You guys. I love love LOVE telling funny stories. Nothing makes me happier than to tell a good poop story or document reckless shopaholic behavior. Motherhood is freakin’ hilarious, and the funny bits are what I cherish the most, but motherhood is also sometimes confusing, lonely, gritty, messy, and sad.
When I’m not writing about the crappy (pun intended) aspects of a colonoscopy or toys that make me positively loony, you might just find me writing about my dying dog, my son’s sensory processing disorder, my fear of death, or my long ago molar pregnancy. It happens. I can’t control it. It’s me. It’s my journey. It’s my story.
Today, I’m proud (so proud that I have tears in my eyes) to introduce you to my first ever essay published on ScaryMommy.com (Holy crap!). It’s a piece about a not-so-fabulous chapter of my story, but it’s also about cleaning shit out, and cleaning almost always feels good. Except when I’m cleaning pee on the floor next to the toilet. That kind of cleaning never feels good.
So here it is:
HERE → http://www.scarymommy.com/the-things-we-keep/ ←HERE
Thank you to the moon and back for reading AND SHARING! Please, oh please, share this link! In doing so, you will be a part of a collective shout from the rooftop that shit happens. That motherhood is a climb. That sometimes we start off on the wrong foot, trip in the middle, or face-plant near the end. But, we pick ourselves up, we carry on, and we find the courage to let go of the things that hold us back and keep the things set us free.
What are the things you’ve kept (or thrown away)? I love comments. Leave them here or on ScaryMommy.com.
I wrote this post long before we learned of Robin Williams’ suicide. It has nothing to do with him, yet it’s somehow relevant because as I watched social media explode with both shocking sadness over his death and joyous tributes to his life, I experienced – once again – the power of the shared experience and our limitless capacity to help one another make sense of joy and tragedy.
In one day, I heard from one friend who had emergency surgery to remove an ectopic pregnancy and saw photos of another friend’s gender reveal cake on Facebook. (It’s a girl!) A few years ago, I experienced a similar onslaught of contrary news when one friend lost her young daughter to brain cancer on the same day as another friend gave birth to healthy baby girl.
Even further back, I remember the day my sister called to tell me she was pregnant with her second child. At the time, I was in the middle of weekly chemotherapy injections following my molar pregnancy. It’s hard to encapsulate the simultaneous feelings of joy, sorrow, hope, and despair I felt during that conversation, but I also know her good news was as difficult for her to share as it was for me to hear.
It’s frightening to think about the infinite beginnings, middles, and endings that are possible in motherhood (and in life), especially when the farthest ends of the good and bad news spectrum collide so often. I have nothing clever to say about any it, except that all of it reaffirms my belief in the power of the shared experience and our limitless capacity to help one another endure the heartbreaks, revel in the miracles, and carry the weight of it all in between.