You Love Me
{Originally published on Running Stitch}
My heart often feels like it is going to burst with how much I love them. I still wake up in the middle of the night and go upstairs to kiss and snuggle them a little bit.
While they’ll still let me.
Since that conversation, over a year ago, I’ve realized that it’s not important whether he tells me he loves me or not. What’s important is that he knows I love him. In our everyday life of playing with trains, running the lake, playing at the playground, picking up toys, making bread and reading Curious George Goes To The Baseball Game (over and over and over again) it’s important that I teach him not just where the toys go… but that I love him.
Revelation, Brooke Shields Style - Pt.1
Originally posted on The Anvil Tree
Sometimes, I feel like I make these grand assertions on here, and
there’s only grand to me. Which is fine; it’s my blog. I write it for
my own (lame) memory’s sake, anyhow, so any assertion I wanna make is
one I should feel good about making right?
But here’s one that I really am taking very seriously. It’s not
about my hair, my weight, or even cleaning. Well, it’s sorta about
cleaning. Mainly, it’s about me.
See, I have lots of very strong, capable women around me. Most (if
not all) of these women have given birth at some point. And while
every woman has their very own birth story, there has been one thing
I’ve never heard anything about in my own circle, so I assumed it was
just an urban legend.
Then, as it all came crashing down around me this last week, I
realized that urban legends have to have some truth to them in order to
circulate. So maybe it’s NOT so mythical. Maybe real people DO get
Post-partum depression.
(click title for more)
The one where I admit to not loving my kid.
Originally published on moosh in indy.
When the moosh came out I didn’t instantly fall in love with her.
I thought it was cool she came out with all her parts in the right place in seemingly right proportion.
But I was not in love.
I wasn’t in love with her when I brought her home.
I wasn’t in love with her three months after I brought her home.
I felt a sense of obligation to her. But I didn’t feel love.
(click title for more)
