By Sarah Fader
In 2011 I lost my mind. After I had Samara, I remember sitting in a hospital bed hysterically crying. When she would cry, I would cry. It hurt to nurse her. Every time I placed her on my breast to nurse I felt my uterus contracting and I yelped in pain like a puppy that had its paw stepped on.
I told my brother in the hospital when he visited “I don’t know how I’m going to do this. I’m scared.”
“Don’t worry,” he assured me, “mom and dad will help you if you need them to.” His words reassured me, but I was still scared. I was afraid to be a mother of two. I’d had Ari for almost three years and he was my one and only. I doted on him, I read to him, we painted colorful watercolor works of art together and we went out to eat muffins and juice frequently.
But now things were going to change. I had a new little person to take care of and add to our family. I had a little girl. She was beautiful and squishy and pink and I loved her immediately. However, I had no idea how I could love two human beings equally.
So I tried to be the best mother I could be. I did not stop. I went to the library with an infant and a 3-year-old, I went to the playground with an infant and a 3-year-old, I went everywhere with an infant and a 3-year-old. Continue Reading…