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May We Never Forget How Hard This Was

Smack dab in the middle of Sam’s Club, motherhood broke me.
Little sleep, an embarrassment of pregnancy hormones, and one poorly-timed toddler meltdown left me sobbing into my best friend’s shoulder, listening to the sound of my wildly tantruming toddler mix with the hustle and bustle of shoppers passing by.

When I finally gathered the courage to lift my head, I hoped to find a few sympathetic faces. A soft smile from a mom who had “been there, done that”. A compassionate nod from a cashier who had no doubt seen this kind of thing before, perhaps.

Instead, I saw only irritated stares, pointing fingers, and even a few eye rolls, all cold enough to rival the freezer section just down the aisle.


I thank God for my friendand her warm shoulder, but I couldn’t help but leave feeling incredibly let down. By my child. By myself. But more than anything, by every stranger whose tacit response left me craving that benevolent village I know is out there.

My drive home was filled with silen…

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