Posts on Twitter:

Girl's Floral Printed Dress

This incident that I have been referring to started when my mother found a toy gun in the backyard when she was gardening.

"Whether spending your days zipping up and down the cobblestone streets of Europe or heading out on the long, country roads across the United States, Clek car seats are the best choice for families around the world."

Being a can seem quite frightening at first. The good news is not only will you get used to it, but you will love every minute of it. 👶😍

One of our member's testimony. We admire the way she has invested in herself in her betterment to be a healthy mother. "IN ORDER TO TAKE CARE OF YOUR KIDS, TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF FIRST"

Posts on Tumblr:

“Our country cares about the wellbeing of our mothers”, Soviet poster by V. Koretsky (1940)

(For Russian grammar scholars: check out the obsolete form of the word счастье.)

Trauma is a curious thing.

I have trauma. A medly of types from across my life. This entire week is a massive traumaversary for me from my most recent trauma. It was medical and I am still recovering physically a year later and it altered my health for the rest of my life. I was fine before, okay the first day and kinda ok on the second, but at third day I am really spacey, I physically hurt, my mouth is dry, I feel like everything is too loud and too close. I want to be alone with my baby in a dark room, away from everyone, quiet, safe. But I also want to be in that room alone to close my eyes and cry unabashed all alone. I feel removed, others feel distant, disappointed in me for one reason or another. I feel guilty, tired, sad. I feel like dying would be a reasonable way to just stop feeling like this, stop sabotaging my family’s stability….but I can’t because I love my son more than I could ever love myself and I want anybody to raise him but me.

Son, I’m sorry if I’m not a good mother. I never expected to have you in my life. I never planned to be a mother because I was always quite sure I would fail. I grew up so alone with a mother who I could never trust. Now that I’m older, I’m not sure how to build a home.

These past years I’ve met my demons, and I can’t honestly say I’ve won every battle. Some mornings I wake up and can feel the weight of the world on my shoulders. All the colors I used to adore turn to grey. I try to smile for you, but I can’t always fake the emptiness away.

Yet, here I am supposed to be a superhero. Strong and lively. Full of fight. I’m just not feeling it today. So I’m sorry, son. I’ll always be your mother, but I’ll come wrapped in bandaids covering deep wounds.

Marriage and family are not the end. You don’t die just because you now share your life. I say this from experience: your family can be your greatest cheerleading squad when it comes to still trying everything. Nothing has to be compromised because those you love you won’t stop you. They just want to share your joy and I think that’s a good thing.



Now it is no secret that bringing a life into world will change you; Mentally, Emotionally and Physically!

But I feel like even as a second time mom WHO KNOWS my “Bounce Back Game” is weak we have this notion we will Snap right back to it and the FACT IF THE MATTER IS not all are so “lucky”.

It’s literally most of the time genetics or people who trained their body beforehand and it’s almost like muscle memory!

I am the biggest I have ever been and I’m not neccesarily insecure or hate my body but I do constantly joke around that I am fat. And the fact is that yes I am.

I am chubby and I am jiggle. I am up sizes in pants and nope I DO NOT KNOW MY WEIGHT and I am okay with that.

I know in due time weight will slowly drop. I know it can drop faster if I put my mind to it to work out.

But I am also okay with eating healthier and letting time do it’s thing. I may have a stomach that hangs over my undergarments and a double chin and all the other things motherhood has to offer us but I just wanna be a REMINDER to you that even if you DON’T fully like what you see right now, KNOW THAT YOU ARE SO BEAUTIFUL And we are all made differently and that it is OKAY ❤

Infertility: Always Hoping For Better Days

To all of you women out there who have faced infertility issues, my prayers are with you. The struggles that come with this journey I wouldn’t wished on my enemy. 

As easy as it is to drift into a pity party or deep depression, I am determined to look at this journey in a positive light. So I highlighted some of the things that are helping me get through it.

1. Frequent Sex: My husband and I don’t have to have sex to get pregnant. We can have sex to enjoy each other and know that when the time is right, we’ll be blessed with a child. After designating sex schedules and trying so hard during my ovulation periods, we were tired out and sex became a chore. That’s when we began to re-think. Do we really want to put a huge damper on our sex life?  Who says making a baby can’t be fun. Stressing sure is hell won’t get us closer to conceiving.

2. The Waiting Time Can Be a Blessing: We spend so much time waiting for that positive pregnancy test or that moment of confirmation from the doctor that we fail to see the essence in waiting. Waiting time is preparation time. Time to get your financial affairs in order. Time to strengthen your marriage before a baby comes. Time to prepare your body for pregnancy and work on your health. Maybe even go on a vacation that you know you couldn’t once you’re pregnant. One thing I’ve always heard is, “When you least expect it, you’ll be pregnant.” And I believe it because I’ve seen it countless time. As soon as I focus on the life I have and the people I have now, it will happen.

3. This Will One Day Be a Testimony: I used to spend so much time envying people who could get pregnant at the drop of a hat. Now I’ve learned to appreciate the struggle in my journey. When God does bless me with a child I’ll be that much more appreciative for the honor of motherhood. My mom used to say, “the best blessings come with the greatest hardship”.

anonymous asked:

Unforgettable proud mother moments for both (or separate) Faberry aside from the expected ones like them graduating etc.

Well, you know Quinn is pretty proud when Callie helps prank her mama on April 1st. :P  

I imagine they’ll both have a number of proud mother moments over Callie’s scholastic aptitude. I mean, come on, just imagine them both preening whenever someone tells them how brilliant their daughter is. 

And Rachel will definitely be a proud mama every time Celeste snags a prominent role in her school plays. And that pride will only double if/when Celeste makes a name for herself in the entertainment business. 

Nor are women in foraging societies tied down by child rearing. One anthropologist, working with an African hunter-gatherer society in the 1960s, calculated that an adult woman typically walked about twelve miles a day gathering food, and brought home anywhere from fifteen to thirty-three pounds.  A woman with a child under two covered the same amount of ground and brought back the same amount of food while she carried while she carried her child in a sling, allowing the child to nurse as the woman did her foraging.
—  (Stephanie Coontz)

I’m holding onto the two orange segments, the sushi lunch, and the Christmas Gifts he’s promised like they are gifts from God. Give me anything and I’ll take it. Even if it’s sandwiched between constant skepticism, glares, and subtle jabs.

Yesterday, I confronted him about wanting to get the boy psycho-educationally tested. He’s performing poorly in school but on his testing, he’s scoring in the 98%th percentile. I know that you’re not supposed to do this, but I showed the boy what percentile rankings meant as a way to say, “Hey, you can’t hide your smarts from us. We know you can do the work and you have to do it.”  But when you’re an 8-year-old who sees the earth as a speck floating in an infinite space and humans as invisible dots on a speck, I understand how it would be hard to feel motivated to do busy work in second grade – and I definitely see how it could pose problems when it gets tossed in with the madness of pre-pubescence and a bad relationship with a father.

 My husband became upset when I suggested the testing because “there is nothing wrong” and I see the testing as a way to instead, see what’s very right and help him figure out how to work it.  I was scared to bring it up because our opinions are different and to my recently my husband explained that a difference of opinion is evidence of incompatibility.

Last night I asked, “Do you mind if I have a glass of wine or will that make it hard for you?” This was after Thanksgiving Night, when he got drunk, frightened the children, and passed out in my daughter’s room. In the middle of the night, I heard the front door open and stay open for about ten minutes. When I went out to investigate, I found him standing in the azalea bushes staring at nothing. There was a splattering of something wet on the front porch. It’s been a week and my preschooler still brings it up with me in the car and she brings it up with him when he tucks her in at night. He’s un-phased.         

“I’m going to drink again, you know. It’s been a week and I feel fine. I’m not going to quit drinking forever.” It’s true, too. He has a plan to take the train to the city with his friend on Friday. In his defense, he’s talked to his mom about the drinking and I have too.

His mom says she brought it up with a family friend and the consensus was, “He’s an artist. It’s just how he is.”

 I know there are plenty of artists who aren’t like this    

My husband planned on making a nice dinner and hemmed and hawed about going to the liquor store for some beer. I encouraged him to do as he wished and he went. I was having a nice time last night (things are hard, so I try to embrace a little levity when I can get it). I was playing the kid’s recorder, goofing off, solo-ing terribly to a David Byrne record that he put on. The kids were enjoying some screen time. My husband joked, “Would you like me to film this for you? It could be a vanity project.” He injected only a little bit of disdain and I disregarded it.  He seemed like he was enjoying my making a fool of myself and I was too.

Later, we ate dinner, and after, our daughter asked for an orange.  As I was at the counter peeling it for her, my husband said, “One of your legs is much larger than the other one.” 

Aside from saying I looked like Ben Franklin or David Foster Wallace (lady’s dream comparisons), he’s never really commented on my physical appearance. On occasion, he has said I looked nice when I’ve spent unreasonable amounts on my hair and makeup before an event. It’s fine, I don’t need a lot of complements on my physical appearance (I generally believe if people are sort of fit, content, and move around a little then they probably look ok) and I can even handle jabs too – but the proportion of my legs was something that I was pretty sure about and, considering the status of our relationship, it stung when he said that.

I looked down and laughed, “No, it’s not. Do you have Other Body Dysmorphia?” He then started digging in a serious way, and brought our 4-year-old into the debate asking her to – get this – pick which of my legs was different. I found a piece of string, measured the largest width circumference of my calves and proved to myself that my calves were not disproportionately muscular and let it go. It made him angry that I did that.

Later that night, I got my daughter ready for bed as my husband cleaned up dinner. My daughter always likes to spend some time with her father at bedtime but right as I put her down, he started playing electric guitar at a loud volume. I went down to ask why he was doing that at our daughter’s bedtime and he again became angry, explaining that he had wanted to play guitar all day but couldn’t because he had cooked dinner (as though it was my fault he decided to cook dinner and go to the liquor store.) He started cussing and yelling at me.  (this is something that I have been guilty of too – but I have begun to recognize my triggers) but eventually came around to saying goodnight to his daughter.  When things escalate my lately my refrain is, “You have to talk to me if you want something. We can make a plan – but I can’t read your mind. Things are tense right now. I feel like we really make an effort to be gentle to each other”.

At the end of the night, after he put the kids to bed I tried to talk to him as he was writing an email to his friend. The only thing he said was, “I never want to start a fight with you.” Which, judging from the past several months, I guess I should interpret as “I never want you to confront me.”

When he acts like this: when he lies to the therapist while he sits next to me in couples counseling, when he makes me question my sanity, when he denies that things he did happened, when he tells me that I’m expressing my concerns to manipulate him or start a fight, I feel like my world has turned into a hallway of funhouse mirrors.  The funny thing is: I know that he is distorting reality. He’s treating me terribly, his relationship with his son is rocky, and so far, he’s treating our daughter fairly well – but I don’t know how long that will continue. If he wants an ally, it could be indefinite – she does remind him of his mother’s family.

Here is why I stay when things are so bad:       

·             He wasn’t always like this so there is a part of me that knows this isn’t him. He used to follow social norms: if he accidentally hurt someone, he could apologize. If I hurt him, he could tell me and I could say “sorry”. If someone was happy, he would join in their happiness instead of trying to bring them down. He didn’t blame me for all of his feelings of disgust and irritability.

·             By spending so much of last summer fighting, we’ve taken so much away from our children. I want us to try to do something right for them – and divorce is terrible for them. Because we have young kids, we will also still be in eachother’s lives if we get a divorce.  we will still disagree about parenting, he and the boy will still resent each other, I just won’t be around as support for the boy when his father yells at him  to “be a man” or kicks a soccer ball at him.

Here is my plan for now:

·             Keep going to therapy, embrace that I am fine. I’m not perfect – but I am definitely not the vain, manipulative, monster that someone is trying to convince me that I am.

·             Be attentive and loving to my children and accept that I am the only one who is providing warmth and security to my son right now.

·             Get the kids out into the world and let them dive into what they are great at. Help my son find positive male role models and reinforce that he can be like a good man that he admires if he wants to. Listen to him.  Encourage him to defend himself.  Let him know when he is right to be upset and when he needs to reframe his thinking (e.g. it’s ok for your dad to ask you to clean your room; it’s not ok to for him to hurt you or make you feel small or scared.)

·             Give back to my support system, spend time with them, try to have fun, try to provide warmth

This was a really hard day so I want to end this with a soft, soothing and heartwarming thought.

I think Ginger would’ve been a wonderful mother. Truly such a lovely and beautiful mother. ♡


God bless her.

And if anybody possesses some photoshop skills or knows someone who does, it would be a truly marvellous Christmas present for all of us if you could put Freddie in a picture like this. That would be just amazing!