My hope is that as my sons see me fulfilled by being their mother as well as all I am beyond that, they will reach for such equilibrium and encourage it in others.
For me, my sons’ crib holds many of the best memories of their childhood, as well as the worst, and like most memorable things in life, it is impossible to separate the good from the bad.
Oh, little does he know how hard it will be for me to ever let him go.
From the moment I met you, I loved you with all of my being. It was instant, and powerful, and simply unexplainable.
Time. To pack away the beach toys, wipe off the sand. Time. To pick the tomatoes, buy the mums. Time. To let go, of summer…
My fellow momma, I know our kids are doing the best they can in this moment. I know we are doing the best we can in this moment. I also know that our boys need our help.
When the nurse told me she saw boy “parts” on the ultrasound screen, a little part of me died. Not in a bad way. It was more of a realization that the old life, the only one I had known, was going to be be different, but this foreign life would be my new way of life.
I find myself worrying now, at the airport, if I should be more nervous. I have friends who wouldn’t let their 11-year-olds fly alone, and I start to wonder if they know something I don’t.
I loved how much my boys loved me, how they’d compete for my attention, or couldn’t go to bed without me.
My first night in my village, I was nervous. I would spend two years in this village of 200 people.