Me - The Unnatural Mother

Every once in a while I wonder if I am really cut out for motherhood. I know that I do the best that I can, but I sometimes wonder if it is not enough. I see these mothers that seem to have it all together - mothers with perfect budgets; those who have clean homes and freshly cooked meals; those who manage to squeeze in one activity after another and still wear a beautiful smile at the end of the day; those that seamlessly manage to parent a rambunctious toddler while pregnant with number two.

Maybe those women put on a facade of perfection, but I don't think so. Some women really are superhuman and can do just about anything where their children are concerned.

Since becoming a mother, I've had moments where I felt certain things came naturally. For instance, nurturing a child is, perhaps, the most natural thing a woman could do (in my opinion). While breastfeeding was a challenge at the start, I cherished those quiet minutes I shared with Esther and it felt so right to hold her close and nourish her in the way I knew how.

It also comes natural for women to want the best for their children, to do everything in their power to ensure their safety and well being. My head is constantly spinning with thoughts of all the "what-ifs" that plague mothers and I am constantly mulling over ways I can protect Esther from it all.

Still, I am beginning to think that "natural" parenting is a gift more than an inherited trait.

On nights like tonight, where Esther is fussy and hard to please, I get to wishing I had the natural parent gift, or at least some magic word to use that would bring peace to my house. I wish I could be like a couple friends of mine who make motherhood look so easy that they would put June Cleaver to shame.

Instead, I feel like an ever-expanding whale who falls apart every time her daughter cries or falls down. Yes, that is me - the pregnant bride of Frankenstein who works double-time to be the best mommy I can be.

The bottom line is that I love my daughter, but I get frustrated and stressed at the end of a busy day.

I spend my entire morning and afternoon imagining the picture perfect evening: I pick up my daughter who is so happy to see me that she literally skips to the car and happily climbs into her car seat (which, coincidentally, she's miraculously able to buckle on her own, no fussing or tears). We head home on a very peaceful drive, where she's singing and chatting in the backseat and I'm humming happy-go-lucky hippy songs in the front. Once at home, I lovingly pull out the dinner that I made the night before, pop it in the oven to warm, and enjoy playtime with her father and her. After our meal, that everyone happened to enjoy, we fall into our perfectly scheduled routine that leads us to an easy, glorious bed time. We read her a book, give her a bottle, brush her teeth, and kiss her goodnight. And, viola!, she's fast a sleep until morning.

What a dream!

One that is so easily shattered by reality.

This is how it really goes:

I pick up my daughter, who is very happy to see me, but not so happy to leave her Nana's house. I walk her outside, something she enjoys doing, and then fight to get her into her seat. She cries the entire drive home. Dinner was barely a thought in my head that morning, but is suddenly something that desperately needs to be made and eaten before ten that evening. I come in the door and want nothing more than to crash on the couch for five minutes, but the dogs are going crazy, my daughter is teetering between content and unhappy, and my husband has to shower. So I try my best to figure out how to balance it all and cook dinner, but I end up waiting the half hour it takes my husband to finish so that he can either watch the baby or help me cook. We struggle throughout the rest of the evening, wondering why Esther has suddenly decided that solid food is disgusting and how she can be the happiest child anyone has seen until it comes time for bed.

Due to the insanity of bedtime mixed with the insanity that comes with being an unnatural mother, I have come to rely heavily on my husband to assist with putting her to bed each night. Having weaned due to pregnancy, I've instead taken to making her nighttime bottle and feeding her in the rocking chair. My husband then takes over and spends the next hour wrestling the world's strongest baby into her crib. And then the screaming commences. Fortunately, at that point, she tires easily and all it takes is a few reassuring pats from my husband to calm her.

Meanwhile, I'm sitting in our room with my head between my knees crying over the great expectations that had been violently thrown out the window.

When it's all said and done and she's finally asleep, I relax, exhausted husband by my side, a warm cup of hot cocoa in my hands, and a brainless TV show playing quietly in front of me.

And I smile, because I realize, when the house is silent, how much I love my daughter and all the chaos she brings. I realize that there is not a single thing I would change - be it our insane schedule of events or the passion my daughter shows in everything she does.

When I lay my head down in the evening and fade into sleep, the dream begins again and I hope that maybe, just maybe, tomorrow will be different. I'll wake up and find myself perfectly fitting into the mold of mommy.

But, then again, perfection always was overrated.

Lessons Learned...

I am learning that I am still fairly naive when it comes to a lot of things, espcially parenting and pregnancy.

Here is what I thought:

1. my second pregnancy would be easier than my first
2. having a child already would make pregnancy go quicker and ease any symptoms I might have
3. by 1 year of age, my daughter would morph into this sleeping angel that loves having her own bed each night
4. that the terrible twos actually hit at two years, not 11 months
5. that my daughter would not grow up before my eyes
6. walking would not start until at least a year and, when it did, she wouldn't be the holy terror everyone warned me about

And here is what I have learned:

1. second pregnancies are not easier - in fact, I'm finding that I had forgotten what the first half felt like and I'm freaking out about every little thing once more (hello, self, you've been here before!). I'm also finding that my uterus, while bigger than it was, still stretches and that my morning sickness is not fading as quickly as I would have liked.
2. having a baby to chase around does not make this pregnancy go any faster and does not help me ignore the common discomforts. If anything, it makes it all the more amplified because, not only am I aching with normal things, I'm aching from all the running, bending, and lifting I have to do now.
3. my daughter has no plans of morphing into a sleeping angel. She would much rather scream all night and fight sleep, successfully ruining any chances for a decent night of rest for her parents. But, I have to say, that I still love her beyond all words.
4. the terrible twos are just an estimate. It can hit whenever your kid chooses. In our case, she decided to start early, so I'm hoping she gets past it a little early. Of course, knowing our daughter, that's not likely to happen!
5. Reality check: my daughter turns 1 in less than a month. This was made even more real when her birthday supplies arrived in the mail this week. I can't believe my little girl is growing up so fast! And it seems like yesterday that I was holding her for the first time...
6. walking starts whenever a baby decides it is time and, almost instantly, they become holy terrors - and walking head injuries! My God, my girl hits her head more than I would like!

And, thus, I am daily being schooled by life, pregnancy, and my child and I couldn't be more grateful! Because, while I have to learn the hard way, I wouldn't change a thing!

The time is now...

I looked outside today and saw the changing colors and the sweet smelling autumn rain and wondered how another year of my life has managed to slip by me. Here I am, a week shy of 27, and I still feel so unaccomplished in my existence.

I want more. I want to write full time while working from home so I can be with my children. I want to travel and do mission work. I want to be the type of superwoman who can conquer anything.

But right now I am still me and I am not so sure that the average "me" is really who I want to be anymore.

Through all the changes that have taken place over the past year, the addition of our beautiful daughter and the conception of our second child, my husband and I concluded that it is time to truly live what we believe.

We want to raise our children in an environment of "doing" rather than one of just "dreaming."

So now is the time.

Now we are finally coming to a place where we are examining who we are and what we can do to live differently. We are looking at our age and saying, "we can't wait another 20 years to do what we have always dreamed of doing and to do the things God has called us to do. We just have to do it. We just have to have the faith." So now we spread our arms, close our eyes, and jump.

It will scary. It will mean sailing on uncharted waters. And it will result in the biggest adventure of our lives.

And I can't wait.

Grateful for Who I am Today

I am glad that I am who I am today.

Over twenty-seven years ago, my parents were faced with a decision: carry their child to term and risk severe side effects caused by a prescription my mom was taking or terminate the pregnancy and try for a child at a later date.

At the ages of 18 and 20, they were young, unmarried, and non-Christian. Dad, enlisted with the Coast Gaurd, had orders to leave to Michigan. They could have chosen to end it there. But my parents looked at that doctor and, without hesitation, said, "we're keeping this child."

Months later, on a cool September day, they gave birth to a healthy baby girl.

And nearly 27 years later, that little girl is still healthy, married to the man of her dreams, the mommy to beautiful daughter, and pregnant with her second child.

I am grateful my parents, despite the counsel of doctors, made that choice to bring me into the world. In a world, where so many babies are unwanted and never given the chance to live, I am honored to be here today.

And here I stand, my cup overflowing, knowing with every fiber of my being that I am exactly who God designed me to be. Am I perfect? Of course not. I strive to be the very best that I can be in every circumstance. And whether or not I succeed, I strive to give glory to the Creator who so lovingly crafted me in my mother's womb and who knew who I would be long before I was ever born.

What a miracle and what a blessing! Because God protected me from threats against my existence, because He carried me through years of hardships and blessings, because He never let go of me, no matter the many times I questioned Him, I have been blessed to find myself standing in the midst of many treasures: my faith, my husband, and my children, both born and soon-to-be born.

What an amazing impact two people's decision made!

Destiny is an awesome thing. Its value cannot be quantified or diminished. Every life is a precious gift worth preserving. One cannot look at a tiny blip on a screen or a line on a stick and even begin to fathom the potential such a little being holds. Yet its potential is there, it is real, and, like those of us breathing today, it deserves every opportunity to thrive.

My parents look at me now and tell me that they are glad they chose life. And, when I look into my little girl's eyes and see all the passion and personality contained within her little soul, I can honestly say that I too am grateful for the gift they gave me and, thus, the gift that I have passed to my child.

Living Life and Taking Steps...

Life is challenging, at the very least. We are born into this world without knowing anything and are expected to develop and obtain as much knowledge as we can before finally waving goodbye. Life involves thriving and learning in ways that shape us; gleaning lessons from both the good and bad experiences; developing tenacity through all circumstances; pressing on even when the odds are stacked against us.

And all the while, we are to live life without really knowing what is around the next bend.

Not seeing the future is scary. How do we proceed if we do not know what to expect? How do we plan if, despite having dreams, we do not know the step necessary to obtain our destiny?

It is that ever-present "unknown" that swirls about us that gives us the need to constantly get on our knees and ask God for direction. And it is His direction that gives us purpose and adventure.

He is not boring, that is for sure. In all of my adventures, big and small, I have found the pursuit of God to be both exciting and fulfilling. I am amazed at the places He takes me and the methods He uses to get me there.

But every time I come to a point of change, I grow frustrated and I worry. I worry about making poor decisions. I worry that I'll inadvertently hurt people if I feel God is leading me places. I worry about not having everything in order. And I grow frustrated because, in spite of feeling the winds of change, God isn't always chomping at the bit to tell me what to do.

This is what Tim and I are facing at this moment. We know God is speaking something, but what? We know there are steps we should take, but what are they?

It is hard to say what is next, but I know, deep down, that God is control and that He will reveal our next move when the time is right.

In the meantime, we have resolved to do what we can where we are and to prepare the best that we can for the life-changing event that is around the corner. And we'll enjoy every moment of this adventure that God has blessed us with; welcoming the challenge and welcoming the lessons we are to learn.

Thank God for having a sense of direction and thank God that we have Him there to guide our steps...I really do not know what we would do without Him!

Clocks and Calendars...

Children really do grow up fast. I can't say that I believed it when people told me, but it really is true. I am two weeks away from Esther's nine month birthday and I am shocked by how quickly time flew.

9 months ago, I was wondering when she would arrive.

I was walking around non-stop in hopes of inducing labor (even though I had two weeks until her due date).

I was begging my husband to complete the nursery, so I felt more settled about her arrival, and I was beginning to contemplate when I would go on maternity leave.

I was fretting about possibly having a 10 plus pound baby and hoping I wouldn't go to 41 weeks.

I wasn't so sure I was ready for motherhood at that point.

8 1/2 months ago, she finally arrived - two days past her due date. She came unexpectedly, but took her time once she decided it was time to greet the world. I labored for 18+ hours, three of which were spent pushing. I enjoyed labor, appreciating how feminine and empowered it made me feel, but I really enjoyed the moment she burst in the world (literally) and was placed on my chest that first time.

She was smaller than I expected, although admittedly bigger than the average baby (8 lbs, 13 oz), and she was beautiful. We immediately connected, although I soon discovered that being a mother was a lot more difficult than I anticipated.

There was so much learning that took place in those early weeks. I had to learn to nurse, my husband and I had to learn to respond to her needs, and we had to learn what worked best for our family. We somehow managed to figure it out and it was not long before we became confident in our ability to parent our child. Through it all, we loved our daughter and how much she relied on us. She was so tiny and sweet.

It was not long, though, before she developed a sense of independence and wanted to see things and move. Every month she pushed herself more and more until the current time where she is constantly on the move!

I thought I'd have months on end to enjoy her infancy, but it has gone by so quickly that I feel like I missed out on so much.

Still, I love the little person she has become. I have to say that I really enjoy this stage. She hugs me and cuddles me in between activities. She's excited about every little thing, from the fish at the pet store to the new food she is trying. She lights up when she sees me and plays hard with her daddy.

I love her so much!

The moral of the story is this: enjoy every stage while you can!

Foot-in-Mouth Disorder

I have a disease and it seems to be getting worse with age and with motherhood.

I have never been diagnosed by a doctor, but I know that it is very real and that is causes me much discomfort. I like to refer to it as "Foot-in-Mouth Disorder."

If you have never heard of this issue, here are the symptoms:

• Mouth opening at inopportune moments, spilling forth the worst possible words at the worst possible moment
• Misrepresenting oneself by unintentionally saying something that 1. does not accurately represent what one was thinking or trying to say and 2. can come across as inappropriate or insulting to the receiver
• Making sarcastic jokes that are not seen as such by receiver

This disorder is often genetic, although it has been known to spontaneously strike a person from time-to-time (although, scientists are finding evidence that this may be caused when two latent carriers of the gene pass it on to their offspring).

I myself inherited from my father's line and have struggled with it my entire life. It really does get progressively worse.

Just today, in fact, I made myself appear to be an insensitive, non-accepting jerk, and all because I misunderstood a reference someone else made. Maybe the only cure is to learn the art of self-control and listening. Who knows!

All I know is this: My husband thinks my problem is funny, my dad relates well with it, and one of my supervisors, I'm pretty sure, thinks I'm an idiot.

I just hope I don't pass this gene on to my children....

Lessons of Motherhood

I have not been a mother long and cannot claim to have any real wisdom to pass on to those who are expecting or dreaming of motherhood. Still, the past eight months have taught me a thing or two about being a mommy and a wife. While some of these lessons apply to those roles specifically, some can apply to all areas of life. And those are my favorite kinds of things to learn.

Here is some of the wisdom I have gained:

• Expect the unexpected. Babies are completely unpredictable and amazing. I live on the edge of my seat these days, waiting for the next surprise.
  
• Not all surprises are good, but most are pretty entertaining. Surprises like, "how did that get in your mouth?!" are not good and can be scary. Surprises like, "what on earth are you doing taking all of the wipes out of the box?!" can be bad, in theory, but are also very funny. The thing about all surprises, good or bad, is to find the humor in them. Or to brace yourself and keep a clear head. Whichever applies.


• Things happen and, when they do, take the opportunity to learn from the experience. The same applies to approaching an infant who is practicing a new skill. It is okay to fail or fall so long as you learn.


• June Cleaver was a fictional character. I'll never be her, but I'm okay with that. I'm more colorful and a lot more fun. And my daughter likes me the way I am.


• Most interior designers must not have children or, if they do, they are super human. I would love to have a posh space that looks like it jumped from the pages of a magazine, but I am learning that 1. it takes a lot of time and money (things I don't have) and 2. those designs, while awesome, are not necessarily kid friendly. Am I disappointed that most of my walls are bare and that my couch is stained? Sure, it bugs me a little. But it also stands as a reminder that I have more important things to worry about.


• Worrying is overrated. A little worry is healthy. A lot of worry can give you heart problems. I'm learning to let go and realize that, most likely, it will all be okay.
• Patience. It is a good thing to have, but is hard to find. When all else fails, I let out my frustration and then find something to laugh about. Esther and Tim can test my patience like no other and, yet, they are also the biggest clowns. I find it harder to hold onto anger these days because there is so much to smile about!
• My child will love me even if I am a nut case, which I am most of the time. I can be grumpy and I can be over protective. I like to give her kisses and act crazy just to make her laugh (she laughs at me a lot. I'm not sure if she thinks I am funny or if she feels sorry for me). I'm a hormonal, emotional person and always have been. Motherhood has not made that better. I used to worry, but I am learning that kids love their parents no matter how silly they are.
• My husband will think I'm hot no matter how frumpy I dress or how much weight I gain (but that's not an excuse to go completely dark side, either). Do I believe him when he says, "you're not fat"? Not in the least, but I appreciate that he is still attracted to me. It does wonders for my self-esteem!

I could spend all day writing the things I have learned, but I will leave it there for now.

Until next time...

Ode to Men or, More Specifically, My Husband...

I love my husband more than words can describe.

Before I met him, I was a pretty big feminist. I was all for heralding the greatness of women at the expense of men. I didn't hate men, I was actually quite enamored by the opposite sex, but I saw how unjustly women are treated in society and it angered me to a degree. I knew a few good men, namely my father and brother, but had had poor experiences with others. Needless to say, I was all about woman power.

And then Tim happened.

The instant our eyes met, I knew there was something wonderfully amazing about him. He had gentle, kind eyes and a reassuring smile. He was strong and unbelievably handsome. And one could tell, just by looking at him, that there were many complicated sides to this man.

I was hooked (a phrase that, as a man who loves to fish, he enjoys hearing).

Over the course of our dating and, now our marriage, I have learned a lot about him that surprises me to no end.

Here are just a few:

1. Tim loves to hunt and fish (emphasis on fish), but has the biggest respect for God's creation I have ever seen. For the most part, he believes in taking what you need and will use and then leave the rest.


2. He knows nearly everything there is to know about Alaska's wild - from the birds that occupy the trees to the different types of grass in the field to what you can or cannot eat. He's the kind of guy anyone would love to be with in a survival situation.


3. He's a gentleman. He is always going out of his way to serve others before himself.


4. He is very artistic. This man can do it anything: play the piano by ear, paint, take beautiful pictures, dance (he taught me to ballroom dance on our sixth date), act, sing. You name it, he can do it.


5. He is sensitive and deep. He likes to claim that, as a man, he has a blank head full of empty thoughts, but I know better. He considers everything before deciding which path to take. He has things that bother him and move him. He can be just as easily hurt as I can be.


6. Most importantly, he is the most loving and thoughtful man alive. When he commits to loving someone, he does it with his whole heart. He very honestly believes that his wife and child are the most important people in the world and he fiercely defends us and provides for us.

That is only the tip of who Tim is and only a small fragment of what makes me love him.

Loving Tim has shown me something about men that I never considered: they don't get credit for what they really do.

We women are quick to point out their flaws. We are quick to judge them for everything they apparently lack. I think, because we have had to fight to prove our equality, we have gotten into this mode of not appreciating the finer points of men.

We "ooh" and "ah" over their good looks and nice bodies, but refer to them as unfeeling neanderthals. We claim that they are insensitive and unmotivated. And some are. But should we judge the entire sex by those that give them a bad name? And, in reality, how much of that is truly a man thing? I am starting to believe that the main reason men act over-confident and insensitive is because they are insecure. And because, for centuries, they have been told to behave a certain way and ignore their emotions.

I have a new-found appreciation of real men. They are the ones who work hard for their families, who are real with their wives, who are great daddies, who are intricate and lovable. Men who encompass true strength: strength of character and faith.

I have learned that gender differences are not such a bad thing. We can be equal in many ways, but it is okay to embrace the distinctions that make men and women perfect for each other.

I want to thank my husband for showing me how incredible men can truly be. You are my balance in life and I am so blessed to wake up next you each morning.

I love you, babe, more and more with each passing day!

Growing Into Being a Mommy

I remember what it was like being a teenager. I'm not very far removed from that time, although I guess that 6 years can seem like forever. Still, I remember exactly how I felt when I was sixteen. I felt invincible. I honestly believed that I knew everything and could face anything that life threw at me. I was a very shy teen, yet I had that false confidence that I believe most adolescences carry about with them.

I was reminded of these feelings the other day as I observed a group of teen girls walking down the sidewalk as if they owned the town. They walked with that youthful swagger, one that reads, "I'm on top of the world and am the most important person that ever was." Their hands flitted about and their girly voices, jabbering in that serious yet immature fashion, echoed from across the street.

Yes, I remember what it was like to be like them.

Probably because, in my own way, I'm not much different.

I went to college when I was 17 and discovered that the world was much bigger than me.

I met people from all over the world - people, who like me, had traveled far enough from their homes to feel inadequately prepared to face this new challenge. I quickly befriended the foreign students and learned from them just how little I really knew about anything. We were the same in many ways and, yet, the differences were enough to teach me that I was very ignorant and naive.

After college, I realized that there were things I had to be responsible for. I had to get a full-time job, pay bills, and maintain my car. Mom and dad let me live with them, so I was still pretty sheltered, but beyond that, I was responsible for taking care of the things that were mine.

After three years of working and living for myself, I met my husband. My world literally stopped spinning. Everything around me grew eerily still as I stared at the most handsome, genuine man I had ever laid eyes on. I stopped knowing everything at that point. This was uncharted territory, so far beyond anything I had ever known up to that moment, and I approached it with a mix of excitement and fear.


We had a whirlwind courtship and engagement followed by a whirlwind wedding, which turned out beautifully. We were in love and had waited long enough (25 years of singledom. 25 years of virginity. 25 years of bemoaning the fact that I was doomed to be a spinster. 25 long years, most of which was spent dreaming of the perfect man and really believing I would never meet him). We had known each other exactly 7 months when we exchanged vows.

I learned a lot right out of the gate. One, I was still completely immature, although arguably more mature than I would have been had I married at twenty-one as originally planned. Two, that I was completely unaware of how truly different men and women are (and how those differences, at times, can lead to misunderstandings). And three, how difficult it was (and is) to balance two families vying for our time with the need and desire to spend every second with each other.

And then we got this silly idea. We wanted to start growing our family right away. Why? Because my biological clock was ticking. Because I had read that the closer I got to 35, the harder it would be. Because I wanted at least three kids and so did Tim.

So we didn't take any precautions and left it all up to God and His timing. Sure enough, about two months after our wedding day, we conceived our darling daughter.

Her conception came as a surprise. After a couple of months of pregnancy tests and disappointments, we had given up on the idea, thinking that we might have a long road ahead of us. And then I went to the doctor for an unrelated checkup. She offered to give me a pregnancy test after I described this horrible flu I was enduring. Five minutes later our lives changed.

Going into our pregnancy, we had no idea how much parenthood would change us. In a lot of ways, we were still children. And we were still newlyweds. Here my husband was, loving our moments of intimacy, but being turned down because I couldn't stomach the idea half of the time. We went through arguments and breakdowns. I became a hormonal basket case, crying over every little thing and worrying myself sick in regards to the health of our child.

I am not sure how Tim managed to survive those nine months. He is truly amazing. Any man who can endure the ongoing wrath of a woman and still hold her hand through 18 hours of labor deserves a medal of honor at the very least.

My pregnancy proved, beyond all doubt, that I had yet to grow up. I was still very childish in my thinking and I had absolutely no clue before then.

When I held my daughter for the first time, relishing the feel of this tiny angel in my arms, I finally embraced the fact that I know nothing. I have no idea how to be the perfect wife or mother. I have no idea how to provide the very best for my little bug. I don't know how to keep a clean house or make a homemade meal that is ready by six. I don't know how to protect my family from danger. All these years that I thought I was growing up, that I believed were preparing me for the real world, had suddenly ceased to mean anything.

I was clueless, yet oddly accepting of that.

I'm not the center of the world and I know that now. But I am the center of my husband and child's world.

I do not know much at all, but I do know that I love my family fiercely and they love me in the same way.

God is watching over us, taking care of all the things I do not understand or cannot handle, and giving us a chance to really embrace the gift of family and the gift of love.

And, really, in this life, that is more precious and more special than being on top of the world.

My Statement Regarding Being a Working Mom

Being a working mom is not easy.



There, I said it.



It's not easy waking up extra early, after already being woke up several times that night, to prepare myself and my child for the day.



It not easy thinking about all the cute things my daughter did the night before and knowing that she is doing a thousand other cute things that I am missing.



A clean house? What's that?



A completely homemade dinner? I think I used to cook before I gave birth. It's been so long, I can't remember.



What do I do with my time? I nurse all evening and all night and express on my breaks at work. I change poopy diapers, bathe a screaming child, cuddle with my little love, smile as she plays with her daddy, work hard to put her to sleep at night, enjoy the hour of peace with my husband, and then wake up and prepare myself to work all day in front of a computer screen.



Her smile flashes through my mind at least a 100 times while I'm working. Her giggles ring in my ear. The imprint made by her hand lovingly rubbing my face is still there. And it kills me when I think about it.



No one told me that working away from her would be so difficult. I was told I would get used to it, that it wouldn't bother me after a couple of weeks. I think that those people are in denial.



Undoubtedly, I would much rather be with my daughter all day.



That being said, I'm doing what I have to do and I'm working to embrace that.



This was not a decision made lightly. I believe that many mothers who choose to work do so with a heavy heart. We love our kids and love to be with them.



But, in my experience, we're realistic about what we can and cannot do. And we work hard to provide for them.



Bills have to be paid. Health insurance, while not all it is cracked up to be, is necessary. I want the very best for my daughter and, sadly, that comes hand-in-hand with my need to work.

Still, I am working on being the best mommy I can be. There are a lot of hats to wear and I'm doing my best to wear them in style and not let my "ideal" get in the way of truly cherishing my daughter.