My kindergartener has been having trouble sleeping and has been fighting me on going to school, unusual for him. I asked him what was wrong, he said he didn’t want to talk about it. I had my husband ask him and that’s when we found out the reason for all the odd behavior. He confided in my husband that he’s being bullied by a kid in his class and when they get sent to the bathroom the boy punches him in the head and kicks him. The bully goes so far that he even threatens that if my son speaks up it will only be worse the next day. My heart literally broke for him. It’s unbelievable that kids can be so cruel at 5 years old. As sorry as I felt for my son I felt bad for the boy that comes into school with so much rage and hatred that he would do that to his classmates. School no longer feels like a safe place for my 5 year old boy who may be strong and a fast runner but is the shortest kid in class. His innocence that I cherish may be the reason why he’s the target. My husband and I explained to him that if anyone ever for any reason hurts him we give him the ok to stand up for himself but in this case he’s so afraid that he just can’t. I wish I could walk into that school and pull that bully out by his ear. Why do we have to worry about bullying in kindergarten? Why are kids assholes at 5 years old? You get pregnant, give birth, love, care for the child, try to teach them right from wrong. When they start school you pray that you did enough for them to be on their own, pick their own friends, do the right thing. The thing you never expect and can’t prepare for is feeling helpless. I went to the school, met with the principal and teacher. Since there are no witnesses and my son didn’t “tell them” himself and according to them it happens after school hours, the principal said that it’s not the school’s responsibility but that she would follow up with the after school program that he attends. Walking out of that meeting I realized everything that is wrong with this world. Bruises on my 5 year olds ribs and back, are not enough “proof that is was done by the boy in his class”. So my question is what needs to happen for them to get involved? I was promised that they will no longer be allowed in the bathroom at the same time, that was pretty much the extent of the punishment. The sad thing is that my son holds his pee and avoids using the bathroom at school at all cost. Society makes such a big deal about bullying, but only when it’s too late.

C-section

Since April is a C-section awareness month I thought I would share my experience. My son was born “naturally” after the world’s best pregnancy. My pregnancy with my daughter 3 years later was anything but easy. I was sick for most of it and at my 38 week appointment I got news that she was breech. Lack of breath that I thought was from her butt being in my rib cage was actually her head. I was scheduled for a version procedure the next day. I showed up and did another ultrasound and my little flipper was in the right spot! A few days later however she was breech again. I was admitted into the hospital and had 3 versions, yes 3. After the last one they actually tied bed sheets around my belly to keep her in place. I was induced, they broke my water. Labor lasted for 2 days but felt like weeks. 3 epidurals, 2 days of contractions, I was so weak and only at 9.5 centimeters. I was told that I had to wait until I was at 10 to push. Hours went by and my body was done. I was told that my daughter’s head was stuck and I would need an emergency C-section. They rolled me away and handed scrubs to my husband. I have never had surgery before, I’m not good with pain. I had chills to the point that my hands were shaking. I cried the whole time. When they allowed my husband to be by my side I made him promise to tell our son that mama loves him in case something happens. Yes I know a bit dramatic but in that moment I really thought that I might die. I didn’t see my baby first but I heard her cry. They weight her, measured her height and only then wrapped her up and handed her to my husband. He held her by my head and I finally met the little lady that’s been renting out my belly for the past 9 months. She was beautiful, our little Eleanor. My husband held her for the rest of my surgery. They rolled me into the recovery room and I was in and out for most of the night. I was in so much pain. When I would ask about the baby I was told that she’s in the nursery so that I can rest. The next day I finally held my child. I thought that if I tried to stand up my insides would just fall out of my stomach. I know how crazy that sounds but I really thought that the scar would rip. I never understood how important skin to skin was with a baby until that day. I didn’t get to have that with her and even though she was mine I didn’t feel connected. I had to have my husband be the one to pick her up and hand her to me, I felt so helpless. What kind of mother can’t pick up her own baby? She would cry and my husband would whisper sweet nothings in her ear and she would stop. To this day I know she feels safe with him, she knows his hands were the first real touch that she had, she knows his smell and voice. I already had a child and I loved him so much I wondered if my heart could love her too. I was worried that maybe my son would feel like he’s missing out with the new baby getting all the attention. He surprised me and embraced the role of big brother since day one. I learned that time really does heal all things and the scar that I thought would split open is still intact. The baby that I didn’t feel connected to is almost 2 and is the most amazing little girl. She can light up any room and her laugh is contagious. My heart made room for her and I can honestly say I love both my kids the same. People that think having a C-section is the easy way out probably never had one, so please keep your opinions to yourself. And to all the moms that have the scar- you are superstars! It doesn’t matter how you became a mother, natural birth or C-section what matters is how you raise your kids.

enough

Motherhood is hard. No one warns you about how challenging and stressful it is. No matter how organized you are or how well you plan, the laundry will never be caught up and there will be days that you just want to get in your car and drive off a cliff. When I get home from work, I always need a few minute to unwind and change into comfy clothes. Now imagine trying to do that and hearing “mama, when can I do that? When can I do this? Can you buy me that? What’s for dinner?”. All while someone is hugging your leg. Privacy going to the bathroom is nonexistent when you become a mom. Constant feeling of not being good enough, guilt of working too much, spending too much time on my phone are all things I battle with daily. Irritation of having to repeat myself 17 times about cleaning their room, putting on shoes, eating all their meals, brushing their teeth is another challenge. I’m sure it seems like I don’t like being a mother, sometimes that is true. I hate to admit that but I have to be honest, it’s hard. I love my kids more than anything but at times I feel like when I became a mom I lost myself. I lost my independence, ability to say yes when friends ask to go out, going out to dinner with my husband or simply watching a movie. On days when life gets to me and I lose my will to keep going I know I have to get out of bed and keep going. My babies are counting on me, they are my motivation to do better, to keep going to a job that I hate until I find something else. I want to be a good mom, I want them both to grow up and look back on their childhood and only have good memories. I want them to never question my love for them. I wish mental health was as easy to fix as a broken bone, put a cast on it. On the bad days when I let my anxiety win being a mom is 100 times harder. The amount of weight I have on my chest that there are times they don’t get the best version of me is hard to accept. The crazy part is that they accept me. To them I am mom. To them I am not the 34 year old that is still “trying” to buy a house, not a stressed out woman that hates her job, not the irritated individual, I am their mom. The one that comforts them before bed time, kisses all the boo boos, supports their dreams, saves all their artwork and cheers the loudest at all the games. They love me for the simple fact that I am their mom and that is enough, I am enough. 1/19/2022