You are not alone in your aloneness.
There are loads of us. That followed the partner. Or followed the job. Whose heart will always partially belong elsewhere.
Sleep around here is a novelty, there has been swearing, tears, furiously checking leap apps & a lot of throwing back the covers.
After your body left mine, my guarded heart is now completely exposed.
In those precious first moments, after your body left mine, a hazy cloud shifted instantly. One I didn’t realise was smothering me.
By Lacey Owen.
Once your child is asleep you don’t have to be brave anymore.
Bed time is the hardest because once your child is asleep you don’t have to be brave anymore. Bed time is for the tears.
Can I grieve my infertility even though I have a child?
Does the two year journey to her conception become just a blip not the monthly breakdown it once was?
Are you allowed to still hurt even though you've been blessed with a miracle?
By Han Findlay.
I'm the one you will remember, I am a single mum.
When it’s an hour before bed
And I wonder how I will do it
And I think how much I wish
I had more energy to get through it
By Hayley Fuller.
Entering as a woman, departing as a mother. I wish those corridors could applaud you.
She walks slowly toward labour and delivery cradling her tight swollen belly. A loving gesture she doesn’t even realise she’s making and soon it’ll be gone.
By Lacey Owen.
I’m beginning to forget the earliest version of you.
I’m beginning to forget the earliest version of you.
Finer details that once took pride of place in my mind are slipping through my fingers like tiny
grains of sand.
Memories of you, of us, lie in wait as attempts to clench my brain shut all end in vain.
And it scares me.
By Lacey Owen.
I'd love to go back and mother that version of you, but as this version of me; the mum I am today.
I'd love to go back and mother that version of you, but as this version of me; the mum I am today.
Written by Karen McMillan from Mother Truths.
These sleepless nights, in our little bubble.
These sleepless nights, in our little bubble.
While the world is heavy with so many worries.
Your only worry is a world in which I am not there.
By Jess Urlichs.
I'm realising now, this is what a home means...
That perfect home, remembering clean
Realising now, this is a what a home means
The longest nights as I stroke your hair
Your eyes flutter closed just knowing I’m there
By Jess Urlichs
Today, I met my match, TODDLERS.
I’ve never been a cryer, but ohhhh motherhood got me good.
By Jess Urlichs, Writer.
https://www.instagram.com/jessurlichs_writer
Psychotherapist Anna Mathur - Why parenting is a tough gig.
In life, if someone was screaming at at you, shouting, whining, hitting. If there was constant noise that was stressing your body. If you needed space but there wasn’t any...your body and your mind would tell you to walk away. You’d leave. You’d go, you’d breathe. You’d walk, talk, calm, ground, focus, refuel, recover. It’s an inbuilt, self-protective drive.
Stay at Home Mum.
They said, they said, they said...we are helping our babies too much.
THEY SAID, you're helping him too much, you'll regret that, they said. They denied us of our rods, and filled our hearts with dread.
In Pursuit of a Nap.
If you ever see a mum, pacing with a pram nearby, with her head bowed down, can't quite look you in the eye…
We may not love the skin we're in postpartum, but they do.
We hang onto the looseness, cry over the leakage and break ourselves over what we ‘should be’.
But they know of no comparison, only the you of yesterday and the you of today.
As a mother, I used to feel like I was missing out.
An open letter to my second child.
The only second you are to me is my second language, the one I had to learn because you were so different to my first.
Dads Matter Too.
I know you think I never see
All those little things you do
And I know how you hate poetry
But this one's just for you.
By Karen McMillian @mother_truths
