Mommy Needs A Hug

I’ve been trying to focus on myself more, without feeling guilty about it. It’s really hard. It’s hard to not feel like there is something else I should be doing. Like playing with the kids, or cleaning the house, or just generally being a more attentive wife and mother. I spent so much time in my life making sure that everyone else’s needs were met that I let my needs and dreams fall to the wayside.

Recently, I had a conversation with an old friend who reminded me of a dream I once had. I wanted to go to Yale and be a journalist. I completely forgot about that until I talked to them. I guess it’s funny how things come full circle like that, in that now I’m writing my own blog. Anyway, I once had this desire to be a writer, and somewhere along the way that got lost. Instead, I focused on everyone else and what would please other people. I’ve spent a lot of my time doing that. Putting work ahead of family, putting family wants and needs ahead of my own etc.

I attended every single family gathering at the expense of my own mental health, no matter how far it was. I spent years not buying myself new clothes so that I could buy the kids new clothes, that if I’m being honest, they didn’t actually need but I thought were cute. I wore the same two pairs of sweatpants in an endless cycle to where when I wore jeans recently my mom was shocked. I had panic attacks spending my own money on things for myself. I once bought a pair of Michael Kors boots for myself as a push present and had a panic attack and cried for hours about how terrible of a wife and mother I was because I could have spent that money on something for Mark or Joe. I never went out alone, not even for a second. If the kids wanted my food I gave it to them. If one of the kids or Joe was hungry and giving up my portion meant that there wasn’t enough for me to eat I wouldn’t think twice about sacrificing it. I stayed late at work to finish work that wasn’t necessary to complete at that moment. I let Joe try and try again at college and tried to motivate him through it while he neglected his schoolwork, tossing aside my own desire to go back to school.

I’ve been trying to focus on myself now. It’s my time to give myself some time. I started college again. I realized that even if Joe was starting college again, I really wanted this for myself. I’m pursuing a degree in Early Childhood Education. I want to be the change that I wish I saw when Mark had his accidents in daycare. I want to help children, and I want to teach.

The past couple of years I’ve bought myself a new pair of Timberlands for Christmas. The first time was difficult. I panicked and thought about returning them. The next time wasn’t as difficult. I loved them and they brought me joy. This past summer I upgraded my whole wardrobe. I had second thoughts, but Joe told me I deserved it. I sat there for hours trying to convince myself I did deserve it and that the kids had everything they needed and more. I still wear my sweatpants, but it’s nice to have clothes that fit my style.

I did a boudoir shoot and a Halloween boudoir mini shoot. It felt great. I got a level of confidence from it that I’m so grateful for. I chopped off all my hair. This was a big one for me. I remember when I first cut my hair short and Joe came home and he was so mad about it. I knew I had wanted to shave my head but kept pushing it off because I wanted Joe to be proud of showing me off. I grew my hair out because it’s what I thought he wanted. When I finally did shave my head I did it for myself and it was liberating. I felt like myself for the first time in a long time. I put off getting tattoos so that Joe could get tattoos or so that the kids could get the newest best toy that they wanted. I finally started getting tattoos again and boy does it feel good.

Now this one is going to sound funny, but I’ll give a little back story. In my PPD group, we had talked about how moms tend to plan their self-care around the big things. We set aside larger chunks of time to get our nails done, or take a long bath, or do other things of that nature. It’s not always about the big things though. We should be taking small bits of time throughout the week to take care of ourselves. I’m trying to adopt that idea a little more. I’ve been going to Wawa a few times a week and getting a drink or a snack for myself and just sitting in the parking lot for 3-5 minutes enjoying what I bought. The first time I did it I got a bunch of snacks to share with Joe and the kids, but I got myself toasted ravioli and I sat in the car and ate them, and I DIDN’T SHARE! It seems silly, but that was such a big thing for me. I always share everything with everyone and to not do that was so refreshing. I fed my body and in turn fed my mind by taking those few minutes to make sure I was taken care of first. It was really nice.

A big one for me right now is realizing that my job is just a job. I don’t know why there’s an expectation that I need to bring my work home or try and forget that I have a family so that I’m a model employee. That’s not realistic. I do have a family, and this is just a job. I will take my kids to their appointments. I will pick my kids up from school. Work should stay at work and I don’t know when it became a thing that we are expected to turn our job into our whole life. It’s a job. It pays the bills and feeds my family, but it doesn’t get to take over my whole life.

There have been some challenges to trying to focus on me. I sometimes feel like a bad person for even needing that time, I sometimes feel like it’s selfish, but I’ve been trying to give myself some grace. Taking care of myself does not make me a bad mom or wife, it makes me human. I’m starting to feel like myself again and that’s great.

First things first, get your mind out of the gutter. The title is funny but that’s not where this is going you dirty-minded little gremlin.

In the past few months, I’ve been thinking about this a lot. It’s something that keeps me awake at night. I’ve had several discussions with Joe about it as well. I know what you’re thinking. It’s cake, isn’t it? While cake does in fact keep me up at night thinking about it, that’s not where this is going. I keep thinking about how badly I feel about how I parented Mark and Rose up until Joey was born. I feel embarrassed about how I parented Mark before Rose was born.

I keep thinking that Mark got the short end of the stick. He was the child that took the brunt of all my parenting mistakes. He was the child that I listened to everyone around me about how I “should” be parenting him instead of how I wanted to parent him. I’m willing to bet there’s a lot of people who can relate to listening to others on how to parent and not using your intuition on the choices you want or need to make in your parenting style.

When Mark was born I got told I shouldn’t let him sleep in the bed with me. I got told that I shouldn’t give him a pacifier. I got told that I shouldn’t breastfeed. I shouldn’t give him formula. “When’s he going to get out of the swaddle? He’s not walking yet? He sticks his tongue out a lot are you sure he’s ok? You should be using baby powder every time you change his diaper. He’s fine he doesn’t need to be on soy formula. Oh wow, he spits up an awful lot! He doesn’t have problems with juice you just don’t want him to have it! He can have some sweets it’s fine!” You get the point. Everything I did with him someone had an opinion on and I always catered to their opinions and ignored that gut feeling that it wasn’t the right way for us.

I was quick to get rid of Mark’s pacifier because I was told he shouldn’t have one still. I diligently placed him in his crib every time he fell asleep so he wouldn’t get “spoiled” by holding him too much and so I absolutely would not bedshare with him. I gave up on breastfeeding to give him formula, and after being told he didn’t need soy I tried him back on regular formula, only for him to end up with the shits again. I rushed him out of a swaddle because I was told I should. I tried giving him juice time and time again only to end up covered in vomit with both of us crying while I cleaned it up. I spanked him when he got older because everyone else’s kids “turned out fine”. It all felt wrong to me though. I spent so much time listening to other people that I feel like I failed him. I made so many mistakes.

At the time I didn’t realize I was making so many mistakes. I thought that everyone had to know what was best because they’d been there so I thought I was doing a great job. Looking back now, I failed him.

When we had Rose I let her have her pacifier for over a year. She loved it! It made her happy and comforted her. I started ignoring some of the feedback I received, and those things I ignored felt so right. We stopped spanking. We didn’t care what anyone said and we started Rose out almost immediately on soy formula. I held her while she napped damn near every single chance I got. I swaddled her until she gave us the cues that she didn’t want or need it anymore. I still feel like I failed her though. Like with Mark, I still listened to some advice. She slept in her crib every single night, and we moved her out of our room around 9 months. I let her cry it out and let me tell you that is the worst feeling in the world and I wish I had never taken that advice. It’s terrible advice. It’s outdated and barbaric and my heart sank every time we let Mark and Rose “cry it out”.

When we had Joey I completely ignored the outside voices. These are MY kids and I will parent the way I feel in my gut is the best for us. I breastfed and I supplemented with SOY formula when I needed to give my nipples a break. I breastfeed in public, and I’ve gone a whole year and I’m so incredibly proud of myself because it’s really fucking hard. We gave him a pacifier if he wanted it and didn’t if he didn’t. Instead of forcing him to take a pacifier he didn’t want, we picked him up and soothed him. We are his only source of comfort and that’s perfectly ok. We rocked him to sleep more times than I can even count and it felt right. When he moved out of his bassinet and stopped getting swaddled we moved him into bed with us, and he still sleeps there, and he sleeps like a rock most nights. We stopped yelling at our kids and we started trying to gentle parent.

We did things so differently this time around than the first two and I feel guilty about it. I feel like I let Mark and Rose down. They didn’t get the parents that Joey got right from the start. Why didn’t they get those parents? Why didn’t I just listen to myself instead of all the noise around me? I wanted to get it right so bad that I didn’t trust myself. The only right way to parent is the way that fits you and your children best. TRUST YOUR OWN GUT! Listen to yourself and what feels right and ignore all those other opinions. And you don’t need to justify to anyone jackshit about how you parent because it’s not their kid. If your kid is healthy and happy they have no business telling you how to parent and you don’t need to explain it to them.

Stay blessed.

Mommyneedsahug over and out!

Recently I shared something on Facebook that I do personally as a parent. I just want to elaborate on it a little bit. Those of you who are friends with me on Facebook probably saw what I posted, or didn’t, I don’t know. Everyone has their own parenting style, no judgement here, this is just something that I personally adamantly believe in.

As a parent, I have chosen to shield my children from any negative thoughts or feelings I might have about a person or a situation. I try my best to keep them away from that kind of negativity. So I’m going to touch on that some more.

I don’t think that it is appropriate to discuss negative things around my children. I want them to form their own thoughts and opinions and not just be a product of what Joe and I think. I want them to break any generational curses that we have and be the people they are meant to be. I don’t want them to develop into people that just know what they heard from their parents and conform to our thoughts and beliefs. I also don’t want them to hear any negativity we have because I want them to have more positivity in their life.

How do I ensure that they are shielded from this negativity I speak of? Well folks, I’ll tell ya. It’s difficult sometimes, but it honestly helps me as well. It makes me calm down a little before I speak. Here’s the low down:

When I am experiences negative feelings, I try and collect myself first. Then if it is something that just has me feeling down I try and remove myself from my children and find an outlet, like writing, to help me get it out. If that doesn’t help and I need to discuss it with someone I will exit my house, the room, whatever it may be, and usually, I’ll call my mom and talk to her about it. If I am having a bout of depression, I will try and channel that into something positive like playing with the kids. If I’m feeling so down that playing with the kids or doing something positive seems impossible, I wrap myself up in my blanket in my room and close the door and take some time to collect myself and think about the immediate thing I need to do to get out of my “funk”. I try and stay in my room when I’m upset so that my kids don’t see me crying, or just sad. It is not their responsibility to comfort me.

When Joseph and I are having disagreements, I calmly ask him if I can speak to him in our bedroom, and then we separate ourselves from the children so they do not hear our disagreements. While disagreements are normal, I don’t believe that they need to see it and potentially think that they did something wrong or did something to cause it. They didn’t, and again, it is not their responsibility to fix the situation or to comfort us.

I do not speak badly about people in front of my children. If I need to vent about a person I either wait until the kids are in bed when I can speak freely (quietly) without the children hearing. OR, Joseph and I go into our bedroom and discuss the situation while the kids play. If neither of those are feasible, the kids go into “quiet time” where they go into their rooms or play together quietly in one of their rooms (they don’t nap anymore so we have “quiet time” everyday instead), and then Joseph and I are free to discuss. The reason I do this is because I don’t think that it is right to speak openly bad things about people in front of them because that skews their view of that person. I want my children to be able to form their own thoughts and opinions on people without seeing what we see. They will see on their own people’s behaviors and words and be able to make their own judgement. It is not my place to paint people in a bad light just so that my kids think they are bad people. This includes talking about ourselves. Little eyes and ears are around and they see and hear the things we say about ourselves. I do not want my children to grow up and think that they are bad for certain things, or their bodies are not the way they should be, just because Joseph and I have insecurities.

Also, we have started trying to practice gentle parenting. Which is very difficult, especially with judgement from other people who think that that is being “soft”. But really what gentle parenting means to me is that you listen to your children’s thoughts and feelings and take them into account, always. No more “seen not heard”. Children are humans too and they will grow up into adults and I want them to be able to recognize their thoughts and feelings and be able to communicate that with people. If we don’t allow that then you end up with people who can’t communicate with their partners down the line and that’s not good for their future partners or friends. If kids see their parents get upset and scream at them then they go into adulthood thinking the way you solve problems is by screaming and yelling, which we all should know by now that it’s not.

Don’t get it twisted though, I am still teaching my children to stick up for themselves. They won’t be anyone’s doormat. They will be kind, but not to a fault.

Children have their own thoughts and feelings and I will always treat my children as such. They deserve that respect from us to have their thoughts and feelings valued.

Doing better so our kids can be better over here.

It’s been so long since I’ve gotten on here. I’ve been doing a lot of soul searching. I’ve had some good, some bad, some indifferent. I’m working on finding myself as a person, as well as finding and bettering myself as a mother. Really trying to discover who I am and reacquainting myself with a piece of me that I never thought I’d find again. This might get a little heavy, who knows? Not me. Without further adieu, ladies and gentleman, her.

When I started this blog it was supposed to be like a diary for me. I was writing in my journal a lot. I was completely lost and writing down all my thoughts as they crossed my mind in my journal as I sat, pregnant and useless, at work. I was using this to get my thoughts out in hopes that it would help me calm down when I needed to. Along the way it has turned into something different. It’s still like a diary to me, but I write a lot less because I started putting my self discovery into action instead of just talk. I don’t get to write my thoughts as much at work, or really even at all. I’ve discovered a lot about myself since I started. And when I started the blog the name “mommy needs a hug” could not have rung more true. And while I still want a hug very frequently, it’s less of a need to keep myself grounded and more just wanted to spend time with my family and have that close knit relationship with my kids and husband.

With that said lets get to the good stuff. My self discovery journey.

It all started on a warm summer day 27 years ago. I made my way into the world and… oh wait, sorry, wrong story. That’s a story for another day.

Over the past few months I have made a lot of realizations about myself which have helped me blossom into the sexy, (more) mentally stable bitch that I am today. Lets all get acquainted. Hello audience I am Sammi, a mother, a wife, a drop dead gorgeous bitch in a kickass body with a whole lot of intelligence and a great imagination who crafts and likes cake. What’s good? I also get beat up by a lot of small creatures so I got that going for me too.

I got to this point where I just couldn’t keep living my life the way that I was living it. I was lost. I didn’t know who I was outside of being a mom and wife and it was killing me. My light was no longer just dimming it was all but burnt out. I spent all this time tending to everyone else. Listening to everyone else vent. Making sure that everyone was fed, clothed, had all they wanted and needed, and more. I was bending over backwards for everyone at home and at work and didn’t know where I fit into my own life anymore. I sat down with Joe several times and told him how I felt. I told him how it wasn’t really fair that I didn’t know who I was at all and didn’t even know what I liked to do but he had all these things he did for himself. I was coming home from work and cooking dinner, doing dishes, taking out trash, feeding the baby, doing laundry and I was burnt out and lost. And thus my journey began.

I guess it really started when I started prioritizing my mental health, but starting to learn how to handle my mental health helped me make some self realizations that started my journey.

At some point in time a switch flipped and I decided to put me first and meet myself again. I started talking about a new wardrobe. I’ve been living in strictly sweatpants for so long that when I put on a pair of jeans my mom said “wow I can’t remember the last time I saw you in jeans”. Like I have this whole style closet in my head but I never bought clothes because I felt like that money needed to go to something else. Every time I thought about buying myself clothes, or shoes, or anything for me I felt guilty and ended up buying close for the kids, or toys for the kids, or something for the house. But I brought it up one day and I started looking at clothes and I got myself some bathing suits. Then I made this whole wish list and Joe bought me the whole thing as a present. He said “you deserve it more than anyone”. And I kept saying “no I don’t why would you do that that money could have gone to so many other things”. I even called my mom and I told her I don’t deserve it why would he do that? She told me I absolutely deserve it and it’s time to make myself a priority. I got the clothes in the mail, tried them on, and I felt good. I felt like…me. My style is like boho, alternative, mom chic. I don’t even know, but I felt like me. Then I looked in the mirror and felt bad because this body didn’t look like what I wanted it to.

Joe and I decided that we were going to get matching rainbow dinosaur tattoos “someday”. Literally just because I saw something on Facebook and we went from there. At some point it turned into a serious thing and alas we now both have rainbow dinosaur tattoos with top hat and mustaches and the pink ink on their scales being named “Ass”. So there’s that. Thank you Carly for putting up with us acting like crazy people and just being ourselves as we were away from our kids for the first time in a long time. I don’t know what was in that ink but MAN it made me feel like a million bucks. I got my smile back. I got my soul back. I was just living a life outside of being completed submerged in motherhood and work.

That was just the beginning. I saw a giveaway for a boudoir shoot. Now I had been debating with myself for months on end about doing a boudoir shoot. I almost booked a mini and then didn’t because I felt like my body wasn’t where I wanted it to be, and I felt like I didn’t deserve to spend money on myself because what kind of mom would I be to spend money on myself? I felt so guilty about potentially booking a boudoir shoot and spending that money on something for me alone. Because if I do buy something for myself usually it’s actually something for the whole family so I don’t feel as bad or have a panic attack about spending money on myself. Anyway, now that I’ve gone on a tangent, back on track. I had reached out previously about a boudoir shoot and backed out, but I had already took that “first step” and gotten the new clothes. So when I saw this giveaway it was like a sign that it was time and I was ready. I didn’t win the giveaway, but I decided to book a shoot anyway. And boy! How empowering! What an amazing experience that I 100 percent suggest every woman, man, genderfluid, anyone do at least once in their life. (Shout out to Boudies by Katiemayclicks for her absolutely amazing work and being such a kind, genuine human being. I will never be able to thank you enough.) It was this like moment of clarity of who I was outside of a mother. I got to see my body as the amazing thing it is. I got to see myself smile a genuine smile for the first time in a really long time.

I’ve been stuck on this post for weeks because right after I started writing I hit a rough patch of life. So in conclusion, I have found a little piece of my personality again. I am not just a mother. I am a complex human being who has wants, needs, a personality. I have a lot more work to do and I hope to get past this Hell soon that just keeps plaguing me. As always, thanks for your support. I had so much more to say but I just can’t do it right now and don’t want to hold off any longer on posting this.

Being a parent is hard. Being a mother is hard enough. People that do anything to make that even a little more difficult make more of a difference than they know. People who make mothers doubt themselves anymore than they already do, make more of an impact than they know. Mothers are their own worst critics. We already know the majority of our flaws. The spots that we are falling short. So when people point out things that make you doubt yourself in something you didn’t previously doubt yourself, it sticks. When people do things to make life a little more inconvenient, it sticks.

I think I mentioned before that a few years ago, before I got pregnant with Joey, we were staying at a hotel with the kids. While walking through the lobby this old woman starts talking to us. It seemed innocent enough, some small talk. She asked us how old our kids were to which I responded honestly. I told her they were 3 and 1 or whatever age they were at the time. She responded to that with “you need to get a TV”. Now Joseph didn’t even realize what she meant by this, but I did. It’s not the first time an old woman has said something of the nature to me, because for whatever reason old women are very, very bold when it comes to mothers. So then I had to explain to Joseph what this woman was saying to us. It isn’t even that big of a deal, but it stuck with me. It was an unnecessary judgment that made me question if I was doing something wrong as a mother because we had our kids close together. It contributed to my reasoning as to why I did not want to tell anyone when we found out we were having Joey.

It’s things like this all the time. The comments, the judgment, that make being a mother harder because it causes more questioning and criticism on yourself. I can’t even count the amount of times I’ve heard “you’ve got your hands full” after telling people how close in age the kids are. I know I’m busy. I live it. I know already. And I LOVE IT! I love how close the kids are in age. because they’re best friends. Regardless, it still sticks in the back of my brain every time someone says it.

Then, just last weekend we took the kids to the zoo. As we were walking out I said to Joe “let’s go to the gift shop. We never do that and I want this trip to be different than the other times we’ve come to the zoo.” It was perfect because Mark had wanted to take pictures with me in the picture booth at the zoo before we left but it wasn’t working. So we scampered over to the gift shop like the curious little squirrels we are. We walked in and I told the kids they could get one thing. They had that like typical gift shop rock stand thing and bags of dirt to do that mining thing. Mark absolutely loves rocks so I was like “cool! Mark do you want rocks or something for your collection?” He was super excited about it and started filling up his bag with rocks he thought was pretty. And over walks this middle aged woman with like a preteen kid and she says “wow they can really sell anything these days. Rocks. Dirt. Just put a price tag on it”.

Now I know that some people probably wouldn’t care. But that echoes in my head. I keep hearing that lady saying that in her condescending tone. I did something to make my children happy and I got scrutinized for it. I couldn’t even find the words to say when she said it I was so shocked. I just looked at her and then kept helping Mark put his rocks in his bag. Now looking back on it though I can’t wrap my head around it. I just can’t. Yes, to some people it seems dumb to buy rocks, I get that. But what that lady didn’t know is how happy they made him. She didn’t know how much he loves rocks. She didn’t know that when he got in the car he said “now my rock collection is complete”, with a smile. She judged another mother over something that didn’t concern her at all and acted like those rocks stands haven’t been around for decades. It took zero effort to keep her mouth shut and judgment to herself, but she just had to make me doubt myself as a mother about buying something for my child that put a smile on his face.

There is absolutely no reason for judging another mother outside of her putting her children in actual danger. I wish that people could keep their judgment to themselves, because mothers are their own harshest critic and we don’t need any outside comments to make us critique ourselves anymore than we do. Just keep it to yourself. Just like your mothers taught you “if you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say it at all”.

Those of us with kids know we have our hands full. We know our kids are close in age. We know we’re busy. We know buying rocks seems stupid to you. We know. You don’t need to point it out. We know exactly what you mean when you make these comments. They are back handed and condescending 99 percent of the time. Don’t think that we don’t get it, because we do. We all do. All you do by doing this is make someone feel bad about themselves and potentially cause them to keep things to themselves that they would otherwise love to share. Motherhood is supposed to bond mothers together and instead it feels like for a lot of women it’s more about tearing people apart and making them and their parenting choices feel less than. Be better, do better, and treat others the way you want to be treated.

Hello everyone! It’s been quite some time but here I am again. Your friendly motherhood introvert here.

I have been in quarantine for 2 weeks as some of you may know. Before that happened I was going through a really rough patch of feeling inadequate. As a mother, a wife, a coworker, a friend, a daughter, and the list goes on. I touched on this with my therapist too. And since I’ve been in quarantine I’ll be honest, the question “am I doing a good job?” has crossed my mind more times than I can count.

I am a perfectionist. I want everything to be right. I strive for perfection at all times, apparently as a way to control my anxiety. Because of this I have been questioning if I’m doing a good job at things. At everything. I have been constantly going over it and over it if I am doing ok as a mother. My job as a mother is to raise kind, caring, and creative individuals. My job is to help them grow into their personalities and truly be themselves, while making sure that they also don’t grow up to be dicks. Am I doing that? I feel like I’m very hard on them. I try, what I think, is my best to teach them how to deal with emotions and struggles, but is it really accomplishing the goal?

And then I also wonder if I’m spending enough time with them. Am I teaching them enough? Am I giving them equal amounts of attention? Do I treat them all equally? Do their punishments fit their crimes equally? Am I doing enough to raise kind, considerate children? I don’t know. I feel like I keep falling short. I feel like I am failing them as a mother. I feel like I don’t spend enough time with them. I feel like while I love them all equally, with all my heart, that I am harder on Mark or Rose about certain things.

I wake up throughout the night to feed Joey. Which in and of itself makes me feel like I’m failing because he’s almost 7 months old and still waking up several times throughout the night. I know that it’s because he wants me to comfort him, but everyone has drilled it in my head that it’s not normal for kids to want comfort. That it’s spoiling them. That by this age you should already be letting them “cry it out”. And I’ll be honest with you I hate the “cry it out” method. It’s heart wrenching and barbaric in my opinion and I hated doing it with the other two and I refuse to do it. Yet there is still that voice in the back of my head of society telling me that I need to let him cry it out or he’ll be spoiled. He needs to soothe himself. He needs to figure it out. This in particular has been swirling around my head. I don’t know what the right this is to do. I let the other two cry it out. Did I fail them? Did I do the wrong thing? I listened to everyone and they all said it was ok. But it didn’t feel ok. And it doesn’t feel ok now. Am I doing it wrong? Did I do it wrong? What is right? Failing. Who did I fail? Did I fail myself for trusting everyone and listening to anything other than my own instinct? Did I fail Mark and Rose for forcing them to “figure it out” at such a young age? Am I failing Joey for not letting him “figure it out”?

Anyway, back on track. I wake up throughout the night to feed Joey. I wake up in the morning and feed Joey. I get ready for work, make coffee, prepare my pumps, pack some snacks and my pump bag, get everything in the car and go. I go to work all day. I feel like a terrible mom all day because I left my kids and how could I possibly do that? And while I’m at work I constantly feel like I’m falling short on my work responsibilities too. I don’t have my qualifications yet and I just am not doing enough at work despite trying to pick up more responsibilities and relieve some weight from others. And then I feel bad about work because I want one more child. And how dare I even contemplate the thought of one more child and not get my quals and leave them shorthanded and be a bad shipmate and just fail everybody for the sake of my own selfish personal family life.

Then, I get home from work. Now it’s like 3:30/4, sometimes later, sometimes earlier. I get home and I immediately have to unpack my bag and get dressed and then jump right into the dinner time routine. I have to find a way to feed us all. I finish cooking, we sit down to eat, I’m exhausted. Did I drink water? No. I didn’t. Did I eat today? Not nearly enough. The baby needs to eat. I escape into the bedroom to feed the baby where the older two won’t distract him with their happy banter and giggling. I love their giggling. I desperately want to eat with my family and hear those sweet laughs and the stories about their day. But I can’t. I have to feed the baby. I finish and come back to the table, only to find that everyone else is done and now I have to sit here and eat alone.

I sit somberly by myself, sometimes joined by Joe, and eat my meal. I eat quickly because there is still so much to do. The list in my head is constantly getting longer. There is always something else getting added. Always something else to do. So I eat as fast as I can and then I clean up. I pack up the leftovers and I get the dishes in the sink. Then, usually, I load up the dishwasher and Joe sits by and sulks because, once again, I have made him feel inadequate because I have to have control of it all and have everything just so. For a second I feel better. I feel like I did something and I can spend some time with the kids. But then I look around.

The clothes need to be washed. The clothes need to be folded. The clothes need to be put away. The stove is dirty and needs to get wiped down. The counters need to get wiped. The dogs need to get let out. The dishes need to get put away. My pump needs to get washed. The floor needs to get swept. The floor needs to get vacuumed. I need to prep for tomorrow. The kids need to get ready for bed. The landscaping has to get done. The bathroom is still torn apart. The baby books still need to get caught up on. Is it someone’s birthday? Someone’s anniversary? A holiday? Am I missing something? Oh no! I forgot to put my new bumper on my truck. Our door is broken and we need a new one. The trash needs to go out. Is it trash day tomorrow because if it is the trash needs to go to the curb? I should work out. But I need to practice self care. I need to take time for myself but I need to do all this other stuff and no one else is going to do it right. The garage is a mess it needs to be organized. Why does this stuff still need to go to the attic? Why am I failing?

After running around the house like a tornado, spiraling down into the rabbit hole and making everyone around me feel like crap because they can’t escape the storm that I’m brewing, I get the baby ready for bed and we go to sleep just to do it all again tomorrow.

And then I think about how I didn’t spend any time with my family and I miss them. And everyone tells me “spend time with them the chores will be there later”. I want to listen but I can’t wrap my head around just leaving it there for later because then there’s more to do and then I’m failing even more. But if I do the chores and don’t spend time with my family then I’m failing them too. Am I doing good enough? Am I doing an ok job? I don’t even know anymore. I don’t know if I’m doing my job as a parent and raising kind, considerate children, or if I’m showing them that everything always has to be perfect and turning them into anxious tornados. I don’t know anymore. What I do know is that me needing to do everything is not good for my marriage. It stresses me out and I lose my temper and make Joe feel terrible and I don’t want that. I don’t want him to feel like he can’t do anything right. He’s a great father and husband. He’s doing a great job and I’m too hard on him but I can’t stop myself from spiraling and it sucks. Am I doing a good enough job? It doesn’t feel like it. I’ll never be adequate enough. I’ll always be falling short on something, or everything.

That’s what it’s like in my head. I’m trying. I’m failing. But I’m not. I’m trying to tell myself I’m not failing. It’s just my head tricking me into thinking I’m not a good mom. I’m a great mom. I wish my head would tell me I’m a great mom instead of pointing it’s finger at everything I’m missing and messing up.

Well, thank you for listening to the rambling of one very anxious, very stressed out, mom.

And happy April, for those of you who don’t know, it’s the month of the military child. So happy April to all those military kids who are resilient, but especially my military kiddos for dealing with me and my whirling brain.

If no one told you today, and you can’t find it in you to tell yourself, like I can’t, you’re doing a great job mama.

So I use my blog and website more like a diary than anything. I use it that way in hopes that my struggles can help someone, somewhere manage a little better or feel a little less alone. A lot of what I have been writing in the past few months has been primarily focused on the negatives surrounding me. I’ve had a lot going on, mentally and physically, that I am really grateful that I had this platform to vent on. I still have a lot going on and I’m still very stressed out and not in a great spot mentally. However, I want to use this post to focus on some positive things that have happened. I want you all to know that no matter how bad of a spot you are in there are always good things to focus on too. I have been looking for the positive person that I used to be, or maybe not truly be but at least I portrayed myself outwardly as that positive person. So this post is dedicated to me looking at and for the positives in life. Here we go.

In the past few months I have had the opportunity to go to therapy and talk to a therapist, as well as a postpartum group, and a psychologist(?). Between all these people combined I’ve been able to sit and think and notice some of the destructive behaviors I have as coping mechanisms or otherwise. It’s truly a wonderful feeling to be able to notice the things that I do and have the opportunity to change my mindset or at least try and look at things differently to better myself and my situations.

As always, my kids are the lights of my life. Joey has started crawling in the past few weeks. He is mobile now and he is loving it. He likes being on the floor and playing with Mark and Rose and it is truly magical to watch them all bond. Joey also found his voice and he has sure been letting it be known. He has the cutest little giggle and he is very vocal and just such a happy baby. He still isn’t taking a bottle but he’s eating some solid food and he is absolutely loving it. It’s really funny to watch him eat because he makes such a mess and is so aggressive about it that he almost bit off Joe’s finger which was pretty funny. He makes such a mess and get food all over his nose and his face and that’s just my favorite when kids start eating solids. I’m evolving as a parent in that aspect too. I decided to give homemade baby food and baby led weaning a try and it’s kind of fun to try those new things.

Mark is so energetic and active. He constantly has something to do or say. He is always doing something and getting Rose to play too. Lately Mark has been asking a lot of questions with a lot of them being really hilarious. Apparently today him and Rose were telling Joe about how they’re going to have big boobies when they grow up. Good for them, ya know? Mark has also been really lovable lately which is really awesome. He went through this phase where he only said “i love you” to me when he wanted something and I’m really glad to be past that. He has been wanting a lot of hugs, cuddles, and kisses lately and that really makes me happy and makes these long days a little more bearable. He also seems to be sleeping a lot better, which is really great because he was barely sleeping at all for a long time. He really is just the sweetest boy. He’s also doing better with his variety of food. He is slowly trying new things on occasion and, even if he doesn’t eat those things consistently, at least he tries them. Him and Rose have been getting along and you can really tell again how close they are. They went through a little riff after the baby was born so it’s nice to see them getting along again like the best friends they were before. Mark also really likes helping me unload groceries. He just wants to be helpful. He’s really good at helping with Joey too. He’s just evolving into this little person and it’s bittersweet but that’s what parenting is is helping them evolve into little people that don’t suck so I think we’re doing a pretty good job.

And my little Rosie. Oh Rosie is just as feisty as ever. She is such a free spirit. She marches to the beat of her own drum in the best possible way. As much as I like to watch her play with her brothers, it is something special when she gets to play on her own. She has an amazing imagination, particularly when she is playing by herself. She’s finally starting to talk more which is amazing because she hasn’t really been talking too much up to this point, but now she’s getting the hang of it. She likes playing with her scooter and zooming around the house. We also have had some special bonding time just me and her where she has helped me cook. She actually learned how to cut things with a knife so she helped me cut up a kiwi for Joe one day. She is the sweetest little human. She always grabs two of any snack when she gets something so that Mark can have one too. She is absolutely obsessed with lollipops. Like seriously obsessed. Rose is really starting to hold her own when it comes to Mark. He used to take her food and not let her talk and just boss her around but now she sticks up to him and it’s good to see her turning into such a strong little girl. She’s very smart. We started learning letters and she’s very very intelligent. I’ve heard your daughter is a reflection of you and she truly is. I see all my best traits in her and sometimes I really need that.

My dear sweet Joe. Joe and I have been working really hard towards a healthy marriage, and we are really getting there. We are rediscovering each other and really bonding again. We are starting to remember what we love about each other and why we became best friends in the first place. I am starting to really see my best friend in him again and I’m glad that could happen in this time when I need him. He is trying to progress himself in a lot of ways and I’m really happy for him. The more he works on improving the things he knows he needs to work on internally, the better our marriage becomes. Our marriage has truly never been better and I hope that we keep going on this uphill trend because I love having my best friend back and learning about what drives him and just really bonding with him. We even bought a bunch of gym equipment so maybe we can help motivate each other to get to a healthier us too. I hope that we can use that as a little extra bonding time as well as self improvement.

For all the complaining I do. For all the negative that I write about. For all the bad things that happen and the stress and anxiety that surround me. I want you all to know that I have so much that I’m grateful for. There are so many good things that happen all the time and unfortunately the bad overshadows that a lot of the time and I don’t take the time to focus on all that I have. I’m glad for all the opportunities I have to better myself and get to a good place and I’m so grateful to have my family as my support system right now and just to shine light on the positive around me. Like I said, there is still a lot of stress, but I have so many positive things around me too. I needed to write this down and help me see the light at the end of the tunnel. The pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, if you will.

What a life. The ups and downs will all be worth it. I’m sure of it.

I am exhausted. Mentally, physically, and emotionally. My anxiety is through the roof. I’m emotionally spent. I’m physically exhausted. I’m beyond irritated. I’m just….tired.

Joey will not take a bottle. Will not. Which has set off a chain of effects that is making everyone’s life a little more difficult and a little more stressful. It has been three weeks and he will not take a bottle. We have tried everything. I have tried giving them. Joe has tried. I even resorted to having Mark and Rose try to give the bottle. We have tried 6 bottles, at least two different flow nipples for each. We have tried a syringe, a cup, a pacifier. Hot bottles. Cold bottles. Warm bottles. New milk. Older Milk. Formula. Different positions. (Apparently I’m now Dr. Seuss). We have tried it all and he won’t take the bottle.

I wake up in the morning and he eats before I go to work, which he usually finishes up around 6:50AM. I walk out the door and worry all day about him not eating. I usually text Joseph around 9 or 10 to see if he’s tried the bottle yet. By 11 the baby is in full melt down mode and won’t eat. He eventually gives up and goes to sleep only to wake up a few hours later starving and mad to realize I’m not there and go back to sleep again, defeated. This has been three weeks.

As you can imagine this is very stressful. Joe is stressed because the baby is constantly upset and he’s still trying to take care of Mark and Rose. I’m stressed because I’m at work feeling like a terrible mother and worrying about my child’s well being and if he’s going to be ok. Joey is stressed because he’s so incredibly hungry and I’m not there to help him. He gives up.

I have talked to the pediatrician three times. Yes, three. She continues to tell me “he’ll eat”. When very clearly he won’t. Today when we went in she said “well he gained 3 ounces so he’s fine”. Yes, he gained three ounces, however, it’s been a month and prior to this past month he was gaining 2-3 pounds per month so 3 ounces is very abnormal for him for a month. Also, he eats almost constantly from the time I walk in the door after work until right around midnight. So he’s eating, which explains any weight gain, but it’s definitely not normal when he’s eating. To put this in perspective as to why I’m concerned even though he’s “gained”. He was in the 64th percentile a month ago. He has now dropped down to the 59th percentile. He was on a nice steady growth right along that 64 line and now he’s headed on the decline. He has fallen off his nice steady line.

3 weeks. 3 weeks of the pediatrician telling me “he’ll eat” and “he won’t starve”. Today she actually said to me “I think he’s just yanking your chain” and “he’s just strong willed”. Um, excuse me?! This isn’t a fucking game, this is my child. A small child. If I don’t speak up for him and try and solve this issue who will?

Needless to say, we are going to be switching pediatricians. I ran around all day today trying to figure this out. Finding resources, any resources I can to try and get him to eat. With no luck I might add. The pediatrician didn’t help. I spoke to several different people looking for resources to no avail. I called the lactation consultant from the hospital I gave birth at only to get an answering machine. I’m at my wit’s end and don’t know where to turn from here.

I cry everyday all the way to work. I get to work and paint a smile on my face and try to ignore the pain I’m feeling. But my soul is getting ripped apart thinking about how my little man won’t eat. I worry all the way home, sometimes crying on the way home out of panic. I get home and he breathes a sigh of relief before yelling at me because now he doesn’t know if he can trust that he’ll actually get to eat. Dinner time hits and I make dinner, barely staying awake while I alternate between dinner and feeding Joey. Then after the kids go to bed I look around the house a wave hits me. I look around at everything that I’ve been putting off because obviously feeding my child comes first. But I’m the only one who does anything around the house. Seriously. I do the dishes, the laundry, cook, clean, take the trash out, pay all the bills, fix the cars, fix the house, teach the kids, bathe them, feed them, help them brush their teeth, clothe them, brush hair, and cut hair. I look around and I get so overwhelmed. How am I ever going to catch up? How am I ever to go get everything together? It’s too much for one person to handle.

To top off the past three weeks of Joey not eating, there’s a whole slew of other issues too. Rose keeps begging for attention and wanting to be treated like a baby. She keeps throwing tantrums and crying all day and nothing helps calm her down. Mark treats Rose like she is his personal servant and sends her to ask for snacks for the both of them, or water, or toys or whatever it is he wants. My truck’s check engine light is on again. Partly because it needs an oil change and partly because there is a coolant leak…again. And we ripped apart our bathroom to remodel thinking it would be a quick project that we would work on over the weekends, but our plans keep falling through and we don’t have anyone to watch the kids and it’s kind of a two person project to get the drywall up. As if it couldn’t get any better we got a nasty letter from saying we had to get rid of our bathtub because trash doesn’t pick them up (they picked it up). And then now our main sewer line is clogged and needs to get snaked, which shouldn’t be a big deal, but with everything else going on we don’t really have time to deal with that right now.

Basically, in short, I’m worried about my kid, I’m overwhelmed and if someone else tells me “he’ll eat when he’s hungry” I am going to fucking flip my lid. If anyone, anywhere, has a suggestion on how to get him to take a bottle please please please let me know because I am tired. He is keeping me up all night feeding and worrying and I am just completely, in every sense of the word, exhausted. And so are Joe and Joey. What a year already.

4.5 years ago I gave birth to a glowing baby boy. (Not literally. That would be concerning.) From the day he was born until present day I have not been myself. I have tried to hide the full extent of this for fear of being judged, shamed, or it somehow negatively impacting my employment. In this moment right now I’m coming clean. For 4.5 years I have been pretending that I am perfectly okay. That I can handle anything and everything, by myself, all the time. That I’m super mom and I don’t need help. The truth is that mentally, I have been struggling for years. I have pushed it aside, I have ignored it, never allowing myself to seek help because that somehow felt like a failure.

When Mark was born I had a really hard time. Which is ultimately the reason I didn’t breastfeed, as I had touched on in a previous post. My mental health was in the shitter. I was breaking down feeling like an absolute failure and so incredibly guilty because my child wasn’t eating. I was in the house constantly, too afraid to leave for fear that something terrible would happen if I stepped out of the house. That clearly wasn’t a realistic thought process, but I was absolutely consumed with this worry. I thought that maybe it was just normal first time mom worry, but in the back of my mind I knew it wasn’t right. I knew that the sadness that was consuming me, the nights I would lay awake just making sure he was breathing all night, the complete breakdowns on the bathroom floor, they weren’t normal. These feelings I was having weren’t normal.

I sought out advice from a friend while I was still on maternity leave. I will never forget every ounce of help and advice he has ever given me in any struggle I’ve faced. He met me at Starbucks one day after work, or during lunch, while I was on maternity leave. I came into the city specifically for this moment. I needed it. We met up for coffee and I broke down in tears telling him how I fell like I was trapped. There was this darkness surrounding me and I didn’t know who I was anymore outside of being a mother. He asked me what would make me feel better and I told him I think bike riding would but my tires were flat and I didn’t have bike shoes that fit anymore. I never did take that bike ride, but he put air in my tires and took me to get bike shoes. It may seem silly or small, but in that moment it made me feel better. He always did small things like that. Making me get out of the house for a little while to clear my head, sitting down and having genuine conversations about how I felt and truly caring my response. Still, it didn’t really truly hit me that something was wrong, and even if it did I was scared to say anything for fear of the toll it would take on my career.

Fast forward to when Rose was born. Nothing had gotten better. I hadn’t magically healed. I couldn’t just ignore it into non existence. I thought I could but I couldn’t. And now I had to do this postpartum all over again. At this point I took note of my unusual behaviors. My constant worry. My irrational anger towards my husband. (Sometimes it was rational, but I digress.) I heard the words coming out of my mouth, the tone, and I knew in my head that I sounded crazy. I knew in my head that I was completely being unreasonable. I didn’t mean this anger that was spewing out of me, but I couldn’t stop it. No matter how much I tried the anger still came spilling out like a volcano erupting onto a village of innocent people. I took note. I realized truly that this wasn’t normal. Even mentioning once or twice “I need help but I don’t want to lose my job”. Struggling. I was afraid and so the struggle continued, the worry continued, the anger continued, and I didn’t leave my house. I stayed sheltered in my cave with the doors locked and the blinds closed, only to (reluctantly) leave the house to go grocery shopping and to work. Scared.

Now when I was pregnant with Joey I said to Joseph something along the lines of “you know it’s going to get worse again right?” I knew. He knew. We both consciously knew that something was wrong. Something had always been wrong. And we knew that I needed help, but we all know that people don’t get help until they want to, and I was still afraid to get help.

Well after Joey was born I had my fair share of breakdowns. Getting completely overwhelmed over mundane tasks. The floor needed to be swept but it felt like too much. COVID definitely didn’t help with the worry either. Again, not leaving the house unless absolutely necessary. Having panic attacks at the grocery store. Laying on the carpet in a full blown fit of tears and not knowing why. Not being able to stop. Being just completely overwhelmed with everything. I remember vividly one day packing up to go to my parents house. I was overwhelmed and I needed a break. I desperately need out of the same 4 walls. I needed my mom. I needed new faces, new scenery. So I spent hours packing everyone’s bags. Several weeks worth of clothes because I honestly wasn’t sure we would ever come back. I felt like the only way to escape these feelings was to not come back. That day after loading up the car most of the way I realized I had no room to put the dog crate. Then I came inside and realized that I couldn’t find the babies other sock. He needed that sock. There was no way we could leave this house without that sock. It’s not like he has a million other pairs of socks. We couldn’t leave without THAT ONE. It had to be found. But I couldn’t find it. I couldn’t find it and I just slumped to floor after exploding in a fit of rage at Joseph. I sat down on that floor and I cried over a baby sock. But it wasn’t about the baby sock. It was about feeling like I had failed my family because I couldn’t do this simple task of loading the car and finding a sock. And because of that my children would grow up and hate me. That was the thought that came into my head. That I had completely ruined my children over a dog crate and a sock. Everyone sat there looking at me. I could feel the eyes on me. My children taking note of this, so I thought.

I had many breakdowns over things like that. Small things to other people that just made me feel like the world was collapsing around me. Then like a sign. Like the universe slapping me in the face to get it together, Kim reached out to me. She gave me some information on a PPD group that meets on Zoom every third Saturday of the month. The third Saturday of this month just happened to be the next day. It was immediately like a weight lifted. I told Joseph “I have something to do tomorrow” and explained. He said “good for you!” and we went about our day. It was time. It was finally time. I had finally in that moment accepted that I needed help. I needed to start somewhere, and this was my starting point. So I jumped off and I attended the meeting. A meeting where several other women, with an actual diagnosis, sat there and described exactly what I was feeling. Every thought I had had, someone in the group had also. I was no longer alone, and it was all the motivation I needed to keep asking about help.

I went into a downward spiral a few days later and completely ripped apart both of our bathrooms. It needed to be done, but not right now. This prompted me to get some more information specific to my situation. I reached out the mothers of the Active Duty CG community, who then rushed to my side with their stories of how they got help. Everything I had feared would happen to my career was eased. They eased my worry and gave me everything left that I needed to get the help I needed. To reach out further.

Today I had an appointment with a psychologist. I was diagnosed with anxiety. And honestly, it feels good. It feels good that I got help. It feels good that I put myself first for what feels like the first time in my entire life. It feels good that I have a diagnosis. I’m not just a weird crazy person. I am normal. This is normal. Many people go through this. I have nothing to be ashamed of. I haven’t failed myself or anybody else. In fact, I have helped myself and many others in my life. I have put myself first and hopefully, with time and help, I will be a better mother. I will be a better daughter. A better friend. A better me. A better person. I should have done this so much sooner. I shouldn’t have hesitated.

If you are struggling, let people help you. I missed all the signs of people trying to help me. Ask for help if no one offers. Sometimes people don’t know, or don’t realize. Sometimes people need you actually ask so that they can help you. Reach out for help. Don’t struggle. Don’t keep putting yourself through stress and pain for no reason. There is help out there. There is so much help, even if you miss the signs and don’t see it, it’s there.

If you EVER need to talk about ANYTHING, please do not hesitate to reach out. You can contact me at my email, my instagram, my facebook, my website. Whatever you need I will be there for you or try and lead you in the right direction.

Thank you to those who helped me. All the Active Duty moms, my husband, my parents, my children, JC (if you read this you know who you are), and Kim. Thank you for showing me what I couldn’t see without you and for leading me in the right direction to get help. I will never be able to thank any of you enough. I hope that this will get better and that I’ll keep moving in the right direction to a better me.

Check out: Beautyandthestitch.com and Beauty and the Stitch-VIP FB page for new drops, sneak peeks, and the cutest accessories for your princes and princesses. “RoseBows” will save you some money so don’t forget your rep code.

Much love, Your Friendly Neighborhood Introvert

Parental leave in the United States is absolutely ridiculous. We are not guaranteed any paid leave upon having a child, and if we are it’s not nearly enough. The first year of life is crucial in developing a relationship with your child and for some reason the U.S. believes that 3 months is enough time for a mother to recover from childbirth, build a bond, breastfeed, adjust to life as a parent or as a different family dynamic, and allow the father to build a relationship with the child as well. And for those that don’t get paid leave, which is a lot of the population in the States, they return to work much sooner than 3 months because they can’t afford to survive without that income.

I have been lucky enough to be granted paid leave unlike a lot of people in the U.S., which is amazing and I am so grateful for that, but the parental leave as a whole in this country is very underwhelming. I myself have been given 12 weeks of maternity leave with every child. With Mark and Joey I was allowed to take an extra 30 days for medical reasons prior to their birth. Then after, since I was still getting paid, I was able to take some of my vacation time to cover a few extra weeks. With that said, I still don’t think it was enough.

For a little background, I did some research and found that when 42 countries were compared next to each other for their maternity leave 41 of them had some kind of guaranteed paid parental leave, with the average being 18 weeks. In 41, yes 41, out of 42 countries parents got at least some time with ATLEAST a percentage of their pay covered. The only country that did not have any, ANY, guaranteed paid parental leave was the United States. This is unacceptable and ridiculous. Why is it that the average is 18 weeks paid leave and we come up with 0 weeks paid leave?

The first year of a child’s life is especially important. This time is when they build the lasting bond with their parents, they reach a huge amount of developmental milestones, they have a plethora of doctors check ups, and when put in daycare they usually get a lot of illnesses in the first year. Why is it that so many other countries know and understand this and we can’t figure it out? Why is it that we are forced to be separated from our children so soon when other countries (Bulgaria) have over a year of paid leave?

I am in a Facebook group for those who had babies in 2020. In this group I have seen more women than I can count on two hands and two feet that have had to rush back to work within 2-4 weeks of having a child because they couldn’t afford not to. Think that over for a second. You don’t get cleared for activities and work from your doctor until 6 weeks yet women are going back to work at 2 weeks postpartum. Further, imagine, you had a baby 2 weeks ago, you are likely still bleeding, you likely still have stitches that are healing, you most definitely still have an open wound where the placenta was attached, and yet you are forced to go back to work because you can’t afford to LIVE without it. Does this seem even a little bit logical? Is that not the most asinine thing you have ever heard?

And then people wonder why so many women suffer in their postpartum. Maybe if we didn’t force women back to work they would have the appropriate time to adjust to life as a mother, they could heal physically and mentally, and be in a healthy place to go back to work. You want to help women? Give them some time to heal. Some time to adjust. Some time to grow into their new life. Instead we send them back to work too soon, bombard them with “when are you going to have another”, and never ask them if they’re ok.

Don’t even get me started on paternal leave. Dads don’t need to spend time with their kids as newborns? Dads don’t need to adjust to life as a parent? Sure they aren’t healing physically, but dads also suffer mentally upon becoming a parent. Dads should also be granted some time to bond with their children, to adjust to their new life, to HELP THEIR CHILD’S MOTHER who is healing from a major physical event. For those women who had C-sections, does it not seem a little unfair to send their husbands back to work immediately leaving them alone with a newborn after just going through a major surgery?

Joseph and I, in the grand scheme, were extremely lucky to receive any paid leave with our kids, but lets delve into this a little bit further. With Mark, Joseph received 10 days of leave after he was born. At 10 days postpartum I still could barely walk, it hurt so bad to sit down, and my body was still in a world of hurt. Yet Joseph was back at work, only to be underway shortly after. I was at home struggling and Joseph missed out on the majority of that first year, and the years following, of Mark’s life. With Rose, Joseph received 21 days of leave. The policy had just changed so it was a fight to receive those days, and still by no means is 21 days enough. Especially when he got underway, I believe it was, less than week after he went back. Again, missing out on the majority of the first year of Rose’s life.

Now I know that many people are fighting, constantly fighting, for better maternity leave. And that’s great. It needs to happen sooner, but it’s great that they’re trying so hard. With that said, who’s fighting for the fathers? If the fathers get extra leave all it does is help mother, father, and baby. There is no harm in allowing parents time to heal, learn, and grow as a family.

We need to be better. I can’t for the life of me figure out why much of the rest of the world can figure out how to function without people when they are on parental leave, but we, seemingly the only country who can’t, can’t figure out how to function without people or give them a guaranteed ANY time off paid in the postpartum period. We need to be better. For the mothers, for the fathers, for the children, our parental leave needs to be better.

I have so much more I want to say about this but I can’t figure out how to say it right now. I would love to discuss with anyone who wants to if you know the policies in other countries, or if you just also don’t think it makes sense and would like to discuss. We need a change and I’d like to help be a part of that change. If there are any petitions you know of or any other programs fighting for parental leave to change please also point me in that direction, because I would love to see it and help make a difference in any way I can.

Also, I go back to work tomorrow which is why this has been weighing so heavy on my mind lately. I am very anxious about it and have broken down in tears about it more times than I care to admit. I wish I could have more time. I need more time.