It must be scary for them to see their previously solid, predictable, rock-of-a-mom suddenly appearing old with an IV port in her arm, purple bags under her eyes, and barely able to climb the stairs. But they hold my hand and love me anyway. Children are pretty amazing that way. They’ll tell you exactly what they’re thinking (as in…boy, Mommy, your belly is getting big), but they always, always adore you.
The Stuff You Use
I didn't want this life. Correction. I don't want this life. To say "didn't" is to imply that I have since changed my mind. I haven't. But to dig my heals in and refuse to move forward in spite of the circumstances is unproductive and exhausting. Does it take more energy to kick and scream,... Continue Reading →