It just doesn’t get easier. I had my baby and my baby is gone. I can’t get my baby back. I was so stressed that morning it happened. Rushing out the door to make Pilates with a disagreeable 2-year-old, snapping
I had already bought you a book to write you letters. One at each of your birthdays. I put the pieces of the crib in our spare bedroom and was planning on using the gorgeous yellow crib sheets I never
I was watching Baby L play with one of those toys where you match the colored shape with the correct cut-out in a bucket. She took the triangle and relentlessly attempted to get in into the square hole. She finally
I went into the baby cabinet today to put away bottles which are now occasionally used for water. Sitting there in the front were all my pumping supplies. My stomach dropped and I felt a use sense of nostalgia. Over pumping?
On my “to do” list yesterday – the day baby turned one month old – was to write an update on how the last two weeks has been. It never happened along with a host of other scribbled line items
I guess I have learned one of many lessons in parenthood: sometimes you aim for the stars with your parenting goals and probably more often than not you don’t quite get there. My quest to finish my pregnancy with ‘100 Days