mother

I had a lot of well-meaning friends and family searching for the right words to say after my back-to-back miscarriages. So many offered solace by guessing at where my lost babies resided in the ether: taken away to Heaven, perhaps forever, perhaps waiting for a better moment— an unknown, destined time these small souls were meant to break into the world. I accepted these comments silently, because they did nothing to comfort me.

I have two kids and I curse like a sailor. I do not curse at them, but I curse around them. And they know the difference. I tell them that "fuck" and "shit" are curse words, that they are for grownups to say. I don’t sugarcoat them. But I also do not intend to give up the words that offer me a level of catharsis I can’t seem to locate elsewhere in the English language.

We do our best as parents, but there is no plan or prediction that can determine how your relationship with your children will be, grow, and change throughout the course of our lives. That is one of the most unpredictable things in parenthood.

“All mothers need access to affordable, reliable, and appropriate mental health care,” explains Jenna Hatfield, 34, the Online Awareness & Engagement Manager for Postpartum Progress, a non-profit organization dedicated to raising awareness about maternal mental illness. “Too often we see moms slip through the cracks because there’s too much red tape to access care or continue care they’ve sought out. Additionally, under-served moms aren’t always made aware of the care available to them, and that’s simply not acceptable.”

My husband never, ever drives thru a fast food restaurant because it’s easier, and instead makes it back to the house and gives our daughter something that WILL grow mold if left out too long, unlike the McDonald’s hamburger I would have let her have.

I don’t know where you are — if you are ok, if you have food, shelter, love. I don’t know what you look like now.

7:53: My shirt is still on. Barely.

Come, fervent readers of smart, witty blogs.