My village

My village is composed of mostly mamas, here and away. We share sleepless nights, cluster feedings, growth spurts, selectively-deaf toddlers running amok, and tips on how to survive all of the above. We know each other in parts, not completely, there's no time anymore for long uninterrupted conversations, yet we can be vulnerable with one another, honest enough to discuss fears and sex and mucus and all the weird stuff that can happen to either a baby or a pregnant body. We've seen us at our best, and at our worst.

This week, when I said I couldn't do it anymore, I needed my hands, my village answered. Online, K and Am offered advices and suggestions. And A, here, understood. And she set me up, showing me how to regain my hands.

So tonight, I was able to eat a bit of my dinner without holding my cluster-feeding ogre.