I do. It’s a heavy burden that I have carried around for nineteen years, from the day when I refused to nurse my newborn son because I had postpartum depression. The staggering load that has weighed me down is mommy guilt.
Yes, mommy guilt.
I do. It’s a heavy burden that I have carried around for nineteen years, from the day when I refused to nurse my newborn son because I had postpartum depression. The staggering load that has weighed me down is mommy guilt.
Yes, mommy guilt.
Miss Frances is now 102 year old and she has two living sons and one who has gone to be with Jesus. She does not have any daughters to visit her, so when I visit, I dress to the hilt. I put on my flashiest shirt (sequins are great) and pile on my loudest jewelry. Sometimes I add extra jewelry in the parking lot before I go in. Miss Frances loves to see my outfit, touch my jewelry, and comment on my hair. She’s commented on other aspects of my body (including my bra size) and she’s given me sex advice. She is a hoot.
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You know. Those days when the dawn breaks, and it feels like it’s breaking you? The screams of laughter from your loud, but chipper, children in the next room greet you with a sigh as your eyes attempt their opening.
“Can I parent today?” I think to myself.
Sharing is caring. If this post encouraged you, will you share it on Facebook so that it could bless your friends,too? Thanks for helping me to reach more struggling women with encouragement, hope, and grace.