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breastfeeding, friends, imperfection, Jasmine Wood, keeping calm, kindness, mothering, parenting, Rita, toddler -

Recently, my 2 ½ year old daughter and I were at the library socializing with other children her age. A nursing toddler, a little girl, Rita’s size, caught her eye. She hurried over and asked “Are you nursing?” The mother replied “Yes.” politely, while the nursing toddler continued breastfeeding.

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breastfeeding, Donna Bruschi, healing, imperfection, instincts, mothering, new baby, nurturing, transitions, worry -

You are leaving childish ways behind and integrating them into daily life at the same time. You will give up all you hold dear. You will have more fun and laugh harder at silly things. You will feel your heart expand with love and then break a million times over again.

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earth, home, imperfection, Jasmine Wood, mama, mothering, myth, nurturing, Rita -

Over the last two years of raising Rita, my personal struggle has been to find the right balance between my nurturing and creative sides. Perhaps it is when we nurture our rainbow mother, that our inner earth mother is able to shine.

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breastfeeding, communication, compassion, empowerment, Jasmine Wood, mama, mothering, Rita, toddler, transitions, weaning -

At 25 months, our family weaned little Rita (Yes, dad played a big role too) from the breast. I knew it was our time, but yet as we moved closer to her last nursing sessions I felt uneasy. Reflecting on this, I feel it was fear of the unknown. As nursing was the one factor in our routines that had remained constant from birth to two years.

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anxiety, birth, Donna Bruschi, empowerment, fear, home, homebirth, midwife, mothering, postpartum depression, pregnancy, safety, VBAC -

Twins always arrive early. Right?

That's An Old Wive's Tale.

I look at my striated belly with the doughy soft puckers that have never flattened back into that gentle swell that used to be my belly.

If my twins had been early, I would not have this. At 36 weeks, my belly was a gigantic, unblemished orb. I had 1 or 2 stripes at 37 weeks.

Ar 39 weeks, my midwife and I were laughing at the incredible, angry red vortex radiating from my bellybutton. The stripes were something out of a science fiction story. Like a chick pecking the egg from the inside, it looked like my stomach was getting ready to rip open.

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