his body for football. You’re in Quinn’s scrunchy-nosed, squinty-eyed smile. You’re in Duke’s baby blues and in the way he peers up at his mama. You’re there in the way Tucker Beau follows his daddy around, a shrunken copy just inside the wake of the original. You’re in Rhett’s gleeful, puppy-like body rolls in the grass. You’re in the absolutely divine gift of Palmer Grey. You’re in the 3-kid circus of the Wells house. You’re in the old friendships that were given new life after your death – like with the Patels and Herzlichs. You’re in the way your uncles make me laugh. You’re in your daddy’s skin, his playfulness. You’re in your sister’s love for your brother. You’re in Vaughn’s strut and his obsession with Chapstick. You’re the chorus of laughter we hear from the park. You’re in all good things. You’re in all our happy moments, and the hard ones, too. You are everywhere to me. And you always will be. Happy Big 3, honey pot.
Likes : 18750Kara Keough - 18.8K Likes - It doesn’t hurt to think of you most of the time. And I do think of you most of the time. You’re always there, in the same way your brother and sister are. Even when my babies aren’t in my arms, or throwing elbows into my soft bits, or putting sticky fingers in my hair, or leaning into my sturdiness, or cradling their faces into the crook of my neck; they’re right there with me in my every breath. It’s like that with you, McCoy. Since the moment you were born - three years ago today - I’ve been tethered to you. You’re so very here in the big things. You’re here in the Easter baskets, the birthday pancakes, the stockings at Christmas. The weddings, the reunions, the lingering hugs with friends in pain, the begging prayers to God. There’s a card “from” you for every occasion. But you’re also here in the little things, like when people ask how many kids we have. Or that feeling I get watching the rising sun color outside the lines of the ocean’s edge. You’re another face peering over the freezer drawer, in search of popsicles. You’re among the pitter patter of human and furry feet that rush the front door when there’s a knock. You’re in Charlie’s overflowing and almost preteen-like confidence. You’re in Caden’s heart for baseball, his body for football. You’re in Quinn’s scrunchy-nosed, squinty-eyed smile. You’re in Duke’s baby blues and in the way he peers up at his mama. You’re there in the way Tucker Beau follows his daddy around, a shrunken copy just inside the wake of the original. You’re in Rhett’s gleeful, puppy-like body rolls in the grass. You’re in the absolutely divine gift of Palmer Grey. You’re in the 3-kid circus of the Wells house. You’re in the old friendships that were given new life after your death - like with the Patels and Herzlichs. You’re in the way your uncles make me laugh. You’re in your daddy’s skin, his playfulness. You’re in your sister’s love for your brother. You’re in Vaughn’s strut and his obsession with Chapstick. You’re the chorus of laughter we hear from the park. You’re in all good things. You’re in all our happy moments, and the hard ones, too. You are everywhere to me. And you always will be. Happy Big 3, honey pot.

18.8K Likes – Kara Keough Instagram

Caption : It doesn’t hurt to think of you most of the time. And I do think of you most of the time. You’re always there, in the same way your brother and sister are. Even when my babies aren’t in my arms, or throwing elbows into my soft bits, or putting sticky fingers in my hair, or leaning into my sturdiness, or cradling their faces into the crook of my neck; they’re right there with me in my every breath. It’s like that with you, McCoy. Since the moment you were born – three years ago today – I’ve been tethered to you. You’re so very here in the big things. You’re here in the Easter baskets, the birthday pancakes, the stockings at Christmas. The weddings, the reunions, the lingering hugs with friends in pain, the begging prayers to God. There’s a card “from” you for every occasion. But you’re also here in the little things, like when people ask how many kids we have. Or that feeling I get watching the rising sun color outside the lines of the ocean’s edge. You’re another face peering over the freezer drawer, in search of popsicles. You’re among the pitter patter of human and furry feet that rush the front door when there’s a knock. You’re in Charlie’s overflowing and almost preteen-like confidence. You’re in Caden’s heart for baseball, his body for football. You’re in Quinn’s scrunchy-nosed, squinty-eyed smile. You’re in Duke’s baby blues and in the way he peers up at his mama. You’re there in the way Tucker Beau follows his daddy around, a shrunken copy just inside the wake of the original. You’re in Rhett’s gleeful, puppy-like body rolls in the grass. You’re in the absolutely divine gift of Palmer Grey. You’re in the 3-kid circus of the Wells house. You’re in the old friendships that were given new life after your death – like with the Patels and Herzlichs. You’re in the way your uncles make me laugh. You’re in your daddy’s skin, his playfulness. You’re in your sister’s love for your brother. You’re in Vaughn’s strut and his obsession with Chapstick. You’re the chorus of laughter we hear from the park. You’re in all good things. You’re in all our happy moments, and the hard ones, too. You are everywhere to me. And you always will be. Happy Big 3, honey pot.
Likes : 18750Kara Keough - 18.8K Likes - It doesn’t hurt to think of you most of the time. And I do think of you most of the time. You’re always there, in the same way your brother and sister are. Even when my babies aren’t in my arms, or throwing elbows into my soft bits, or putting sticky fingers in my hair, or leaning into my sturdiness, or cradling their faces into the crook of my neck; they’re right there with me in my every breath. It’s like that with you, McCoy. Since the moment you were born - three years ago today - I’ve been tethered to you. You’re so very here in the big things. You’re here in the Easter baskets, the birthday pancakes, the stockings at Christmas. The weddings, the reunions, the lingering hugs with friends in pain, the begging prayers to God. There’s a card “from” you for every occasion. But you’re also here in the little things, like when people ask how many kids we have. Or that feeling I get watching the rising sun color outside the lines of the ocean’s edge. You’re another face peering over the freezer drawer, in search of popsicles. You’re among the pitter patter of human and furry feet that rush the front door when there’s a knock. You’re in Charlie’s overflowing and almost preteen-like confidence. You’re in Caden’s heart for baseball, his body for football. You’re in Quinn’s scrunchy-nosed, squinty-eyed smile. You’re in Duke’s baby blues and in the way he peers up at his mama. You’re there in the way Tucker Beau follows his daddy around, a shrunken copy just inside the wake of the original. You’re in Rhett’s gleeful, puppy-like body rolls in the grass. You’re in the absolutely divine gift of Palmer Grey. You’re in the 3-kid circus of the Wells house. You’re in the old friendships that were given new life after your death - like with the Patels and Herzlichs. You’re in the way your uncles make me laugh. You’re in your daddy’s skin, his playfulness. You’re in your sister’s love for your brother. You’re in Vaughn’s strut and his obsession with Chapstick. You’re the chorus of laughter we hear from the park. You’re in all good things. You’re in all our happy moments, and the hard ones, too. You are everywhere to me. And you always will be. Happy Big 3, honey pot.

18.8K Likes – Kara Keough Instagram

Caption : It doesn’t hurt to think of you most of the time. And I do think of you most of the time. You’re always there, in the same way your brother and sister are. Even when my babies aren’t in my arms, or throwing elbows into my soft bits, or putting sticky fingers in my hair, or leaning into my sturdiness, or cradling their faces into the crook of my neck; they’re right there with me in my every breath. It’s like that with you, McCoy. Since the moment you were born – three years ago today – I’ve been tethered to you. You’re so very here in the big things. You’re here in the Easter baskets, the birthday pancakes, the stockings at Christmas. The weddings, the reunions, the lingering hugs with friends in pain, the begging prayers to God. There’s a card “from” you for every occasion. But you’re also here in the little things, like when people ask how many kids we have. Or that feeling I get watching the rising sun color outside the lines of the ocean’s edge. You’re another face peering over the freezer drawer, in search of popsicles. You’re among the pitter patter of human and furry feet that rush the front door when there’s a knock. You’re in Charlie’s overflowing and almost preteen-like confidence. You’re in Caden’s heart for baseball, his body for football. You’re in Quinn’s scrunchy-nosed, squinty-eyed smile. You’re in Duke’s baby blues and in the way he peers up at his mama. You’re there in the way Tucker Beau follows his daddy around, a shrunken copy just inside the wake of the original. You’re in Rhett’s gleeful, puppy-like body rolls in the grass. You’re in the absolutely divine gift of Palmer Grey. You’re in the 3-kid circus of the Wells house. You’re in the old friendships that were given new life after your death – like with the Patels and Herzlichs. You’re in the way your uncles make me laugh. You’re in your daddy’s skin, his playfulness. You’re in your sister’s love for your brother. You’re in Vaughn’s strut and his obsession with Chapstick. You’re the chorus of laughter we hear from the park. You’re in all good things. You’re in all our happy moments, and the hard ones, too. You are everywhere to me. And you always will be. Happy Big 3, honey pot.
Likes : 18750Kara Keough - 18.8K Likes - It doesn’t hurt to think of you most of the time. And I do think of you most of the time. You’re always there, in the same way your brother and sister are. Even when my babies aren’t in my arms, or throwing elbows into my soft bits, or putting sticky fingers in my hair, or leaning into my sturdiness, or cradling their faces into the crook of my neck; they’re right there with me in my every breath. It’s like that with you, McCoy. Since the moment you were born - three years ago today - I’ve been tethered to you. You’re so very here in the big things. You’re here in the Easter baskets, the birthday pancakes, the stockings at Christmas. The weddings, the reunions, the lingering hugs with friends in pain, the begging prayers to God. There’s a card “from” you for every occasion. But you’re also here in the little things, like when people ask how many kids we have. Or that feeling I get watching the rising sun color outside the lines of the ocean’s edge. You’re another face peering over the freezer drawer, in search of popsicles. You’re among the pitter patter of human and furry feet that rush the front door when there’s a knock. You’re in Charlie’s overflowing and almost preteen-like confidence. You’re in Caden’s heart for baseball, his body for football. You’re in Quinn’s scrunchy-nosed, squinty-eyed smile. You’re in Duke’s baby blues and in the way he peers up at his mama. You’re there in the way Tucker Beau follows his daddy around, a shrunken copy just inside the wake of the original. You’re in Rhett’s gleeful, puppy-like body rolls in the grass. You’re in the absolutely divine gift of Palmer Grey. You’re in the 3-kid circus of the Wells house. You’re in the old friendships that were given new life after your death - like with the Patels and Herzlichs. You’re in the way your uncles make me laugh. You’re in your daddy’s skin, his playfulness. You’re in your sister’s love for your brother. You’re in Vaughn’s strut and his obsession with Chapstick. You’re the chorus of laughter we hear from the park. You’re in all good things. You’re in all our happy moments, and the hard ones, too. You are everywhere to me. And you always will be. Happy Big 3, honey pot.

18.8K Likes – Kara Keough Instagram

Caption : It doesn’t hurt to think of you most of the time. And I do think of you most of the time. You’re always there, in the same way your brother and sister are. Even when my babies aren’t in my arms, or throwing elbows into my soft bits, or putting sticky fingers in my hair, or leaning into my sturdiness, or cradling their faces into the crook of my neck; they’re right there with me in my every breath. It’s like that with you, McCoy. Since the moment you were born – three years ago today – I’ve been tethered to you. You’re so very here in the big things. You’re here in the Easter baskets, the birthday pancakes, the stockings at Christmas. The weddings, the reunions, the lingering hugs with friends in pain, the begging prayers to God. There’s a card “from” you for every occasion. But you’re also here in the little things, like when people ask how many kids we have. Or that feeling I get watching the rising sun color outside the lines of the ocean’s edge. You’re another face peering over the freezer drawer, in search of popsicles. You’re among the pitter patter of human and furry feet that rush the front door when there’s a knock. You’re in Charlie’s overflowing and almost preteen-like confidence. You’re in Caden’s heart for baseball, his body for football. You’re in Quinn’s scrunchy-nosed, squinty-eyed smile. You’re in Duke’s baby blues and in the way he peers up at his mama. You’re there in the way Tucker Beau follows his daddy around, a shrunken copy just inside the wake of the original. You’re in Rhett’s gleeful, puppy-like body rolls in the grass. You’re in the absolutely divine gift of Palmer Grey. You’re in the 3-kid circus of the Wells house. You’re in the old friendships that were given new life after your death – like with the Patels and Herzlichs. You’re in the way your uncles make me laugh. You’re in your daddy’s skin, his playfulness. You’re in your sister’s love for your brother. You’re in Vaughn’s strut and his obsession with Chapstick. You’re the chorus of laughter we hear from the park. You’re in all good things. You’re in all our happy moments, and the hard ones, too. You are everywhere to me. And you always will be. Happy Big 3, honey pot.
Likes : 18750Kara Keough - 18.8K Likes - It doesn’t hurt to think of you most of the time. And I do think of you most of the time. You’re always there, in the same way your brother and sister are. Even when my babies aren’t in my arms, or throwing elbows into my soft bits, or putting sticky fingers in my hair, or leaning into my sturdiness, or cradling their faces into the crook of my neck; they’re right there with me in my every breath. It’s like that with you, McCoy. Since the moment you were born - three years ago today - I’ve been tethered to you. You’re so very here in the big things. You’re here in the Easter baskets, the birthday pancakes, the stockings at Christmas. The weddings, the reunions, the lingering hugs with friends in pain, the begging prayers to God. There’s a card “from” you for every occasion. But you’re also here in the little things, like when people ask how many kids we have. Or that feeling I get watching the rising sun color outside the lines of the ocean’s edge. You’re another face peering over the freezer drawer, in search of popsicles. You’re among the pitter patter of human and furry feet that rush the front door when there’s a knock. You’re in Charlie’s overflowing and almost preteen-like confidence. You’re in Caden’s heart for baseball, his body for football. You’re in Quinn’s scrunchy-nosed, squinty-eyed smile. You’re in Duke’s baby blues and in the way he peers up at his mama. You’re there in the way Tucker Beau follows his daddy around, a shrunken copy just inside the wake of the original. You’re in Rhett’s gleeful, puppy-like body rolls in the grass. You’re in the absolutely divine gift of Palmer Grey. You’re in the 3-kid circus of the Wells house. You’re in the old friendships that were given new life after your death - like with the Patels and Herzlichs. You’re in the way your uncles make me laugh. You’re in your daddy’s skin, his playfulness. You’re in your sister’s love for your brother. You’re in Vaughn’s strut and his obsession with Chapstick. You’re the chorus of laughter we hear from the park. You’re in all good things. You’re in all our happy moments, and the hard ones, too. You are everywhere to me. And you always will be. Happy Big 3, honey pot.

18.8K Likes – Kara Keough Instagram

Caption : It doesn’t hurt to think of you most of the time. And I do think of you most of the time. You’re always there, in the same way your brother and sister are. Even when my babies aren’t in my arms, or throwing elbows into my soft bits, or putting sticky fingers in my hair, or leaning into my sturdiness, or cradling their faces into the crook of my neck; they’re right there with me in my every breath. It’s like that with you, McCoy. Since the moment you were born – three years ago today – I’ve been tethered to you. You’re so very here in the big things. You’re here in the Easter baskets, the birthday pancakes, the stockings at Christmas. The weddings, the reunions, the lingering hugs with friends in pain, the begging prayers to God. There’s a card “from” you for every occasion. But you’re also here in the little things, like when people ask how many kids we have. Or that feeling I get watching the rising sun color outside the lines of the ocean’s edge. You’re another face peering over the freezer drawer, in search of popsicles. You’re among the pitter patter of human and furry feet that rush the front door when there’s a knock. You’re in Charlie’s overflowing and almost preteen-like confidence. You’re in Caden’s heart for baseball, his body for football. You’re in Quinn’s scrunchy-nosed, squinty-eyed smile. You’re in Duke’s baby blues and in the way he peers up at his mama. You’re there in the way Tucker Beau follows his daddy around, a shrunken copy just inside the wake of the original. You’re in Rhett’s gleeful, puppy-like body rolls in the grass. You’re in the absolutely divine gift of Palmer Grey. You’re in the 3-kid circus of the Wells house. You’re in the old friendships that were given new life after your death – like with the Patels and Herzlichs. You’re in the way your uncles make me laugh. You’re in your daddy’s skin, his playfulness. You’re in your sister’s love for your brother. You’re in Vaughn’s strut and his obsession with Chapstick. You’re the chorus of laughter we hear from the park. You’re in all good things. You’re in all our happy moments, and the hard ones, too. You are everywhere to me. And you always will be. Happy Big 3, honey pot.
Likes : 18750Kara Keough - 18.4K Likes - Salud 2022 🍾

18.4K Likes – Kara Keough Instagram

Caption : Salud 2022 🍾
Likes : 18415Kara Keough - 17K Likes - Four years ago on Easter, McCoy died in my arms. Three years ago today, Vaughn cried in my arms. In that single second, he brought color back into my world and mended so many of the cracks of my shattered heart. Since that moment, our rainbow boy has splashed vibrant color over every dark shadow of my soul. I blinked and now he’s three. He wants to Hulk-Smash, peel eggs, drink mama’s “eyectroyites” and clean windows like a big boy, but he also asks to be held and rocked “like I’m a baby”. He demands to be included in everything “Do me! Do me!!” and is an expert in comfort. He watches emotional pain with a keen eye, an open heart, and an outstretched hand… it’s apparent that when God knit him together, He knew the role Vaughn would play in our family. His teachers comment on Vaughn’s skill mending spats between his friends. I’ve never seen a child so young act as a broker between suffering and healing… He’s a band-aid getting, hug-squeezing, kiss-giving guy whose favorite phrase is “It’s okay.” He loves bubble gum and talking about buttholes. To me, he’s perfection. He beautifully balances fun with respectful caution, like he already knows how precious and precarious a life truly is - a unique gift from his brother to his mother, no doubt. He enjoys tinkering with things like a wise old man, and searches for answers in the faces of his trusted people. He’s affectionate and gentle with his infant sister in a way one would never expect from a child his age. Vaughn loves riding in Daddy’s Jeep and washing cars. He’s always down to wrestle his big sister and to snuggle his mama. The only thing better than seeing him as a brother to Stetson and Decker, would be to see him with McCoy too. We love you, Nonnie. Happy birthday, my son.

17K Likes – Kara Keough Instagram

Caption : Four years ago on Easter, McCoy died in my arms. Three years ago today, Vaughn cried in my arms. In that single second, he brought color back into my world and mended so many of the cracks of my shattered heart. Since that moment, our rainbow boy has splashed vibrant color over every dark shadow of my soul. I blinked and now he’s three. He wants to Hulk-Smash, peel eggs, drink mama’s “eyectroyites” and clean windows like a big boy, but he also asks to be held and rocked “like I’m a baby”. He demands to be included in everything “Do me! Do me!!” and is an expert in comfort. He watches emotional pain with a keen eye, an open heart, and an outstretched hand… it’s apparent that when God knit him together, He knew the role Vaughn would play in our family. His teachers comment on Vaughn’s skill mending spats between his friends. I’ve never seen a child so young act as a broker between suffering and healing… He’s a band-aid getting, hug-squeezing, kiss-giving guy whose favorite phrase is “It’s okay.” He loves bubble gum and talking about buttholes. To me, he’s perfection. He beautifully balances fun with respectful caution, like he already knows how precious and precarious a life truly is – a unique gift from his brother to his mother, no doubt. He enjoys tinkering with things like a wise old man, and searches for answers in the faces of his trusted people. He’s affectionate and gentle with his infant sister in a way one would never expect from a child his age. Vaughn loves riding in Daddy’s Jeep and washing cars. He’s always down to wrestle his big sister and to snuggle his mama. The only thing better than seeing him as a brother to Stetson and Decker, would be to see him with McCoy too. We love you, Nonnie. Happy birthday, my son.
Likes : 17024Kara Keough - 16.6K Likes - For all those wishing there was one more hand to hold today… you’re not alone 🤍

16.6K Likes – Kara Keough Instagram

Caption : For all those wishing there was one more hand to hold today… you’re not alone 🤍
Likes : 16584Kara Keough - 16K Likes - Is he embracing my face because watching me give birth makes him fall in love with me all over again? Or is he wiping me off because I had baby cheese all over my face? We’ll never know, but I love you like crazy in either case. In 🤍and in 🧀, @kyleboz.

16K Likes – Kara Keough Instagram

Caption : Is he embracing my face because watching me give birth makes him fall in love with me all over again? Or is he wiping me off because I had baby cheese all over my face? We’ll never know, but I love you like crazy in either case. In 🤍and in 🧀, @kyleboz.
Likes : 15967Kara Keough - 15.4K Likes - When I first saw you shirtless, I was convinced you could be a Chippendale dancer. Then I saw you dance, & I suspected you already were a Chippendale dancer. I was sure your hands were the most attractive part about you, despite all the competition they had. They had to compete with your eyes - or your “magic pools of water,” as your mama calls them. They had to compete with your torso, which qualified for enshrinement as a marble bust in any museum. And your thick maple hair, which is now streaked with the sexiest dash of silver. And your braces-less teeth - which forms the sweetest cheeky smile, one that our kids all wear today. I’ve been crazy about you since 2010. You were the kindest man I’d ever met. After getting to know you & your twin brother @koreybosworth, I was convinced that men were just better off when raised by single mothers. I was convinced that you were the best version of manhood: one who loved lifting heavy things, but also cartoons. One who loved playing sports, but didn’t really care to watch them. One who had a Texas “y’all,” but wasn’t afraid to whip out a California “bro” when necessary. One who loved anything I cooked for him, but was protective of his mama’s meatloaf. In my eyes, real men - like this one I was falling in love with - love strong and smart women and aren’t threatened by their “cerebral brains.” Real men call their moms often & tell their friends they love them. Real men play make believe with their kids. Real men help their wives feel safe, respected, & treasured. Real men have integrity. Thanks for showing me that men can be trusted. Thanks for showing me the value of being a good apologizer, so that we don’t spend too much time in the petty & stubborn anger that steals so many minutes of too many marriages. Thanks for being a warm hug on the coldest days, & the only place I want to crawl into when I miss our boy. I chose so well when I chose you. Happy birthday to a guy who literally does not wash his face & somehow has perfect skin. Happy birthday to the owner of the greatest ass/shelf which probably still holds the squat record at UCLA. Happy birthday to my real man. Happy birthday @kyleboz.

15.4K Likes – Kara Keough Instagram

Caption : When I first saw you shirtless, I was convinced you could be a Chippendale dancer. Then I saw you dance, & I suspected you already were a Chippendale dancer. I was sure your hands were the most attractive part about you, despite all the competition they had. They had to compete with your eyes – or your “magic pools of water,” as your mama calls them. They had to compete with your torso, which qualified for enshrinement as a marble bust in any museum. And your thick maple hair, which is now streaked with the sexiest dash of silver. And your braces-less teeth – which forms the sweetest cheeky smile, one that our kids all wear today. I’ve been crazy about you since 2010. You were the kindest man I’d ever met. After getting to know you & your twin brother @koreybosworth, I was convinced that men were just better off when raised by single mothers. I was convinced that you were the best version of manhood: one who loved lifting heavy things, but also cartoons. One who loved playing sports, but didn’t really care to watch them. One who had a Texas “y’all,” but wasn’t afraid to whip out a California “bro” when necessary. One who loved anything I cooked for him, but was protective of his mama’s meatloaf. In my eyes, real men – like this one I was falling in love with – love strong and smart women and aren’t threatened by their “cerebral brains.” Real men call their moms often & tell their friends they love them. Real men play make believe with their kids. Real men help their wives feel safe, respected, & treasured. Real men have integrity. Thanks for showing me that men can be trusted. Thanks for showing me the value of being a good apologizer, so that we don’t spend too much time in the petty & stubborn anger that steals so many minutes of too many marriages. Thanks for being a warm hug on the coldest days, & the only place I want to crawl into when I miss our boy. I chose so well when I chose you. Happy birthday to a guy who literally does not wash his face & somehow has perfect skin. Happy birthday to the owner of the greatest ass/shelf which probably still holds the squat record at UCLA. Happy birthday to my real man. Happy birthday @kyleboz.
Likes : 15428Kara Keough - 15.4K Likes - When I first saw you shirtless, I was convinced you could be a Chippendale dancer. Then I saw you dance, & I suspected you already were a Chippendale dancer. I was sure your hands were the most attractive part about you, despite all the competition they had. They had to compete with your eyes - or your “magic pools of water,” as your mama calls them. They had to compete with your torso, which qualified for enshrinement as a marble bust in any museum. And your thick maple hair, which is now streaked with the sexiest dash of silver. And your braces-less teeth - which forms the sweetest cheeky smile, one that our kids all wear today. I’ve been crazy about you since 2010. You were the kindest man I’d ever met. After getting to know you & your twin brother @koreybosworth, I was convinced that men were just better off when raised by single mothers. I was convinced that you were the best version of manhood: one who loved lifting heavy things, but also cartoons. One who loved playing sports, but didn’t really care to watch them. One who had a Texas “y’all,” but wasn’t afraid to whip out a California “bro” when necessary. One who loved anything I cooked for him, but was protective of his mama’s meatloaf. In my eyes, real men - like this one I was falling in love with - love strong and smart women and aren’t threatened by their “cerebral brains.” Real men call their moms often & tell their friends they love them. Real men play make believe with their kids. Real men help their wives feel safe, respected, & treasured. Real men have integrity. Thanks for showing me that men can be trusted. Thanks for showing me the value of being a good apologizer, so that we don’t spend too much time in the petty & stubborn anger that steals so many minutes of too many marriages. Thanks for being a warm hug on the coldest days, & the only place I want to crawl into when I miss our boy. I chose so well when I chose you. Happy birthday to a guy who literally does not wash his face & somehow has perfect skin. Happy birthday to the owner of the greatest ass/shelf which probably still holds the squat record at UCLA. Happy birthday to my real man. Happy birthday @kyleboz.

15.4K Likes – Kara Keough Instagram

Caption : When I first saw you shirtless, I was convinced you could be a Chippendale dancer. Then I saw you dance, & I suspected you already were a Chippendale dancer. I was sure your hands were the most attractive part about you, despite all the competition they had. They had to compete with your eyes – or your “magic pools of water,” as your mama calls them. They had to compete with your torso, which qualified for enshrinement as a marble bust in any museum. And your thick maple hair, which is now streaked with the sexiest dash of silver. And your braces-less teeth – which forms the sweetest cheeky smile, one that our kids all wear today. I’ve been crazy about you since 2010. You were the kindest man I’d ever met. After getting to know you & your twin brother @koreybosworth, I was convinced that men were just better off when raised by single mothers. I was convinced that you were the best version of manhood: one who loved lifting heavy things, but also cartoons. One who loved playing sports, but didn’t really care to watch them. One who had a Texas “y’all,” but wasn’t afraid to whip out a California “bro” when necessary. One who loved anything I cooked for him, but was protective of his mama’s meatloaf. In my eyes, real men – like this one I was falling in love with – love strong and smart women and aren’t threatened by their “cerebral brains.” Real men call their moms often & tell their friends they love them. Real men play make believe with their kids. Real men help their wives feel safe, respected, & treasured. Real men have integrity. Thanks for showing me that men can be trusted. Thanks for showing me the value of being a good apologizer, so that we don’t spend too much time in the petty & stubborn anger that steals so many minutes of too many marriages. Thanks for being a warm hug on the coldest days, & the only place I want to crawl into when I miss our boy. I chose so well when I chose you. Happy birthday to a guy who literally does not wash his face & somehow has perfect skin. Happy birthday to the owner of the greatest ass/shelf which probably still holds the squat record at UCLA. Happy birthday to my real man. Happy birthday @kyleboz.
Likes : 15428Kara Keough - 15.4K Likes - When I first saw you shirtless, I was convinced you could be a Chippendale dancer. Then I saw you dance, & I suspected you already were a Chippendale dancer. I was sure your hands were the most attractive part about you, despite all the competition they had. They had to compete with your eyes - or your “magic pools of water,” as your mama calls them. They had to compete with your torso, which qualified for enshrinement as a marble bust in any museum. And your thick maple hair, which is now streaked with the sexiest dash of silver. And your braces-less teeth - which forms the sweetest cheeky smile, one that our kids all wear today. I’ve been crazy about you since 2010. You were the kindest man I’d ever met. After getting to know you & your twin brother @koreybosworth, I was convinced that men were just better off when raised by single mothers. I was convinced that you were the best version of manhood: one who loved lifting heavy things, but also cartoons. One who loved playing sports, but didn’t really care to watch them. One who had a Texas “y’all,” but wasn’t afraid to whip out a California “bro” when necessary. One who loved anything I cooked for him, but was protective of his mama’s meatloaf. In my eyes, real men - like this one I was falling in love with - love strong and smart women and aren’t threatened by their “cerebral brains.” Real men call their moms often & tell their friends they love them. Real men play make believe with their kids. Real men help their wives feel safe, respected, & treasured. Real men have integrity. Thanks for showing me that men can be trusted. Thanks for showing me the value of being a good apologizer, so that we don’t spend too much time in the petty & stubborn anger that steals so many minutes of too many marriages. Thanks for being a warm hug on the coldest days, & the only place I want to crawl into when I miss our boy. I chose so well when I chose you. Happy birthday to a guy who literally does not wash his face & somehow has perfect skin. Happy birthday to the owner of the greatest ass/shelf which probably still holds the squat record at UCLA. Happy birthday to my real man. Happy birthday @kyleboz.

15.4K Likes – Kara Keough Instagram

Caption : When I first saw you shirtless, I was convinced you could be a Chippendale dancer. Then I saw you dance, & I suspected you already were a Chippendale dancer. I was sure your hands were the most attractive part about you, despite all the competition they had. They had to compete with your eyes – or your “magic pools of water,” as your mama calls them. They had to compete with your torso, which qualified for enshrinement as a marble bust in any museum. And your thick maple hair, which is now streaked with the sexiest dash of silver. And your braces-less teeth – which forms the sweetest cheeky smile, one that our kids all wear today. I’ve been crazy about you since 2010. You were the kindest man I’d ever met. After getting to know you & your twin brother @koreybosworth, I was convinced that men were just better off when raised by single mothers. I was convinced that you were the best version of manhood: one who loved lifting heavy things, but also cartoons. One who loved playing sports, but didn’t really care to watch them. One who had a Texas “y’all,” but wasn’t afraid to whip out a California “bro” when necessary. One who loved anything I cooked for him, but was protective of his mama’s meatloaf. In my eyes, real men – like this one I was falling in love with – love strong and smart women and aren’t threatened by their “cerebral brains.” Real men call their moms often & tell their friends they love them. Real men play make believe with their kids. Real men help their wives feel safe, respected, & treasured. Real men have integrity. Thanks for showing me that men can be trusted. Thanks for showing me the value of being a good apologizer, so that we don’t spend too much time in the petty & stubborn anger that steals so many minutes of too many marriages. Thanks for being a warm hug on the coldest days, & the only place I want to crawl into when I miss our boy. I chose so well when I chose you. Happy birthday to a guy who literally does not wash his face & somehow has perfect skin. Happy birthday to the owner of the greatest ass/shelf which probably still holds the squat record at UCLA. Happy birthday to my real man. Happy birthday @kyleboz.
Likes : 15428Kara Keough - 15.4K Likes - When I first saw you shirtless, I was convinced you could be a Chippendale dancer. Then I saw you dance, & I suspected you already were a Chippendale dancer. I was sure your hands were the most attractive part about you, despite all the competition they had. They had to compete with your eyes - or your “magic pools of water,” as your mama calls them. They had to compete with your torso, which qualified for enshrinement as a marble bust in any museum. And your thick maple hair, which is now streaked with the sexiest dash of silver. And your braces-less teeth - which forms the sweetest cheeky smile, one that our kids all wear today. I’ve been crazy about you since 2010. You were the kindest man I’d ever met. After getting to know you & your twin brother @koreybosworth, I was convinced that men were just better off when raised by single mothers. I was convinced that you were the best version of manhood: one who loved lifting heavy things, but also cartoons. One who loved playing sports, but didn’t really care to watch them. One who had a Texas “y’all,” but wasn’t afraid to whip out a California “bro” when necessary. One who loved anything I cooked for him, but was protective of his mama’s meatloaf. In my eyes, real men - like this one I was falling in love with - love strong and smart women and aren’t threatened by their “cerebral brains.” Real men call their moms often & tell their friends they love them. Real men play make believe with their kids. Real men help their wives feel safe, respected, & treasured. Real men have integrity. Thanks for showing me that men can be trusted. Thanks for showing me the value of being a good apologizer, so that we don’t spend too much time in the petty & stubborn anger that steals so many minutes of too many marriages. Thanks for being a warm hug on the coldest days, & the only place I want to crawl into when I miss our boy. I chose so well when I chose you. Happy birthday to a guy who literally does not wash his face & somehow has perfect skin. Happy birthday to the owner of the greatest ass/shelf which probably still holds the squat record at UCLA. Happy birthday to my real man. Happy birthday @kyleboz.

15.4K Likes – Kara Keough Instagram

Caption : When I first saw you shirtless, I was convinced you could be a Chippendale dancer. Then I saw you dance, & I suspected you already were a Chippendale dancer. I was sure your hands were the most attractive part about you, despite all the competition they had. They had to compete with your eyes – or your “magic pools of water,” as your mama calls them. They had to compete with your torso, which qualified for enshrinement as a marble bust in any museum. And your thick maple hair, which is now streaked with the sexiest dash of silver. And your braces-less teeth – which forms the sweetest cheeky smile, one that our kids all wear today. I’ve been crazy about you since 2010. You were the kindest man I’d ever met. After getting to know you & your twin brother @koreybosworth, I was convinced that men were just better off when raised by single mothers. I was convinced that you were the best version of manhood: one who loved lifting heavy things, but also cartoons. One who loved playing sports, but didn’t really care to watch them. One who had a Texas “y’all,” but wasn’t afraid to whip out a California “bro” when necessary. One who loved anything I cooked for him, but was protective of his mama’s meatloaf. In my eyes, real men – like this one I was falling in love with – love strong and smart women and aren’t threatened by their “cerebral brains.” Real men call their moms often & tell their friends they love them. Real men play make believe with their kids. Real men help their wives feel safe, respected, & treasured. Real men have integrity. Thanks for showing me that men can be trusted. Thanks for showing me the value of being a good apologizer, so that we don’t spend too much time in the petty & stubborn anger that steals so many minutes of too many marriages. Thanks for being a warm hug on the coldest days, & the only place I want to crawl into when I miss our boy. I chose so well when I chose you. Happy birthday to a guy who literally does not wash his face & somehow has perfect skin. Happy birthday to the owner of the greatest ass/shelf which probably still holds the squat record at UCLA. Happy birthday to my real man. Happy birthday @kyleboz.
Likes : 15428Kara Keough - 15.4K Likes - When I first saw you shirtless, I was convinced you could be a Chippendale dancer. Then I saw you dance, & I suspected you already were a Chippendale dancer. I was sure your hands were the most attractive part about you, despite all the competition they had. They had to compete with your eyes - or your “magic pools of water,” as your mama calls them. They had to compete with your torso, which qualified for enshrinement as a marble bust in any museum. And your thick maple hair, which is now streaked with the sexiest dash of silver. And your braces-less teeth - which forms the sweetest cheeky smile, one that our kids all wear today. I’ve been crazy about you since 2010. You were the kindest man I’d ever met. After getting to know you & your twin brother @koreybosworth, I was convinced that men were just better off when raised by single mothers. I was convinced that you were the best version of manhood: one who loved lifting heavy things, but also cartoons. One who loved playing sports, but didn’t really care to watch them. One who had a Texas “y’all,” but wasn’t afraid to whip out a California “bro” when necessary. One who loved anything I cooked for him, but was protective of his mama’s meatloaf. In my eyes, real men - like this one I was falling in love with - love strong and smart women and aren’t threatened by their “cerebral brains.” Real men call their moms often & tell their friends they love them. Real men play make believe with their kids. Real men help their wives feel safe, respected, & treasured. Real men have integrity. Thanks for showing me that men can be trusted. Thanks for showing me the value of being a good apologizer, so that we don’t spend too much time in the petty & stubborn anger that steals so many minutes of too many marriages. Thanks for being a warm hug on the coldest days, & the only place I want to crawl into when I miss our boy. I chose so well when I chose you. Happy birthday to a guy who literally does not wash his face & somehow has perfect skin. Happy birthday to the owner of the greatest ass/shelf which probably still holds the squat record at UCLA. Happy birthday to my real man. Happy birthday @kyleboz.

15.4K Likes – Kara Keough Instagram

Caption : When I first saw you shirtless, I was convinced you could be a Chippendale dancer. Then I saw you dance, & I suspected you already were a Chippendale dancer. I was sure your hands were the most attractive part about you, despite all the competition they had. They had to compete with your eyes – or your “magic pools of water,” as your mama calls them. They had to compete with your torso, which qualified for enshrinement as a marble bust in any museum. And your thick maple hair, which is now streaked with the sexiest dash of silver. And your braces-less teeth – which forms the sweetest cheeky smile, one that our kids all wear today. I’ve been crazy about you since 2010. You were the kindest man I’d ever met. After getting to know you & your twin brother @koreybosworth, I was convinced that men were just better off when raised by single mothers. I was convinced that you were the best version of manhood: one who loved lifting heavy things, but also cartoons. One who loved playing sports, but didn’t really care to watch them. One who had a Texas “y’all,” but wasn’t afraid to whip out a California “bro” when necessary. One who loved anything I cooked for him, but was protective of his mama’s meatloaf. In my eyes, real men – like this one I was falling in love with – love strong and smart women and aren’t threatened by their “cerebral brains.” Real men call their moms often & tell their friends they love them. Real men play make believe with their kids. Real men help their wives feel safe, respected, & treasured. Real men have integrity. Thanks for showing me that men can be trusted. Thanks for showing me the value of being a good apologizer, so that we don’t spend too much time in the petty & stubborn anger that steals so many minutes of too many marriages. Thanks for being a warm hug on the coldest days, & the only place I want to crawl into when I miss our boy. I chose so well when I chose you. Happy birthday to a guy who literally does not wash his face & somehow has perfect skin. Happy birthday to the owner of the greatest ass/shelf which probably still holds the squat record at UCLA. Happy birthday to my real man. Happy birthday @kyleboz.
Likes : 15428Kara Keough - 15.4K Likes - When I first saw you shirtless, I was convinced you could be a Chippendale dancer. Then I saw you dance, & I suspected you already were a Chippendale dancer. I was sure your hands were the most attractive part about you, despite all the competition they had. They had to compete with your eyes - or your “magic pools of water,” as your mama calls them. They had to compete with your torso, which qualified for enshrinement as a marble bust in any museum. And your thick maple hair, which is now streaked with the sexiest dash of silver. And your braces-less teeth - which forms the sweetest cheeky smile, one that our kids all wear today. I’ve been crazy about you since 2010. You were the kindest man I’d ever met. After getting to know you & your twin brother @koreybosworth, I was convinced that men were just better off when raised by single mothers. I was convinced that you were the best version of manhood: one who loved lifting heavy things, but also cartoons. One who loved playing sports, but didn’t really care to watch them. One who had a Texas “y’all,” but wasn’t afraid to whip out a California “bro” when necessary. One who loved anything I cooked for him, but was protective of his mama’s meatloaf. In my eyes, real men - like this one I was falling in love with - love strong and smart women and aren’t threatened by their “cerebral brains.” Real men call their moms often & tell their friends they love them. Real men play make believe with their kids. Real men help their wives feel safe, respected, & treasured. Real men have integrity. Thanks for showing me that men can be trusted. Thanks for showing me the value of being a good apologizer, so that we don’t spend too much time in the petty & stubborn anger that steals so many minutes of too many marriages. Thanks for being a warm hug on the coldest days, & the only place I want to crawl into when I miss our boy. I chose so well when I chose you. Happy birthday to a guy who literally does not wash his face & somehow has perfect skin. Happy birthday to the owner of the greatest ass/shelf which probably still holds the squat record at UCLA. Happy birthday to my real man. Happy birthday @kyleboz.

15.4K Likes – Kara Keough Instagram

Caption : When I first saw you shirtless, I was convinced you could be a Chippendale dancer. Then I saw you dance, & I suspected you already were a Chippendale dancer. I was sure your hands were the most attractive part about you, despite all the competition they had. They had to compete with your eyes – or your “magic pools of water,” as your mama calls them. They had to compete with your torso, which qualified for enshrinement as a marble bust in any museum. And your thick maple hair, which is now streaked with the sexiest dash of silver. And your braces-less teeth – which forms the sweetest cheeky smile, one that our kids all wear today. I’ve been crazy about you since 2010. You were the kindest man I’d ever met. After getting to know you & your twin brother @koreybosworth, I was convinced that men were just better off when raised by single mothers. I was convinced that you were the best version of manhood: one who loved lifting heavy things, but also cartoons. One who loved playing sports, but didn’t really care to watch them. One who had a Texas “y’all,” but wasn’t afraid to whip out a California “bro” when necessary. One who loved anything I cooked for him, but was protective of his mama’s meatloaf. In my eyes, real men – like this one I was falling in love with – love strong and smart women and aren’t threatened by their “cerebral brains.” Real men call their moms often & tell their friends they love them. Real men play make believe with their kids. Real men help their wives feel safe, respected, & treasured. Real men have integrity. Thanks for showing me that men can be trusted. Thanks for showing me the value of being a good apologizer, so that we don’t spend too much time in the petty & stubborn anger that steals so many minutes of too many marriages. Thanks for being a warm hug on the coldest days, & the only place I want to crawl into when I miss our boy. I chose so well when I chose you. Happy birthday to a guy who literally does not wash his face & somehow has perfect skin. Happy birthday to the owner of the greatest ass/shelf which probably still holds the squat record at UCLA. Happy birthday to my real man. Happy birthday @kyleboz.
Likes : 15428Kara Keough - 15.4K Likes - When I first saw you shirtless, I was convinced you could be a Chippendale dancer. Then I saw you dance, & I suspected you already were a Chippendale dancer. I was sure your hands were the most attractive part about you, despite all the competition they had. They had to compete with your eyes - or your “magic pools of water,” as your mama calls them. They had to compete with your torso, which qualified for enshrinement as a marble bust in any museum. And your thick maple hair, which is now streaked with the sexiest dash of silver. And your braces-less teeth - which forms the sweetest cheeky smile, one that our kids all wear today. I’ve been crazy about you since 2010. You were the kindest man I’d ever met. After getting to know you & your twin brother @koreybosworth, I was convinced that men were just better off when raised by single mothers. I was convinced that you were the best version of manhood: one who loved lifting heavy things, but also cartoons. One who loved playing sports, but didn’t really care to watch them. One who had a Texas “y’all,” but wasn’t afraid to whip out a California “bro” when necessary. One who loved anything I cooked for him, but was protective of his mama’s meatloaf. In my eyes, real men - like this one I was falling in love with - love strong and smart women and aren’t threatened by their “cerebral brains.” Real men call their moms often & tell their friends they love them. Real men play make believe with their kids. Real men help their wives feel safe, respected, & treasured. Real men have integrity. Thanks for showing me that men can be trusted. Thanks for showing me the value of being a good apologizer, so that we don’t spend too much time in the petty & stubborn anger that steals so many minutes of too many marriages. Thanks for being a warm hug on the coldest days, & the only place I want to crawl into when I miss our boy. I chose so well when I chose you. Happy birthday to a guy who literally does not wash his face & somehow has perfect skin. Happy birthday to the owner of the greatest ass/shelf which probably still holds the squat record at UCLA. Happy birthday to my real man. Happy birthday @kyleboz.

15.4K Likes – Kara Keough Instagram

Caption : When I first saw you shirtless, I was convinced you could be a Chippendale dancer. Then I saw you dance, & I suspected you already were a Chippendale dancer. I was sure your hands were the most attractive part about you, despite all the competition they had. They had to compete with your eyes – or your “magic pools of water,” as your mama calls them. They had to compete with your torso, which qualified for enshrinement as a marble bust in any museum. And your thick maple hair, which is now streaked with the sexiest dash of silver. And your braces-less teeth – which forms the sweetest cheeky smile, one that our kids all wear today. I’ve been crazy about you since 2010. You were the kindest man I’d ever met. After getting to know you & your twin brother @koreybosworth, I was convinced that men were just better off when raised by single mothers. I was convinced that you were the best version of manhood: one who loved lifting heavy things, but also cartoons. One who loved playing sports, but didn’t really care to watch them. One who had a Texas “y’all,” but wasn’t afraid to whip out a California “bro” when necessary. One who loved anything I cooked for him, but was protective of his mama’s meatloaf. In my eyes, real men – like this one I was falling in love with – love strong and smart women and aren’t threatened by their “cerebral brains.” Real men call their moms often & tell their friends they love them. Real men play make believe with their kids. Real men help their wives feel safe, respected, & treasured. Real men have integrity. Thanks for showing me that men can be trusted. Thanks for showing me the value of being a good apologizer, so that we don’t spend too much time in the petty & stubborn anger that steals so many minutes of too many marriages. Thanks for being a warm hug on the coldest days, & the only place I want to crawl into when I miss our boy. I chose so well when I chose you. Happy birthday to a guy who literally does not wash his face & somehow has perfect skin. Happy birthday to the owner of the greatest ass/shelf which probably still holds the squat record at UCLA. Happy birthday to my real man. Happy birthday @kyleboz.
Likes : 15428Kara Keough - 15.4K Likes - When I first saw you shirtless, I was convinced you could be a Chippendale dancer. Then I saw you dance, & I suspected you already were a Chippendale dancer. I was sure your hands were the most attractive part about you, despite all the competition they had. They had to compete with your eyes - or your “magic pools of water,” as your mama calls them. They had to compete with your torso, which qualified for enshrinement as a marble bust in any museum. And your thick maple hair, which is now streaked with the sexiest dash of silver. And your braces-less teeth - which forms the sweetest cheeky smile, one that our kids all wear today. I’ve been crazy about you since 2010. You were the kindest man I’d ever met. After getting to know you & your twin brother @koreybosworth, I was convinced that men were just better off when raised by single mothers. I was convinced that you were the best version of manhood: one who loved lifting heavy things, but also cartoons. One who loved playing sports, but didn’t really care to watch them. One who had a Texas “y’all,” but wasn’t afraid to whip out a California “bro” when necessary. One who loved anything I cooked for him, but was protective of his mama’s meatloaf. In my eyes, real men - like this one I was falling in love with - love strong and smart women and aren’t threatened by their “cerebral brains.” Real men call their moms often & tell their friends they love them. Real men play make believe with their kids. Real men help their wives feel safe, respected, & treasured. Real men have integrity. Thanks for showing me that men can be trusted. Thanks for showing me the value of being a good apologizer, so that we don’t spend too much time in the petty & stubborn anger that steals so many minutes of too many marriages. Thanks for being a warm hug on the coldest days, & the only place I want to crawl into when I miss our boy. I chose so well when I chose you. Happy birthday to a guy who literally does not wash his face & somehow has perfect skin. Happy birthday to the owner of the greatest ass/shelf which probably still holds the squat record at UCLA. Happy birthday to my real man. Happy birthday @kyleboz.

15.4K Likes – Kara Keough Instagram

Caption : When I first saw you shirtless, I was convinced you could be a Chippendale dancer. Then I saw you dance, & I suspected you already were a Chippendale dancer. I was sure your hands were the most attractive part about you, despite all the competition they had. They had to compete with your eyes – or your “magic pools of water,” as your mama calls them. They had to compete with your torso, which qualified for enshrinement as a marble bust in any museum. And your thick maple hair, which is now streaked with the sexiest dash of silver. And your braces-less teeth – which forms the sweetest cheeky smile, one that our kids all wear today. I’ve been crazy about you since 2010. You were the kindest man I’d ever met. After getting to know you & your twin brother @koreybosworth, I was convinced that men were just better off when raised by single mothers. I was convinced that you were the best version of manhood: one who loved lifting heavy things, but also cartoons. One who loved playing sports, but didn’t really care to watch them. One who had a Texas “y’all,” but wasn’t afraid to whip out a California “bro” when necessary. One who loved anything I cooked for him, but was protective of his mama’s meatloaf. In my eyes, real men – like this one I was falling in love with – love strong and smart women and aren’t threatened by their “cerebral brains.” Real men call their moms often & tell their friends they love them. Real men play make believe with their kids. Real men help their wives feel safe, respected, & treasured. Real men have integrity. Thanks for showing me that men can be trusted. Thanks for showing me the value of being a good apologizer, so that we don’t spend too much time in the petty & stubborn anger that steals so many minutes of too many marriages. Thanks for being a warm hug on the coldest days, & the only place I want to crawl into when I miss our boy. I chose so well when I chose you. Happy birthday to a guy who literally does not wash his face & somehow has perfect skin. Happy birthday to the owner of the greatest ass/shelf which probably still holds the squat record at UCLA. Happy birthday to my real man. Happy birthday @kyleboz.
Likes : 15428Kara Keough - 15.4K Likes - When I first saw you shirtless, I was convinced you could be a Chippendale dancer. Then I saw you dance, & I suspected you already were a Chippendale dancer. I was sure your hands were the most attractive part about you, despite all the competition they had. They had to compete with your eyes - or your “magic pools of water,” as your mama calls them. They had to compete with your torso, which qualified for enshrinement as a marble bust in any museum. And your thick maple hair, which is now streaked with the sexiest dash of silver. And your braces-less teeth - which forms the sweetest cheeky smile, one that our kids all wear today. I’ve been crazy about you since 2010. You were the kindest man I’d ever met. After getting to know you & your twin brother @koreybosworth, I was convinced that men were just better off when raised by single mothers. I was convinced that you were the best version of manhood: one who loved lifting heavy things, but also cartoons. One who loved playing sports, but didn’t really care to watch them. One who had a Texas “y’all,” but wasn’t afraid to whip out a California “bro” when necessary. One who loved anything I cooked for him, but was protective of his mama’s meatloaf. In my eyes, real men - like this one I was falling in love with - love strong and smart women and aren’t threatened by their “cerebral brains.” Real men call their moms often & tell their friends they love them. Real men play make believe with their kids. Real men help their wives feel safe, respected, & treasured. Real men have integrity. Thanks for showing me that men can be trusted. Thanks for showing me the value of being a good apologizer, so that we don’t spend too much time in the petty & stubborn anger that steals so many minutes of too many marriages. Thanks for being a warm hug on the coldest days, & the only place I want to crawl into when I miss our boy. I chose so well when I chose you. Happy birthday to a guy who literally does not wash his face & somehow has perfect skin. Happy birthday to the owner of the greatest ass/shelf which probably still holds the squat record at UCLA. Happy birthday to my real man. Happy birthday @kyleboz.

15.4K Likes – Kara Keough Instagram

Caption : When I first saw you shirtless, I was convinced you could be a Chippendale dancer. Then I saw you dance, & I suspected you already were a Chippendale dancer. I was sure your hands were the most attractive part about you, despite all the competition they had. They had to compete with your eyes – or your “magic pools of water,” as your mama calls them. They had to compete with your torso, which qualified for enshrinement as a marble bust in any museum. And your thick maple hair, which is now streaked with the sexiest dash of silver. And your braces-less teeth – which forms the sweetest cheeky smile, one that our kids all wear today. I’ve been crazy about you since 2010. You were the kindest man I’d ever met. After getting to know you & your twin brother @koreybosworth, I was convinced that men were just better off when raised by single mothers. I was convinced that you were the best version of manhood: one who loved lifting heavy things, but also cartoons. One who loved playing sports, but didn’t really care to watch them. One who had a Texas “y’all,” but wasn’t afraid to whip out a California “bro” when necessary. One who loved anything I cooked for him, but was protective of his mama’s meatloaf. In my eyes, real men – like this one I was falling in love with – love strong and smart women and aren’t threatened by their “cerebral brains.” Real men call their moms often & tell their friends they love them. Real men play make believe with their kids. Real men help their wives feel safe, respected, & treasured. Real men have integrity. Thanks for showing me that men can be trusted. Thanks for showing me the value of being a good apologizer, so that we don’t spend too much time in the petty & stubborn anger that steals so many minutes of too many marriages. Thanks for being a warm hug on the coldest days, & the only place I want to crawl into when I miss our boy. I chose so well when I chose you. Happy birthday to a guy who literally does not wash his face & somehow has perfect skin. Happy birthday to the owner of the greatest ass/shelf which probably still holds the squat record at UCLA. Happy birthday to my real man. Happy birthday @kyleboz.
Likes : 15428Kara Keough - 15.4K Likes - When I first saw you shirtless, I was convinced you could be a Chippendale dancer. Then I saw you dance, & I suspected you already were a Chippendale dancer. I was sure your hands were the most attractive part about you, despite all the competition they had. They had to compete with your eyes - or your “magic pools of water,” as your mama calls them. They had to compete with your torso, which qualified for enshrinement as a marble bust in any museum. And your thick maple hair, which is now streaked with the sexiest dash of silver. And your braces-less teeth - which forms the sweetest cheeky smile, one that our kids all wear today. I’ve been crazy about you since 2010. You were the kindest man I’d ever met. After getting to know you & your twin brother @koreybosworth, I was convinced that men were just better off when raised by single mothers. I was convinced that you were the best version of manhood: one who loved lifting heavy things, but also cartoons. One who loved playing sports, but didn’t really care to watch them. One who had a Texas “y’all,” but wasn’t afraid to whip out a California “bro” when necessary. One who loved anything I cooked for him, but was protective of his mama’s meatloaf. In my eyes, real men - like this one I was falling in love with - love strong and smart women and aren’t threatened by their “cerebral brains.” Real men call their moms often & tell their friends they love them. Real men play make believe with their kids. Real men help their wives feel safe, respected, & treasured. Real men have integrity. Thanks for showing me that men can be trusted. Thanks for showing me the value of being a good apologizer, so that we don’t spend too much time in the petty & stubborn anger that steals so many minutes of too many marriages. Thanks for being a warm hug on the coldest days, & the only place I want to crawl into when I miss our boy. I chose so well when I chose you. Happy birthday to a guy who literally does not wash his face & somehow has perfect skin. Happy birthday to the owner of the greatest ass/shelf which probably still holds the squat record at UCLA. Happy birthday to my real man. Happy birthday @kyleboz.

15.4K Likes – Kara Keough Instagram

Caption : When I first saw you shirtless, I was convinced you could be a Chippendale dancer. Then I saw you dance, & I suspected you already were a Chippendale dancer. I was sure your hands were the most attractive part about you, despite all the competition they had. They had to compete with your eyes – or your “magic pools of water,” as your mama calls them. They had to compete with your torso, which qualified for enshrinement as a marble bust in any museum. And your thick maple hair, which is now streaked with the sexiest dash of silver. And your braces-less teeth – which forms the sweetest cheeky smile, one that our kids all wear today. I’ve been crazy about you since 2010. You were the kindest man I’d ever met. After getting to know you & your twin brother @koreybosworth, I was convinced that men were just better off when raised by single mothers. I was convinced that you were the best version of manhood: one who loved lifting heavy things, but also cartoons. One who loved playing sports, but didn’t really care to watch them. One who had a Texas “y’all,” but wasn’t afraid to whip out a California “bro” when necessary. One who loved anything I cooked for him, but was protective of his mama’s meatloaf. In my eyes, real men – like this one I was falling in love with – love strong and smart women and aren’t threatened by their “cerebral brains.” Real men call their moms often & tell their friends they love them. Real men play make believe with their kids. Real men help their wives feel safe, respected, & treasured. Real men have integrity. Thanks for showing me that men can be trusted. Thanks for showing me the value of being a good apologizer, so that we don’t spend too much time in the petty & stubborn anger that steals so many minutes of too many marriages. Thanks for being a warm hug on the coldest days, & the only place I want to crawl into when I miss our boy. I chose so well when I chose you. Happy birthday to a guy who literally does not wash his face & somehow has perfect skin. Happy birthday to the owner of the greatest ass/shelf which probably still holds the squat record at UCLA. Happy birthday to my real man. Happy birthday @kyleboz.
Likes : 15428Kara Keough - 12.7K Likes - Today was a good day. #ShesAKeough

12.7K Likes – Kara Keough Instagram

Caption : Today was a good day. #ShesAKeough
Likes : 12716Kara Keough - 12.7K Likes - Today was a good day. #ShesAKeough

12.7K Likes – Kara Keough Instagram

Caption : Today was a good day. #ShesAKeough
Likes : 12716Kara Keough - 12.7K Likes - Today was a good day. #ShesAKeough

12.7K Likes – Kara Keough Instagram

Caption : Today was a good day. #ShesAKeough
Likes : 12716Kara Keough - 12.7K Likes - Today was a good day. #ShesAKeough

12.7K Likes – Kara Keough Instagram

Caption : Today was a good day. #ShesAKeough
Likes : 12716Kara Keough - 12.7K Likes - Today was a good day. #ShesAKeough

12.7K Likes – Kara Keough Instagram

Caption : Today was a good day. #ShesAKeough
Likes : 12716Kara Keough - 12.7K Likes - Today was a good day. #ShesAKeough

12.7K Likes – Kara Keough Instagram

Caption : Today was a good day. #ShesAKeough
Likes : 12716Kara Keough - 12.3K Likes - 1 month of lovin’ Stetsy Lou 🤍

12.3K Likes – Kara Keough Instagram

Caption : 1 month of lovin’ Stetsy Lou 🤍
Likes : 12324Kara Keough - 12.3K Likes - 1 month of lovin’ Stetsy Lou 🤍

12.3K Likes – Kara Keough Instagram

Caption : 1 month of lovin’ Stetsy Lou 🤍
Likes : 12324Kara Keough - 12.3K Likes - 1 month of lovin’ Stetsy Lou 🤍

12.3K Likes – Kara Keough Instagram

Caption : 1 month of lovin’ Stetsy Lou 🤍
Likes : 12324Kara Keough - 12.3K Likes - 1 month of lovin’ Stetsy Lou 🤍

12.3K Likes – Kara Keough Instagram

Caption : 1 month of lovin’ Stetsy Lou 🤍
Likes : 12324Kara Keough - 12.3K Likes - 1 month of lovin’ Stetsy Lou 🤍

12.3K Likes – Kara Keough Instagram

Caption : 1 month of lovin’ Stetsy Lou 🤍
Likes : 12324Kara Keough - 12.3K Likes - 1 month of lovin’ Stetsy Lou 🤍

12.3K Likes – Kara Keough Instagram

Caption : 1 month of lovin’ Stetsy Lou 🤍
Likes : 12324Kara Keough - 12.3K Likes - 1 month of lovin’ Stetsy Lou 🤍

12.3K Likes – Kara Keough Instagram

Caption : 1 month of lovin’ Stetsy Lou 🤍
Likes : 12324Kara Keough - 12.3K Likes - 1 month of lovin’ Stetsy Lou 🤍

12.3K Likes – Kara Keough Instagram

Caption : 1 month of lovin’ Stetsy Lou 🤍
Likes : 12324Kara Keough - 12.2K Likes - Always saving room for McCoy 💙

12.2K Likes – Kara Keough Instagram

Caption : Always saving room for McCoy 💙
Likes : 12193Kara Keough - 11.6K Likes - April 12th, 2020: suffering, pity, guilt, pain, anger, and a sadness so deep I thought we’d never take another breath that didn’t hurt. We kissed our baby a million times that day knowing we’d never see him alive again. He died in our arms and I hope to never know that unique hell ever again. April 12, 2024: grateful. Grateful to nurses and doctors and EMS workers that gave us 6 days to love McCoy on land. Grateful to friends, neighbors, teachers, and strangers that circled around our grief and held room for us, for him. Grateful for two rainbow babies that shine light unto the darkest parts of parenting after baby loss. Grateful to Decker, who’s an expert and beautiful griever. She still cries for McCoy alongside me and also is the first to shout his name in joy. She’s the fucking BEST big sister to an angel. Grateful for social media, for bringing so many other loss moms into my orbit so I could share and listen and feel less alone in this. Grateful to McCoy’s gorgeous daddy for being the best version of himself when I was the worst version of myself in 2020, 2021, 2023 and 2024 … Because when your baby dies, you’re jaded, ugly, sensitive, angry, sad, messy… and he loves me through that mess. He “grows flowers in the darkest parts” of me and centers me when the spiral starts to pull me down. Grateful that my dad is watching over McCoy, and that they’re both made whole and perfect in heaven. Grateful that dying someday doesn’t feel scary anymore, because imagining hearing McCoy’s voice for the first time as he screams “Mama!” and runs into my arms just makes me feel warm and happy. Until we meet again, Mack. I love you like crazy, baby.

11.6K Likes – Kara Keough Instagram

Caption : April 12th, 2020: suffering, pity, guilt, pain, anger, and a sadness so deep I thought we’d never take another breath that didn’t hurt. We kissed our baby a million times that day knowing we’d never see him alive again. He died in our arms and I hope to never know that unique hell ever again. April 12, 2024: grateful. Grateful to nurses and doctors and EMS workers that gave us 6 days to love McCoy on land. Grateful to friends, neighbors, teachers, and strangers that circled around our grief and held room for us, for him. Grateful for two rainbow babies that shine light unto the darkest parts of parenting after baby loss. Grateful to Decker, who’s an expert and beautiful griever. She still cries for McCoy alongside me and also is the first to shout his name in joy. She’s the fucking BEST big sister to an angel. Grateful for social media, for bringing so many other loss moms into my orbit so I could share and listen and feel less alone in this. Grateful to McCoy’s gorgeous daddy for being the best version of himself when I was the worst version of myself in 2020, 2021, 2023 and 2024 … Because when your baby dies, you’re jaded, ugly, sensitive, angry, sad, messy… and he loves me through that mess. He “grows flowers in the darkest parts” of me and centers me when the spiral starts to pull me down. Grateful that my dad is watching over McCoy, and that they’re both made whole and perfect in heaven. Grateful that dying someday doesn’t feel scary anymore, because imagining hearing McCoy’s voice for the first time as he screams “Mama!” and runs into my arms just makes me feel warm and happy. Until we meet again, Mack. I love you like crazy, baby.
Likes : 11633Kara Keough - 11.6K Likes - Today, on McCoy’s 5th birthday, we say goodbye to our family home before we hand the keys over tomorrow. The walls of this home were a witness. They’ve seen love and laughter, pain and suffering, hurt and healing. They’ve seen birth, death, painful goodbyes, and new beginnings. These walls have held us during a pandemic, the loss of our son, the death of my dad. More of my tears have fallen inside this house than in all the other places my tears have ever fallen combined. The shower alone probably has a Tears Spilled Record individually, but our bedroom beats that out by at least half a million tons. Childhood has flared brilliantly within these walls, mainly ignited by my magnificently playful husband. McCoy’s spirit has raced equally playfully down these halls every day since he was born inside of it - opening doors, turning toys on, flashing lights, always finding ways to make us feel him. And while I’ve brought two other newborn babies home “to” it, only he was born into it, and therefore of it. This place is undeniably linked to him and saying goodbye to it rips something open inside me again. But hopefully what all those fit meatheads say is true when they explain: “It’s the microtears that make you stronger.” Beyond the walls, something even more treasured was built brick-by-brick: a community of friends that became family. God knew what was coming for us before He put us on “the Best Street in America,”  and these folks surrounded us in our time of grief, and loved us so damn well. I refuse to say goodbye to them, because these friendships we’ve made aren’t ones that are bound by proximity - no, these are those “no-matter-what” kinda friends. The night McCoy died, we walked to the end of the cul-de-sac to see the little garden the neighborhood kids planted for him while he was on life support in the NICU. As we walked, we noticed blue hearts hung on each door of our loving street. Every year, on his birthday, these no-matter-what friends throw him (and us) a party that makes each understandably hard milestone a day to look forward to. Each year, this day brings less pain and more joy. I think they call that healing, so thanks to my healers on the Court💙

11.6K Likes – Kara Keough Instagram

Caption : Today, on McCoy’s 5th birthday, we say goodbye to our family home before we hand the keys over tomorrow. The walls of this home were a witness. They’ve seen love and laughter, pain and suffering, hurt and healing. They’ve seen birth, death, painful goodbyes, and new beginnings. These walls have held us during a pandemic, the loss of our son, the death of my dad. More of my tears have fallen inside this house than in all the other places my tears have ever fallen combined. The shower alone probably has a Tears Spilled Record individually, but our bedroom beats that out by at least half a million tons. Childhood has flared brilliantly within these walls, mainly ignited by my magnificently playful husband. McCoy’s spirit has raced equally playfully down these halls every day since he was born inside of it – opening doors, turning toys on, flashing lights, always finding ways to make us feel him. And while I’ve brought two other newborn babies home “to” it, only he was born into it, and therefore of it. This place is undeniably linked to him and saying goodbye to it rips something open inside me again. But hopefully what all those fit meatheads say is true when they explain: “It’s the microtears that make you stronger.” Beyond the walls, something even more treasured was built brick-by-brick: a community of friends that became family. God knew what was coming for us before He put us on “the Best Street in America,”  and these folks surrounded us in our time of grief, and loved us so damn well. I refuse to say goodbye to them, because these friendships we’ve made aren’t ones that are bound by proximity – no, these are those “no-matter-what” kinda friends. The night McCoy died, we walked to the end of the cul-de-sac to see the little garden the neighborhood kids planted for him while he was on life support in the NICU. As we walked, we noticed blue hearts hung on each door of our loving street. Every year, on his birthday, these no-matter-what friends throw him (and us) a party that makes each understandably hard milestone a day to look forward to. Each year, this day brings less pain and more joy. I think they call that healing, so thanks to my healers on the Court💙
Likes : 11568Kara Keough - 11.6K Likes - Today, on McCoy’s 5th birthday, we say goodbye to our family home before we hand the keys over tomorrow. The walls of this home were a witness. They’ve seen love and laughter, pain and suffering, hurt and healing. They’ve seen birth, death, painful goodbyes, and new beginnings. These walls have held us during a pandemic, the loss of our son, the death of my dad. More of my tears have fallen inside this house than in all the other places my tears have ever fallen combined. The shower alone probably has a Tears Spilled Record individually, but our bedroom beats that out by at least half a million tons. Childhood has flared brilliantly within these walls, mainly ignited by my magnificently playful husband. McCoy’s spirit has raced equally playfully down these halls every day since he was born inside of it - opening doors, turning toys on, flashing lights, always finding ways to make us feel him. And while I’ve brought two other newborn babies home “to” it, only he was born into it, and therefore of it. This place is undeniably linked to him and saying goodbye to it rips something open inside me again. But hopefully what all those fit meatheads say is true when they explain: “It’s the microtears that make you stronger.” Beyond the walls, something even more treasured was built brick-by-brick: a community of friends that became family. God knew what was coming for us before He put us on “the Best Street in America,”  and these folks surrounded us in our time of grief, and loved us so damn well. I refuse to say goodbye to them, because these friendships we’ve made aren’t ones that are bound by proximity - no, these are those “no-matter-what” kinda friends. The night McCoy died, we walked to the end of the cul-de-sac to see the little garden the neighborhood kids planted for him while he was on life support in the NICU. As we walked, we noticed blue hearts hung on each door of our loving street. Every year, on his birthday, these no-matter-what friends throw him (and us) a party that makes each understandably hard milestone a day to look forward to. Each year, this day brings less pain and more joy. I think they call that healing, so thanks to my healers on the Court💙

11.6K Likes – Kara Keough Instagram

Caption : Today, on McCoy’s 5th birthday, we say goodbye to our family home before we hand the keys over tomorrow. The walls of this home were a witness. They’ve seen love and laughter, pain and suffering, hurt and healing. They’ve seen birth, death, painful goodbyes, and new beginnings. These walls have held us during a pandemic, the loss of our son, the death of my dad. More of my tears have fallen inside this house than in all the other places my tears have ever fallen combined. The shower alone probably has a Tears Spilled Record individually, but our bedroom beats that out by at least half a million tons. Childhood has flared brilliantly within these walls, mainly ignited by my magnificently playful husband. McCoy’s spirit has raced equally playfully down these halls every day since he was born inside of it – opening doors, turning toys on, flashing lights, always finding ways to make us feel him. And while I’ve brought two other newborn babies home “to” it, only he was born into it, and therefore of it. This place is undeniably linked to him and saying goodbye to it rips something open inside me again. But hopefully what all those fit meatheads say is true when they explain: “It’s the microtears that make you stronger.” Beyond the walls, something even more treasured was built brick-by-brick: a community of friends that became family. God knew what was coming for us before He put us on “the Best Street in America,”  and these folks surrounded us in our time of grief, and loved us so damn well. I refuse to say goodbye to them, because these friendships we’ve made aren’t ones that are bound by proximity – no, these are those “no-matter-what” kinda friends. The night McCoy died, we walked to the end of the cul-de-sac to see the little garden the neighborhood kids planted for him while he was on life support in the NICU. As we walked, we noticed blue hearts hung on each door of our loving street. Every year, on his birthday, these no-matter-what friends throw him (and us) a party that makes each understandably hard milestone a day to look forward to. Each year, this day brings less pain and more joy. I think they call that healing, so thanks to my healers on the Court💙
Likes : 11568Kara Keough - 11.6K Likes - Today, on McCoy’s 5th birthday, we say goodbye to our family home before we hand the keys over tomorrow. The walls of this home were a witness. They’ve seen love and laughter, pain and suffering, hurt and healing. They’ve seen birth, death, painful goodbyes, and new beginnings. These walls have held us during a pandemic, the loss of our son, the death of my dad. More of my tears have fallen inside this house than in all the other places my tears have ever fallen combined. The shower alone probably has a Tears Spilled Record individually, but our bedroom beats that out by at least half a million tons. Childhood has flared brilliantly within these walls, mainly ignited by my magnificently playful husband. McCoy’s spirit has raced equally playfully down these halls every day since he was born inside of it - opening doors, turning toys on, flashing lights, always finding ways to make us feel him. And while I’ve brought two other newborn babies home “to” it, only he was born into it, and therefore of it. This place is undeniably linked to him and saying goodbye to it rips something open inside me again. But hopefully what all those fit meatheads say is true when they explain: “It’s the microtears that make you stronger.” Beyond the walls, something even more treasured was built brick-by-brick: a community of friends that became family. God knew what was coming for us before He put us on “the Best Street in America,”  and these folks surrounded us in our time of grief, and loved us so damn well. I refuse to say goodbye to them, because these friendships we’ve made aren’t ones that are bound by proximity - no, these are those “no-matter-what” kinda friends. The night McCoy died, we walked to the end of the cul-de-sac to see the little garden the neighborhood kids planted for him while he was on life support in the NICU. As we walked, we noticed blue hearts hung on each door of our loving street. Every year, on his birthday, these no-matter-what friends throw him (and us) a party that makes each understandably hard milestone a day to look forward to. Each year, this day brings less pain and more joy. I think they call that healing, so thanks to my healers on the Court💙

11.6K Likes – Kara Keough Instagram

Caption : Today, on McCoy’s 5th birthday, we say goodbye to our family home before we hand the keys over tomorrow. The walls of this home were a witness. They’ve seen love and laughter, pain and suffering, hurt and healing. They’ve seen birth, death, painful goodbyes, and new beginnings. These walls have held us during a pandemic, the loss of our son, the death of my dad. More of my tears have fallen inside this house than in all the other places my tears have ever fallen combined. The shower alone probably has a Tears Spilled Record individually, but our bedroom beats that out by at least half a million tons. Childhood has flared brilliantly within these walls, mainly ignited by my magnificently playful husband. McCoy’s spirit has raced equally playfully down these halls every day since he was born inside of it – opening doors, turning toys on, flashing lights, always finding ways to make us feel him. And while I’ve brought two other newborn babies home “to” it, only he was born into it, and therefore of it. This place is undeniably linked to him and saying goodbye to it rips something open inside me again. But hopefully what all those fit meatheads say is true when they explain: “It’s the microtears that make you stronger.” Beyond the walls, something even more treasured was built brick-by-brick: a community of friends that became family. God knew what was coming for us before He put us on “the Best Street in America,”  and these folks surrounded us in our time of grief, and loved us so damn well. I refuse to say goodbye to them, because these friendships we’ve made aren’t ones that are bound by proximity – no, these are those “no-matter-what” kinda friends. The night McCoy died, we walked to the end of the cul-de-sac to see the little garden the neighborhood kids planted for him while he was on life support in the NICU. As we walked, we noticed blue hearts hung on each door of our loving street. Every year, on his birthday, these no-matter-what friends throw him (and us) a party that makes each understandably hard milestone a day to look forward to. Each year, this day brings less pain and more joy. I think they call that healing, so thanks to my healers on the Court💙
Likes : 11568Kara Keough - 11.6K Likes - Today, on McCoy’s 5th birthday, we say goodbye to our family home before we hand the keys over tomorrow. The walls of this home were a witness. They’ve seen love and laughter, pain and suffering, hurt and healing. They’ve seen birth, death, painful goodbyes, and new beginnings. These walls have held us during a pandemic, the loss of our son, the death of my dad. More of my tears have fallen inside this house than in all the other places my tears have ever fallen combined. The shower alone probably has a Tears Spilled Record individually, but our bedroom beats that out by at least half a million tons. Childhood has flared brilliantly within these walls, mainly ignited by my magnificently playful husband. McCoy’s spirit has raced equally playfully down these halls every day since he was born inside of it - opening doors, turning toys on, flashing lights, always finding ways to make us feel him. And while I’ve brought two other newborn babies home “to” it, only he was born into it, and therefore of it. This place is undeniably linked to him and saying goodbye to it rips something open inside me again. But hopefully what all those fit meatheads say is true when they explain: “It’s the microtears that make you stronger.” Beyond the walls, something even more treasured was built brick-by-brick: a community of friends that became family. God knew what was coming for us before He put us on “the Best Street in America,”  and these folks surrounded us in our time of grief, and loved us so damn well. I refuse to say goodbye to them, because these friendships we’ve made aren’t ones that are bound by proximity - no, these are those “no-matter-what” kinda friends. The night McCoy died, we walked to the end of the cul-de-sac to see the little garden the neighborhood kids planted for him while he was on life support in the NICU. As we walked, we noticed blue hearts hung on each door of our loving street. Every year, on his birthday, these no-matter-what friends throw him (and us) a party that makes each understandably hard milestone a day to look forward to. Each year, this day brings less pain and more joy. I think they call that healing, so thanks to my healers on the Court💙

11.6K Likes – Kara Keough Instagram

Caption : Today, on McCoy’s 5th birthday, we say goodbye to our family home before we hand the keys over tomorrow. The walls of this home were a witness. They’ve seen love and laughter, pain and suffering, hurt and healing. They’ve seen birth, death, painful goodbyes, and new beginnings. These walls have held us during a pandemic, the loss of our son, the death of my dad. More of my tears have fallen inside this house than in all the other places my tears have ever fallen combined. The shower alone probably has a Tears Spilled Record individually, but our bedroom beats that out by at least half a million tons. Childhood has flared brilliantly within these walls, mainly ignited by my magnificently playful husband. McCoy’s spirit has raced equally playfully down these halls every day since he was born inside of it – opening doors, turning toys on, flashing lights, always finding ways to make us feel him. And while I’ve brought two other newborn babies home “to” it, only he was born into it, and therefore of it. This place is undeniably linked to him and saying goodbye to it rips something open inside me again. But hopefully what all those fit meatheads say is true when they explain: “It’s the microtears that make you stronger.” Beyond the walls, something even more treasured was built brick-by-brick: a community of friends that became family. God knew what was coming for us before He put us on “the Best Street in America,”  and these folks surrounded us in our time of grief, and loved us so damn well. I refuse to say goodbye to them, because these friendships we’ve made aren’t ones that are bound by proximity – no, these are those “no-matter-what” kinda friends. The night McCoy died, we walked to the end of the cul-de-sac to see the little garden the neighborhood kids planted for him while he was on life support in the NICU. As we walked, we noticed blue hearts hung on each door of our loving street. Every year, on his birthday, these no-matter-what friends throw him (and us) a party that makes each understandably hard milestone a day to look forward to. Each year, this day brings less pain and more joy. I think they call that healing, so thanks to my healers on the Court💙
Likes : 11568Kara Keough - 11.6K Likes - Today, on McCoy’s 5th birthday, we say goodbye to our family home before we hand the keys over tomorrow. The walls of this home were a witness. They’ve seen love and laughter, pain and suffering, hurt and healing. They’ve seen birth, death, painful goodbyes, and new beginnings. These walls have held us during a pandemic, the loss of our son, the death of my dad. More of my tears have fallen inside this house than in all the other places my tears have ever fallen combined. The shower alone probably has a Tears Spilled Record individually, but our bedroom beats that out by at least half a million tons. Childhood has flared brilliantly within these walls, mainly ignited by my magnificently playful husband. McCoy’s spirit has raced equally playfully down these halls every day since he was born inside of it - opening doors, turning toys on, flashing lights, always finding ways to make us feel him. And while I’ve brought two other newborn babies home “to” it, only he was born into it, and therefore of it. This place is undeniably linked to him and saying goodbye to it rips something open inside me again. But hopefully what all those fit meatheads say is true when they explain: “It’s the microtears that make you stronger.” Beyond the walls, something even more treasured was built brick-by-brick: a community of friends that became family. God knew what was coming for us before He put us on “the Best Street in America,”  and these folks surrounded us in our time of grief, and loved us so damn well. I refuse to say goodbye to them, because these friendships we’ve made aren’t ones that are bound by proximity - no, these are those “no-matter-what” kinda friends. The night McCoy died, we walked to the end of the cul-de-sac to see the little garden the neighborhood kids planted for him while he was on life support in the NICU. As we walked, we noticed blue hearts hung on each door of our loving street. Every year, on his birthday, these no-matter-what friends throw him (and us) a party that makes each understandably hard milestone a day to look forward to. Each year, this day brings less pain and more joy. I think they call that healing, so thanks to my healers on the Court💙

11.6K Likes – Kara Keough Instagram

Caption : Today, on McCoy’s 5th birthday, we say goodbye to our family home before we hand the keys over tomorrow. The walls of this home were a witness. They’ve seen love and laughter, pain and suffering, hurt and healing. They’ve seen birth, death, painful goodbyes, and new beginnings. These walls have held us during a pandemic, the loss of our son, the death of my dad. More of my tears have fallen inside this house than in all the other places my tears have ever fallen combined. The shower alone probably has a Tears Spilled Record individually, but our bedroom beats that out by at least half a million tons. Childhood has flared brilliantly within these walls, mainly ignited by my magnificently playful husband. McCoy’s spirit has raced equally playfully down these halls every day since he was born inside of it – opening doors, turning toys on, flashing lights, always finding ways to make us feel him. And while I’ve brought two other newborn babies home “to” it, only he was born into it, and therefore of it. This place is undeniably linked to him and saying goodbye to it rips something open inside me again. But hopefully what all those fit meatheads say is true when they explain: “It’s the microtears that make you stronger.” Beyond the walls, something even more treasured was built brick-by-brick: a community of friends that became family. God knew what was coming for us before He put us on “the Best Street in America,”  and these folks surrounded us in our time of grief, and loved us so damn well. I refuse to say goodbye to them, because these friendships we’ve made aren’t ones that are bound by proximity – no, these are those “no-matter-what” kinda friends. The night McCoy died, we walked to the end of the cul-de-sac to see the little garden the neighborhood kids planted for him while he was on life support in the NICU. As we walked, we noticed blue hearts hung on each door of our loving street. Every year, on his birthday, these no-matter-what friends throw him (and us) a party that makes each understandably hard milestone a day to look forward to. Each year, this day brings less pain and more joy. I think they call that healing, so thanks to my healers on the Court💙
Likes : 11568Kara Keough - 11.6K Likes - Today, on McCoy’s 5th birthday, we say goodbye to our family home before we hand the keys over tomorrow. The walls of this home were a witness. They’ve seen love and laughter, pain and suffering, hurt and healing. They’ve seen birth, death, painful goodbyes, and new beginnings. These walls have held us during a pandemic, the loss of our son, the death of my dad. More of my tears have fallen inside this house than in all the other places my tears have ever fallen combined. The shower alone probably has a Tears Spilled Record individually, but our bedroom beats that out by at least half a million tons. Childhood has flared brilliantly within these walls, mainly ignited by my magnificently playful husband. McCoy’s spirit has raced equally playfully down these halls every day since he was born inside of it - opening doors, turning toys on, flashing lights, always finding ways to make us feel him. And while I’ve brought two other newborn babies home “to” it, only he was born into it, and therefore of it. This place is undeniably linked to him and saying goodbye to it rips something open inside me again. But hopefully what all those fit meatheads say is true when they explain: “It’s the microtears that make you stronger.” Beyond the walls, something even more treasured was built brick-by-brick: a community of friends that became family. God knew what was coming for us before He put us on “the Best Street in America,”  and these folks surrounded us in our time of grief, and loved us so damn well. I refuse to say goodbye to them, because these friendships we’ve made aren’t ones that are bound by proximity - no, these are those “no-matter-what” kinda friends. The night McCoy died, we walked to the end of the cul-de-sac to see the little garden the neighborhood kids planted for him while he was on life support in the NICU. As we walked, we noticed blue hearts hung on each door of our loving street. Every year, on his birthday, these no-matter-what friends throw him (and us) a party that makes each understandably hard milestone a day to look forward to. Each year, this day brings less pain and more joy. I think they call that healing, so thanks to my healers on the Court💙

11.6K Likes – Kara Keough Instagram

Caption : Today, on McCoy’s 5th birthday, we say goodbye to our family home before we hand the keys over tomorrow. The walls of this home were a witness. They’ve seen love and laughter, pain and suffering, hurt and healing. They’ve seen birth, death, painful goodbyes, and new beginnings. These walls have held us during a pandemic, the loss of our son, the death of my dad. More of my tears have fallen inside this house than in all the other places my tears have ever fallen combined. The shower alone probably has a Tears Spilled Record individually, but our bedroom beats that out by at least half a million tons. Childhood has flared brilliantly within these walls, mainly ignited by my magnificently playful husband. McCoy’s spirit has raced equally playfully down these halls every day since he was born inside of it – opening doors, turning toys on, flashing lights, always finding ways to make us feel him. And while I’ve brought two other newborn babies home “to” it, only he was born into it, and therefore of it. This place is undeniably linked to him and saying goodbye to it rips something open inside me again. But hopefully what all those fit meatheads say is true when they explain: “It’s the microtears that make you stronger.” Beyond the walls, something even more treasured was built brick-by-brick: a community of friends that became family. God knew what was coming for us before He put us on “the Best Street in America,”  and these folks surrounded us in our time of grief, and loved us so damn well. I refuse to say goodbye to them, because these friendships we’ve made aren’t ones that are bound by proximity – no, these are those “no-matter-what” kinda friends. The night McCoy died, we walked to the end of the cul-de-sac to see the little garden the neighborhood kids planted for him while he was on life support in the NICU. As we walked, we noticed blue hearts hung on each door of our loving street. Every year, on his birthday, these no-matter-what friends throw him (and us) a party that makes each understandably hard milestone a day to look forward to. Each year, this day brings less pain and more joy. I think they call that healing, so thanks to my healers on the Court💙
Likes : 11568Kara Keough - 11.6K Likes - Today, on McCoy’s 5th birthday, we say goodbye to our family home before we hand the keys over tomorrow. The walls of this home were a witness. They’ve seen love and laughter, pain and suffering, hurt and healing. They’ve seen birth, death, painful goodbyes, and new beginnings. These walls have held us during a pandemic, the loss of our son, the death of my dad. More of my tears have fallen inside this house than in all the other places my tears have ever fallen combined. The shower alone probably has a Tears Spilled Record individually, but our bedroom beats that out by at least half a million tons. Childhood has flared brilliantly within these walls, mainly ignited by my magnificently playful husband. McCoy’s spirit has raced equally playfully down these halls every day since he was born inside of it - opening doors, turning toys on, flashing lights, always finding ways to make us feel him. And while I’ve brought two other newborn babies home “to” it, only he was born into it, and therefore of it. This place is undeniably linked to him and saying goodbye to it rips something open inside me again. But hopefully what all those fit meatheads say is true when they explain: “It’s the microtears that make you stronger.” Beyond the walls, something even more treasured was built brick-by-brick: a community of friends that became family. God knew what was coming for us before He put us on “the Best Street in America,”  and these folks surrounded us in our time of grief, and loved us so damn well. I refuse to say goodbye to them, because these friendships we’ve made aren’t ones that are bound by proximity - no, these are those “no-matter-what” kinda friends. The night McCoy died, we walked to the end of the cul-de-sac to see the little garden the neighborhood kids planted for him while he was on life support in the NICU. As we walked, we noticed blue hearts hung on each door of our loving street. Every year, on his birthday, these no-matter-what friends throw him (and us) a party that makes each understandably hard milestone a day to look forward to. Each year, this day brings less pain and more joy. I think they call that healing, so thanks to my healers on the Court💙

11.6K Likes – Kara Keough Instagram

Caption : Today, on McCoy’s 5th birthday, we say goodbye to our family home before we hand the keys over tomorrow. The walls of this home were a witness. They’ve seen love and laughter, pain and suffering, hurt and healing. They’ve seen birth, death, painful goodbyes, and new beginnings. These walls have held us during a pandemic, the loss of our son, the death of my dad. More of my tears have fallen inside this house than in all the other places my tears have ever fallen combined. The shower alone probably has a Tears Spilled Record individually, but our bedroom beats that out by at least half a million tons. Childhood has flared brilliantly within these walls, mainly ignited by my magnificently playful husband. McCoy’s spirit has raced equally playfully down these halls every day since he was born inside of it – opening doors, turning toys on, flashing lights, always finding ways to make us feel him. And while I’ve brought two other newborn babies home “to” it, only he was born into it, and therefore of it. This place is undeniably linked to him and saying goodbye to it rips something open inside me again. But hopefully what all those fit meatheads say is true when they explain: “It’s the microtears that make you stronger.” Beyond the walls, something even more treasured was built brick-by-brick: a community of friends that became family. God knew what was coming for us before He put us on “the Best Street in America,”  and these folks surrounded us in our time of grief, and loved us so damn well. I refuse to say goodbye to them, because these friendships we’ve made aren’t ones that are bound by proximity – no, these are those “no-matter-what” kinda friends. The night McCoy died, we walked to the end of the cul-de-sac to see the little garden the neighborhood kids planted for him while he was on life support in the NICU. As we walked, we noticed blue hearts hung on each door of our loving street. Every year, on his birthday, these no-matter-what friends throw him (and us) a party that makes each understandably hard milestone a day to look forward to. Each year, this day brings less pain and more joy. I think they call that healing, so thanks to my healers on the Court💙
Likes : 11568Kara Keough - 11.6K Likes - Today, on McCoy’s 5th birthday, we say goodbye to our family home before we hand the keys over tomorrow. The walls of this home were a witness. They’ve seen love and laughter, pain and suffering, hurt and healing. They’ve seen birth, death, painful goodbyes, and new beginnings. These walls have held us during a pandemic, the loss of our son, the death of my dad. More of my tears have fallen inside this house than in all the other places my tears have ever fallen combined. The shower alone probably has a Tears Spilled Record individually, but our bedroom beats that out by at least half a million tons. Childhood has flared brilliantly within these walls, mainly ignited by my magnificently playful husband. McCoy’s spirit has raced equally playfully down these halls every day since he was born inside of it - opening doors, turning toys on, flashing lights, always finding ways to make us feel him. And while I’ve brought two other newborn babies home “to” it, only he was born into it, and therefore of it. This place is undeniably linked to him and saying goodbye to it rips something open inside me again. But hopefully what all those fit meatheads say is true when they explain: “It’s the microtears that make you stronger.” Beyond the walls, something even more treasured was built brick-by-brick: a community of friends that became family. God knew what was coming for us before He put us on “the Best Street in America,”  and these folks surrounded us in our time of grief, and loved us so damn well. I refuse to say goodbye to them, because these friendships we’ve made aren’t ones that are bound by proximity - no, these are those “no-matter-what” kinda friends. The night McCoy died, we walked to the end of the cul-de-sac to see the little garden the neighborhood kids planted for him while he was on life support in the NICU. As we walked, we noticed blue hearts hung on each door of our loving street. Every year, on his birthday, these no-matter-what friends throw him (and us) a party that makes each understandably hard milestone a day to look forward to. Each year, this day brings less pain and more joy. I think they call that healing, so thanks to my healers on the Court💙

11.6K Likes – Kara Keough Instagram

Caption : Today, on McCoy’s 5th birthday, we say goodbye to our family home before we hand the keys over tomorrow. The walls of this home were a witness. They’ve seen love and laughter, pain and suffering, hurt and healing. They’ve seen birth, death, painful goodbyes, and new beginnings. These walls have held us during a pandemic, the loss of our son, the death of my dad. More of my tears have fallen inside this house than in all the other places my tears have ever fallen combined. The shower alone probably has a Tears Spilled Record individually, but our bedroom beats that out by at least half a million tons. Childhood has flared brilliantly within these walls, mainly ignited by my magnificently playful husband. McCoy’s spirit has raced equally playfully down these halls every day since he was born inside of it – opening doors, turning toys on, flashing lights, always finding ways to make us feel him. And while I’ve brought two other newborn babies home “to” it, only he was born into it, and therefore of it. This place is undeniably linked to him and saying goodbye to it rips something open inside me again. But hopefully what all those fit meatheads say is true when they explain: “It’s the microtears that make you stronger.” Beyond the walls, something even more treasured was built brick-by-brick: a community of friends that became family. God knew what was coming for us before He put us on “the Best Street in America,”  and these folks surrounded us in our time of grief, and loved us so damn well. I refuse to say goodbye to them, because these friendships we’ve made aren’t ones that are bound by proximity – no, these are those “no-matter-what” kinda friends. The night McCoy died, we walked to the end of the cul-de-sac to see the little garden the neighborhood kids planted for him while he was on life support in the NICU. As we walked, we noticed blue hearts hung on each door of our loving street. Every year, on his birthday, these no-matter-what friends throw him (and us) a party that makes each understandably hard milestone a day to look forward to. Each year, this day brings less pain and more joy. I think they call that healing, so thanks to my healers on the Court💙
Likes : 11568Kara Keough - 11.6K Likes - Today, on McCoy’s 5th birthday, we say goodbye to our family home before we hand the keys over tomorrow. The walls of this home were a witness. They’ve seen love and laughter, pain and suffering, hurt and healing. They’ve seen birth, death, painful goodbyes, and new beginnings. These walls have held us during a pandemic, the loss of our son, the death of my dad. More of my tears have fallen inside this house than in all the other places my tears have ever fallen combined. The shower alone probably has a Tears Spilled Record individually, but our bedroom beats that out by at least half a million tons. Childhood has flared brilliantly within these walls, mainly ignited by my magnificently playful husband. McCoy’s spirit has raced equally playfully down these halls every day since he was born inside of it - opening doors, turning toys on, flashing lights, always finding ways to make us feel him. And while I’ve brought two other newborn babies home “to” it, only he was born into it, and therefore of it. This place is undeniably linked to him and saying goodbye to it rips something open inside me again. But hopefully what all those fit meatheads say is true when they explain: “It’s the microtears that make you stronger.” Beyond the walls, something even more treasured was built brick-by-brick: a community of friends that became family. God knew what was coming for us before He put us on “the Best Street in America,”  and these folks surrounded us in our time of grief, and loved us so damn well. I refuse to say goodbye to them, because these friendships we’ve made aren’t ones that are bound by proximity - no, these are those “no-matter-what” kinda friends. The night McCoy died, we walked to the end of the cul-de-sac to see the little garden the neighborhood kids planted for him while he was on life support in the NICU. As we walked, we noticed blue hearts hung on each door of our loving street. Every year, on his birthday, these no-matter-what friends throw him (and us) a party that makes each understandably hard milestone a day to look forward to. Each year, this day brings less pain and more joy. I think they call that healing, so thanks to my healers on the Court💙

11.6K Likes – Kara Keough Instagram

Caption : Today, on McCoy’s 5th birthday, we say goodbye to our family home before we hand the keys over tomorrow. The walls of this home were a witness. They’ve seen love and laughter, pain and suffering, hurt and healing. They’ve seen birth, death, painful goodbyes, and new beginnings. These walls have held us during a pandemic, the loss of our son, the death of my dad. More of my tears have fallen inside this house than in all the other places my tears have ever fallen combined. The shower alone probably has a Tears Spilled Record individually, but our bedroom beats that out by at least half a million tons. Childhood has flared brilliantly within these walls, mainly ignited by my magnificently playful husband. McCoy’s spirit has raced equally playfully down these halls every day since he was born inside of it – opening doors, turning toys on, flashing lights, always finding ways to make us feel him. And while I’ve brought two other newborn babies home “to” it, only he was born into it, and therefore of it. This place is undeniably linked to him and saying goodbye to it rips something open inside me again. But hopefully what all those fit meatheads say is true when they explain: “It’s the microtears that make you stronger.” Beyond the walls, something even more treasured was built brick-by-brick: a community of friends that became family. God knew what was coming for us before He put us on “the Best Street in America,”  and these folks surrounded us in our time of grief, and loved us so damn well. I refuse to say goodbye to them, because these friendships we’ve made aren’t ones that are bound by proximity – no, these are those “no-matter-what” kinda friends. The night McCoy died, we walked to the end of the cul-de-sac to see the little garden the neighborhood kids planted for him while he was on life support in the NICU. As we walked, we noticed blue hearts hung on each door of our loving street. Every year, on his birthday, these no-matter-what friends throw him (and us) a party that makes each understandably hard milestone a day to look forward to. Each year, this day brings less pain and more joy. I think they call that healing, so thanks to my healers on the Court💙
Likes : 11568Kara Keough - 11.6K Likes - Today, on McCoy’s 5th birthday, we say goodbye to our family home before we hand the keys over tomorrow. The walls of this home were a witness. They’ve seen love and laughter, pain and suffering, hurt and healing. They’ve seen birth, death, painful goodbyes, and new beginnings. These walls have held us during a pandemic, the loss of our son, the death of my dad. More of my tears have fallen inside this house than in all the other places my tears have ever fallen combined. The shower alone probably has a Tears Spilled Record individually, but our bedroom beats that out by at least half a million tons. Childhood has flared brilliantly within these walls, mainly ignited by my magnificently playful husband. McCoy’s spirit has raced equally playfully down these halls every day since he was born inside of it - opening doors, turning toys on, flashing lights, always finding ways to make us feel him. And while I’ve brought two other newborn babies home “to” it, only he was born into it, and therefore of it. This place is undeniably linked to him and saying goodbye to it rips something open inside me again. But hopefully what all those fit meatheads say is true when they explain: “It’s the microtears that make you stronger.” Beyond the walls, something even more treasured was built brick-by-brick: a community of friends that became family. God knew what was coming for us before He put us on “the Best Street in America,”  and these folks surrounded us in our time of grief, and loved us so damn well. I refuse to say goodbye to them, because these friendships we’ve made aren’t ones that are bound by proximity - no, these are those “no-matter-what” kinda friends. The night McCoy died, we walked to the end of the cul-de-sac to see the little garden the neighborhood kids planted for him while he was on life support in the NICU. As we walked, we noticed blue hearts hung on each door of our loving street. Every year, on his birthday, these no-matter-what friends throw him (and us) a party that makes each understandably hard milestone a day to look forward to. Each year, this day brings less pain and more joy. I think they call that healing, so thanks to my healers on the Court💙

11.6K Likes – Kara Keough Instagram

Caption : Today, on McCoy’s 5th birthday, we say goodbye to our family home before we hand the keys over tomorrow. The walls of this home were a witness. They’ve seen love and laughter, pain and suffering, hurt and healing. They’ve seen birth, death, painful goodbyes, and new beginnings. These walls have held us during a pandemic, the loss of our son, the death of my dad. More of my tears have fallen inside this house than in all the other places my tears have ever fallen combined. The shower alone probably has a Tears Spilled Record individually, but our bedroom beats that out by at least half a million tons. Childhood has flared brilliantly within these walls, mainly ignited by my magnificently playful husband. McCoy’s spirit has raced equally playfully down these halls every day since he was born inside of it – opening doors, turning toys on, flashing lights, always finding ways to make us feel him. And while I’ve brought two other newborn babies home “to” it, only he was born into it, and therefore of it. This place is undeniably linked to him and saying goodbye to it rips something open inside me again. But hopefully what all those fit meatheads say is true when they explain: “It’s the microtears that make you stronger.” Beyond the walls, something even more treasured was built brick-by-brick: a community of friends that became family. God knew what was coming for us before He put us on “the Best Street in America,”  and these folks surrounded us in our time of grief, and loved us so damn well. I refuse to say goodbye to them, because these friendships we’ve made aren’t ones that are bound by proximity – no, these are those “no-matter-what” kinda friends. The night McCoy died, we walked to the end of the cul-de-sac to see the little garden the neighborhood kids planted for him while he was on life support in the NICU. As we walked, we noticed blue hearts hung on each door of our loving street. Every year, on his birthday, these no-matter-what friends throw him (and us) a party that makes each understandably hard milestone a day to look forward to. Each year, this day brings less pain and more joy. I think they call that healing, so thanks to my healers on the Court💙
Likes : 11568Kara Keough - 11.2K Likes - 11 years ago, we said our vows in front of our people. Today, we chased our little babies around a soccer tournament while we cheered for our biggest baby. Tonight, we danced to our wedding song with each other then with our kids. It’s such a precious moment in time with these little crotch goblins, and I know we’ll look back at these ages and just wish it hadn’t gone by so fast. So, this year, there was no better way to celebrate the history of us than with the legacy of us. Happy Anniversary, lover boy.

11.2K Likes – Kara Keough Instagram

Caption : 11 years ago, we said our vows in front of our people. Today, we chased our little babies around a soccer tournament while we cheered for our biggest baby. Tonight, we danced to our wedding song with each other then with our kids. It’s such a precious moment in time with these little crotch goblins, and I know we’ll look back at these ages and just wish it hadn’t gone by so fast. So, this year, there was no better way to celebrate the history of us than with the legacy of us. Happy Anniversary, lover boy.
Likes : 11194Kara Keough - 10.8K Likes - 3 (and 3/4) months of this cutie. #StetsonLou #4thkidproblems

10.8K Likes – Kara Keough Instagram

Caption : 3 (and 3/4) months of this cutie. #StetsonLou #4thkidproblems
Likes : 10818Kara Keough - 10.8K Likes - 3 (and 3/4) months of this cutie. #StetsonLou #4thkidproblems

10.8K Likes – Kara Keough Instagram

Caption : 3 (and 3/4) months of this cutie. #StetsonLou #4thkidproblems
Likes : 10818Kara Keough - 10.8K Likes - 3 (and 3/4) months of this cutie. #StetsonLou #4thkidproblems

10.8K Likes – Kara Keough Instagram

Caption : 3 (and 3/4) months of this cutie. #StetsonLou #4thkidproblems
Likes : 10818Kara Keough - 10.8K Likes - 3 (and 3/4) months of this cutie. #StetsonLou #4thkidproblems

10.8K Likes – Kara Keough Instagram

Caption : 3 (and 3/4) months of this cutie. #StetsonLou #4thkidproblems
Likes : 10818Kara Keough - 10.7K Likes - Beautiful day showering @flkeough @shanekeough & Baby Girl MK 🤍

10.7K Likes – Kara Keough Instagram

Caption : Beautiful day showering @flkeough @shanekeough & Baby Girl MK 🤍
Likes : 10689Kara Keough - 10.7K Likes - Beautiful day showering @flkeough @shanekeough & Baby Girl MK 🤍

10.7K Likes – Kara Keough Instagram

Caption : Beautiful day showering @flkeough @shanekeough & Baby Girl MK 🤍
Likes : 10689Kara Keough - 10.7K Likes - Beautiful day showering @flkeough @shanekeough & Baby Girl MK 🤍

10.7K Likes – Kara Keough Instagram

Caption : Beautiful day showering @flkeough @shanekeough & Baby Girl MK 🤍
Likes : 10689Kara Keough - 10.7K Likes - Beautiful day showering @flkeough @shanekeough & Baby Girl MK 🤍

10.7K Likes – Kara Keough Instagram

Caption : Beautiful day showering @flkeough @shanekeough & Baby Girl MK 🤍
Likes : 10689Kara Keough - 10.7K Likes - Beautiful day showering @flkeough @shanekeough & Baby Girl MK 🤍

10.7K Likes – Kara Keough Instagram

Caption : Beautiful day showering @flkeough @shanekeough & Baby Girl MK 🤍
Likes : 10689Kara Keough - 10.7K Likes - Beautiful day showering @flkeough @shanekeough & Baby Girl MK 🤍

10.7K Likes – Kara Keough Instagram

Caption : Beautiful day showering @flkeough @shanekeough & Baby Girl MK 🤍
Likes : 10689Kara Keough - 10.3K Likes - I’ve never had a four year old boy before. Today, on McCoy’s 4th Heavenly Birthday, I would like to know what it’s like to have one. Tell me the funniest thing your favorite four year old boy has ever said or done. This year, it feels okay to laugh and smile on April 6th, and I want to do that. Happy Birthday, baby 💙

10.3K Likes – Kara Keough Instagram

Caption : I’ve never had a four year old boy before. Today, on McCoy’s 4th Heavenly Birthday, I would like to know what it’s like to have one. Tell me the funniest thing your favorite four year old boy has ever said or done. This year, it feels okay to laugh and smile on April 6th, and I want to do that. Happy Birthday, baby 💙
Likes : 10306Kara Keough - 8.4K Likes - When she isn’t squawking, she’s pretty sweet 😍

8.4K Likes – Kara Keough Instagram

Caption : When she isn’t squawking, she’s pretty sweet 😍
Likes : 8449Kara Keough - 8.4K Likes - When she isn’t squawking, she’s pretty sweet 😍

8.4K Likes – Kara Keough Instagram

Caption : When she isn’t squawking, she’s pretty sweet 😍
Likes : 8449Kara Keough - 8.4K Likes - When she isn’t squawking, she’s pretty sweet 😍

8.4K Likes – Kara Keough Instagram

Caption : When she isn’t squawking, she’s pretty sweet 😍
Likes : 8449Kara Keough - 8.4K Likes - When she isn’t squawking, she’s pretty sweet 😍

8.4K Likes – Kara Keough Instagram

Caption : When she isn’t squawking, she’s pretty sweet 😍
Likes : 8449Kara Keough - 8.4K Likes - When she isn’t squawking, she’s pretty sweet 😍

8.4K Likes – Kara Keough Instagram

Caption : When she isn’t squawking, she’s pretty sweet 😍
Likes : 8449Kara Keough - 8.4K Likes - When she isn’t squawking, she’s pretty sweet 😍

8.4K Likes – Kara Keough Instagram

Caption : When she isn’t squawking, she’s pretty sweet 😍
Likes : 8449Kara Keough - 8.2K Likes - 🐆

8.2K Likes – Kara Keough Instagram

Caption : 🐆
Likes : 8209Kara Keough - 7.9K Likes - I kiss these cheeks 7,389x a day and I don’t care to slow that pace anytime soon. #StetsonLou

7.9K Likes – Kara Keough Instagram

Caption : I kiss these cheeks 7,389x a day and I don’t care to slow that pace anytime soon. #StetsonLou
Likes : 7929Kara Keough - 7.6K Likes - 9 months of Lou Lou Bugs 🐞 Her voice is still SO loud and high pitched, but she loves to give us her “cheese” smile and then we quickly forgive her for bursting our ear drums. She’s crawling and pulling up and making our hearts swell. If she let me sleep through the night, I’d want 1,000 more of her. Kissing her chubby cheeks reminds me so much of our angel McCoy, and it feels like a little slice of heaven. She has 5 teeth and eats more than her 8 year old sister. She’s delicious and can make even the grumpiest person smile (it me, I’m the grumpiest person). We love you, Stetson Lou!

7.6K Likes – Kara Keough Instagram

Caption : 9 months of Lou Lou Bugs 🐞 Her voice is still SO loud and high pitched, but she loves to give us her “cheese” smile and then we quickly forgive her for bursting our ear drums. She’s crawling and pulling up and making our hearts swell. If she let me sleep through the night, I’d want 1,000 more of her. Kissing her chubby cheeks reminds me so much of our angel McCoy, and it feels like a little slice of heaven. She has 5 teeth and eats more than her 8 year old sister. She’s delicious and can make even the grumpiest person smile (it me, I’m the grumpiest person). We love you, Stetson Lou!
Likes : 7618Kara Keough - 7.5K Likes - Alex, I don’t know crap about soccer, but watching you play the last 17 years has felt a lot like witnessing a hero’s journey. I’ve cheered along as you’ve taken on the gauntlet that has been your life and earned genuine respect from a wider and wider circle, until the whole world couldn’t help but tip their cap to you. A salute to a trailblazer who does so much for sports, for women, for girls, but also for her friends and family. Being really really really really good at soccer is only the 70th best thing about you, but last night, as you walked off the pitch, I looked around at a stadium full of crying and smiling little girls. I watched moms and dads hugging their daughters, reassuring them - “It’s okay, it’s gonna be okay.” And they’re right. Because of you and all that you’ve done on and off the field, it IS gonna be okay. So while a stadium full of little dreamers saw their hero hang up her boots last night, they’ll soon see that this doesn’t mean you’ve taken off your cape. Can’t wait to see what you do next, Al.

7.5K Likes – Kara Keough Instagram

Caption : Alex, I don’t know crap about soccer, but watching you play the last 17 years has felt a lot like witnessing a hero’s journey. I’ve cheered along as you’ve taken on the gauntlet that has been your life and earned genuine respect from a wider and wider circle, until the whole world couldn’t help but tip their cap to you. A salute to a trailblazer who does so much for sports, for women, for girls, but also for her friends and family. Being really really really really good at soccer is only the 70th best thing about you, but last night, as you walked off the pitch, I looked around at a stadium full of crying and smiling little girls. I watched moms and dads hugging their daughters, reassuring them – “It’s okay, it’s gonna be okay.” And they’re right. Because of you and all that you’ve done on and off the field, it IS gonna be okay. So while a stadium full of little dreamers saw their hero hang up her boots last night, they’ll soon see that this doesn’t mean you’ve taken off your cape. Can’t wait to see what you do next, Al.
Likes : 7549Kara Keough - 7.5K Likes - Alex, I don’t know crap about soccer, but watching you play the last 17 years has felt a lot like witnessing a hero’s journey. I’ve cheered along as you’ve taken on the gauntlet that has been your life and earned genuine respect from a wider and wider circle, until the whole world couldn’t help but tip their cap to you. A salute to a trailblazer who does so much for sports, for women, for girls, but also for her friends and family. Being really really really really good at soccer is only the 70th best thing about you, but last night, as you walked off the pitch, I looked around at a stadium full of crying and smiling little girls. I watched moms and dads hugging their daughters, reassuring them - “It’s okay, it’s gonna be okay.” And they’re right. Because of you and all that you’ve done on and off the field, it IS gonna be okay. So while a stadium full of little dreamers saw their hero hang up her boots last night, they’ll soon see that this doesn’t mean you’ve taken off your cape. Can’t wait to see what you do next, Al.

7.5K Likes – Kara Keough Instagram

Caption : Alex, I don’t know crap about soccer, but watching you play the last 17 years has felt a lot like witnessing a hero’s journey. I’ve cheered along as you’ve taken on the gauntlet that has been your life and earned genuine respect from a wider and wider circle, until the whole world couldn’t help but tip their cap to you. A salute to a trailblazer who does so much for sports, for women, for girls, but also for her friends and family. Being really really really really good at soccer is only the 70th best thing about you, but last night, as you walked off the pitch, I looked around at a stadium full of crying and smiling little girls. I watched moms and dads hugging their daughters, reassuring them – “It’s okay, it’s gonna be okay.” And they’re right. Because of you and all that you’ve done on and off the field, it IS gonna be okay. So while a stadium full of little dreamers saw their hero hang up her boots last night, they’ll soon see that this doesn’t mean you’ve taken off your cape. Can’t wait to see what you do next, Al.
Likes : 7549
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