• #wifelife,  life

    New Mom, New Me

    I have a terrible haircut right now thanks to postpartum breakage. My baby is 7 months old and I still can’t fit into any of my old, regular-sized clothes. I quit my job, but my house isn’t always clean, dinner isn’t always done. Who am I right now? Racked with anxiety and reclusive tendencies, I can clearly see I am not the same person. I used to be so shiny and ambitious. I used to be mad at my husband because he wasn’t as eager to please me as I was him. Now going above and beyond on anything doesn’t cross my mind. Instead, I exist in the relentless cycle…

  • life

    Intervention: Addicted to Breastfeeding

    I should have known what I was in for when you came out of the womb and went straight for my breast. You nursed for 45 minutes! I was smitten and so proud. Once we were home, I cheerfully raised your helpless body up to my chest. Daddy helped you learn where your mouth should be. I swooned at your gulps and sighs of bliss. Everyday you were home with me and I fed you. I happily spent my days dispensing and collecting milk because you were so precious. You knew I was your lifeline and rewarded me with your affection. Watching you be so tender and sweet and dependent upon me…

  • life

    Letter of Resignation

    To Whom It May Concern; It is without mixed emotions I inform you that July 25, 2018 will be my last day of employment in the role of Customer Service Professional after two years, three months, and 27 days. After over a year of unemployment, on my first day of training I was asked who was here just for a paycheck. I started to raise my hand and realized it was more of a rhetorical question. Since I was there for a paycheck and have saved thousands of dollars, my goal has been achieved. While I am far from well off, there is a limited window in finances after you…

  • life

    I Lost My Child’s Social Security Card and I’m Still Killing the Game

    I called the DEERS office Friday before my appointment on Monday to verify what time it was since I never received an email. “Wilson?” “No, Weldon. W-E-L-D-O-N.” “Oh, okay… I don’t see any appointments. Wellons, right?” This went on for over a minute. Since changing my last name, I had never had trouble spelling it for people, which is what I liked about it after growing up with a name evident of my Nigerian roots. She didn’t have an appointment for me even though I had called a week prior, but she put us in another slot on Monday and told me to bring the baby’s birth certificate. Here comes…