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Free writing: Write for five consecutive minutes on the word “jump” as it pertains to this past year. No editing. Set a timer. Just write.
Ok. This year, I jumped into full-on parenting. This year, I jumped headlong into it. Not easy. Definitely, not easy. Hard. Very hard. I doubted this jump. I criticized this jump. I had much angst over the jump. I wasn’t afraid. That part wasn’t a jump, it was the lifestyle choices that went along with it. I didn’t live a wild and crazy life beforehand, but I’d never been fully all-the-time-completely in charge of another person. I’d had my share of relationships where I was more the adult, but never have I fully all-the-time-completely been responsible for anyone else. That was hard. Other than recovering from the pregnancy, that was the hardest. No, I take that back. Breastfeeding was the hardest.
I was a breastfed baby. My siblings were breastfed babies. Breastfeeding always seemed the natural and normal thing to do. But, breastfeeding was hard – at first. I didn’t have the kind of support I wanted or yearned to have. I didn’t have a mother who called asking how things were going, encouraging me, letting me cry or vent or be frustrated. I had Hun. Thank goodness for him, he said encouraging words, gave hugs, allowed me space and time to figure it out. Hun was supportive. Hun is a man though. His support was the best he could give.
*Well that’s my 5 minutes. Baby is beginning to fuss. Guess I’m posting now. I do have to say, I feel cut off. My thoughts aren’t done….