I see so much of myself in her; it's both heart-warming and heartbreaking. I don't want her to suffer socially like I did growing up, but I've realized I can't keep her in a bubble, either. Sometimes when I'm with her, my memory casts back to my own childhood, and I remember a fleeting instant in time when I was free to be myself without shame.
The emotional distress started to make me feel sick all the time and it came to the point that I just couldn't continue like this anymore. I decided that my first step to healing was to talk to people who have experienced the same type of loss, and by doing this it helped me realize that everything I was feeling was normal.
As I was preparing myself for my maternity leave, all I could focus on was bringing this new life into the world. I did not want to think about all the changes that were happening at my workplace and did not want to overthink the changes happening in my workplace. Why would I invest that extra energy elsewhere when I needed it for my baby? Besides I was going on maternity leave so I had to come back, right? Well, not quite.
As you gain distance from the early days of babies and toddlers, preschool and elementary school, from this place above the trees you can finally see. Like that mama bird sitting up high in the tree, you stand now as a humble mom of 17 years, better able to discern where you've been and where you're going.
From my earliest moments as a new mother, I'd longed for my daughter to experience the same enjoyment from reading and falling into a good book that I'd felt in my youth. I pictured us walking in tandem in our mutual appreciation for stories, unpacking plots and characters for each other as we bonded in conversation.
My mother is visiting this week. Last night, after putting my son to bed, I lowered my pregnant self onto the sofa and revved up the DVR. Mom said she didn't care what we watched. So I clicked on the newest episode of AMC's "The Walking Dead." As the credits rolled, she stared at me in horror. "This is your favorite show? Isn't it about, like, zombies? How could you possibly relate to or enjoy a show about zombies?" Quite easily, in fact.
I could see my four-year-old son playing on the slide, but my two-year-old son was out of sight -- not unusual as we had a very large, gated yard. I didn't even have time to cover myself before a woman came around the corner, a look of fury on her face and my two-year-old on her hip. "DO YOU KNOW WHERE I JUST FOUND YOUR CHILD?" she screeched.
What? I totally said "Happy birthday" to your Facebook wall. That counts. I know we've been friends for 25 years, but my kid had soccer practice until 6 p.m., then the baby wouldn't stop crying, and I had to do laundry before I put them to bed. I know I didn't go to your birthday party, but with two kids under four years old, I haven't set foot outside my home for anything less than a coronation.
Simplifying is vital not only for our kid's health, but also for our own. Simplicity is a rare gift in modern life. It's an obvious message, and when we hear it, we can't help but shout YES. Slowing down feeds our souls and nurtures our families. No matter what parenting style we practice, this topic unites us.
5 years post divorce, after selling and moving out of my matrimonial home, I can say that I have survived, and made it through some of the toughest aspects of divorce. Establishing a new relationship with my son's dad was not an easy road, but we did it, and we definitely fare better than most. Despite all of the triumphs, there are some things that continue to be really, really hard post divorce.
It should have been a moment for my husband and I to celebrate, to hug and kiss over. Unfortunately, it wasn't. Immediately after delivering, I cried out to the nurses about the pain in my stomach. It had gotten much worse. It had become unbearable. That's when I started to fall into a deep, confusing haze.
What normal parent would be insanely jealous of their own child?! I never expected it and I certainly didn't want it. But there it was: jealousy. As plain as the nose on my face. It all started just after puberty. I was fourteen when Mom first accused me of trying to "be cute" for my own father. Need I add that it wasn't true? But your Mommy is always right, isn't she?
The interaction of girls towards one another where they are nothing but mean. I'm left wondering why this is something we're found to be okay with. It's not funny. Girls are becoming more and more belligerent towards each other, and for some reason it seems like the world is okay with that. I've been wondering why girls, of any age, are so cruel towards each other.
When a friend says postpartum depression is normal, I get disappointed. When a psychologist says postpartum depression is normal, I get worried. When a New York Times best selling author and former U.S. congressional candidate with hundreds of thousands of followers says that postpartum depression is normal, I get livid.
The first time I carried a child, I suddenly had this intense urge to be closer to my mom. It was hard going through a pregnancy and a stressful birth experience without my mother's guidance and support (cancer can quit now, OK?), and I keep coming up against questions I really wish I could ask my mama, but that must be left unanswered.