On Motherhood: Mornings like this

It's been one of those mornings. The ones where I muster all my strength to stop myself from screaming at my kids. The baby mashes his face against my breast, desperate to nurse, but then won't stay latched for more than 15 seconds. The toddler disagrees loudly with any and every suggestion.  No, not those shoes!  No, not wear this shirt! Evelyn want to brush hair!  No brush hair! It's been one of those mornings.

On Motherhood: Judgement

“Being a mother is learning about strengths you didn’t know you had, and dealing with fears you didn’t know existed.” -Linda Wooten I was afraid.  When I brought my daughter home from the birth center, I was terrified.  Not overtly.  Not openly.  Not wide-eyed and pale skinned.  But beneath all the joy, excitement, fatigue and…

Weak

A little piece of mine published recently on The Drabble.

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By Amye Hartfield

“It’s weak,” she announced, eyes sparkling. I laughed. I cried. I cried because she hadn’t spoken in months. I cried because her salty humor still existed. The disease hadn’t swallowed it as it had her bent body.

“Mom, it’s steamed vegetables,” I smiled, stabbing a broccoli crown, raising it to her paper lips. They remained closed and curved upward in a defiant smirk on a normally barren face. She was with me again, for a moment. Then, like lowering a yellow shade, her withering face went blank again. Wiping my eyes, I lifted another bland forkful to her open mouth.

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