This was it! We were officially going to be called…”The Jackson Five”!
My husband is a natural. We call him the baby whisperer. Give him a baby and BAM! That baby melts into his arms. It wasn’t quite as easy for me. But when I became a mother, something changed. I changed.
Being that it is week SIX (seven? I’ve lost count, to be honest) of the school year, I figured it was time to exhale and organize some of my thoughts. I know I have to go through this again, so this will hopefully serve as inspiration in the years to come… assuming I survive.
The amount of women that can relate to my my miscarriage story is astounding. “I’ve been there”, they would say. Or “I know exactly how you feel.” I guess I shouldn’t be surprised – 1 in 4 women will experience a miscarriage in their life time – but it’s not a topic that is vastly spoken about.
As a mother, I’ve found that you fall into one of two camps: You LOVE back to school season, or you HATE back to school season. I have my feet planted firmly in the latter group. Many moms will tell you that your feelings on school will shift as your children grow older. The stomach-sinking feeling of sending your kid off to kindergarten supposedly turns to feelings of freedom and joy as they move up in grade levels. I’ll believe it when I see it.
I typically try to steer clear of political conversation whenever possible. I have family members on both sides of the party lines. I tend to find myself living somewhere in the middle. But I cannot and will not allow myself to remain silent on the hatred that is plaguing our once-great nation. It’s not news by now that our country is in a state of chaos.