The Wolf Pack

It was early February 2012, my neighbor called mid-afternoon asking if I would mind if she dropped off a chicken pot pie. She was making one for her family’s dinner and had extra that didn’t freeze well.  It was like manna from heaven and I graciously accepted. She knew Littles was brand new, but she had no idea the struggle I was in the midst of. For one night, I felt like a good mom, because my family had a hot, nutritious dinner.

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Blazing a New Trail instead of taking the Familiar

One of my greatest fears is that I won’t be the role model that my daughter deserves. This isn’t new. I felt at 21 weeks pregnant in the moment the ultrasound technician said, “It’s a girl!”

I have a mother who couldn’t have done it better. She would be quick to tell you that she was far from perfect, but that is exactly the mother I need. I needed to see that perfection isn’t what motherhood is about. Motherhood is a messy love like a pot of pork ragu that simmers for an entire day. Not made of any special ingreidents, but the preparation creates the ultimate richness and a splattery mess all over your stove.

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My People

Isolation is a powerful state. The idea of being separated from others makes most of us uncomfortable. It isn’t just physically being alone, it is the experience of loneliness. Frieda Fromm-Reichmann wrote a ground-breaking essay in the 1950s in which she talks about a topic that at the time was largely overlooked. She distinguished “real loneliness” from mourning, since the well-adjusted eventually get over that, and from depression, which may be a symptom of loneliness but is rarely the cause. Loneliness, she said is the want of intimacy. Isn’t it true, don’t we all need closeness and to feel cozy?

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