parents
The boundless love a parent has for their child is matched only by their capacity to embarrass them.
An Emotional Rollercoaster No Parent Should Ever Have to Ride On
Every parent has gone through the emotional rollercoaster that is called Pregnancy whether it be the mom or the dad. I mean, you've read all the books...twice, you've gone to every doctors appointment, you have the nursery all set up, names picked out, you're ready for the little one, right? What if I told you that some parents have to get on another emotional rollercoaster called the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit (NICU) before they can bring their baby home? The NICU is the place where babies who are born before 37 weeks live until they are strong enough to go home. Some parents are only on the NICU rollercoaster for a couple days, some a couple months, some others even for a year or longer.
Katie WeedPublished 7 years ago in FamiliesMy Raging Father
I grew up with an abusive father. You could tell time by his rage, coming home and yelling at us the moment the door opened. I was the baby, and the daughter, so was mostly left alone. He saved his anger, his fists and berating language for my mother and brother. You see, my father was raised by a mother who hated boys, and she had only one. So, he was abused and treated like nothing. He, in turn, did the same to his first wife and son, and then to my mother and brother. I can remember waking up to my father dragging my mom up the stairs by her hair, and then beating her in front of my bedroom door while I screamed at him to stop. The voice of a five year old screaming is mostly filled with gulps of fear and sobbing, so it was easy to ignore, I suppose. I ran out that night and grabbed him, pulling on his shirt with my small hands and yelling at him to stop, which he did - long enough to kick me with his size 12 cowboy boots on. The kick sent me flying back into my room, and he lost his grip on my mother long enough for her to run to me, to cradle me, and everything went quiet for a moment. All I cold hear from my father's breathing, and my mother's heartbeat. When he walked into my room, I ran to him to try and block him from attacking her again and he did stop, but not from my force. Who knows why. He turned an stormed out and I told my mother, "any time he is mad I am going to run and hug him and it will stop him from getting you." She hugged me and I flinched. We peeled back the elastic waistband of my pajama pants to find a perfect heel mark on my hip, now missing skin, from where he kicked me. That was the only time my father hit me, but I remember it like it was yesterday... when he kicked me I lifted into the air and flew backwards, like some slow motion scene from a movie. I felt the air leave my body, and the moment I hit the ground I was gasping for it, trying to will it back into my body like some fleeing soul. Before I could breathe again, my mother was there, gently coaxing it back in for me, with her arms and her tears and her love. She is the air I breathe. She is my savior and the hero of my, my brother, and her own life. My memories of my father, now dead 12 years, are filled with pain and hurt and lies. Of being left in cars while he went into pubs to drink with strange women, of me going into the bar and dragging him out, t drive me back home, stonking of beer and cigarettes and cheap perfume. Of hiding under my bed when he would rage at me for wanting the light on in the hallway so I would be safe from the other monsters, even though he was he scariest of them all. Of being his alibi, when he would take me out of school to "spend the day with me", only to lock me in the car so he could go up to some woman's apartment in the city to cheat on my mom. I remember all those moments with crystal clarity.. the rain falling on the roof of the car while I scrunched down on the floorboard to make myself small so no one would try to steal me. Fearing every footstep outside, and of anyone noticing me in there all alone. It was the 70's so it was okay to leave a small child in the car for hours, apparently. And that moment when he returned, barking at me to get in the seat and off the floor. My ex-husband, so like my father in every way, once asked me about a good memory of my Dad and I could not find one. Every okay moment was tainted with his rage, or lies, or abuse. The only good memories of childhood are swirled in the comfort and love of my mother. Her warmth, her lover, and the smell of Jovan Musk, the only perfume she has even worn. She is why I am able to love and have trust. My life with my father lasted nine years, before we escaped, and ran from him. Before we were safe and I suddenly knew what life was like in a house with no noise, no screaming, no tears, no abuse. But, nine years is a long time, when it's all you know. It makes a dent in your soul that you can never buff out. So, I am going to talk about it, write about it, and tell the tale of my mother and me, and how we both survived these men, and how I am still now fighting mine, seven years after leaving him. ...to be continued...
Michelle CraigPublished 7 years ago in FamiliesCaspian and the Loss of His Mother
With each passing day, I realise more how much I hate the press and the media. But I've never hated it quite so much as when I was younger and it annoys me to the point that I need to lash out with my thoughts. When I was kid, way before I met Caspian, I had felt sorry and upset for him and his brother; I would pray for him and his brother to be looked after in the trying years that faced them and for the years to come. They have turned out to be two handsome men, living life to the fullest, counting their blessings every day and knowing that their mother is watching over them making her proud.
Lizzy ArrowPublished 7 years ago in FamiliesPostnatal Anxiety
I am a mother to two fabulous children. I am alive. These are two important facts you need to know. You need to know them because the latter fact is one that I wasn't sure would be true following their births. I will start from the very beginning, and if you are suffering with anxiety while reading this, take a break every so often to process each part of the story. I promise it helps.
Fliss GoldsmithPublished 7 years ago in FamiliesA Little Closure
I think it's reasonable to guess that almost everyone in the world has experienced a situation in which they have received no closure. Whether it be an incident, a relationship, an experience, an addiction or lifestyle, I believe we all have dealt with something that moved us deeply and created a wound which refuses to close. In fact, I think it's safe to say the majority of people have experienced several things in their life in which closure seems out of reach.
Hope MartinPublished 7 years ago in FamiliesBroken Families and Deception
What’s family and why does it even exist? Does family still have value and importance? Is family something we all need or even truly want? These are only just a few questions I ponder in my own reflection upon life as I observe “the family” I branch from as well as other families I see. So much happens in life and the lives we all live. Some things have quick answers and others may take quite some time to connect the dots to for answers. From the previous questions I asked before, I would answer family is important because it’s the starting foundation of life and, if handled with the right essential care, it can be something extremely beautiful to experience. Unfortunately, not so many people come from a functional, well-balanced family. We all may have heard the old saying that everything starts at home. This statement has some validity towards everyone’s upbringing within life, but my question would be where do some families go wrong or get off track so to speak? Are some broken families beyond repair, or is the root issue much deeper on a spiritual and mental level? I personally see and acknowledge that, of course, everyone’s perception is not going to be the same for obvious reasons, but what should be the same is the genuine love, happiness, and joy that everyone should display as well as share with others.
Phanicha PalmorePublished 7 years ago in FamiliesStarting Over
"Wow! You started all over, didn't you?!" That's something I hear often when people ask me how old my kids are. My daughters are 15, 13, two-and-a-half, and one. I really did space them out, didn't I? I was a very young mom when I had my first two babies. It was tough but I wouldn't trade them for anything. Things didn't work out with their father and years later I found myself with the man of my dreams, the man I deserved.
Linnea RuzzoPublished 7 years ago in FamiliesI Have No Interest in Being Anyone's Mommy
I have no aspirations of being a parent. When I was a kid, it was the standard. Every girl wanted to grow up, have a career, get married, have a family, do it all. Two point five children, a dog, a white picket fence, a six-figure income. Although as kids, we probably didn’t fully understand “six-figure income.”
D. Gabrielle JensenPublished 7 years ago in FamiliesMy D*d Was a Bastard
1920s Kesh must have been a great place to be a bastard. Despite its railway station, it was a small rural community that more probably resembled the 19th (or even 18th) century than it did the 20th. Village gossip (everyone knew everyone else’s business) would be exchanged at the market as well as the two watering holes (The Mayfly Inn & the village pump), and boy, there must have been some proper tittle-tattle when it was discovered that my grandmother, Margaret, had become pregnant by a local copper.
Kevin McClintockPublished 7 years ago in FamiliesHow Well Do You Know Your Parents?
How well do you know your parents? I do not mean their names and age but know how they spent their youth? What is their favorite color? What do they really like to eat? How many lovers did they have?
Peter RosePublished 7 years ago in FamiliesParenting Tips for New Parents
When you first find out that you're expecting, it's normal to be overjoyed — and also pretty scared. Your world is going to change, and everyone will let you know it. Being a parent is never going to be easy, but the truth is that it will be rewarding in its own right.
Stephanie GladwellPublished 7 years ago in FamiliesDad
It's been a long time since we have been able to talk. There is a lot you have missed, and a lot that hasn't happened since you left. There isn't a day that you don't cross my mind. You will never get to see how I have grown and you will never get to understand how your passing has changed me into a stronger individual.
Keelan CooperPublished 7 years ago in Families