motherhood – Katherine Kuzma-Beck

The Widowhood │ The Magic of New Beginnings

Logan’s last year of pre-school was a difficult one. Everyday at the end of the day if I wasn’t there to pick him up, he would sob. It didn’t matter that Phil was still alive at this time and would be the one getting him, no, Logan needed his mom. Sometimes I would be able to get him if my schedule allowed and if I drove like a crazy person to get back to town from the capital city. It was a hard year for us both and ultimately made me come to conclusion that I was needed at home more than I was needed at a job an hour away.

This was when my resentment for Phil truly began to build. He was healthy enough to work and cleared to do so by his doctor, but he never really tried to get the kind of job that could make me dial back on the 16 hours days that I had been doing for years. It had been a deal that we had made early on, that once I got us into our forever house, I would be able to dial back on the crazy work hours and focus more on the kids. Only, it never happened and then the summer before he died, he lost the okay-ish job that he had found over a stupid fight about a cup. I remember when the call came in that he was fired as we stood in the driveway, having just gotten back from the lake with the kids. Phil was very good at name calling and put downs when he was mad, but I believe if you love someone you don’t talk to them like that even when they hurt you or are mad at them. Words can do more damage than you think.

After he got off the phone with his old job, I looked at him full of rage and disappointment as this was the first summer I had taken off and had completely trusted him with the house. “What is wrong with you? You have absolutely fucked us, I hope that you know that.”

He looked at me like I had said the worst thing known to man and he walked away to call his friends to complain about how I spoke to him and how he was so hurt. I wanted to hit him. I didn’t, but that was one of the times in our marriage where I thought about the satisfaction of punching him in the face would feel like. By the next morning, I was delivering groceries and trying to scrape together any money that I could get my hands on to get us through until I was paid in September.

By August, I was thankful for the job offer that came in which meant that I was going to be able to pick Logan up from school. I felt like I could breathe again until my old job said that even though I was resigning in August that I was going to be held for 60 days as per my teaching contract. At first, I was rage-filled about it, but looking back I can see the hand of God in that. I was able to go back to work and pack up my things, I got my first full paycheck and then the next morning, I woke up to my husband collapsing and dying at my feet, but because I had been held to 60 days, I now was able to use all of my personal time and be written out for the rest of my holding period. I never went back to the classroom that I had managed for over 10 years.

And then I arrived shell-shocked and traumatized to my new job. I remember the briskness of the day that I arrived and having to sit in front of my new supervisor and tell her what had happened, asking what paperwork I had to redo since I was no longer married. I was in front of new people, new work and out in the world for the first time in three weeks since our tragedy had found us. I remember how the fuzziness of the world around me seemed to dwindle and for the first time since that Saturday morning, I was looking forward to life again.

It is almost poetic in a sense that I am now leaving that job for something new and have had a summer of grief and turmoil leading up to it. During my time here, I started to date, I fell in love, I thought I had a future with someone, got my heart broken, had to give away my dogs, had multiple surprises with cars and my house and somehow, made it through it. And next week, I will be sitting at New Teacher Orientation learning about what the next chapter of my life is going to be. Maybe it’s the hand of God again, maybe it’s the end of a cycle—either way I am hopeful today as I am trusting in the magic of new beginnings.

August 21, 2025

Dr. Katherine Kuzma-Beck HartLeave a comment

The Widowhood │ A Sperm Donor

After John left, I had the pretty stark realization that when he left, he also took a year and a half of my life with him which now put me just shy of 40 and further away from my late thirties. It made me sad in ways all over again because when I had made the decision to start dating again, I had done so because I wanted to get married again, I wanted my children to get a father figure in their life and I wanted to have one more baby. I wanted my family dream that I have had since I was little and to my core, I have always wanted a happy traditional family because I think it is important for a woman to have a husband and I think it’s important for children to have two parents.

Between the tears I cried over John that summer, I also found anger too. Anger towards him for taking all that time from me with no intention of having a life with me even though he knew from the very beginning a life with someone was what I wanted and up until that night in my driveway, he had led me to believe that he had wanted that with me too even telling me things like he could never leave me and that he didn’t really understand it but when the kids and I weren’t around, life felt weird. In the end, I guess it was what guys do—feed you a bunch of lines of things they know you want to hear. When I would get to that thought, the anger would become a new level of hurt all over again and new tears would come. It was a very hard summer.

Towards the end of it, I found myself in the same spot I was in when I had decided to start dating again. I started thinking how I could make my family be what I had always wanted it to be without a man involved in it. I was excited that my job with the state had ended because it meant that I would be eligible to be a foster mom if I chose to be. Only after nearly two years of working with kids in the system, I pretty quickly realized that I did not want to be a mother to a kid that had been in the system, and I did not want to deal with the constant presence of a social worker in my life until the adoption was finalized.

I thought back to earlier times in my life where I wasn’t convinced that God was leading me to physically create the children that I knew in my heart I wanted, and I thought back to private adoption. It had been something that I had looked into briefly before Phil and I had gotten married, and I remembered how expensive it all was outside of the cost of raising another child on my own. It was not going to be a viable option for me. Which then led me to googling sperm banks in the quiet of my bedroom after my children had gone to sleep and what I continued to do the following morning when I got to work. I was pretty invested in it when my co-worker came in to check in.

“What are you doing,” she asked.

I shut my laptop and looked up at her. “Good morning. Promise not to laugh?”

“Maybe?” She sits down in front of my desk and eagerly awaits my explanation of what I am so engrossed in.

“Sperm donation.” I flip open my laptop and show her the website.

She doesn’t laugh. “You must have an interesting search history,” she adds as she starts scrolling through the list of potential options.

“Oh, never look at the search history of a widow. In the early days, I was so obsessed with what was happening to Phil’s body that I was constantly researching body decomposition because I couldn’t fathom the idea that he was dead let alone no longer Phil and, in the ground, becoming a skeleton.”

“And now you are here. You have had an interesting life.”

“I guess you could call it that.” I take back my laptop. “It surprised me how easy it is to knock yourself up if you decide to.”

“You know most people find a friend that they trust and make some sort of arrangement for this kind of thing.”

“No, if I must do it alone, then I will do it alone. And look how easy it is. For up to $1500 you pick your baby daddy and how good of a sample you want or need, they send it to your house or to your doctor in your ovulation window and bam you try to knock yourself up.”

“That is very…expedited. Are you going to do it?”

“I don’t know, I think it is kind of weird and I still hold out hope that I do meet someone, but now I am even more afraid of allowing someone around me and my kids for them to get attached to a man again only for him to decide he doesn’t want us.” I grab a tissue and dab away the fresh tears that have come.

“You’re not ready for this if you want my unsolicited opinion.”

“You’re right, I’m not, but at least I am starting to think about it.” She nods. “And then I also think about my luck with things. Knowing me, I would commit to doing this, knock myself up and then meet the man of my dreams and have to explain how I got pregnant.”

She laughs. “That would happen to you, yes.”

“And then he wouldn’t want to deal with that level of crazy and I would once again get hurt and become a hermit with my three and a half kids.” I exhale and force myself to stop tearing up. “Then I also think about that episode of The Golden Girls where Blanche’s daughter decides to go to a sperm bank to get pregnant and every time, she has to say sperm back, she cringes and whispers it all awkward.”

“That’s a pretty good episode. I also like the one when she has the baby and Blanche keeps calling the baby Oreo.”

I chuckle. “I always thought it was weird that she had a son named Skippy but made fun of her daughter for Aurora.”

She agrees. “Maybe look into having your eggs frozen and then that way if you do meet someone you bought yourself back some time.”

“I don’t know what’s weirder to me, a sperm bank baby or a petri dish baby.” I grab another tissue and dry my leaking eyes. “Alright, enough of this, I have to get it together to get through the day.”

My co-worker offers to make some coffee and I gladly accept it, eager to be away from my depressing thoughts about the state of my life and the weird things I find myself looking into.

When I was younger, I used to like that my life wasn’t planned out and that the uncertainty of life brought with it exciting surprises, but now after being widowed and after John, I found myself not liking that aspect of life so much and I really began to crave comfort and consistency. And I had begun to realize that as much as a good relationship brings that, you can also bring it to yourself. I began to out more things into God’s hands by the end of the summer and began to truly believe he does have a plan for me even if it meant I was alone with my kids for the rest of my life. It just hurt to think about it that way, never getting to have a husband or raise our child together along with my kids I had with Phil. The loneliness of it all really began to sting even though I knew I was going to figure it out either way in the end even if it meant, a sperm bank.

August 19, 2025August 19, 2025

Dr. Katherine Kuzma-Beck HartLeave a comment

The Widowhood │ Manhattan

John and I aren’t in the part of our relationship where he knows about my life in my early 20’s. He doesn’t know about my love for the city or the life I was set to have there at that point in my life. Back then, I was a senior at Rutgers University and I was graduating with a dual degree in art history and journalism and media studies. I had been accepted into some of the best programs for art business and curating, including a new program being offered through Sotheby’s. And that spring I fell head over heels in love with a boy that was several years older than me and we had a very intense relationship that ended in him one day telling me that his love for me had stopped growing and so I broke up with him. For years, he would talk to our former mutual friends about me and I would avoid relationships all together because of that hurt that Landon had left me with.

This was in 2008 and at a time where the economy tanked overnight. Within days I had a choice: was I going to fight for the loan that I had to go to my dream masters program or was this the universe telling me to pursue graduate school elsewhere and be closer to the boyfriend that I thought was it for me. I chose to begin to look at graduate school closer to him. And within a couple of months, the relationship was totally over. I often look back at that time in my life as a crossroads where I could have had a life of Manhattan, but instead my life brought me to teaching and in turn to Phil and to my children and South Jersey. I do not regret that crossroads because my children are the loves of my life, but I sometimes do wonder if I had chosen differently, what my life would have become?

Once I was with Phil things like Manhattan trips stopped all together and I was very much swept up into his life and his friend circle. I had lost myself in my relationship with him and then again in motherhood and becoming his caretaker. Standing just outside of Penn Station with John, looking at the big buildings and the craziness of the streets, brought a little light back inside of me that had been dimmed for many years. This moment in time felt like a return to myself and a day that I hadn’t really known that I needed until I was living it. And I was there with John, a man that I was trying my very best not to stare at.

We walked from the station to the hotel that we were going to be staying in for the night. We faded in and out of small talk as we walked.

“Are you still nervous about the hotel room,” he asked me.

I probably blushed somewhat. “No, I don’t think you’re a serial killer.”

He laughed. “Ok, well let me know we can always get another room or separate keys…or whatever, whatever makes you comfortable.”

I am taken with John in a multitude of ways. There is physical chemistry between us, but I am also taken with him for the way that he considers me. This was our first actual date with one another and he had gone out of his way to make it extra special for me. Despite myself, I had already begun to feel myself falling for him over our late night phone conversations, but since we were together I was feeling that pull even more and it surprised me because as artistic and romantic as I am, I am also very logical, but being with John, logic seemed to be leaving me quicker than I could try to grab it back.

When we get up to our hotel room, I put down my bag and walk over to the huge window overlooking the city. You could see the statue of liberty very faintly off in the distance and I just stood there and took all of it in. This weekend in so many ways was the return to myself and to the possibility of new beginnings with John. Eventually, John finished getting himself in order and I turned around to face him.

I laughed when I turned around, because the bathroom was totally illuminated and showcased the open shower to the room. A design feature probably included so that whoever was staying here could shower and still have a view of the city. John’s eyes follow my gaze and he too now sees the shower.

“I’m sorry, if I am honest I had help with booking the room. Geez, that is one heck of a shower,” he adds, clearly embarrassed and nervous all at once.

I lightly touch his arm. “It’s okay, we will figure it out, but that is some shower for a weekend where no sex was agreed upon.”

He laughs and smiles at me, it is his coy smile that he would go on to give me many times over the nearly year and a half that we would be together. It is when I know that he is humored, but reflective at the same time and the flash of his eyes that would always follow that coy smile of his, that would make me want to do everything and anything with him.

John excuses himself from the room to give me some privacy so that I can get ready to go to dinner. A new wave of excitement has found me and I eagerly take off my jeans and slip back into the dress with the pretty underwear that Sasha said all went well together. I feel beautiful and I feel like myself in those moments. John eventually comes back up and changes and then suddenly we are back on the streets of Manhattan walking to the Irish pub.

The food at the pub is not the greatest, but I am thankful for my first rum cocktail in many months and picking apart the tacos that were the only slightly appetizing thing they had to offer. We send back the flavorless mozzarella sticks and make a joke about how food in Manhattan and especially places like this are always hit or miss. John got a steak sandwich and after a bite, he immediately takes some off of his plate and puts it onto mine. It stops me for a moment because I am taken back to one of the many conversations that I had had over the years with dating and finding the right guy for you before she passed away a couple years before. One of the things she always told me about dating was to wait for the man who feeds you off of his own plate. To my grandmother this was a sign of both respect and care, because it showed that the man would want to provide for you and cared for you enough to take something away from himself and to give to you. I try to stop my mind from wandering into things that it is too soon to think about.

John pays for our food and drinks and we begin to walk towards the theater. He is attentive and talkative and constantly making sure that I am near him, not in a controlling way, but in a protective way that once again strikes something deep inside of me and I find myself beginning to fight with myself about how far I was going to allow this to go. In the back of my mind, I always think about my kids and that they too are part of the deal with whomever I wind up with. Will it all be too much for a single man used to his own life and the way he likes things? Despite myself and the reality of my situation, I allow the soft feelings and little butterflies to take over because at that moment, it is just John and I and my kids are a state away enjoying their first sleepover with their grandmother.

The broadway version of The Notebook totally butchers the book and the movie that I had loved for years. It gave into the need for wokeness that entertainment has turned to in recent years and both John and I leave confused as to who people even are in it as they frequently changed actors based on race in each scene. In one scene Noah was the black man, but in the next he is white again–it served no real purpose to the story and made it hard to follow. By the end of the show, neither John nor I stood for the ovation.

Turning to me, John asked, “Why aren’t you standing?”

Knowing why, but not wanting to hurt his feelings since this was our first date and I knew the kind of planning that he did for it, I hesitated.

“I am not standing because it was awful.”

I exhale with a smile. “Yes, I feel the same, but I really enjoyed being here with you.”

His smile widened. “Yes, the company was made for a standing ovation, but not the singing by screaming at the top of their lungs.”

I nod. “And I don’t know about you but I was confused as to who was who in every single scene change.”

“Exactly! What was that?!”

Afterwards, we meandered around the city in search of coffee for me and things to do. We find ourselves in Times Square, John buys both of us a New York hat. My body begins to feel the end of the excitement and the toll of a day steeped in travel and activity. I am growing tired as the night begins to unfold.

“Would you like to go back to the hotel,” John asks me.

“I would, but I would still like to do something when we get back there.”

“Well what should we do?” He stops walking for a moment and I follow suit. “Do you know how to play UNO? Or any card games?”

I smile. “Yes to both. And I hate to brag, but I am one heck of a game of war player.”

“Sounds like we better stop at a drug store and get UNO and some cards then.”

We walk a couple more blocks and find a store that has both after a creepy elevator ride into a New York store basement and questionable people all around. Afterwards we walk back to the hotel and John excuses himself so that I can shower and change. When he comes back he readies himself for bed and we sit in our hotel room with Manhattan lit up behind us playing several games of war until I feel my eyes fighting themselves to stay open. There is heavy banter flying between us as we play war and make jokes about the physical tension between us.

Towards the end of our last game, John stops joking for a moment and looks at me. It is a gaze that he won’t go on to give me often, but when he does give it I know he wants me to clearly hear what he has to say, it makes me feel loved and protected. “Katherine,” he says, my name always sounding like honey from his mouth. “In all seriousness, I know how to be a gentleman and I will be one until you tell me that I no longer have to be.”

I can feel my face flush ten different shades of red while my body can’t decide what it wants to do with itself. I clear my throat, trying to hold onto my composure and these sudden waves of intense feelings that have come sweeping into me. “Well then, do you like to cuddle?”

He smiles and cleans up the rest of the cards. “I am a very good cuddler.”

John slides into bed next to me. My head is all over the place. I am still breast feeding my youngest and I think to myself what if my body ultimately betrays me and I have to explain soaked sheets in the morning. Or worse yet what if one of the panic attacks that I have frequently been getting since Phil died takes over in the night and I wake up into it again, terrified that Phil is dying all over again. Then I look over at John and the noise in my head seems to stop. He invites me to lay down next to him and I let him hold me for the first time.

A warm and peaceful feeling washes over me when he touches me for the first time and within moments, I am fast asleep and beside John, I sleep through the night for the first time since my husband died.

August 14, 2025August 14, 2025

Dr. Katherine Kuzma-Beck HartLeave a comment

The Widowhood │ After the Fall-Out

The kids are in the other room playing with the barbie house and the dominos that they got for their birthdays. Life has been very quiet for the past several weeks. I’ve pushed myself to face things that I struggled with before. I finally rehomed the dogs I struggled with since Phil died. I’ve deep cleaned the entire house to be dog free. I am surprised about how the kids don’t even miss them, something I was also so scared about because after Phil died, the way I survived everyday was to just keep moving forward, showing up for the kids and making sure their lives stayed as close to the same as it possibly could without their dad, pain in the ass dogs included. John and I haven’t spoken in weeks, not since a handful of small talk text messages after the tearful night in my driveway.

I’ve just come in from my garden that I like to call my secret garden. I’ve been spending a lot of time there, making changes and getting it ready for the fall season. It’s my quiet space away from all of the noise in my head and my new ability to cry at the simplest things lately. I feel like all that I have done since the fall out is just cry. Lindsay calls me to check in.

“I was just calling to see how you were doing,” comes her bubbly response once I pick up.

“Today is not so bad. A couple of days ago, it was pretty bad, but today I have only cried a couple of times,” I laugh at myself, for someone who was once very anti-sharing-of-feelings, this was certainly a new era for me. My feelings are constantly all over my face and out of my face.

“You just have to remember that everything happens for a reason and that it’s probably because he wasn’t right for your family. You need someone who is going to make a commitment to you and to those kids, not just shut down and hurt you because you asked about what your future was. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I know, but that was the weird thing about it all. This all started because I asked him about the future and if he had ever thought about us living together. It was a future that we had sat talking about very openly in my kitchen when we had just started dating, I mean down to whose name everyone gets.”

“Back then, it was just talking about a potential and by asking you made it real and you got your answer.”

I nod, choking back a new wave of tears. “You probably didn’t hear my nod,” I say with an awkward tear-filled laugh. “And then he just changed and he was accusing me of all kinds of things I never said or did, including how I was giving him an ultimatum–it was like he was talking to someone else entirely. The ghost of something big and heavy that pre-dates me.”

“And I think that is his issue and why he has never been married and probably won’t ever be. Hurt people hurt people and as nice as he was to you when there was no expectation, someone did a number on him a long time ago and it’s not up to you to fix him or give up on what you want out of a relationship. I mean you guys half-assed lived together for over a year and because you asked about living together officially and re-stated that you did want to get married and have another baby eventually, that’s what is going to get you here? That’s an ultimatum? That is not at all fair to you. When is it not about him?”

“I know, Linds. He just really hurt me. I had to get over all of that stuff I went through with Phil and I prayed so hard that I would meet someone again that I could trust and it just really fucking hurts to be here. I feel like I opened up my whole life and self to him, but he never did the same and then just threw us away in the trash.”

“And it’s going to be that way for a while, but look at it this way. At least you’re not quoting Dickens to me and making jokes about sitting in your wedding dress and eating cake anymore?”

I laugh, a real laugh. “I guess we can call that growth. I am past the grieving scorned widow and am now dumped girlfriend who has three kids, a new job on the horizon and is somehow still writing.”

“You are one of my best friends. You are smart, brave and kind. You’re one of the most honest and strongest women that I know and you’re a really good mom, look how far those kids have come. Phil and John aren’t an end to your story, you’re going to meet someone who wants a life with you and this time, it will be the right person who loves you completely and is proud to show you and even the kids off to the world.”

“I love you too, but I think that maybe this is God’s way of telling me that I am meant to be alone.” I start choking on tears again.”I mean just a month ago I was so excited about my new job and getting my summers back so I had more time with the kids and better hours which meant less relying on my family to watch the kids all the time which then meant they would probably agree to watch the kids for me to do fun things like actually getting to go out with John and now look at my life. This was supposed to be the new chapter for me and the trio.”

“I don’t think so and it still is a new chapter. I really do think you’re going to get married again and you’re going to have that last baby and this time, that man is going to be faithful to you and be the love of your life because that is all that you deserve. It’s just not John. And even if I’m wrong and you are alone for the rest of your life, I know you’re going to rock that too. You’re on your upswing, just think about that new job and how all of that came to be!”

Lindsay was right. The writing on the wall had come to my old job earlier in the spring and I was in a full-on panic mode because with the change in hours I wouldn’t be able to get my kids from school and then the funding for the job itself was also questionable as things in the state were changing. It was a terrifying several months before two jobs came knocking, one because the administrator who saw my application knew my reputation from my years in Trenton and immediately contacted me and the other found me on the internet and called me for a same day interview. I was ultimately offered both positions, but I took the latter for a better salary and a commute and also for the fact that it meant I was teaching seniors and college-level courses. I had to give up my college teaching after Phil died because I did not have the childcare to cover it and that was one of the personal things I had to give up that absolutely devastated me because when I am in a college classroom and I am lecturing, it is the place I feel the most like myself. It was something so hard to let go of, even though I knew that it was in the best interest for my children, but then again, here the universe was bringing it back to me at a time where I felt as if my life was once again in pieces. So, maybe I just needed to roll with what life was giving me and trust in the greater good, as hard as that is especially when your heart has been broken again.

I draw in a breath so that I will hopefully stop sniffling. “Well, I would just like to remind you of the fact that when he and I first started dating and I sent you that picture of us, how you exclaimed how you had such a good feeling about him and my future,” I add, not wanting her to have a full win.

“Ya got me, I was wrong about that…well maybe. It wasn’t all bad was it? I mean he did nice things for you and the kids and he cleaned out your life of all of Phil’s friends and made you face things you were really struggling with like the dogs. And you fell in love with him so at least that showed you that you do have the ability to love someone after your husband and to want a life with someone again. In many ways you’re set up for a totally fresh start and again one that I believe does lead you to the man that is meant for you. In the meantime, focus on yourself and the kids and if you’re really bored, sign up for e-harmony again.”

I snort. “That is the last thing I think that I could do.”

“Why not? Worst case is you like someone and they don’t like you back and you never have to talk to them again.”

Our conversation winds down after the e-harmony suggestion. The kids make their way into the kitchen asking for dino nuggets. Lindsay and I say our goodbyes and I thank her for her check in, even though these conversations with the people who have known me for much of my life tend to end with me in tears lately, I am still thankful for them because they break up my day and give me adult time outside of constantly being alone with small kids. As the dino nuggets are air frying, I pull up e-harmony on my phone. The moment I see its green and white logo, I feel my stomach start to hurt and a fresh set of tears well up into my eyes. “Or worst case is I get involved with someone who doesn’t want me again,” I mumble under my breath as I think to myself: not today Satan. I begin to google things I can do with the kids in the coming weekends before school starts back up again.

By the time the trio is situated with their nuggets, we have a list of things that they want to go see and do before school starts: we are hiking, going to the ocean, possibly the aquarium and hitting up the wildlife refuge nearby. Violet is most excited about the wildlife refuge for the animals and the boys are nonstop talking about the ocean and how there are sharks in there and how they will need weapons to beat the sharks back.

I find myself smiling at the differences between them.

August 11, 2025August 11, 2025

Dr. Katherine Kuzma-Beck HartLeave a comment

The Widowhood │ Daisy

John and I begin to message back and forth quickly. We start talking a lot of small talk about what we like and things that we do. It isn’t forced and it is not all the time, some days we do not message at all, but there is consistency in our exchanges. I find myself beginning to look forward to them, however small that they are.

Then one day John mentions something about being at the beach and watching the sunrise. Something I used to do in another life when I was free to roam around and was not raising children. He offers to upload a picture of it to e-harmony so that I can see it, only e-harmony will not approve pictures for your account unless they are of you. In the end, he sends me his number and when I respond in a text message, he sends me a picture of the sunrise at the shore. It’s a beautiful sunrise and it’s framed nicely too, suggesting that beneath his machismo there is a creative streak and maybe even a little bit of an old soul in how he sees the world. This becomes my second favorite picture that he has sent me.

After that the texting between us seems to grow and I find myself sharing funny stories about my arch nemesis: David the Squirrel who is the obnoxiously fat squirrel that is always doing something that ends with me and the dogs chasing it around the yard with a broom. I sometimes wonder if David is the same squirrel or if I am calling five different squirrels David. John seems to appreciate my squirrel stories.

“Are you still talking to the guy from the internet,” my mother inquires.

“Yeah, we’ve been texting a lot more. I have been enjoying getting to know him” I say with a little too much excitement that is enough for my mom to pick up.

“Is it just texting, or have you guys actually spoken?”

“So far we have just been texting pretty consistently and talking about small things, nothing major yet.” I immediately want to change the subject. My mother has a way of being very critical of my feelings and of the men that I choose to date. She will find problems where there are none and thus, begin to cause problems where there are none. And this time, I am feeling very protective of John, the internet person who I really enjoy texting and looking forward to his little messages about his life and his days.

“Would you be as into this man as you are now even if he sounds like Donald Duck?”

I chuckle. “I really do not think he sounds like Donald Duck.”

“But…you don’t know that.”

My mother has now placed the Donald Duck brain worm inside of my head because what if he does sound like Donald Duck? I am already running through a plethora of scenarios inside of my head from him being some kind of weird child predator that wants to get close to me to hurt my kids to what if he is the love of my life to what if I get so wrapped up into him and then one day he looks at me and tells me that he is done because my kids are too much? The mental Olympics that I am putting myself through daily has become exhausting and then the idea of me going through all of this and he sounds like Donald Duck in the end? I think I would be devastated. Then the next side of my overthinking pops in and I begin to question myself as to why I would be devastated if an internet person who I have only been texting sounds like Donald Duck. And then I realize: because I like him.

In our texting exchanges of that week, we begin to discuss talking on the phone for the first time and I use it as an opportunity to make a couple jokes about what if I sounded like Daisy Duck? Would he still be interested in me? This transpires into an ongoing joke that I don’t think he ever fully understood. We plan on talking that night after I put the kids to sleep. I become eerily calm about the entire thing, and I begin to wonder what his voice really does sound like because my gut feeling is that he does not in fact have a Donald Duck voice.

A little after 8PM that night, I shoot John a text that the kids are asleep and that I was ready to talk when he was. Then, I nervously sit down in my recliner and wait either for him to respond or to call me. He shoots back a text about getting some privacy and that he would call me shortly. I exhale. It’s either Donald Duck or bust!

The quiet of my living room is broken up sometime later with the ringing of my phone. I sit staring at it for several moments before I answer it. I hold my breath and wait to hear his voice for the first time. I think I had even closed my eyes.

I do not remember how he started the conversation that night because we ultimately would become like two teenagers again, staying up for hours on the phone for weeks and being exhausted when our alarms would go off in the morning for work. I loved that innocent time of our relationship though where it was new and exciting, but also comforting.

What I do remember is how it felt to hear his voice for the first time. It was low and calming, strong and soft, but also reassuring. It was a mix of someone that I knew grew up in New Jersey and someone who has spent much of his life moving around the country, with hints and pieces of all the places that he has been. And the first time that I heard it, I was a puddle in my recliner trying to keep my own voice steady and not give a hint of the swarm of little butterflies that had suddenly found their way to my stomach.

We talked for hours that night, Violet had even woken up at one point during it and John had made a sweet comment about hearing her falling back to sleep in my lap. I have fleeting thoughts about maybe this does work out and he won’t be scared off by the idea of a widow with three small children.

Towards the end of our conversation, I even make the joke, “So, are you sure you want to keep talking to a widow with three small kids?”

He laughed. “Well, you being a widow is something that drew me to your profile and now that I know how old Logan is, I assume you were with Phil for a while?”

“Yes, we were married for almost six years and together for almost 10.”

“And he married you which means he could stand you.”

I laughed. “I guess that is a different perspective of marriage and widowhood.”

“It’s late and I am sure you would like to get Violet back to bed.”

“I would, but I have really enjoyed talking to you.”

“Me too, I am twitterpated. Goodnight, Daisy.”

I am thankful he can not see the goofy smile I am sure is plastered across my face. “Goodnight, Donald.”

I click off the call and the room is silent again. I remain sitting in my recliner with my daughter, enjoying the silence. It has somehow changed all together. The room feels different, like the heavy weight that had permeated the house lifted and a new and welcome change is coming through. I am still smiling like an idiot when I ever so gently go back upstairs with Violet and lay down.

I too am twitterpated.

August 7, 2025August 7, 2025

Dr. Katherine Kuzma-Beck HartLeave a comment

The Widowhood │ E-harmony

I cannot get over the cost of e-harmony, it is blowing my mind. For whatever reason, maybe it’s the loneliness or the desire that has begun to grow within me about being with someone again, but whatever it is, I find myself sitting in the darkness of my living room completing the personality profile. I figure that the worst case is that somehow it matches me with Todd again if he was still out there and the best case would be that I would meet someone that I liked. I was pretty much convinced that this was not going to lead to anything, but I was feeling ready to be open to the possibility of meeting someone.

Then, I dragged my feet for much for February to buy into the $600 price tag. The secret to e-harmony I found during that time is that the more that you say no to them, the more they email you offers of better pricing until you do finally commit to the weird world of online dating. And so, for $250 and a payment plan, I had finally committed to the Melanie-approved e-harmony where people who are serious about finding a long term committed relationship sign up.

Fairly quickly, I had men messaging me which surprised me because while I did not divulge everything about myself, I did say that I was a widow and that I had three small children. While I knew that this was going to be a lot for me, allowing a new man into my life, I also knew what I was not going to be able to accommodate. I knew I did not want someone who had been married because I did not want to deal with an ex-wife, and I also wanted someone who was going to be new to the marriage game if the relationship went there. I wanted that because in so many ways, I too would be new to the marriage game. I spent so much of my first marriage as a care giver and a provider that I wanted someone who was going to figure out how a marriage was supposed to be, how you take care of each other and figure out what each of your duties were going to be with one another. I didn’t want someone who had a ton of baggage from a failed marriage, but rather someone who was looking forward to finding someone that they wanted to make that kind of commitment to and I them.

I didn’t want someone with kids because I knew it was going to be hard enough with my three kids. I thought that if I dated someone with their own kids, it would just be too much on me and too much on my kids never mind what that meant for the man that I was dating. The Brady Bunch lifestyle was not something that was too appealing to me and even now, I still can’t say that I would want to date someone with kids because you also then have to deal with their mother, and it is not very often that co-parenting situations are amicable especially when it comes to women. Being a widowed mom is hard enough.

And what some of my friends or as I came to call them, my e-harmony tribunal, thought was the most shocking was that I did not want to date someone in education. I had and still have zero interest in dating someone within the same field as me and that is because I wanted someone who could teach me new things and talk about their career and their aspirations that were very different from what you find in the educational system. I did not want every discussion we had to be about school, school politics and the shenanigans that you can often share as a classroom teacher. I am also more conservative than a lot of people in education and therefore knew that politically it would cause conflict as well. I would frequently repeat what I told my mother just after Christmas when she began this e-harmony push: I wanted someone like my grandfather who was moral and conservative, who worked with his hands, but was smart and educated and creative in their own way and enjoyed the outdoors and gardening. Someone who came from a big family and loved his mother but was not a mama’s boy.

The first attempts at taking myself out of a 10 year long relationship was responding to messages from men that did not fit what I knew I was looking for. There was Zach, a man that was about Phil’s age so another eight-year age gap. He also divorced and had two kids, but they were teenagers and he lived nearby. We spent a week talking about movies we liked before it just kind of fizzled. Then there was Shawn, a man who was recently separated from his wife that had been his high school sweetheart and he had a teenage son. He was very nice, but I did not like the fact that he was still married. I did not want to get involved with a married man, even if he was separated and it was also clear that he was still reeling from his wife of 25 years deciding that she didn’t want to be married anymore. I eventually stopped responding because I knew that we weren’t going to go anywhere. Then there was a guy whose name I can not even remember, but he immediately became very pushy with me about meeting me and sent me a picture of his new tattoo and it was one on his hand between his thumb and pointer finger that said, “your throat here.” I immediately blocked him.

I felt myself getting discouraged. I have never had the best dating stories. I often will attract men who have commitment issues and who will date me and want all the good parts of dating me, but when it comes to a conversation about what we are or where we are going, it all just falls to pieces quickly. Before I met my husband, I had spent over a year with Aaron. We got close very fast, but then when I would ask what it was that we were to each other, I would be told that we were friends. It was a constant back and forth. He was too screwed up from his ex-girlfriend getting an abortion behind his back some years before and I was getting fed up with being treated like an option. Ultimately, we became very serious very fast and then broke up just as quickly as it all had changed.

After that, I swore to myself I would never again want to be with a man that wasn’t serious about life and who liked to drink. We both enjoyed a lot of cocktails together and a part during that period of my life. After my husband died and I entered a reflective period, I looked back at the big relationships from my past, including Aaron, and I found out that he had eventually gotten married and had a daughter. I smiled when I saw that because despite his issues, I always knew that he was going to be a good partner and a father, and I was happy that he had finally found someone that made him want to become that man even if that woman wasn’t me. I wished them well.

In many ways, it was because of Aaron that I chose my husband. I thought that Phil’s nerdiness was safer than choosing a more manly man like Aaron. Phil also was ready to commit to me very quickly and I liked that, there were no games or second guessing, we had gone on a date and saw each other almost every day for two weeks after before we sat in his car after too many beers and declared that we were together. It had been that easy and the rest was history.

Only now in the haze of grief and letting go of my 10 year long relationship with Phil did I realize how much I missed that sort of masculinity that comes from a more manly man. I wanted someone who would stand up to me and mean it, I wanted someone who could fix things and build things, I wanted someone who loved through providing and protecting. I craved a masculine man in my life and men whining about soon to be ex-wives were not going to cut it.

“So, are you just replying to men that contact you,” asked Sasha, in her loving but intrusive voice that she has perfected over years of love and friendship.

“Yeah, of course what else do you do in dating apps?”

She sighs. “Katherine…YOU can like THEM.” She gives me her Sasha doing Sasha things stare.

I roll my eyes. “That is just so, I can’t even think about that.”

“Look if you’re ready to put yourself out there, then really put yourself out there. If you come across someone on here that you like, then send them a like. The worst case is that they will not send you one back, but who cares then? No?”

I snatch back my phone. “Stop doing Sasha things.”

She grins. Sasha has been one of my best friends since college and whenever she would come over, some big project always ensued because Sasha is the kind of friend that wants you to do better so she makes you do better even if you’re not in the right mindset to. Phil would call this “Sasha doing Sasha things.” It was the perfect way to describe it and a sentiment that has become part of our friendship lexicon ever since.

Later that night after I got the kids to bed, I sat again in my dark bedroom looking at e-harmony. I guess she was right because what did it matter if I liked someone and they didn’t like me back, this wasn’t middle school gym anymore. With a soft exhale, I pull up the list of men in my area and I expand it to most of South Jersey, including the shore. Can’t hurt, right?

I scroll through many profiles that don’t resonate with me. I liked a couple but didn’t really care much as I did it. Then, I swipe into John’s profile. It’s different than other men on the site. All his photos are ones taken of him doing outside things and fishing. There may have been one selfie, but other than that he did not come across as a man that was too into himself. There aren’t any weird ones of him hanging out with a borrowed kid or posing with some weird toy to show how great he may be with kids or how playful he is, something a lot of men do on these sites that I always thought was weird. The only thing that gives me pause is that he has the same name as my high school sweetheart. I laugh at myself, the original John and I had dated through college and out of all of my relationships, it was probably one of the better ones and even to this day, after all of these years, if I were to call him he would pick up and we would catch each other up on our lives as the old friends that I think we always truly were over romantic partners. His parents had even reached out when they had heard that Phil had died and sent my children Christmas gifts that year. They were my adoptive family at a time in my life where my own family was crazy with my parent’s divorce, and I am thankful for the years of Friday night pizza and Saturday night Chinese food that were most of the years of my late teens and early twenties.

I am most taken by a photo of John standing in a room somewhere in his tool belt. His eyes are very bright in that photo, and they are a piercing blue. They are kind and honest eyes that make me feel very drawn to him which also makes me feel a little uneasy and nervous because this was just a picture of a guy on the internet. I think to myself: this man is going to have absolutely no interest in me with three small kids and a dead husband, but if he likes me back, I would love to talk to him. I hit the like button and put down my phone, unable to stop thinking about the man on the internet with the piercing blue eyes.

By the next day, he has liked me back and for a moment I sit there staring at the e-harmony prompting of why don’t you message him? Because e-harmony, if he truly liked me then he would have messaged me so we will wait there for Mr. Blue Eyes to sit down and write a message.

“And? Did you like anyone last night,” Sasha asks over the noise of her car and her daughter. She calls me when she gets out of work to check in and is usually taking her daughter to a practice or whatever else.

“I did, several of them.” I sit back in my recliner, folding my free arm over my stomach. My kids are playing with mega blocks and completely occupied for the moment.

“That’s great! I am proud of you. Anyone good stand out?”

I get quiet. I take a moment. “Promise you’re not going to think I’m weird?”

She laughs. “Katherine, we have been friends for almost 20 years, I know you’re weird and I love you for it.”

I smile, she’s right. “So, there was one guy that kind of stood out. He has down to earth photos and even his profile of what he is looking for is normal and there is this one photo I have probably looked at one too many times because his eyes are just, I don’t even know how to describe it and yes, I know it’s weird because it’s an internet person!”

Sasha is laughing. She knows when I like someone. “Are you guys talking now? Send me a picture, I want to see him.”

“No, we liked each other.” I text her the picture that I have looked at too many times.

“Katherine! Message him.” She’s interrupted by her daughter, but she quickly follows up with, “Oh well he’s cute. I get it.”

“It’s the eyes, right?” I try to hide this weird little swoon thing that I keep catching myself doing. “Well, he can message me. I mean what do I even say?”

“Hi is a good place to start,” her voice trails off, preoccupied with whatever her daughter is asking.

She rushes off the phone, mom life is calling and soon it is calling me too.

Alone again in the darkness of my room, I am staring at my open like from John. I could just message him and say hello, but I keep reminding myself in my head that I am a widow with three kids and who would ever want to deal with all of that? If he really wanted to get to know me then he would message me.

Two weeks later, he did.

August 6, 2025August 6, 2025

Dr. Katherine Kuzma-Beck HartLeave a comment

The Widowhood │ Six Months In…

Life comes at you pretty quickly. I thought that I had mine figured out for the moment…I had the house I wanted to grow old in with the husband I wanted to grow old with and three amazing kids. I was getting up for a wine festival…my first thing to do kid free in years and I came downstairs to find my husband in full blown cardiac arrest on our deck.

And in that instance, I would never be the same again. We would never be the same again.

It’s been over six months since I lost the love of my life. And for the most part, life has found it’s calm again. My main focus has always been our home and our children. In that respect, I have existed almost in a bubble of their life and needs. It has only been recently that I have wanted to de-bubble somewhat.

Eating when you’re grieving I think it the strangest thing. I know that I have to because of my kids and because I am still breastfeeding our youngest, but since he died nothing tastes the same anymore. Nothing is the same. On the nights that it gets really bad I often will make just a side. I call it grief sides and it’s manageable to eat a bowl of stuffing or Texas toast on the super hard nights though even then not enjoyable as you would think.

Doing anything beyond what I had to do has been hard. I don’t read books or paint unless it’s related to getting the house in order. I find myself zoning out to energy healers on YouTube after my kids go to sleep until I finally fall asleep.

Because the anxiety of being a widow is something else. I worry about being the sole provider for my family. I worry about my kids now growing up in a single parent household. I worry about what is happening to my husband’s body. And then very recently, I started to think about what my life is going to start looking like moving forward.

Will I be alone for the rest of my life? Will I find love again? Will I get to have more children? Why did this happen to us? Why did this happen to me?

I was never lucky in the love department. I had two big loves in my life–one I left because I was so in love with him and it was clear he was just going to play games and then the other, died randomly on a bright fall morning taking our dogs outside. For years, I thought I went through all that came before my husband so that I could meet my husband…the night that I met him I came home, called my mom and told her I had met the man I was going to marry. That’s how *right* it all felt with him from the moment I met him.

And I guess the point was that we would come together, have a really good marriage and have three amazing kids…but I just thought we would also get to see our kids grow up together as we grew old, watching our bodies fall apart and laughing and dancing our way through it all.

I guess I just wonder what is next…will I raise my kids and travel the world looking at cool art and cultures by myself? Will I meet someone again?

I just don’t know, but I do know, I am having such an urge to find myself in all of this. I lost myself to marriage and motherhood for a long time and now I guess I have time to reflect on it all and am realizing that there is more out of life that I want and somehow I just have to find the courage and the energy to move passed the exhaustion of grief and being a single mom to find those pieces of myself again and nourish them.

March 26, 2024

Dr. Katherine Kuzma-Beck HartLeave a comment

BOOK REVIEW│The Many Lives of Mama Love by Lara Love Hardin

Motherhood in the suburbs is an adventure unto itself. Social systems are constructed on your children’s achievements, your helpfulness in your community and your popularity among your fellow soccer moms. It can be a boring existence and it can be one that is easily shattered when you step out of the Stepford Wives Club.

For Lara Love Hardin, her step out comes when her million dollar home on a quiet cul-de-sac is met by the police who are there to arrest her and uncover what she has been doing behind the Stepford Wives façade. Hardin has been stealing her neighbor’s credit cards to fund her heroin addiction and now she faces being charged with 32 felonies and a lengthy jail sentence as she goes from soccer mom to inmate S32179.

Hardin quickly discovers that much like the intricacies of suburban soccer mom life, prison life also offers it’s own social system where candy is currency and tampon boxes make furniture. Also, there is the sad realization that not even prison can quell the adolescent behaviors that permeate through mom social life. Hardin quickly learns what it takes to climb the prison social ladder and becomes “the shot caller.”

In a memoir of falling from soccer mom social status to numbered prisoner, Hardin shows that even rock bottom doesn’t mean it is the end of your life. After her stint in prison, she goes on to become a ghost writer, writing her way through healing and redemption in a memoir that has you laughing, crying and cursing your way through as Hardin shows you that the hardest part of all is forgiving yourself. Powerfully raw–this memoir made me struggle through her journey with her, as a mother myself, I found it hard to sympathize with her and her return to drug use despite the damage it was doing to her young children. However, what kept me reading and loving her writing and her journey was that she told it with humor and humility and ultimately by having her darkest secrets discovered she was able to find herself, find forgiveness and build a new life.

Book Information

The Many Lives of Mama Love by Lara Love Hardin will be released on August 1, 2023 from Simon and Schuster with ISBN 9781982197667. This review correspond to an advanced electronic galley that was supplied by the publisher in exchange for this review.

May 18, 2023

Dr. Katherine Kuzma-Beck HartLeave a comment

The Hart Home│For My Little Boy

A year ago, I was heavily pregnant with you and struggling to get through each day. I was so exhausted and you were already on your way to being 10 pounds. I was running out of room in my body and you just wanted to stay inside me. I made it too comfortable for you.

I found it hard to breathe or eat or really function outside of the recliner we have. I also was so excited to meet you. In a week from now, I would have labor that would start and stop. We had one full false alarm and then finally when we were well past our due date, they finally induced me, but you still wanted to stay inside.

58378306_10100716767510947_1751405702447890432_n

An emergency c-section and several complications later and my beautiful baby boy that I had dreamed and prayed for was at last in my arms with his haunting almost black eyes and my face staring back at me.

We had a crazy first year together with me writing my doctoral dissertation and my going back to work way too soon. I have enjoyed every day that I am home with you this summer getting to see you turn from that little baby I brought home to the charismatic, brave and funny little boy you are so quickly becoming.

Getting to know you now as a little boy are the best ways I spend my days. You think so many things are funny and you love cuddling with me. You also love to tell me stories and yell at the TV. You’re walking everywhere and if you can figure out how to climb something, you will.

I find myself falling more in love with you every day, but also, I find myself getting a little sad at the end of each because I know by morning you’re going to be even more of a little boy and less of the baby that I have held and cradled, soothed and rocked, wore and breastfed for the last year. You’re finding your independence and as a mother that makes me very proud because it means I have loved you well, but at the same time, it makes me sad because you won’t need me like you did when I first brought you home.

I catch myself watching you sleep more and cuddling close to you, wanting to get in every last minute of who you are now, smelling your little head and holding your little hands. It amazes me how in another year, you will be so much more like a little boy and again I will feel this bittersweet sadness over your growing up.

No matter how old you are though, you will always be my little prince.

July 17, 2019July 17, 2019

Dr. Katherine Kuzma-Beck HartLeave a comment