Last Saturday, I pawed through a time capsule of sorts. Let’s call it “parenthood.”
The day before, my second son wheeled his carry-on through security, moving out of our home–to be fair, as we knew what happened when he was wrestled from my abdomen on an unseasonably warm January day 18 years ago. He finished high school in December. It’s time.
I once sat with a friend whose child’s needs are so severe, it’s almost impossible for my friend to feel connected to them. Or to feel like they’re offering their child much of value.
Grief, alienation, and anger creased my friend’s features.
Today, my oldest is headed for continued training with the Marines; the 1987 Nissan Z he’s been flipping–the one the still needs the muffler?–sits resignedly outside. My youngest, a delight and a straight-up handful, is with extended family. And thanks to this past year’s new puppy, I’m up early.
(This morning’s tea choice: Stash’s Licorice Spice. But since we’re talking New Year’s, my favorite of 2022 has definitely been Tazo’s Glazed Lemon Loaf.)
So–a lot of women I know are in that window of life where one’s body starts needing repair from growing, then expelling a human.
If you’re not there? Hey, super-fun stuff.
Months ago, I stumbled upon what I thought was an epiphany: silicone scar strips…which promised, with 4.5 stars on Amazon, to fade stretch marks, people.
My heart lifted. My first child ballooned my belly like a watermelon, complete with stripes. When another mother asked to glimpse my stretch marks after I mentioned their severity, she gasped aloud with some equivalent of Good golly.
![Now You're Speaking My [Love] Language](https://www.janelbreitenstein.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/08/love-languages-text-1.jpg "Now You're Speaking My [Love] Language")
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