One recent Saturday evening, I found myself sitting in a restaurant with my husband and son. About an hour earlier, after realizing neither of us could muster the energy to fix a meal, my husband and I made the rare decision to go out to dinner as a family. (It’s not that we don’t enjoy going out to dinner or
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I have depression—moderate depression with a side of crippling anxiety, if you want to get specific. I was first diagnosed when I was 23, although I suspect it began much earlier than that. It was only after experiencing panic attacks, heart palpitations, chronic insomnia, and regular and profound “low” periods that I sought medical treatment. I started taking anti-depressants and
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Let’s go ahead and get something out of the way right now… I am not pregnant. I don’t plan on being pregnant any time soon. But while I am not currently with child, I am currently (and always will be) obsessed with baby names. Boy names, girl names, name meanings, matching first names with middle names—I love it all and
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A couple of years ago, a friend of mine from high school posted this question on Facebook: “When did you really feel like a parent for the first time?” Most people answered with statements like, “As soon as I saw those two line on the pregnancy test” or “When she wrapped her little hand around my fingers for the first
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Our six-year-old son is sort of known for his hair. Even before he was born, it’s gotten him attention. I had an ultrasound when I was 35 weeks pregnant with him, and I distinctly remember the doctor chuckling as soon as the kid’s image popped up on the screen. “That…that is a lot of hair,” he said, shaking his head.
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Picture it. My bedroom, 2009. Early morning sunshine streams through the window, casting an angelic glow over my son as he toddles into the room just as I slip my arms into a button-up shirt. He tilts his rosy-cheeked, cherubic face to the side and peers at me with twinkling blue eyes. “Nose.” I stop buttoning my shirt and look
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One hour after my son got home from his last day of kindergarten, I presented him with this piece of paper: Yep. I know. I am so mean. As he’d barely tasted the freedom that comes with the final clang of the school bell, as visions of days spent playing Minecraft danced in his head, I shoved some real-talk right
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I rolled over for what felt like the millionth time, hoping a change in my position would help the pit in my stomach dissipate. There was something I knew I needed to do, but the thought of actually doing it made my anxiety level skyrocket. I needed to ask a friend a question—an incredibly important question. But I was scared. What
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It’s been pretty much the same since he was two years old—right when we moved him into a “big boy bed.” He wiggles his toes in the water as I rinse his hair with the plastic measuring cup he’ll use to “make coffee” while he soaks. I wrap him up in a hooded towel, and he plops down on his
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Last weekend, I sat on your back deck as our three kids played. We laughed, chatted, and discussed the very imminent arrival of your third baby. When we married brothers, I honestly had no idea that I would enjoy your company so much. I am so happy that I get to navigate motherhood with you. The differences in our kids
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