Confessions of a Daughterless Mother

Parenting magazine used to come to my house. A monthly edition - right to my mailbox! Any downtime I had was spent reading tidbits that applied to my new role as momma. From that magazine I got the idea to stow away a small disposable camera in different areas of the house - so that I would always be ready to snap a photo of my boys milestones. No missing Jackson's first steps because I couldn't find my camera! Can you imagine! It seems archaic now - with a smart phone in every pocket of jeans walking around this house - that I would have ever feared missing a first word, a first step, a cute pose.  If social media had been around when the boys were little I would have been the first to post the photo I took of them out in the front yard - naked except for cowboy boots - covered in mud after an excursion of frog hunting ... "Look at my crazy boys!" I would have posted. "I wouldn't trade them for the world ..." I would have added. I would have po...

Sleep was hard to come by when my boys were little. Not always because their little motors wouldn't idle, often because mine would cease to rest. My fears, bite size during the day, became larger than life when dusk turned to night. Resting my head on my pillow signaled instant panic, my eyes stretching open to grasp any ray of light, my heart pounding. My nightly safety rounds, looking in on each little body, laying a hand on their chest to be sure their quiet breath was still rising and falling, did little to abate my anxiety. I took to laying on the floor next to their beds, traveling under the darkness from room to room. Laying in wait for the danger in my mind to explode into my life, hurt my boys and destroy me.  My anxiety was particularly difficult after Aiden was born - I struggled with post partum depression featuring anxiety and panic attacks. My lack of sleep fed my demons, the more tired I became the larger the dangers would loom. As day broke, I could find my f...