Today, I met a mom at my local bookstore who was about to have her second baby; she was an almost mom of two. My son, a kindergartner, started school a few weeks ago, and so it’s just been my 1-year-old daughter and me making our way through our days together. We really went because I was craving a latte, but it’s also a nice place simply to sit, without feeling guilty, as there is a play area for my daughter to play in. When I arrived at the train table, two mothers were already there, their toddlers in tow. My daughter joined their children and the kids quickly began to play together.
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We just met today on the walk through town, and I’m just not sure I said the right words to you. I did try, but I wanted to try again.
Our schedule was off today. Really, we were all off today. I had so much caffeine that my heart felt like it was skipping a beat. I’m not proud of that, really, but it is the reality and the result of another night of poor sleep (the baby is partially to blame, but I take responsibility, too; I’m a horrible sleeper). The baby took her nap this morning, and so we missed our morning walk–the one we all count on to start these long days. So, instead, we took an afternoon walk to the candy store, stopping quite a few times on our way to chat or for my older son to pet someone’s dog. If we had walked at our normal time, we wouldn’t have met you, so I’m glad our day wasn’t going as it normally does.Continue Reading
To the mom at the water park:
It was hot today — a balmy 90 degrees, the sun high and strong in the sky. To escape the heat of the afternoon, my husband and I took our kids to a small water park. This one has a green frog with big pink eyes and water squirting from its mouth, a red and white mushroom with a watery canopy, and a huge bucket, poised and ready to dump gallons of water on the small faces, filled with pure delight, hovering underneath in expectation.
A year ago, Mothering the Divide wasn’t even a thought in my mind. On and off over the years, I have tried my hand at writing, but in the most recent years, I only wrote short things for my son or husband on special occasions to commemorate a birthday or holiday. A year ago, I never dreamed of being here with you at all.
A year ago, I was still in the throes of post-partum depression, although hardly anyone knew. I did a very good job of concealing it, in the ways we all do from time to time. Only those closest to me knew I was struggling. It wasn’t until April of 2015 that I felt the call to write again. And, I just did it that evening after the kids were in bed. I answered the call: I sat down and I wrote and I haven’t stopped that pattern since. It was therapy and it helped. And eventually, the clouds cleared; that’s the only way for me to describe it. My PPD passed like a storm and one morning, I woke up and I said to my husband, “I think I’m back.” I realize it doesn’t work like this for everyone but my experience was just like that. I’ve learned the value of dark days: in them, I found my own light. Continue Reading