Mama don't preach

I think as a mother it's easy to constantly worry if your baby is on track developmentally. I have searched and looked and researched articles and journals a thousand times over with each due milestone. I've checked for warning signs and red flags.

 But the more I look, the more confused and upset I am. I'm constantly plagued with fears about Connor. Why isn't he walking, why isn't he saying more words, why is he screaming constantly? I worry nonstop. I worry about the things he picks up in the house, I worry about him watching too much television, I worry about everything.

Then when I finally sit down and really think about it, I have this split second of sanity where I realize there's no way an article on the internet (or 20) is going to define my son. If he does have a problem, there's no point in worrying about it. I can't change it and it wouldn't make me love him any less.

As mothers, we compare ourselves to one another far too much. More than that, we judge each other in a terrible way. Whether it's comparing how old a child does what, whether the mother breastfeeds or formula feeds, whether she had a vaginal birth or a c-section, or if she used an epidural or no pain medicine.

The fact is, it doesn't matter. It doesn't matter if a mother sleeps in the bed with her child or if her child sleeps in a crib. It doesn't matter if the crib is inside or outside the room. None of this matters.

None of this matters because it's no one's business except for that mother's. Just as you love your child and want the best care for him/her, so does that mother.

That mother loves her baby more than she loves herself. That mother wants a happy baby and a healthy baby just as much as you do.

That mother wants her child to grow up to be amazing and extraordinary, just like you do.

So just stop.

We've got to stop criticizing one another. It's not sharpening our parenting skills and we're not going to change each other's minds.

We're only going to reinforce that doubt that we all have anyway.

Here's a secret:
None of us think we are doing it right.
Every single one of us is sure that we're screwing our child up in some way.
We all have at least one thought a day that our child is not where he/she needs to be.

Why do we make this harder on each other?

We all have one thing in common and that's the fact that we are all scared to death.

So just stop. Stop being so MEAN to one another. If a mother makes a decision you wouldn't, try thinking about WHY.

Try putting yourself in her shoes for just a minute, just 60 seconds.

I can guarantee that if you just THINK about it, you will see all different scenarios as to what that mother has been going through.

We're all just trying to do this right, and at the end of the day, we all just want to throw our hands in the air and give up.

Or maybe we want to throw our hands in the air and scream, "Thank you, God for letting me make it out alive today!"

...or maybe we are finally getting that one good night where we drag our bodies into bed and fall into the most satisfying sleep...

HA! Just kidding, that's never going to happen again.

Love it, enjoy it and do your absolute best to build another woman up.

You'll need it too one day.

I just miss you

When a woman loses her child, she loses a piece of herself. I don't know what it's like to have a late-term miscarriage or a still born child. As thankful as I am for that, I do know the pain associated with a miscarriage.

I carried this tiny, tiny person in me for nine weeks. It was only alive for six. I've been told that my baby wasn't a baby, but rather a clump of cells. I have been told that it's stupid for me to be sad over my pregnancy loss. I've even been told I use my loss as an excuse to be sad.

None of these are true.

That little clump of cells made my breast so tender, I couldn't stand to wear a bra. That clump of cells loved when I ate anything blueberry flavored, and hated when I ate anything fried. My baby loved all things Sonic (the only fried stuff I could eat).

Every February around the middle of the month, my body aches. I don't hurt like I'm getting sick or have the flu. My body longs. 

My womb aches. Maybe it's because it knows that three times over I should have delivered. Maybe it's a mind things. I'm not sure.

My heart hurts. My heart aches and my arms strain to hold someone who isn't here.

Then I feel guilty because I have this amazing little boy asleep in his bed down the hall. He loves me so much. He wants me all the time. He's perfect. Why aren't I satisfied?

The truth is, I am. I am happy with motherhood, I love my son. I know that if I had delivered Harper alive, I wouldn't have Connor. I wouldn't take anything in the world for him.

Can I love them both?

I think so. I hurt and ache and long for my sweet Harper, but I rejoice and praise God for my son. The more I ponder it, the more natural it all seems. My first child was taken from me, and that hurts. It hurts that I got so little time with that baby. But in that loss, I gained a son.

There will always be that desire to hold her. I will always believe I see her in my dreams. I will always go to bed and pray that God lets her come see me.

So tonight, just like last night, I will hope that I see this strange, yet eerily familiar girl in my sleep. Since Connor has been here, she keeps him in the dream too.

And for those few, fleeting minutes, I am able to hold, love and kiss both of my babies.

And I wake up with a little bit of peace.