Last week I left my baby girl, Mea, in the car. I was rushing from school to practice and my schedule was jam packed. I turned off the engine, tossed my keys in my purse, shut the door, and was annoyed that my big kids weren’t hustling. I had one foot inside the supermarket when I turned around to see my nine-year-old son carrying my baby girl. I ...
Most nights I lay awake in bed rehearsing different conversations I had throughout the day. I worry if I said or did the right thing. I calculate and rethink what I should or could have done. I wonder why someone didn’t text back. I toss and turn making plans to fix things tomorrow. Most mornings, my mind is running even before I open my eyes. ...
Eleven years ago I gave birth to my son, Manoah. On the day he was born, I made my mom a grandma. The baton of motherhood passed from her hand to mine, and we now held the same name — Mom. I remember seeing her eyes glow as she held my son, perhaps the same way they did when she held me decades before. Only a few days later, I pulled up to my ...
People told me there would be all-nighters. I was informed that when my milk came in, my breasts would feel like bags filled with rocks. I knew I would bleed for days after giving birth and my belly would be like jelly for, well, forever. Everyone told us to eat out as much as possible, go on a babymoon, go to the movies — all of which we did. I ...
