Parenting

Who are we to mourn their transformation, as though it’s unnatural, or worse, some cruel joke God plays on sappy mothers like me?

I am no stranger to the six-week postpartum permission slip to tell my husband he got the green light to have sex! Been there, done that, four times already—but this time was different...

"Being an older mom gives you a special perspective. You no longer worry about the little things, and you laugh easier. You can relax in your good credit score, financial stability, and stress-free life. Most of the time, anyway. Wink, wink."

"My sister sat on the couch with me as I painstakingly tried to pump through severe engorgement, and as she rubbed my shoulders, encouraging me to make it through just one more feeding session, I broke down in tears and told her I was so sorry. She looked at me shocked. Why, exactly, was I apologizing?"

This time last year she asked me if she could have pink hair and I said no. A few days later at a camp they were doing a demonstration involving fire and something went wrong and it caught her on fire. She had horrible burns over 70% of her body. This time last year we were in the hospital with her not knowing if she was going to live or not.

They just rolled off of her tongue like it was nothing.

"Waking up in the middle of the night, heart racing, sweating: What if she thinks I abandoned her? Praying: God, though I’m not with her, you are."

“I was taken aback. It was a real shock, because I had been thinking, ‘My child wouldn’t do that.’”