Mommy, You Don't Have to be Sorry

Disclaimer: Not written by me

Dear Mommy,

You don’t have to be sorry.

The other day, I heard you crying in the bathroom. That was the day that you just couldn’t take it anymore. My brother spilled a gallon of organic milk, which apparently “costs more than college,” and I had an accident on the floor. We both had been screaming and crying all day, and we wouldn’t leave you alone even though you asked for just five minutes. You locked yourself in the bathroom, and you cried. When you came out, you hugged both of us, and you said you were sorry.

Mommy, you don’t have to be sorry.

Then there was that day that you were on your phone. A lot.
You said there were some things you wanted to read and pictures you wanted to see. When you tucked me in at night, you told me you were sorry you were on the phone so much.

Mommy, you don’t have to be sorry.

I remember the day that I was following you around the house crying because I wanted to be held, but you had so much cleaning to do because Grandma was coming. Once all the cleaning was done, you picked me up and cuddled with me on the couch for a minute before I jumped off your lap. That one minute was all I needed, but I saw the look on your face.

It’s the same look you make when you tell Daddy, “One day soon, they won’t want to be held at all.”

Mommy, you don’t have to be sorry.

Remember the day you yelled really loudly at me? So loud that it scared me and I started crying? And I was confused because I was scared and I usually want you when I’m scared, but you were the person who scared me, and I didn’t know what to do? Your face softened right away, and you picked me up and promised never to make that sound again.

Mommy, you don’t have to be sorry.

You don’t have to be sorry that you have bad days. I have bad days, too, and you always tell me that it’s OK to have a bad day.

You don’t have to be sorry that you didn’t make dinner. I love when you tell us that dinner is a picnic and we snack off a cheese plate that you put on a blanket on the floor.

You don’t have to be sorry that I didn’t get a bath last night because you were too tired, or that you didn’t want to read a third story, or that you got frustrated because I kept crawling out of bed.

Mommy, I see you. I may not always thank you, or tell you I love you, or do what you want me to do, but I do see you.

On the days when you feel sorry, please remember the way my face lights up when you walk in the door, or how your kisses are somehow magic when I’m hurt.

You don’t have to be sorry.

When no one else understands what I’m saying, you do.

When no one else can comfort me, you can.

When no one else could put up with my bad days, you do.

You may not be perfect, but you are the perfect mommy for me.

Love,

Your baby

Can You Hear Me, Mother?

I found this across the web years ago, and I came across it again today. I am not trying to change your views and beliefs for anything. I simply felt the urge to share this with you all after I read it. I thought it was a very moving piece.

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I know some people feel like there should be the ability to have abortions. I understand especially if they were raped, but there are better ways to handle it. You can view the baby as a gift from God instead of a burden from a traumatic experience.

Month one
Mommy
I am only 8 inches long
but I have all my organs.
I love the sound of your voice.
Every time I hear it
I wave my arms and legs.
The sound of your heart beat
is my favorite lullaby.

Month Two
Mommy
today I learned how to suck my thumb.
If you could see me
you could definitely tell that I am a baby.
I'm not big enough to survive outside my home though.
It is so nice and warm in here.

Month Three
You know what Mommy
I'm a boy!!
I hope that makes you happy.
I always want you to be happy.
I don't like it when you cry.
You sound so sad.
It makes me sad too
and I cry with you even though
you can't hear me.

Month Four
Mommy
my hair is starting to grow.
It is very short and fine
but I will have a lot of it.
I spend a lot of my time exercising.
I can turn my head and curl my fingers and toes
and stretch my arms and legs.
I am becoming quite good at it too.

Month Five
You went to the doctor today.
Mommy, he lied to you.
He said that I'm not a baby.
I am a baby Mommy, your baby.
I think and feel.
Mommy, what's abortion?

Month Six
I can hear that doctor again.
I don't like him.
He seems cold and heartless.
Something is intruding my home.
The doctor called it a needle.
Mommy what is it? It burns!
Please make him stop!
I can't get away from it!
Mommy! HELP me!

Month Seven
Mommy
I am okay.
I am in Jesus's arms.
He is holding me.
He told me about abortion.
Why didn't you want me Mommy?

A Woman's Right - Breastfeeding in Public

Have you ever seen a mother breastfeed her child in public? After all, it is a natural body function, and it is legal in multiple states.

Why should these mothers be looked at any differently than any other women walking down on the street? The baby is simply eating his/her meal just as any toddler or adult would. Would you stare at other people over the age of 3 for eating in public? Perhaps in the library where they aren’t supposed to or if they were making some kind of dramatic scene, but in most cases, you wouldn’t give them a second thought.

But, is there a line as to where these mothers can breastfeed their child?

Don’t get me wrong. I have nothing against breastfeeding in public. I work at a retail store that sells baby clothes, and we have a special chair just for mothers who wish to breastfeed their child in. I am used to such scenes and feel no awkwardness towards them.

However, just the other evening when I was on the bus during a busy rush hour, I saw a woman with an about 1-2 years old boy. The boy started whining, but he wasn’t creating much of a disturbance. The next thing I know was that the woman began to breastfeed her child.

Do keep in mind that this small bus was already packed with people. There was a man in front of her who was holding on the railings and another man who was sitting beside her. Needless to say, it was a very awkward situation. I am pretty sure that it was not very comfortable for the men around her. I believe that I even saw the man who was standing directly in front of her blush.

Yes, breastfeeding in public is a “basic civil right.” And yes, breast feeding “should be encouraged and not hidden.” But, shouldn’t mothers still be aware of where in public they choose to do this? I am not sure if the child then was suffering severely from hunger or not, but his cries did not suggest that he was in pain. Perhaps there should be more discretion in this act?

What are your thoughts?

How would you feel if you were on a bus and the person seated in front of you began breastfeeding her baby? Would it be okay? Or how about in a restaurant, would you feel any different?