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Used to

Posted on October 11, 2014

When I was hoping to get pregnant and then later when I was, I sought advice, poring over articles on what to eat, what not to eat. I expected the days, months and years following delivery to adhere to a schedule and approach as defined by so many articles and experts. They did not. When they laid Briar in my arms everything changed. I didn’t look for answers, didn’t refer to manuals. I was drunk with instinct, believing that I knew exactly what to do at each turn. Breastfeeding came easy to us, which may have been where the fearlessness came from, the heady experience of feeding, soothing, and forging a bond through my body to this perfect creature. This isn’t to say that…

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They Said…

Posted on October 7, 2014

I dropped the littler girls off at school this morning; the sight of Avery slinging her arm around Fin’s shoulders, and Fin leaning into her undid me. I watched them walk, their bright raincoats like carousel horses, bobbing up and down. Red, aqua, gone and then back again. I held my hand out the window in case they turned. So much of what I do is in case…a note in the lunchbox in case something happens to me. A whispered I love you in a sleeping ear, a fervent wish to make it echo for years to come in case I’m not there. I’m not sure why everything feels so potent today, tears nipping at the corners of my eyes a persistent lump in my…

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Quiet Your Doubt

Posted on October 6, 2014

“I wish I could shower without my thoughts,” I said to Sean absentmindedly as I towel dried my hair. I’d been doing battle with people who haven’t listened, replaying conversations that are already inked and smudged beyond repair. He looked at me and took a deep breath, I felt my shoulders go up in defensive anticipation and then back down. “Me too,” he said and smiled gently. “Hard to turn it all off sometimes.” It felt pretty good to not be judged, but my mind immediately set itself back to judging—flitting from why I chirp “yup” during conference calls to the clothes hanging  in the closet, to the roller coaster of 40something skin (Is it a break out? Is it flaking dry skin? Is…

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It isn’t me

Posted on October 5, 2014

I’ll preface this post with two things, the first, I had a wonderful back and forth with a couple of moms on twitter about judging other moms. I won’t say that I’ve never done it, but I will say that I now liken it to late night shots of tequila in regard to how it will make you feel. Maybe you’ll have a surge of defiant satisfaction, “I’m not that mom. Nope, I’m {insert your carefree/organized/whatever trait of choice} but before long, later in the day or the next morning you’re likely to have a bit of a headache and a bad taste in your mouth. I think that we all get the occasional food stain on the permission slip and mounting an awesome birthday party,…

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