The United States of America is in a time of critical change -- an election is upon us and the political world is an absolute circus. If we're going to talk about making America great again, let's start by discussing the need for a major overhaul when it comes to maternity leave.
As the end of the year approaches, I try to keep focused on what is ahead and help my son to do the same. But when he tells me he's scared about next year and that he doesn't want to go... I can't say I blame him.
Snuggle them and smell their sweet little baby smells. If they fall asleep in your arms, take a moment and savor it. In seven years, I have never, ever regretted any time I spent just loving on my boys. You won't, either.
I know everything feels undone. I know being a grown-up sucks. I know your house is a mess. I know you have writer's block. I know you feel behind. I know you wish you were superwoman. I know. I know. But. You just had a baby.
A common conversation around the house regarding baby: "Have you tried X technique? It worked yesterday." "But today isn't yesterday." Seriously, just when you think you've gotten the hang of something, the pattern changes.
I don't know of anything else that could have made me feel worse or more of a failure. Those words confirmed my worst fears: I am not good enough. I am not doing enough. I am not strong enough. I am not capable. I am a failure.
Who am I to argue against the romance of "When a child is born, a mother is born?" I get it. But the part they left off, the asterisk to this sweet quote, does the woman before the mother die when the mother is born? Where does she go?
Interrupting the daily routine with a getaway isn't a luxury, it's a necessity. And for us and many others, these breaks have meant the difference between having a thriving relationship and getting a divorce.
I desperately wanted to get to know these other moms, to connect with them, to make a friend. But, really, they scared me half to death with their angelic babies, their new mom glows, and their judging eyes.
For the first year of my daughter's life, everything was big: big love, big frustration, big anxiety, big mood swings, big me. Not since I was a teen had I been so transfixed by my own now-shriveled navel.
Last year, on Mother's day, I found out I was pregnant. I can hardly believe it's been a year since that gleeful Mother's Day. Only a year later, and life is a completely different shade of tumbling. I have become the mother of a rather scrumptious little girl.