Posts Tagged ‘family’

This week we took on and conquered sleep training. Sleep has been an elusive beast in our house and sleep training a controversial subject. We wanted to assist our daughter in sleeping on her own, however, did not want to attempt many methods for various medical and personal reasons. So we picked a method that we hoped would work and although we were faced with a flurry of mixed emotion and high anxiety we were still determined to get this baby to go to sleep on her own.

Her new resistance to rocking was the push we needed to begin the process, a process I had studied endlessly. I should have learned by now that in parenting there is no rule book, no guidelines, no step-by-step tool, you just do it.

Night one we laid on our baby’s floor. The two of us. We listened to our baby cry and reach for us while we reassured her from below. My heart ached to jump up and rip her from her cage. To bring her to my chest and rock her until her eye lids fell, heavy with sleep.
I prayed she would just fall asleep, that she would understand this was the best thing for her. I prayed that God would rock her to sleep, that she would feel His arms around her and drift off. I tried to be tough telling myself that she wouldn’t remember any of this and she needed to learn to be a big girl.

I felt Brian’s hand grasp mine.
It tightened.
Tears were stinging my eyes as I fought to hold back my sobs.

After 20 minutes of hearing my child, my life, cry for me I reached my hand up through her crib bars and placed my hand on her mattress, smoothing it over her animal print crib sheet.
She slowly knelt, exhausted, and placed her tiny head into the palm of my hand.

That is where she stayed.

That night the three of us slept in my daughters room.
One in her crib.
Two on the floor.
My hand reaching into the crib so she could still feel the warmth of the body that she is naturally drawn to.
The body she grew in.
The body she knows as home.


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This Room



Burgundy walls divided midway by a green and gold border wrap like a ribbon around the room. If it was tied it would be at the closet by the hand picked shower curtains, used as closet doors, that match the pattern of the border perfectly.

The matching comforter and hand made window valance complete this room and make it perfect for a 14 year old girl.

In 1994.

A closer look reveals the years of joy, tears, memories, dreams, and angst.

The door is a different colour than those in the rest of the house, from the months the girl spent without one and learned that slamming said door was not the answer to her problems.

Behind the curtains that hang in the closet,  replacing the doors that were not closed properly, are stuffed animals once loved and believed to come to life, letters from old friends, and photo albums.

The walls whisper secrets told between girlfriends at sleepovers, secrets shared by the girl and her journal, secrets shared by the girl and her mom.

The plush carpet is stained from make up mishaps, spilled milk, and from tears.  Tears cried from a broken heart, a lost friendship, a misunderstanding, and from laughter.


The ceiling has cracks. It’s heard yelling and has held it in. Soaking in the I hate you’s and the leave me alone’s. It didn’t break or crumble, it stayed strong and supported the girl.

The paint is a playground of pin holes and tape that once held up posters of Dylan McKay and Madonna, Van Gogh and Monet; embracing who she would become.

The room as a whole is beautiful memories. Hugs, laughter, tears, and warmth.

Its growing up and comfort.

It shaped her….


Its home.


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Through Tears


This week’s Red Dress Club Red Writing Hood prompt asked you to begin your piece with the words, “I could never have imagined” and end it with “Then the whole world shifted.

My post is dedicated to my Mom.

I could never have imagined I would hear those words. I sat at the dining room table, staring at my mother, who’s eyes were already red, waiting for her to take it back, to tell me she was kidding. I looked at my dad but he wasn’t laughing. They were serious.

I was 16 years old, I was selfish, my social calendar was my prime concern, I knew it all and had the answers to everything.

I didn’t have an answer to this.

I looked at my mom, tears were streaming down her face now and she was wringing her hands. She looked at my brother and then me wanting badly for us to tell her we were happy, that we loved her, that we would embrace this news.

My heart pounded loud in my ears as my mom, through tears, told her story, stopping only to wipe her eyes and accept pats on the hand from my dad.

My dad.  Always supportive. I love this man more than words can express. My heart hurts when I try to voice how much.

My brother and I asked questions, we said hurtful things.

My mom’s years of pain didn’t register.

I was 16, I was selfish.

Anger swept over me and I wanted to cover my ears making it impossible for any more words to get in. I was the oldest and jealous of losing my place.

Sounds kept getting in and swirling around in my brain.

My mom had a baby.

She gave him a better home.

My mom is brave, strong, amazing, inspiring.

I have an older brother.

I wasn’t the oldest.

Then the whole world shifted.


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