Still Us
In January 2004, I had a new baby and a 3 year old. I had taken 6 months off work and was home with the two of them. I didn’t know anyone else with children, the holidays were over, winter felt endless, and I was losing it a little.
One day I picked up a copy of Tulsa Kids and saw an event for a moms’ club. I decided to go. Of course I was nervous walking in, but one woman came right up and started talking to me. She had a son close to my older son’s age and was so warm that I immediately felt grateful I had come.
I Didn’t Know This Was Normal
While meeting these beauties, we talked about motherhood, breastfeeding, bodies, and careers.
At one point, she asked whether my boys ever took bottles, and I told her how resistant they were. With my second, I tried pumping more because I wanted a little more freedom, but neither of them made it particularly easy. She shared some of her own struggles with breastfeeding, and I told her something I haven’t talked about very much.
I didn’t love breastfeeding. Honestly, I didn’t love the newborn stage at all.
I Thought I Was Prepared
I always wanted to be a mom.
I married young, finished my undergraduate degree, and then decided to start a family while working on my graduate degree. Having a family was incredibly important to me, and I was lucky enough to get pregnant easily.
I was beyond excited. I read all the books, did all the planning. I wanted a natural birth, didn’t find out the gender, and that big baby boy surprised me a few days early.
Then, the terror set in.
When the House Goes Quiet
No matter when it happens, that moment when the house goes quiet hits hard.
For some, it is happening now. For others, it happened years ago, and the feelings still live in their bones.
A few years ago, both of our sons left for university. Nine hours away. At the same time.
I knew it was coming. I had time to prepare. But about two weeks before they left, something broke open in me.
I couldn’t stop crying. Everything felt dark and heavy. I couldn’t be on camera at work because my face showed it all.
The anticipation, for me, was worse than the reality.
