By age thirty-five, I dismissed the idea of ever being a mom. And I was okay with that. At least that's what I tried to make myself believe...
One late period, one flashing pee stick, and nine worry-filled months later...my daughter was born in December 2008, just a few weeks shy of my thirty-sixth birthday.
The reality hit as soon as we brought her home from the hospital and I suffered a massive panic attack. What the hell was I thinking having a baby? How was I ever going to handle this? Everything I ever wanted was bundled up and sleeping peacefully in my arms...
And I never felt so clueless.
And I never felt so clueless.
I started this blog as both an outlet for me on this parenthood journey and an alternative to maintaining one of those paper, scrapbooking-type, baby books. Artsy-crafty just isn't my thing; writing is more my cup of tea.
When she's old enough, she'll have the story of her life as well as a detailed account to take to her therapist when she blames her parents for everything wrong in her life.
And no, Punky is just a nickname that stuck the moment we got home from the hospital. If you read closely, her real name appears in several posts.
