When Jazmyne Futrell posted a photo of herself deep in the motherhood trenches, she probably knew that the scene was mirrored in homes across the globe, perhaps with varying amounts of children. Friends with no kids: “you go to bed at 9pm? Girl I can’t
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When genius mama April Castillo stepped up to fashion an insane creation for her daughter’s school Crazy Hair Day, she was not playing around. Under the sea April’s daughter is in kindergarten, but she felt it was important to start as she means to go
The post Go home everyone because this kid just won crazy hair day for the rest of time appeared first on Babyology.
Psychiatrist Daniel Stern said that when a mother gives birth, she undergoes an “identity reorganisation” – she begins to shift the idea of herself as an autonomous human being to one that is focused on the care and survival of her child. Those first weeks
The post Walk a mile in her shoes: Why we need to give new mums a break appeared first on Babyology.
My sweet child,
You wake up every morning with the same struggles as us all. Sometimes you’re grumpy, sometimes you’re just too tired to be happy, but you’re always kind. That’s just how you are. Even when you’re sick, you’re more worried about how others are feeling than yourself.
You see, you’re tired in the morning because even though you were exhausted the night before, you stayed up talking to yourself about things and going over conversations in your head for the next day at school. I know because I hear you.
You told me you think about a lot of stuff before you fall asleep. You worry about others constantly, including what impression you’ll make on others. You want to make sure that you’ll say and do the right things, so no one gets upset with you. Because when someone is upset—especially with you—it hurts you deeply.
It stinks, baby, I know it stinks. It is so tiring to be so concerned with others and their feelings that you forget your own.
You’re an old soul. You’re caring and nurturing. You once gave weeds you had picked to a stranger outside of Walmart because “they looked sad,” even though two minutes earlier you were having a meltdown. You quickly forgot that you were also upset because that man’s sad face hurt you worse than melting down over a toy.
You let your cousins get the first pick of the prizes at Grandma’s. You’d rather be last and get something you didn’t want than to hurt someone’s feelings. Because if they were sad, that would make you sadder.
I see you, sweet child.
In the front yard picking up shiny rocks from the driveway. They’re for me, because you can tell I had a rough day. Your TV show can wait right now, you just want to make me feel better.
I feel you, sweet child.
When you see me laying on the couch and you cover me up and kiss my forehead. I’m not really asleep, you know—I’m watching you, studying you, listening to you—because it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever encountered. Beautiful, yet dangerous in a way.
Dangerous because I know what happens when a heart is too pure. When you care about the feelings of others more than your own. When you can read the emotions of others and feel them too. And I want you to know—although you should be loved and cared for because of your heart, not everyone has the same heart as you.
Not everyone is as loving and kind as you. Not everyone will give you the same love that you give them. Not everyone will appreciate you, and I never want you to be taken advantage of.
I wish I could protect you from anything bad, ever in the world—but the truth is, I can’t. All I can do is show you that your deep empathy is a gift that can change the world. And you shouldn’t be ashamed of it.
Recently, when I picked you up from school you told me a girl was saying ugly things to you, you said you just ignored her and you were okay, but I could tell you were sad about it. And that’s okay.
I explained to you that everything and everyone doesn’t deserve your energy (something that you taught me unknowingly), and if she is being unkind then it’s because she doesn’t feel very good about herself. You understood. You said maybe you can do something to make her feel better.
And that kills me.
It kills me because I’m helpless. I can’t go everywhere with you and make sure no one is mean to you. I can’t promise that you’ll never be hurt or heartbroken. I can’t save you from the world’s coldness. But that kills me even more because you save me. Every day.
And I want to thank you for that. Thank you for saving me from… well, everything.
From depression. From anxiety. From my own mind attacking me. I get overwhelmed and you can tell. You know when I’m having an episode and I need a long tight hug. You can sense when something happened at work, so you make sure to tell me I’m “the best mom a girl could ever have.” I want you to know that you’re the reason I am here. You’re the reason I keep pushing.
Your nurturing gives me what I need to cope and heal and move forward in life.
So… thank you, sweet girl.
For having a heart as pure as gold. For loving others and showing your empathy and kindness no matter what. For reading emotions and body language like a book. For always being there for me and others. For teaching me to be kind and see the beauty in all things. For showing me that I can get through this wild thing called life, as long as I have you.
I love you always,