There are so many topics they don’t prepare you for in those birthing and parenting books, so many things I wish someone had been honest with me about before I had Nora, and to that point I say to my friend two months away from giving birth to her first child, “Greer, this one is… Read More I have a rash on my head.
Nora said, “I want a baby doll that looks like Owen so he knows I love him and I can hold him.” I hugged her and bit back tears, “You are so kind…he knows you love him. Someday he’ll say it to you too but, trust me, he knows that you love him. He loves… Read More The doll will show him.
I’m a whirling dervish of futility lately. My calendar looks like a pixelated Rorschach blot. If I went color blind from some sudden aphasia from the stroke (I’m fated to have if I keep up this pace) our whole world would fall apart. So as I organized, color coded appointments once again to match the… Read More Whirling dervish of futility
We were arguing. Everything was an emotionally charged exchange from what socks to wear to if we would even need them since our big plan was puzzles, indoors. It was the day before Kindergarten, and all through the house, every creature was stirring and I was an irritable louse. Cheese puffs were consumed, coffee kept… Read More I got the kindergarten blues.
One of the smartest decisions I have ever made was becoming a mother but it wasn’t as easy as checking off a list. We struggled to have a successful pregnancy to be able to have Nora. Jamie and I are Rh incompatible, my hormones are imbalanced from PCOS, and every subsequent miscarriage increased the scar… Read More Be my baby.