On April 26, 2014, at the very first Listen To Your Mother: Atlanta, I read these words. I should tell you to bring tissues. It had been a rough week around here between me and the 9 year old. My husband had been traveling a lot and work had been stressful. Henry and I had butted heads, talked back to each other, and raised our voices way too many times. It wasn’t pretty, y’all. I’m ashamed to say, I had yelled more than I should. I’m sad that Henry had said “I hate you” more than he ever should. I know he didn’t mean it, but he said it. He…
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Enough is Enough
Seriously. I’m tired of it. Enough is enough. Babies have to stop dying. Parents need to stop having to choose tiny caskets that can be picked up by one person. Have you ever seen one? Just the casket itself will give you nightmares. I’m pissed. I can’t believe it’s 2014 and there are still as many people burying their babies as there are. I know, if we were in the 1800’s or even 50 years ago, it would be more. But damn. It’s not fair. Yeah, something good will come from it. A lot of people do great things in the wake of devastating and bring-you-to-your-knees situations, but WHY DO…
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Just Write: The Doctor’s Office
Yesterday, I was sitting in the pediatrician’s office, waiting for a consultation with Henry’s doctor. He wasn’t with me. So I was the lone mother sans child in the well waiting room. Even though the waiting room was the “well” one, there were still people hacking and there’s technically no wall separating the “sick” from the “well” so I’m unsure how that works. Germs just know which side to stay on? Anyway, when I sat down, I realized there was a baby crying in one of the rooms. It was loud and screechy and muffled. I tried to drown it out by watch Cars on the big screen and by…
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Did This Really Happen?
Saturday morning, New York City. Sun is out. The breeze is cold and crisp. The continental breakfast at the hotel just isn’t cutting it. (side note: What does “continental breakfast” even mean? There’s nothing from all the continents. There’s nothing exotic. What’s the deal?) We must find a place with greasy meat and eggs. We had passed a diner called Andrew’s Coffee Shop and thought that might be a good place to hit. Cute little place. Great food. Of course, the waiter wants to know where we’re from with our thick accents. Me, mostly. He’s half smitten with Henry and his bubbly personality. He’s attentive and very personable. He goofs…
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Roses In December
I was reminded this morning of one of my favorite quotes. God gives us memories so that we might have roses in December. ~ James Barrie ~ After Charlie died, my dear friend from college, Laura sent me a book that helped her through the loss of her first son in 1999. Laura’s story is a beautiful one that include love, loss, survival, perseverance and selflessness. The book is Roses in December by Marilyn Willett Heavilin. I wasn’t too sure about the book when I first started reading it. Marilyn had lost three sons. Her first son died at 7 weeks old. Her second son died two years later from…