Giving birth the first time was terrifying, traumatic, messy and beautiful all at the same time.
I was totally unprepared for the episiotomy, gigantic, postpartum mommy diapers, hemorrhoids, sleep-deprivation and cracked and bleeding nipples. And the emotions, oh, my!
I felt like I was alone in my suffering, because it’s human nature to feel that way in the midst of such shocking and excruciating changes.
I’ll never forget how dumb I felt as a child, about 10-years-old, when meeting a friend of my grandmother.
She shook my hand and asked me how I was. Dumbfounded, I just stood there.
She then shook my younger cousins hand and my cousin replied appropriately to her question, “Fine, thank you. How are you?”
Nobody has ever criticized my powers of observation.
I knew just how to respond to that greeting from there on out.
I know those days.
The ones where you just want to throw in the towel.
The house is so messy that you’re pretty sure anybody peeking in the windows would think this was a home for really naughty, unsupervised orphans.
Who am I kidding? They wouldn’t have to peek in the windows, because there are toys all over the yard.
Even your husband wonders what you do all day.