I was totally and completely furious. Furious when Steven told me that there had been promotion opportunities that he had not applied for. I felt utterly betrayed and I cannot imagine feeling any differently than if he had cheated on me. It was the highest level of betrayal and I don't appreciate anyone telling me differently. Those are my feelings and they are real. All of my future was relying on that promotion. That move. I had been living with my hand hovering over the 'go' button for five years and then to find out that the 'go' button had been disconnected all together without me knowing was a huge shock to my system. To my trust. The only thing that I could think of to do back that would hurt in the same way was to leave. To just leave and take the kids. And that is a scary feeling. To be so hurt. So mad. So lost that I was willing to break a family. My family. Willing to tear my family apart for revenge of a hurt heart. It was an extremely powerful and very real feeling. And it was near paralyzing to have an emotion that strong ripping through my body.
A feeling of revenge doesn't sit well with me. That is small thinking. A feeling of calling it done and everyone knowing full and well beforehand that my line has been drawn is one thing. But to take off for revenge just didn't feel good. So I stayed. I screamed and I cried and I stayed. I woke up nights with Axton and couldn't get back to sleep. I screamed and cried those nights, too. After two of them I told Steven I wasn't doing it anymore. He would need to get up with Axton because I wasn't being able to get back to sleep. And bless his heart that I hated at that time. He did it.
Steven called LDS services for some marriage counseling. And I shut my mouth. I couldn't even talk. It was the silent treatment for a week. Nothing kind was on my mind and life was not going well. I was pretty much done. Just making it day to day. My heart was broken over my girls. My heart was full with a new baby. My heart was up and down and all over the place and I was mad. Mad that life was not where I wanted it to be and maddest that it for sure wasn't going anywhere fast. And I was stuck. Something I have never been before. I would consider myself pretty resilient and pretty flexible to make things work out one way or another - but this time. It was done. I was stuck.
We got to counseling and it was relieving. It was a hour and a half of talking about Steven and I and our relationship and our history and anything anyone would want to know. It was an emotional time, although I was still mad enough that I didn't have a lot of emotion to share. The lady was a little too, I don't even know. Too something. Too inquisitive. Too touchy-feely. We didn't go back. Not for the money that we would need to shell out when we had big, fat problems that were very general. Perhaps we'll go back when we are ready to fine-tune our relationship. But not right now. I called up our health insurance, found out they didn't cover marriage counseling, but the employee assistance program would cover it. 100%. 4 sessions for me. 4 sessions for Steven. And that would start over in January. I was optimistic that we could get our lives headed in the right direction in 8 weeks. It felt like forever, but it needed to be started somewhere.
After that first counseling session, things opened up. We were going to make it. A heartfelt talk and a good cry and commitment was on my lips again. Not love. But commitment. We would get through this and things would be ok. As much as I would want a present mother and father in my kids' lives - I wanted this to work mostly for me. I wanted to be have a relationship that worked well and that I love.
Among all these things happening - there were some noteworthy Sundays that softened my heart. When I was in church, where I could concentrate on what my faith looks like and what makes it strong and what makes my testimony as strong as it is and what that testimony is made of - that's where I found my strength to keep poking along. Those Sundays that were so hard for me because of the weeks that I had just endured of having a new baby and wanting more for my life. But I showed up for them and for some reason there was always something that always spoke directly to my heart. Piercing it with truth and understanding. And I knew it was all going to be ok. It was going to be uncomfortable, but it was going to be ok.
Monday, November 20, 2017
Saturday, November 18, 2017
A Big Fat Beef
I have a beef to take up with someone. In this case. My own thoughts.
You want to know something absolutely ridiculous? Something that has been on my mind for awhile - but must be said before I go into the rest of my story of how 'the beginning to my end' is going to play out.
I am really bothered by the notion of Mormon culture teaching and re-teaching this idea of pushing through. Making it to the top at all costs. And I suppose - yes - making it to the top is fine and good. But it also needs to be taught about when to toss in the rag, call it done. Call it good. When to say, "enough is enough" and to put a pause in it all as we make some decisions. And if our decision says, "call it quits" then it should be respected and not be-littled.
This has been lingering on my mind for a few months and then I attended Time Out for Women (TOFW) and Sheri Dew gave a spiritual thought about running and making it up a hill before her husband. She knew she was strong on hills and offered the challenge of a race up the hill. She was doing well and was winning when her husband passed her, hardly exerting any effort. She let him pass and then announced, "I'm going back to the car. See you there." She would rather give-up than allow herself to lose. He caught her by the shoulder and says, "You never turn around in the middle of a hill." And up the hill she went. And of course, naturally, saw the most glorious sunset she would have missed if she had gone back. Always. Always a sunrise or a sunset. Made me shudder.
This little story made my blood boil. Literally. It has been 4 years since I have been to the last TOFW because honestly - I don't need to be told what to do. I don't need to be encouraged to keep pushing. I am already pushing. I am already going as hard as I can. I need to be applauded for the work that I am doing and celebrated for the hard. Not to be told, "Dude - you can't be turning back." I wanted to walk out to show my disdain for her little speech, but stayed put because I knew there would be something worthwhile. That just wasn't the piece for me this time. Maybe someone else needed that. Someone else who didn't learn that as a child. I was so angry that I was being told this, as a grown woman. When no. I am a grown woman and don't need to be told to push through. I can put my feet down and say, "No thanks." And it made me think. You know what we should really be teaching our daughters? We should be teaching them to listen to their bodies. To their hearts and minds and to know when yes, matter of fact, it is time to let this one go.
So my story. My 'beginning to my end' is a little bit reliant on the idea of yeah - you've got to stand up for yourself. And you've got to make things happen. And sometimes you need to pause your journey up that dumb hill to figure things out and if you need to turn around and head on down the hill, then that takes strength, too.
You want to know something absolutely ridiculous? Something that has been on my mind for awhile - but must be said before I go into the rest of my story of how 'the beginning to my end' is going to play out.
I am really bothered by the notion of Mormon culture teaching and re-teaching this idea of pushing through. Making it to the top at all costs. And I suppose - yes - making it to the top is fine and good. But it also needs to be taught about when to toss in the rag, call it done. Call it good. When to say, "enough is enough" and to put a pause in it all as we make some decisions. And if our decision says, "call it quits" then it should be respected and not be-littled.
This has been lingering on my mind for a few months and then I attended Time Out for Women (TOFW) and Sheri Dew gave a spiritual thought about running and making it up a hill before her husband. She knew she was strong on hills and offered the challenge of a race up the hill. She was doing well and was winning when her husband passed her, hardly exerting any effort. She let him pass and then announced, "I'm going back to the car. See you there." She would rather give-up than allow herself to lose. He caught her by the shoulder and says, "You never turn around in the middle of a hill." And up the hill she went. And of course, naturally, saw the most glorious sunset she would have missed if she had gone back. Always. Always a sunrise or a sunset. Made me shudder.
This little story made my blood boil. Literally. It has been 4 years since I have been to the last TOFW because honestly - I don't need to be told what to do. I don't need to be encouraged to keep pushing. I am already pushing. I am already going as hard as I can. I need to be applauded for the work that I am doing and celebrated for the hard. Not to be told, "Dude - you can't be turning back." I wanted to walk out to show my disdain for her little speech, but stayed put because I knew there would be something worthwhile. That just wasn't the piece for me this time. Maybe someone else needed that. Someone else who didn't learn that as a child. I was so angry that I was being told this, as a grown woman. When no. I am a grown woman and don't need to be told to push through. I can put my feet down and say, "No thanks." And it made me think. You know what we should really be teaching our daughters? We should be teaching them to listen to their bodies. To their hearts and minds and to know when yes, matter of fact, it is time to let this one go.
So my story. My 'beginning to my end' is a little bit reliant on the idea of yeah - you've got to stand up for yourself. And you've got to make things happen. And sometimes you need to pause your journey up that dumb hill to figure things out and if you need to turn around and head on down the hill, then that takes strength, too.
This Is the One Where I Fall Flat On My Face
I wrote this back in September. But, like most things, it's hard to talk about them when they are happening. It is much easier to talk about trials after they have happened and you and know everything works out ok. That there is a 'happy ending' to cushion all the hurt that was happening. So. This is it. This is the beginning to my ending.
****************************
I am such an idiot. So, so, so stupid. I want to break things. I want to scream. I want to pull everything out of the pantry and throw it at the wall and let it fall. Let it make a mess. It would only scratch the surface of what I am feeling. A physical mess to represent the emotional mess that I am inside.
It's like I have woken up to my 'life' and I hate it. I hate this small apartment most of all. I hate that my husband can't make a decision and go with it. I hate when the kitchen is messy. It's now 5:00 a.m. and I have been up for the past 2 hours. My mind won't stop. I can't stop thinking about what I can do to change my situation that I find myself in and the hopeless feeling that brings because there isn't a whole lot.
Things have slowly been getting worse and worse. We've needed counseling for years, but it was just easier to not address the subject. The subject of a marriage falling apart. And why not.
It started with the two of us arguing about money. Which, of course, who doesn't. But it was bad. I am trying so hard to save for a house and am getting zero support in that. For the longest time I was making ends meet with the money that I was able to make by subbing, doing orders, dove releases, whatever it was. And that was fine. Because it kept us from talking about money. I was able to get nice clothes for the kids. Which is important to me. And things for our home, which was also important because it made me feel like 'this is mine.' But I wasn't able to save for a house. Not at all.
And then, we started doing foster care. And it's not a whole lot that you get from that. It's a reimbursement of taking care of an extra child. And believe me. It is especially not a lot for that first month where you are starting from scratch. New clothes, special food, in our last case, bed sheets and spreads and pillows and pillow cases. It all added up fast. But after a few months when things settle, it finally breaks even and yeah, that little bit of money was enough to take the edge off of things. I was able to seriously put away some money for a house. And I still didn't need to talk to Steven about money because I had what I was making to use for kid stuff. I didn't need to ask if we had money for new clothes. Or for birthdays. I just used what I knew I had. And then what I got from fostering, that I could put away into savings.
I hate to be the nagging one. It's not in my nature - so I let Steven do what he would with our future. And now. I see that he has crapped all over that. I should have taken a more active role in that. Even though, seriously thinking about, there's nothing more I could have done. Nothing more he would have let me done. But what happened is that I was so busy and preoccupied with fostering and taking care of those kids and taking care of our kids that I feel like I just woke up this past month and realized what a mess of life I am in right now. My purpose has been stripped because of there being no more bed space. Which wraps around to no room for what I want to do. Which wraps even tighter and I can't even put groceries away because there's no room. Things are forever spilling out of cupboards when I try to add one more thing. Getting craft supplies out for young womens is a nightmare. Putting them away, even worse. There is no easy place for things to go. Which is what drives me the most crazy. I know that an orderly house has to have a 'home for everything' - a place where you can count on it going. And you know what? My pillow cases and sheets for the kids are constantly changing places because sometimes there's room where they need to go, and sometimes there's not. It depends on how hard I want to work at getting them into their spot. So then, when I go to look for sheets, I have to look three different places before finding them. It's irritating.
So, now I wake up from my trance. Look up from the hard work that I have been doing with these extra kids and I realize I am definitely not where I want to be in life. I want to be doing more - and right now that is not even possible because of my physical living situation. Things were fine a month ago. And now that we have a baby and had to give up the placement that we had because of our 'no room' issue - I am furious. I am ticked off all the time.
Right now I am in an apartment that is too small for my dreams and ambitions. I am in a relationship that I can't even take seriously. There is no light coming from any angle about this situation being changed anytime within the next 6 months. And I am done. This apartment was supposed to be temporary. Alaska wasn't supposed to go to kindergarten here. We were supposed to be moved by then. All the goals that I thought we had have been drowned down the toilet and now we're just in the motion of making it work, day to day, rather than focusing on a future.
I was done 6 months ago. In January I gave Steven the ultimatum about getting on the promotion list or moving to my parents house. I wasn't going to stand for it anymore. So he got on the promotion list. And I was able to keep doing what I was doing. And I was sick. So sick. This pregnancy was a really hard one for me. I went straight from being sick and hurling multiple times a day to being so tired. So, so tired. But I pushed through. Because things were supposed to be changing for us.
And then they didn't. And they haven't. And it's not even because opportunity hasn't come up. Apparently it has, and Steven just hasn't taken it. Which is infuriating. It drives me crazy and just makes me want to scream all over again, even as I write this. The hurt and betrayal that I felt when he told me that was so real. So powerful. So debilitating. I thought the plan was to promote. And to do that asap. So I was patiently biding my time. Doing what I could while I waited. And then, come to find out, all my waiting was in vain. It's not going to happen. In fact, he had seen openings and hadn't taken them. My patience had been taken for granted.
And Alaska is going to be starting school and I am stuck in a place that is too small for me to even function. Baby stuff is all over the place. I don't know what changed. No. I do. If I were a happy person with who I am right now - then sure, what's another two years in this apartment. But I am not happy with who I am right now. I want to continue to grow and be better. And I see this two bedroom, small apartment as an obstacle to that. There isn't enough room for life here. Life just comes with things. It comes with blankets. It comes with more dishes. It comes with bigger bodies that need more dresser space for their clothes. It comes with bigger bodies that need bigger beds. And right now there isn't room for progression. It's stagnant. It was supposed to be temporary. It was supposed to be temporary. I don't even have room to put up photos or momentos or anything that says, 'hey, we've been here awhile.'
We are living in a white trash apartment. Not because it is trashy - but because everyone around us is not going anywhere in life. They are stuck. And I am stuck. I am no longer waiting for the big promotion or the big what's next. This is it. And that feels crappy. I should have realized that sooner. Before my patience was all the way out. But it's out now. And now I've got to make a decision about what I am going to do about it.
****************************
I am such an idiot. So, so, so stupid. I want to break things. I want to scream. I want to pull everything out of the pantry and throw it at the wall and let it fall. Let it make a mess. It would only scratch the surface of what I am feeling. A physical mess to represent the emotional mess that I am inside.
It's like I have woken up to my 'life' and I hate it. I hate this small apartment most of all. I hate that my husband can't make a decision and go with it. I hate when the kitchen is messy. It's now 5:00 a.m. and I have been up for the past 2 hours. My mind won't stop. I can't stop thinking about what I can do to change my situation that I find myself in and the hopeless feeling that brings because there isn't a whole lot.
Things have slowly been getting worse and worse. We've needed counseling for years, but it was just easier to not address the subject. The subject of a marriage falling apart. And why not.
It started with the two of us arguing about money. Which, of course, who doesn't. But it was bad. I am trying so hard to save for a house and am getting zero support in that. For the longest time I was making ends meet with the money that I was able to make by subbing, doing orders, dove releases, whatever it was. And that was fine. Because it kept us from talking about money. I was able to get nice clothes for the kids. Which is important to me. And things for our home, which was also important because it made me feel like 'this is mine.' But I wasn't able to save for a house. Not at all.
And then, we started doing foster care. And it's not a whole lot that you get from that. It's a reimbursement of taking care of an extra child. And believe me. It is especially not a lot for that first month where you are starting from scratch. New clothes, special food, in our last case, bed sheets and spreads and pillows and pillow cases. It all added up fast. But after a few months when things settle, it finally breaks even and yeah, that little bit of money was enough to take the edge off of things. I was able to seriously put away some money for a house. And I still didn't need to talk to Steven about money because I had what I was making to use for kid stuff. I didn't need to ask if we had money for new clothes. Or for birthdays. I just used what I knew I had. And then what I got from fostering, that I could put away into savings.
I hate to be the nagging one. It's not in my nature - so I let Steven do what he would with our future. And now. I see that he has crapped all over that. I should have taken a more active role in that. Even though, seriously thinking about, there's nothing more I could have done. Nothing more he would have let me done. But what happened is that I was so busy and preoccupied with fostering and taking care of those kids and taking care of our kids that I feel like I just woke up this past month and realized what a mess of life I am in right now. My purpose has been stripped because of there being no more bed space. Which wraps around to no room for what I want to do. Which wraps even tighter and I can't even put groceries away because there's no room. Things are forever spilling out of cupboards when I try to add one more thing. Getting craft supplies out for young womens is a nightmare. Putting them away, even worse. There is no easy place for things to go. Which is what drives me the most crazy. I know that an orderly house has to have a 'home for everything' - a place where you can count on it going. And you know what? My pillow cases and sheets for the kids are constantly changing places because sometimes there's room where they need to go, and sometimes there's not. It depends on how hard I want to work at getting them into their spot. So then, when I go to look for sheets, I have to look three different places before finding them. It's irritating.
So, now I wake up from my trance. Look up from the hard work that I have been doing with these extra kids and I realize I am definitely not where I want to be in life. I want to be doing more - and right now that is not even possible because of my physical living situation. Things were fine a month ago. And now that we have a baby and had to give up the placement that we had because of our 'no room' issue - I am furious. I am ticked off all the time.
Right now I am in an apartment that is too small for my dreams and ambitions. I am in a relationship that I can't even take seriously. There is no light coming from any angle about this situation being changed anytime within the next 6 months. And I am done. This apartment was supposed to be temporary. Alaska wasn't supposed to go to kindergarten here. We were supposed to be moved by then. All the goals that I thought we had have been drowned down the toilet and now we're just in the motion of making it work, day to day, rather than focusing on a future.
I was done 6 months ago. In January I gave Steven the ultimatum about getting on the promotion list or moving to my parents house. I wasn't going to stand for it anymore. So he got on the promotion list. And I was able to keep doing what I was doing. And I was sick. So sick. This pregnancy was a really hard one for me. I went straight from being sick and hurling multiple times a day to being so tired. So, so tired. But I pushed through. Because things were supposed to be changing for us.
And then they didn't. And they haven't. And it's not even because opportunity hasn't come up. Apparently it has, and Steven just hasn't taken it. Which is infuriating. It drives me crazy and just makes me want to scream all over again, even as I write this. The hurt and betrayal that I felt when he told me that was so real. So powerful. So debilitating. I thought the plan was to promote. And to do that asap. So I was patiently biding my time. Doing what I could while I waited. And then, come to find out, all my waiting was in vain. It's not going to happen. In fact, he had seen openings and hadn't taken them. My patience had been taken for granted.
And Alaska is going to be starting school and I am stuck in a place that is too small for me to even function. Baby stuff is all over the place. I don't know what changed. No. I do. If I were a happy person with who I am right now - then sure, what's another two years in this apartment. But I am not happy with who I am right now. I want to continue to grow and be better. And I see this two bedroom, small apartment as an obstacle to that. There isn't enough room for life here. Life just comes with things. It comes with blankets. It comes with more dishes. It comes with bigger bodies that need more dresser space for their clothes. It comes with bigger bodies that need bigger beds. And right now there isn't room for progression. It's stagnant. It was supposed to be temporary. It was supposed to be temporary. I don't even have room to put up photos or momentos or anything that says, 'hey, we've been here awhile.'
We are living in a white trash apartment. Not because it is trashy - but because everyone around us is not going anywhere in life. They are stuck. And I am stuck. I am no longer waiting for the big promotion or the big what's next. This is it. And that feels crappy. I should have realized that sooner. Before my patience was all the way out. But it's out now. And now I've got to make a decision about what I am going to do about it.
Foster Care Thoughts
"Do you have any kids?" Yes. Sort of. Well, no...not really. But, yes.
"Could you send me a bio about you and your family?" Sure, but who do I include?
"Is that a picture of your daughter?" Yes...
But, she's someone else's daughter, too.
"Could you send me a bio about you and your family?" Sure, but who do I include?
"Is that a picture of your daughter?" Yes...
But, she's someone else's daughter, too.
These last few months have been the hardest we've walked as we said goodbye to L. What still surprises me three months later are the unexpected pangs that come from seemingly mundane, curious, "normal" questions.
Love knows no bounds. Love doesn't distinguish between genes, delivery process, or circumstance. Something amazing happens when we say "yes", when we whisper "you are safe, you are loved, you are okay" in a child's ear.
For 17 months we were mom and dad. And, that has forever changed us. It's changed our routines, our energy, our posture, our relationship, our hearts, our faith.
Frankly, I like those changes. They've made me better.
So, yes. I have a daughter. She's not with me anymore. But, she'll forever be my girl...that was shared with us for a season. And, truly I'd do it all again.
Love knows no bounds. Love doesn't distinguish between genes, delivery process, or circumstance. Something amazing happens when we say "yes", when we whisper "you are safe, you are loved, you are okay" in a child's ear.
For 17 months we were mom and dad. And, that has forever changed us. It's changed our routines, our energy, our posture, our relationship, our hearts, our faith.
Frankly, I like those changes. They've made me better.
So, yes. I have a daughter. She's not with me anymore. But, she'll forever be my girl...that was shared with us for a season. And, truly I'd do it all again.
-- Brooke Gray, Foster Mom, Executive Director of Every Child
As if I weren't already in a mix of emotions. As if anything foster care related, 'my girls' related doesn't already make me bawl my eyes out and just want to scream. Scream because I feel so trapped in my housing situation. Scream because this was supposed to be temporary anyways and now we are edging up on 5 years. Scream because I am mad at where I find myself. This is not what I wanted life to look like. And by gosh darn, something had better move before I am 30 years because 30 is old. 30 is when you have life figured out and going on and you aren't living in a white-trash apartment complex because it's all you can afford. And I say 'white trash' rather loosely because at least everyone within our 4 apartments that share a stairwell isn't a chain smoker. No smokers. And that makes a huge difference. But it's still - it's people who aren't going anywhere in life and right now I very much feel like that. And I don't like that. I won't stand for that. And it all wraps around in a vicious circle because without the proper housing, I can't do the fostering that has wrapped itself into my heart in a very real way.
If had you asked me two years ago if I would be a mother of 6 kids I would of laughed at you!
We had our three boys, we had successfully made it through diapers, teething and toddler years!
We were comfortable.
Then our world was rocked when we received a call to be a resource for a family member's son. We did it without hesitation but we struggled.
It was so new and different and uncomfortable, but we held on because we trusted there was a bigger plan we weren't even aware of.
This child will soon be a permanent part of our family when adoption is finalized and I am so thankful that we had faith to keep going.
We've had kids come and go and it's hard.
It is down right gut wrenching sometimes.
It is down right gut wrenching sometimes.
Somehow our faith gives us enough strength to continue to answer the call.
So for today we walk (or limp) humbly along. I often think of the life we had prior to the crazy life we have now.
That life would of been easy, we could of just kept trucking along with our heads in the sand, but instead our eyes were opened to a need and we continue to say yes because we don't feel called to an a easy life. We feel called to a sacrificial life, to bring hope to those around us.
When days are hard and I feel tempted to quit, I pray for strength so I can wake up and say yes, again and again and again.
-
- Crystal, Jackson County Foster Parent
And it's exactly that. As I raise my three children. My Punky, my Bubby and my Axty - it is normal. It is calming. It is easy-peasy. There is no adrenaline to push me through. It's just one thing and onto the next. I was not called to do this. My heart aches too much when I hear of a child who needs a place. Especially right now, as I literally have no room in my house to be of help. Life could be beautiful and plain or it could be beautiful with a little crazy dripped in. A little sacrifice for a lot of joy. A lot of heart-filling and a lot of sadness - rewarding. Hard and rewarding. But what gives me the strength is the knowledge that I am strong enough to do this. Fostering is not for everyone, nor is it for every single in someone's life - but for me. It is right now. Right now when my heart is tender towards others who need my influence because I have the capability to give it.
-
- Crystal, Jackson County Foster Parent
And it's exactly that. As I raise my three children. My Punky, my Bubby and my Axty - it is normal. It is calming. It is easy-peasy. There is no adrenaline to push me through. It's just one thing and onto the next. I was not called to do this. My heart aches too much when I hear of a child who needs a place. Especially right now, as I literally have no room in my house to be of help. Life could be beautiful and plain or it could be beautiful with a little crazy dripped in. A little sacrifice for a lot of joy. A lot of heart-filling and a lot of sadness - rewarding. Hard and rewarding. But what gives me the strength is the knowledge that I am strong enough to do this. Fostering is not for everyone, nor is it for every single in someone's life - but for me. It is right now. Right now when my heart is tender towards others who need my influence because I have the capability to give it.
These children need me. They need my small apartment. They need my fruit snacks and normalcy. They need the love that I can give and the love that my own children can give.
1 Month with Axton
Your brother loves you. He adores you. Talmage will be tearing through the house in general boy fashion and as he runs past the swing where you are generally sleeping he will hesitate and give you a kiss on your head before continuing on his pursuit. Last week I found chocolate smudged on your forehead, right where that little cowlick flips your hair away from your face on the left side. Talmage's favorite spot to land a kiss.
Your sister loves you. She adores you. Alaska has been an engaged sister to your every need and whim. You: crying. Alaska: "Hey mom! Aren't you going to come and save the day?" She will pick you up out of your swing and hold you on the couch, her legs brought up to support her arm while she supports your head. I will often leave you on the floor for some stretching and tummy time and Alaska is the first one to hear you whimper and flip you onto your back, where you are more comfortable.
Your momma loves you. She adores you. Sweet boy. You are like clock work. Every 4 hours you are eating. In an unpredictable life, it is comforting to have you tick, tick, ticking in time, on time. We get along well and your relaxed disposition is something that I can appreciate and it makes me feel capable as a mother - even though that is all just you.
Nursing was a no-go, even for you, the third baby, and one of the lactation specialists commented on your sweet demeanor. So patient while we try to figure out feeding you and so willing to try and try again without getting upset.
Nursing was a no-go, even for you, the third baby, and one of the lactation specialists commented on your sweet demeanor. So patient while we try to figure out feeding you and so willing to try and try again without getting upset.
Your forehead fits perfectly into my own facial profile and I can give you lots of kisses with my chin meeting your face on the bridge of your nose. We are like puzzle pieces. You are lovely.
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