meditations of a blueberry

Miss A turns 2 tomorrow. We have moved out of babyhood, and are fully into toddlerhood. For the first time, I will have a 2 year old without a newborn. And I gotta say, it is loads easier dealing with toddlers when you don't have a newborn or giant belly to carry around too. I don't know how I did it. How did I ever manage to get through the days? There were some dark days. Some days that I am not sure how I made it through. But I did. And now I have my last baby officially exiting the baby years. I look over to her sleeping on the couch, and I realize that soon the naps, the diapers, the breastfeeding, and the babywearing will all slowly disappear. One day, I'll realize that she hasn't nursed in weeks. That she hasn't asked to go "uppy" in months. That she hasn't napped in weeks. We have passed so many last firsts, and now so many last lasts are on the horizon. The last time she asks for "nannies." The la

The sun has set on the first days of 2018. Gone is 2017 with its challenges and lessons. Gone is the pain and hurt and confusion. 2017 was full of difficult personal challenges, but I made it through by putting one foot in front of the other. As Dory says, by keeping on swimming. Because the alternative was not an option. I'm glad to see 2018 because there were moments that I pictured myself just walking off into the darkness leaving all that mattered behind me. The only reason I'm still standing here is because I knew that wasn't an option and I fought through it all. I enter 2018 with a renewed awareness of the world and myself. 2018 brings not a new me, because the old me is just fine, but an acceptance of who I am. I have learned and accepted that depression is probably not getting off this ride with me. When I turn 80, I'm sure depression will still be right there. An eternal (unwanted) life partner. A constant companion. Sometimes whispering its lies so they w

I lie in the dark, attempting to will sleep to come to me. All is quiet in the house except for the soft breathing of my sleeping children. I wrap myself up in the fleece sheets and feel the warmth flood my body, and still sleep does not come. The moon shines in my window and I get up to close the curtains. Flashbacks of the week flood my brain as I relive each moment where failure flooded my day. This parenting thing? It's not for the faint of heart. It's without a doubt the hardest, most thankless thing I have ever done in my life. Most days I waver between wondering what the hell I'm doing and hoping against all hope that nobody figures out that I'm just faking my way through it all. Every single day I find myself full of wrong choices and wrong reactions and wrong actions and so many wishes that I could start over and try again. It's bloody hard to be responsible for tiny humans. Beyond the mundane tasks of feeding and clothing them and making sure t

Recently I got lost in my diary from high school, and the more I read, the more my heart broke for 14 year old me. How worthless and unlovable I used to find myself! And how much I believed those lies. Signs of my depression peeking through amidst the teenage angst. I often wonder how I made it through. I started wondering what I would tell her if I could go back and comfort her. Timers on cameras and just hoping that it turned out okay! What do you tell someone who is hurting and only sees dark? What do you say to encourage a young girl who feels so alone? What words do you use? I would tell her that her worth is not tied to boys. That she is beautiful whether a boy thinks she is or not. That what these teenage boys think won't matter in a few years. That it's okay to be on her own and not be dating someone. That she doesn't need to do something just because a boy wants her to. That she is in charge of her body. That she will make mistakes but that they don&#

"Comparison is the thief of joy." That's what they say. I sit in the light of our Christmas tree, amongst the soft pillows on my couch, wrapped in the cozy comforts of an old blanket and I look around. I see photos of my loves, hear the laughter as they play downstairs, taste my hot coffee on my tongue, and smell the scent of Christmas beside me. Home surrounds me, in scent, taste, sounds, and sight. I am so blessed. And yet. And yet. And yet so often I feel like all this is not enough. Like I am not enough. I look past the carefully placed Christmas decorations that I lovingly and carefully put away each year. Many that I have made, some purchased new, some purchased secondhand. I see the scratches and dents on the walls that has come with 4 kids that are less than careful. Scratches that have come because of previous owners not painting over oil paint properly. I see furniture that we have had for years that has faded or has broken

The last of my babies sleeps on my body. Every night, when I lay my head on my pillow and pull the covers over my body, she usually worms her way to my armpit so that my arm must go either under her or at an awkward angle over and around her head. An awkward angle that any cosleeping parent knows well. Some nights, she is directly on my chest with her head wedged into my neck in such a way I'm surprised I don't wake up with a crick in my neck. And some nights, like tonight, she's tossed and turned and now lays with her head snuggled into my soft belly. I complain every night. I like my space when I sleep. I am a tummy sleeper. But, I deal with it and try to move my body slowly into a comfortable position for me while still not disturbing her. It doesn't usually work. I usually end up back in some contorted position just to keep her happy so she can nurse. I really should start insisting she sleep in her own bed. I really should night wean her. All the bo