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The Bittersweetness of Mother’s Day


You know, last mothers day was bitter sweet.

Why?

Because I had had over a year to feel out the motherhood thing. I now know how much love and space your own child takes up in your body, heart, and mind.

Because I had had a miserable time growing up and both my parents were to blame. I went through everything from abuse, neglect, addiction, poverty, bullying, and depression. And to be honest, being a parent has left me with the mind boggling question of how one can do that to their children.

Not to mention once I was able to move on from my crappy beginnings and eventually, ACTUALLY want children of my own, I was faced with pretty slim odds of being able to have one.

2.5 years of trying to conceive, hormone therapy, fertility doctors and 3 miscarriages – we were through the roof when this little embryo decided to snuggle in and put up camp for 9 months.

So, now that I’ve been a mom for a little over a two years now – I never knew that one day (besides the day of my son’s birth) could be so flipping emotional and slightly rollercoaster-y for me.

Mother’s Day for me symbolizes anger, sadness, confusion, happiness, thankfulness and pure joy – especially when getting to see the smile on my boys face.

I’m sure sometimes people may think I/we are just putting on a show, being a little over the top, being fake, or trying to be perfect…

But we aren’t.

I’m just so inlove with being a mom. I have nothing that bothers me about the struggles Jackson has had to face besides that he has had to face them. And I say Jackson, not me, because it wasn’t me having a hard time – it was Jackson.

Yeah I can be a pretty judgy mom. That’s because I can not for the life of me understand how one could consider their child to be too much, annoying, or too much work. How one could roll their eyes at their child. How one could complain about a child’s sleep habits when they’re under the age of ONE.
How one can complain that their baby needs them too much. How anyone could take all this for granted.

Just to it all, HOW.

How can any parent be and feel less than I do now.

(This is excluding PPD and deabilitating medical conditions)

Anyway. I was filled with pure joy and elation watching jackson have a blast last year. It was the best way we could have ever celebrated Mother’s Day.

Forget about all the other stuff for a couple hours and just live in the moment of our little’s giggles and smiles.

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The Heartache Of A Working Mom


I hate that someone else has to watch my child during the day.

I hate that they don’t hold him the way I would hold him.

I hate that they are not gentle with him and understanding the way I am.

I hate that they don’t pay attention to him every time he’s trying to talk to them or show them something.

I hate when he gets blamed for something he didn’t do, or when hes takes something from another child but they discipline the other child instead of my son.

I hate that other people watch other people’s children and don’t have the connection or patience for them because they are not their own children.

I hate when they get frustrated because there’s so much going on in a day, and so many little people to care for.

I hate that I sit at work just wanting to go and hold my child.

I hate that there are times throughout the day that my child needs me and I am not there for him.

I hate that I can’t always see what’s always going on and there are things they don’t tell me because they don’t think they are share-worthy.

I hate the ache in my heart that I hold through the day because I miss my child and I am missing these times with my child. Time already goes as fast as it does. I love my job and I love who I am at my job; I love being a mother more.

I hate that I worked so hard to get where I am in my career but I would rather be home with my child.

I hate how much my heart hurts everyday yearning to be with my son and my family.

I hate how hard the world is , and how much harder it is when you are a parent.

I hate that the world does not understand the pain and the heartache on the struggles of being a parent unless those listening are also a parent.

I hate that there is such diversity in parenting, judgment and misunderstanding of little people. I hate that children’s emotions get dismissed; It’s as if no one remembers when they themselves were a child.

I hate how much more hate I hold now that I am a mom.