#WHY CANT I HAVE A HUSBAND AND LOUNGE AROUND ON THE COUCH WITH HIM

[the-gayest-sky-kid]

every day i think about doing sappy domestic shit and every day i suffer for it

[witchcraft-in-wonderland]

Little Prince (Pt.2)

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"The mafia? Roman are you kidding me? Do you know how dangerous they are!" Remus was pacing the living room, his husband Virgil sitting on the couch with his arms wrapped around his stomach.

"They saved my life Rem! It's not like I'm hurt!" Roman pouted, he knew Remus wasnt going to take the fact that the lounge had been attacked well, but he'd at least thought he'd be happy Roman was safe.

"Roman they're the mafia! You cant trust a word they say or anything they do! They're just going to manipulate you and drag you into their messes!" Remus said, almost pleadingly.

"Just because you're a year older than me doesnt mean you know everything!" Roman said.

"I know that you cant keep putting yourself in danger for the sake of your reputation!" Remus said, there were tears in his eyes, Roman felt a twinge of guilt.

"Just. . . Stay away from them, for your own good," Remus said before walking back over to the couch and sitting next to Virgil. He held his arms out, seemingly to pull the smaller man into a hug, but Virgil seemed adamant about not changing positions. Roman sighed and walked back into his room, collapsing onto the bed and turning over to look at the ceiling. Logan's voice echoing in his head, he felt his cheeks heat up as the phrase Little Prince found it's way to the front of his thoughts. He'd never felt that way about being addressed as royalty before. It had always felt like a charade, a costume, like he wasnt really a monarch, but when Logan said it. . .

"Oh cut it out! Hes probably just like ever other man you've met, big sleazy and flirtatious, you're no prince. You're a fool." Roman glared at himself in the mirror and snarled the words, quietly enough that he hoped Remus wouldnt hear him.

He had more nightmares than ever that night, yet somehow they were never able to finish. At the last second a knight on a horse would charge at whatever Roman seemed to be afraid of, and the nightmare would end. He never saw the knight's face, but he remembered the crest on his horse's armor, a dove, with blue and red cloth in its mouth. Roman snatched his journal off of his nightstand, quickly sketching it down to save for later. He wasnt about to let a knight in shining armor slip out of his grasp, especially not now.

The real problem was waiting for him in the morning, The Butterfly Lounge had been shut down by who ever had attacked, which meant Roman had to find a new contract. He decided to meet up with his former boss to discuss the terms of his last, only to receive news that made his skin crawl.

"It says it right here in the fine print, in the event something happens to the lounge or you need to find new work, I chose your new place of employment," the grin on his ex-employer's face was akin to that of a crocodile about to take a bite out of an unsuspecting deer.

"But- that cant be legal! I mean- if I dont work for you anymore then that contract should no longer be valid!" Roman's hands were shaking, he grabbed onto the bottom of his chair in an attempt to steady them.

"Oh relax Roman, The Andromeda Quarter isnt that bad of a club, they'd love you there," the smile widened, Roman felt sick to his stomach.

"Y-yes sir," Roman said, he felt like throwing up as he walked out of the building.

The Andromeda Quarter was one of the most elite sections of the town, men in suites with women trailing behind them like lost dogs, prices so high it was a surprise that they didnt fly at this point. This was his parents favorite place before they moved, everyone there knew him, knew his talents and his family and had more expectations for him than the rest of the city. He had promised himself as a kid that he'd never live or work there as long as he could help it, but he supposed he'd have to add that to the long list of broken promise's hanging over his head like a cloud of acid rain.

Roman didnt talk to anyone when he got home, he merely changed into a pale red shirt with a crown on the top corner and a long white skirt, throwing a white jacket over the top of it before slipping on some heels. His feet ached with each move, but he tolerated it, he had to make a good impression.

As soon as he entered the building his nose was hit with the scent of all manner of alcoholic beverages, the aura of drunkenness carried throughout the whole bar.

It didnt get any better when he walked backstage. The man that greeted him had two barely dressed girls sitting on each side of his chair, his face was dressed with the same self-entitled smile ever member of the quarter wore.

"Roman, lovely to finally see you," he said, his voice dripping with feigned sweetness.

"Good afternoon," Roman said, setting himself down into a chair.

"Now, I suppose you already know who I am," said the man.

"Doyle Andromeda, great great grandson of the founder of the Andromeda Quarter," Roman said quietly.

"Good, and I of course know who you are, your voice is recognized throughout the country," Mr. Andromeda said, brushing back a lock of brown hair.

"Now, there is of course, the contract," he continued, pushing a piece of paper toward him. Roman scanned the paper, looking through every line for some chance of escape, finding nothing but paragraphs of descriptions on just how little of his voice mind and body was really going to be his. He bit back tears as he signed the paper, and swallowed the sobs rising in his throat as he left the meeting. His life was going to be over the next day, he just knew it.

A few blocks closer to home he ran into someone, instinctively throwing his hands up to block his face.

"Roman?. . ." Roman froze at the sound of Logan's voice. He felt his hands shaking as Logan took them in his own and lowered them, letting go to brush Roman's hair back and hold his face.

"I-I-" Roman was trying to will himself to run, to listen to his brother and get away before he got hurt again, but his heart was telling him to let Logan hold him, to melt into his touch until the rest of the world disappeared in a cloud of smoke.

"Oh my poor little prince, you look so distressed, what went wrong? Do you need something to drink perhaps?" Roman let himself go numb in Logan's arms, tears spilling out of his eyes.

"I promised I wouldnt go back, I promised and a broke it and now I'm stuck and I dont know what they're going to do to me now that they have me," Logan's jacket smelled like lavender and fresh grass, Roman committed that to memory, he was going to buy air freshener with it later if he had to.

"Go back where? Dont cry dont cry, I'll protect you, I'll keep you safe little prince I promise you," Logan ran his fingers through Roman's hair as he cried, his voice full of worry.

"Th-the Andromeda Quarter, to many people know me there, to many people that dont care, that think I'm just a pretty voice and a pretty face with not a brain or a heart in my body," Roman said with a choked cry.

"Shshshsh- it's alright, it'll be alright, I'll fix this, I'll fix it," said Logan. He held Roman in his arms all the way back to Roman's house, knocking on the door twice.

Remus' face fell almost as soon as he opened it.

"Roman!" Roman let out a slight whine as he was pulled away from Logan, grasping at his hands in a desperate attempt to stay close.

"What did you do to him!" Remus said, there was a slight hint of fear in his eyes as he looked at Roman's small form curled up in the corner of the room.

"Please I didnt mean to intrude- i found him walking home- he looked upset," Logan said, all to calmly for someone facing a man who could make an axe murderer look sane.

"Why is he upset then?" Remus said, digging his nails into the doorframe.

"Hes been transferred to the Andromeda Quarter, and I'm going to fix it for him," Logan said, still unnaturally calm.

"He what." Remus rushed over to Roman's side, allowing Logan to slip into the house and stand next to them. Within seconds Roman was latched to his side, head buried in the crook of his neck.

"Roman how did this happen?" Logan held one hand up, wrapping the other around Roman's waist.

"Let's let him adjust to it, he's clearly distressed, if you'd like I can go out and get something to help him," Logan said. Remus looked at him for a few seconds before finally nodding.

"Anything that helps my brother,"

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Tag list:

@frog-candy-bee

@nerosdayinhell

@meowthefluffy

@melodiread

@thecolorfulolive

@boobmaster69

@spooky-scary-virgil

@youtuberswithalex

@rizzyluke

@croftersjam15

@faycanyons

@cemmy

@ethicc-allycomprised

[motherofwoofers]

I’d Rather be Hibernating Ch 10

The visit with his sister was exactly what Luka expected.

A passive aggressive Juleka, and sweet but scolding Rose. Juleka's eyeliner had been at least a day old, but did nothing to hide her scowl. He'd even go so far as to say it *enhanced* it. She had her long dark hair pulled back into a ponytail, a drooping off the shoulder tee, and black leggings to finish off the look. Essentially at ease in her apartment, something that had taken the last few years to develop.

Rose had been equally at ease, an adorned apron wound around her body, slightly over-baked cookies cooling on the counter. Her new side cut was slightly grown out, but still revealed the increasing number of piercings in her ear. All well placed. She was a whimsical sprite, with a little mischevious edge. He loved her all the more for it.

He had lounged on their small couch, a handful of cookies, and answered all the questions. A searing violet gaze when his answers in regards to his night with Marinette were short and clipped. A hidden warning and question in them, especially once Rose had leapt forward, flipping his jacket open to reveal his missing signature hoodie. A coy grin and sparkle lit her eyes. He had shrugged, *she was cold, and I wasn't about to let her freeze*, followed by a *mhmm* from Juleka, though she refrained from further questions. She knew him well, and knew enough to stay out of certain situations unless she needed to intervene. Intervention wasn't necessary when it came to Marinette, only a want to make sure neither were hurt, if things went awry. Marinette had been closed off for a long time now and her brother deserved some one other then herself and Rose to care for him. To openly and knowingly care for him.

When Rose had risen to go finish preparations for a small oil tossed pasta, Jules had slid to the end of her chair. Hand reaching out to rest on his leg, concern written all over her face.

"Have… has… are you facing the dark again? Is that why you haven't reached out lately?" Her question was quiet, not wanting to alert Rose to the conversation. Her need to mother and fuss excessively, would not be warranted right now, it was not how Luka healed. Though Juleka valued her partner's true caring core. She would make a wonderful mother.

But Luka's eyes had shuttered, even as he pasted a care free crooked grin across his face. "I've just been worn out, Jules, nothing more." Then he shoved a cookie into his mouth, as Rose gestured excitedly to the table for them to eat, effectively ending the conversation. The small meal had passed with lighter conversation: new albums from favored artists, if Luka would be travelling with Jagged, new song ideas for their own band.

Then he had left, with promises of staying in touch more often, especially when things were hectic like the storms.

Luka arrived at the Dupain-Cheng bakery a short Metro ride later, and he snuck around to the back entrance, that led straight to their home. The small chime only took moments before the door was answered. Sabine already wore a light kimono robe over her night attire, home slippers adorning her feet. He always forgot how petite she was, had she shrunk recently? Luka grinned, he would never ask her. Her exclamation at seeing him warmed his heart, he had always felt incredibly welcomed in this home.

She leaned in from a higher step, hands braced on his shoulders as she kissed both cheeks. "Oh how wonderful it is to see you again, Luka! It really has been far too long! Come in, come in. Hurry out of the cold, Dear," she ushered him up the stairs into the home, closing and locking the door behind them. Once they reached the main floor, and he had removed his shoes, Sabine began bustling about in the kitchen, a tray quickly filling with a pot, bowls, cups, food hidden beneath a tray, and a few other items he missed. Tom swept into the room, dressed for bed, breath fresh with mint. He wrapped Luka up with both arms, joyously tweaking his pulled back hair.

"Is this new? I like it. Really suits you, son," he turned affectionately to his wife, she was nearly done. "Bed, Ma Tigresse?"

"Yes, dear," she smiled up at him. "Just preparing a meal for Luka to take up to Marinette."

"A meal? Do you mean the whole kitchen?" He joked, thumping Luka solidly, before heading back to their room. Sabine only shook her head and grinned.

Pressing the tray into his hands. "Some dumplings for you. Encourage her to eat, she sleeps so much during these months. If you need anything, let me know," she patted his cheek gently before shuffling off after her husband, the quiet click of the door behind her.

Luka made his way down the hall then up the stairs to Marinette's room, after some balancing, he rapped quietly on the door, and waited a few moments before pushing the hatch open. Marinette was swaddled on her chaise, sketchbook in her hands, a few pencils stuck haphazardly in her hair, like her own personal holder. He couldn't keep a smile from creeping onto his face, as he watched her and sat the tray of food on a small table. She was hard to sneak up on these days, but she was so thoroughly engrossed in her work, and comfortable at home, that she still hadn't noticed him. It wasn't until the latched snapped close as he lowered it, that she looked up, a silent *oh* on her face, before it lit up into a smile that nearly stopped his heart.

He barely had time to straighten and prepare himself as she launched from the chaise, and wrapped him up in her arms, face buried to his chest. There was barely a pause before his arms tangled around her as well, pulling her even tighter to his body, leaning his head down just barely to rest his cheek in her hair. It was still slightly damp from a recent bath and smelled refreshing like citrus.

"You came!" She finally announced pulling away. He held back his desire to fold her in once more, and let his hands relinquish her.

"I said I would," that grin. *Her* grin flashing across his face. "Did you doubt I would?"

"No, I just... I'm glad you came, Luka," and her small voice was warm. "It's been awhile since I've had anyone over, especially once school ended," she moved away, settling back into her cocoon on the chaise. "And… and it's nice that it's you." She was hesitant for a moment, looking away fluahing, "I'm *happy* it's you."

Luka was stunned into silence, and if she had looked up, he's sure she would've seen him, mouth agape, staring in shock. But he hid it away quickly.

"I'm happy to be here," he took the moment to look around her room, shrugging off his coat in the blissfully hot and humid room. He felt he could just melt into the floor now and sink into a deep unfettered sleep. "You've changed some things."

"Oh," Marinette looked up and around her room. "I suppose I have since you've been here." Indeed the room had changed. More shelves had been built housing swaddled fabric, her desk grander with all sorts of sewing odds and ends. Three dress forms were now stationed around the room, instead of one. Two of which appeared to be in some state of creation. The space heater had been placed directly in the middle, pointed at her chaise, then further to her lofted bed. The extension cord had been hidden under a Ladybug rug that had been drug over it. Preventing unnecessary tripping.

"Hang your coat anywhere," she gestured, turning back to her sketchbook. "I'm sorry… just give me a few more moments, I need to get this idea down before it floats away." He watched as she pulled her bottom lip into her mouth, brows furrowing as she focused. He chuckled to himself, before hanging his jacket from a hook by her closet.

"Take your time. I know that creative itch," he snagged a roll from the tray, biting into the buttery goodness, "Your mom sent me up with food."

"Of course Maman did," she laughed glancing up. "Luka!"

"Yes?" He paused mid-chew.

"You're wearing the same pants from days ago!"

He looked down in confusion, "Yeah, looks like it."

Marinette crinkled her nose, "Go bathe! It's been days!"

"I'm fine. I'll shower when I get home," he finished off the roll before strolling closer, attempting to peer at her current work, before she flipped it closed.

"You absolutely will not," she stood, blanket forgotten. "You're just as worn out and dirty as I was. Trust me, you'll appreciate it." She gestured towards her small en suite, gathering a plush mint towel as she did. "Besides you can't sit on any of my stuff in those!"

"Already trying to undress me again," he chuckled, following slowly after her.

She spun, a bright pink on her face, "I am not!"

"I've nothing to wear if I bathe. You said so yourself, I cant sit on any of your things."

The rest of chapter 10 can be found on AO3 here

The chapters are a bit too long to post in entirety on Tumblr, but as always you can find chapters 1-22 on AO3!!!

[dylan-o-yumm]

Yo dual fluff/angst w/Nero playing video games with his kid and having to leave for a big job but the bab doesn't want him to go ):

(Nero’s son’s name is Credo. Fight me) Ps. your profile pic is hot as fuck 

“I’m kicking your ass!” Your son, Credo yells excitedly, sticking his tongue out in concentration with a controller in his hands. He leans this way and that, like he’s trying to see over the obstacles in the game, unaware that he can’t physically do so from his position on the floor, with eyes glued to the television. His laughter fills the house, echoing and bouncing off the walls. 

Nero sits beside him, one elbow resting on the couch as he too, holds a controller, mashing buttons, but in a much more calmer fashion than Credo. He focuses on the tv too, smiling at his sons excitable nature as he lounges on the floor, ignoring the fact that there’s a perfectly comfortable couch right behind him. The sight of them together, laughing and enjoying each others company, swells your heart. 

“Language!” The boys hear you call out from in the kitchen, turning to look at each other with wide, scared eyes, seeming to either think you couldn’t hear them or because they didn’t expect to hear you yell out. Either way, their reactions cause them to both chuckle together cheekily. Credo goes back to playing as if nothing happened while Nero yells back an apology on his sons behalf, humour in his tone as he too, returned to playing the game. 

Nero can’t be mad at the fact that Credo is, in fact, ‘kicking his ass’ at the game, too busy laughing at his son’s antics. Nero even tries to distract Credo by tickling him with one hand while he manages to press buttons with the other, even sticking his finger in Credo’s ear or playfully pushing him over. The older male pretends like he isn’t doing anything, replying with a sarcastic ‘huh?’ when credo whines at him to stop. 

The white haired child giggles and fights back, beginning with turning his body to face Nero, pressing his feet into his fathers leg and attempting to push him away, all while keeping his eyes on the screen. When he realises he doesn’t have the strength to knock Nero over, he crawls over the devil hunters lap and blocks his view with the back of his head, causing Nero to laugh loudly as they both spam pressing buttons. 

“Nero! Phone!” You call out as you hear ringing over their loud game and laughter. You saw it wasn’t the house phone or your mobile that was ringing, so that only left one other phone it could be. Turning to the phone on the wall in the kitchen, you frown as you hear Credo whine and complain about having to pause the game. Nero pulls himself off the floor with a grunt, smiling as he ruffles his son’s hair before making his way over to you. His smile fell when he too, saw it wasn’t the house phone ringing, turning to look disappointedly at the Devil May Cry phone. 

“Business phone…” You whisper worriedly, knowing exactly whats going to happen after he hangs up the phone. The words he says every time after getting a call on the business phone has now made you panic every time you hear it ringing. 

You bite your lip as Nero leans down to press a reassuring kiss to your cheek before picking up the phone. You step back and watch as he converses with the person, all but twiddling your thumbs in anticipation as you wait. Your hopes begin to dissipate as Nero slouches over, resting an arm on the wall as he lets out a long sigh, scratching his stubble with his once devil hand turned human hand. Nero tries to sound polite on the phone, but he can’t help to sigh disappointedly every now and then. 

You can tell your fear is going to become a reality…

After a few more minutes of Nero asking for details and an address, he finally hangs the phone up with a huffy goodbye. He sighs and scratches the back of his head, cursing under his breath before he turns around to face you. The look on his face says it all, making your shoulders sag and a sad frown cover your face. Nero turns to face you, face fallen but he manages to smile sadly, coming to step in front of you. 

“I gotta go…” Those words hurt. He brushes his hand through your hair as you bow your head, coming to caress your cheek after your hair had been tucked behind your ear. You lean into his touch, silently thanking him that he didn’t explain the details on why he had to leave, or what mounters he’d have to face, otherwise it would just make you worry for his safety all the more. 

“I’m so sorry. Its urgent, I wouldn’t have—“ He apologises, being cut off quickly by a small voice. 

“You’re leaving?” Credo asks rather loudly, clearly disappointed and upset. You and Nero pull away from each other, looking back at your son with sad eyes. Nero walks over and kneels in front of Credo, being roughly the same height now as his eyes level with his son’s. Credo was getting so tall so quickly. “You just got back two days ago. Don’t leave, dad!” 

“I’m sorry, little man. Trust me, if I could stay here and play games with you forever, I would. But —“ Nero states, chuckling a little to lighten to mood. You hated how everyone was now bummed out, just moments prior everyone was full of joy and laughing without a care in the world. You wouldn’t tell Nero to stop his work, he couldn’t, you wouldn’t let him in the first place, but god, it did hurt having to go about your day without him some times. 

“But its your job and people would die if you didn’t go. I know.” Credo cuts Nero off, finishing his sentence for him or assuming what he was going to say. Either way, it made both you and Nero sigh sadly, but you kept your distance, knowing Nero had to have a moment to talk to his son alone. He was going to have to say goodbye after all. 

“Hey, I’ll be back before you know it. Then I can come back and kick your ass at that game of yours” Nero chuckles, playfully shoving Credo and earning a smile and push in response. 

“Language!” You scold, but cant help chuckle. The boys laugh cheekily together, before Nero pulls Credo in for a hug, wrapping his arms around his waist as Credo playfully tries to push him away, yelling ‘ew, gross! Get off me’. Nero only holds on tighter, standing up with the small, energetic child in his arms and swinging him side to side. You can’t stop the smile from taking over your face, watching from the side of the kitchen as they fill the house with their loud laughter and banter. 

“C’mon, kid. You can come help me get Red Queen and Blue Rose ready.” Nero whispers to Credo, side eyeing you cheekily since he knew you didn’t like your son being near such dangerous objects. You go to protest but Credo practically screams the house down with his loud excited scream, kicking off of Nero to go run into the bedroom where Nero kept the weapons. Your husband turned to wink at you, smirking as he slowly followed after Credo. 

“Be careful!” You shout, wanting to scold Nero but you stop yourself, knowing he has taught Credo to respect the dangerous weapons and not treat them as toys. Nero is a responsible adult and you trusted him to take care of Credo, sometimes you trusted him more than yourself. Didn’t mean your motherly worries couldn’t surface every now and then. 

You gave them their time together, sipping a glass of water as you listened to their echoing laughs like music. 

[mayadidntsignupforthis-blog]

What I’ve learnt from kids...

I have made it no secret that I have managed anxiety and depression for many years. I say managed as I feel that in my journey it will always be something that I live with. For this reason, I have implemented many coping techniques, from exercising, nutrition, drawing to surrounding myself with my “village” of supportive caring people.

Despite my awareness of my condition and my coping techniques, last week I had a bad week. 

Having identified where I was, I put the call out for support which was answered immediately by so many people. This alone warmed my heart and lifted part of the dark veil. The first hands I grabbed was that of my partner’s ex-wife and her husband (that’s a story for another day).  The kids and I stayed at their house for the night. I was supported by other adults, the kids were safe and happy and I wasn’t alone. That was what I needed right then and there.

Once I had been dragged out of this hole enough to to start clawing the rest of the way out myself, I went on to do the things that have helped me in the past. I got some fresh air, some light exercise, ate right… you know, the usual stuff people tell you to do. What was different about this weekend however is that I was surrounded by children. On reflection, observing them and learning from them made me realise that life isn’t as complicated as we make it. It’s the simple things that make life beautiful and that sometimes we just have to let go and be vulnerable in order to grow strong. 

So here is what the children in my life taught me these last few days…. 

Miss “Nearly 2” 

During our sleep over, she decided it would be fun to jump from the couch onto the mattress that was on the floor of the lounge room. There was roughly a metre gap from the couch to the safety of the bouncy mattress. My son asked her not to jump until he secured the platform and surrounds to ensure she wouldn’t roll off and hurt herself. She must have thought that my son had done a good enough job and just before he finished she took a leap of faith followed by giggles of triumph. She took a risk, albeit a small risk, but a risk none the less. She made it to the safety of the mattress and it was fun! Fun was the goal and the risk paid off. This went on for another 15 minutes or so. 

Master 5 & Miss 3

On Saturday, my kids and I went to a sculpture park. They are both independent and went off to do their own thing. As I was watching them play, I didn’t realise that I was about to be adopted by another brother and sister duo! In keeping with the naming conventions, let’s call them Master 5 and Miss 3. Master 5 approached me first, asked me what my name was asked if I wanted to play and I thought why not! He then introduced me to Miss 3. For the next 1.5 hours, these 2, who I later found to be in foster care, held my hand, dragged me around the play-ground, made me go down the slide and made me have fun.  Later, Miss 12 joined in the fun while my Master 7 went down the flying fox for the 853,455th time. When it was time to leave, we were all sad. Most people who my new friends connect with leave and are never seen again, I was just another person they connected with that was leaving. While Miss 3 would barely look at me, Master 5 gave me some flowers and we waved good bye. They showed me in 1.5 hours that we should see past any differences and not be afraid to make connections even if you know they won’t last. For that small period of time, we connected and we were friends. 

Neighbour Miss 3

The next day, another little Miss 3 came over. She is our neighbour who basically has free reign of our house. Our pitbull cross loves her as much as she loves him and has no problem with her walking in and out of his space. She comes in and tells us all about her bunk bed and asks to watch cartoons. We had seen Moana about 3 times that week as it’s her current choice of movie. Sometimes she asks “can you do this” and proceeds to run on the spot. She has never once focused on what she doesn’t have or what she can’t do. We haven’t known each other long but she feels safe and welcomed in our home. We are trusted by her and she teaches me that trust is something that should never be taken advantage of and it feels nice when someone feels safe around you. 

Master 7

My son, had been playing with his friend (Neighbour Miss 3’s older brother) all weekend. He was getting around on his trike and leather jacket, yelling and demonstrating his kickboxing skills. He’s a stereo typical boy as far as being rough, dirty and noisy goes. But he has fun doing it! What stands out though is his ability to know when to be tender and gentle. When he saw me upset (which I try not to let the kids see too much) he sprang into action with his gentleness and charm. He  gently knocked on the door, asked if I was ok, hugged me tightly and said “I love you mum”. All a beautiful reminder that there is a time to have fun, a time to be tender and that a small gesture is all we need sometimes to make things better. 

Miss 12

Finally, my daughter, who is going through a tough time herself. Which pre-teen isn’t? Sure we butt heads sometimes, we don’t understand each other (I know I didn’t understand my mum when I was 12) and we don’t always get along but when we join forces, we can move mountains. We were both in a bad place emotionally yet we both identified it and worked together to help each other through it. She teaches me that children do as you do, not always as you would like.  My actions will be reflected in hers. She will learn from what I do and as such I need to set a positive example. That doesn’t mean I won’t slip up and she knows that. After all we aren’t born experts at life.  

In a nut shell, this weekend, kids taught me 

To take risks & put trust in others, 

Make connections even if you might get hurt when it's time to say good   bye, 

Trust others and honour the trust given to us,

 Focus on what we have and what we can do rather than what we don’t have and cant do,

 Have fun but recognise when it’s time to be gentle,

 Working together can make amazing things happen and

 It’s not about how many times you fall, it’s about how many times  you get back up. 

Kids keep things simple, I think it’s time adults did the same. If anyone needs me I’ll be in the corner with my crayons and colouring book.

[ohsweetkiwi]

I never meant to make you cry.

This is a blurb inspired by this post by @secret-rendezvous1d, thank you so much or letting my write this! 

A blurb about a dinner where you flip out at Anne and are left to deal with the consequences. 

You had never been someone to yell at others or start pointless arguments, you could let most things go easily and move on, you knew this and everyone at your house sitting at the table celebrating Harrys tour selling out in Europe knew this too. You were all sitting around the table, yourself and Harry, Gemma and her partner and Anne and the conversation had shifted to grandchildren, you inwardly groaned and tried to avoid the conversation allowing Gemma to talk about their plans to have a few kids now they were married. Your eyes avoided that of those at the table, busying yourself with trying to clean some of the plates at the table, your heart sunk when Anne had said your name and asked you when you were going to give her grandchildren. You looked up and smiled slightly as she started talking about what your children would look like, if they would have Harrys eyes or yours, wether they would be tall like him or short like you. She had looked over to you and asked if you had thought about it and said if you hadn't you should, “ you wont be able to have children forever my dear” she had said before launching back into various details about your hypothetical children lives, their appearances, their features and accents, things you had thought about continuously, things you and Harry had spoken about as you waited for pregnancy tests and being disappointed when they were negative. You hadn't meant to scream at her to shut up, you hadn't meant to slam down the bowl of peas you were holding or to yell at her to mind her own business and that you knew you wouldn't be young forever and you knew she’d love to have grandchildren because she told you all the time. You hadn't mean to slam the door to your bedroom so hard you could hear the photo frames on the walls rattle or sit against the door and sob into your arms. Truth be told you and Harry had been trying for the better half of a year to give Anne a grandchild, to have a baby that looked like you and Harry to love and care for, you'd spent the year trying for a baby unsuccessfully in and out of fancy specialists, getting blood drawn, crying over pregnancy tests, seeing fertility doctors and all they could tell you that you were physically fine, and yet a year on and you and Harry had nothing to show for. You had decided not to tell anyone you were trying for a baby, you didn’t want the added pressure onto of what you were putting on yourself, you had been more strict on keeping it a secret after two phantom pregnancies and a miscarriage at the beginning of the year that broke you so much you didn’t known if you could continue to try. So you knew you were out of line for yelling at Anne especially when you could hear her crying downstairs as Harry comforted her, he would be furious at you for the way you spoke to Anne. Despite being married for almost 4 years you'd never seen Harry be more protective over anyone as much as his mother, he never let anyone mistreat her or speak to her rudely, especially when it was his wife, but you wanted nothing more than to have a baby that you just lost it because you couldn't stand hearing all those things out loud, couldn't stand the questions of when you were having a baby, because you were trying so damn hard.

You had stayed in your room or the rest of the night, you couldn't face anyone yet especially not Anne and Harry, despite knowing everyone was staying overnight to wait to hear if the US tour had sold too and that you would see them in the morning right not you just couldn't do it. You had heard everyone head off to bed as you stayed in the same place in the corner of your room the whole time, next to a box of things you'd both brought for your future child, you had been stupid you thought to buy toys for a child who hadn't existed yet and despite the sobs that rippled through your body as you held them hope was still present in your heart for a child of your own.  The door had opened letting light into the dark room that was only lit by a small lamp next to your bed, you knew it was Harry by the heavy footsteps that had come up the stairs and especially when he had slammed the door causing you to jump slightly. “ Yeh owe my mother an apology” he spoke standing at the end of your bed a few meters from you even in the poorly lit bedroom you could see he was angry you didn’t speak to him just nodded scared for the fight that was inevitable at this point. “Got nothing to say now huh? After you screamed at my mother to shut up and to mind her own business” Harry hardly ever yelled at you but the tone of his voice was filled with enough venom that you could feel the tears welling up again. 
“ What was I suppose to say Harry! Tell her I have been trying to give her grandchildren, that-that I'm filling my body with hormones and getting poked and jabbed at the doctors, that having sex with you is almost a daily chore and that I can hardly look at you with children because it hurts so much and that everyday I loose hope to ever having a baby with you and it hurts so much that having someone tell me that I wont be able to have children forever is enough to make me scream”  you were standing now and couldn't help the tears that poured down your face or the fact you were shaking almost uncontrollably. “ You were suppose to tell her that we were trying, not have so little respect for the woman who raised me and ruin everyones night by being a fucking brat” You were sure the hole house could hear your yelling now, you were practically screaming over each other at this point. “ You will be lucky if she speaks to you again, what happened out there wasn't right! You weren't my wife there, you were unfair and harsh to her cruel even! My mother is a strong woman and it takes a lot to make her cry and you did” His words felt like a punch to the gut, you had always looked up to Anne as a strong woman and you felt terrible for what you had done to the woman who had taken you in with open arms, who had held you as you broke when your own mother had died and always kept you sane when Harry was on tour on the other side of the world and now you'd gone and treated her so terribly. “ I cant even look at you, get out” he spoke walking towards the door before opening it and throwing a pillow and a blanket from the bed to the hallway, you felt like an animal who'd been sent outside after being naughty. “ Harry please” you cried walking towards him grabbing his hand only for him to yank it away from yours almost in what looks like disgust. “ I said get out!”

You had stood in the hallway your bedroom door locked closed you were trying to hold your cries in but your sobbing was probably loud enough now that there was no way anyone in the house could not hear you. You had grabbed your blanket and pillow and headed to the lounge room, your cries not slowing at all as you walked through the pitch black house, you couldn't even work up the energy to place the bedding onto the couch and instead you curled up into a ball on the soft material on the floor and let out the cries you'd been holding in. You weren't sure how long you had laid there with your eyes closed shut before a light above you was turned on and Annes all too familiar perfume filled the air as she sat next to you on the floor. “ Come here my darling, it’s okay” her arms brought you into her chest where you wrapped your arms around her like a small child crying as she patted your hair shushing you. “ I-I’m s-sorry Anne, I was so rude” you could hardly get words out you were so hysterical. “ I know your sorry my dear, If id known I would've never pushed you like that” You didn’t understand how she could be so lovely to you despite you reaction to her earlier. “ I never meant to make you cry”  You laid there for a while in silence, your sobs and cries becoming less frequent while she continued to rub your back in a soothing motion. “ Harrys hates me” you spoke quietly a while later you had sat up on the couch now the two of you still sitting close together. “ I know my son love, he's upset and angry, but he could never hate you” Something about her words reassured you a bit, but you knew it wouldn't be that simple.

You and Anne had spoken for about an hour after that you apologised a dozen of times and she assured you continuously she forgave you. You walked silently back to your room and opened the door to see Harry laying facing away from you on his phone the light illuminating the otherwise dark room. You didn’t know what to say to him, you wanted nothing more than to curl up in his arms and for him to hold you and kiss your head goodnight, but you weren't stupid enough to realise it wasn't that easy. Your head reeled with thoughts that you'd go near him and he'd tell you to get out, that he hated you and that he didn’t love you, and although you knew they were in your head, it didn’t stop the fear from creeping up, You pulled your clothes off replacing it with one of his shirts from the floor and placed the pillow he’d thrown out for you on the bed softy not wanting to disturb your husband too much. “ I said I didn't want to see you” his words weren't laced with anger this time but he still stayed facing away from you as you pulled back the blankets and slipped in facing your back to his. “ Do you still love me?” your words were softer than you thought they'd come out, your voice had cracked at the end and you were almost scared to hear his answer. He turned around in the bed to face your back you couldn't see him but his brows were furrowed at why you would ask such a question. “ I will always love you, you drive me crazy y/n, and sometimes you make so mad that I say harsh things but I love you” his arms snaked around your waist and pulled you in close and he placed a kiss on your head. “ I hope our babies are like your mum, strong and forgiving” You wrapped your hands in his kissing his knuckles softy, you would never have thought that night would result to anything good, but in a few months time you laid in that same position and said the same sentence this time 5 months pregnant.

This is one of my favourite pieces Ive written so I hope you all enjoy it as much as I did. Please reblog if you liked it, it helps my little blog out a lot. Feel free to request things it makes me super happy! x ohsweetkiwi 

[justothev8man]

I was reading something about if you're having trouble sleeping tips to help fall asleep and one of the tips was about using a happy memory from your childhood which made me realise I do not have even one happy memory from when I was a kid. At best I have couple of very short fleeting images of working on motorbike with my father in this tiny little shed he had in the backyard.

Nothing that even comes close to something I could turn into a happy memory though, the first happy memory I can conjure is not until my early 20's but we will get to that shortly.

Do any of you guys have happy memories from your childhood? I highly doubt I am alone in this?

I'm really apprehensive about writing this in here but one of the tips is to write shit down so here goes, I can always delete it straight away.

I'm prob not going to go back and proof read this so the grammar and spelling is just gong to be as it comes out of my head and gets typed. I often spell incorrectly and have poor grammar on my first edit of things.

I grew up in a very low socio economic area and in a very low income house hold.

my mother was this really overweight, lazy, abusive, manipulate women that use to sit on the couch watching tv and smoking Winfield red cigarette while barking orders at us kids and yelling at us at the top of her lungs. I loved my mother deeply up until my early teens when I started to understand her abuse and oppression for what it was.

She was the type of women that would point out the fault in others or put others down to make herself feel better.

She was nothing but a pathetic little women that pushed everybody in her life and her children and husbands life away and out of our lives so she would never have to admit her own faults and failings.

The old man had two jobs and worked seven days a week. I don't remember him working seven days when we were very young only later on.

When BHP shutdown it hurt the whole of NSW really hard and I think the old man lost his job … I think that would of been the late 80's maybe.

I can remember they had to hide the car and we had to be quiet and pretend we were not home if someone came to the door because they were trying to take the house off us ( bank foreclosure).

So the old man ended up working at some marine company I think, working on the boats and got a weekend job working at a service station.

I remember one time he put his work shirt on (I cant remember the name of the company but it had his work company name, logo etc on it) and he took us kids down to the docks and told the guys on the tug boats who he was and where he worked and they let him bring us all on board while they did a run out to sea with a fucking massive tanker.

I remember him taking us down into the engine room and showing us around and then took us up to the kitchen and the crew gave us food.

I remember being blown away by this fucking huge ship that these tiny little boats towed out to sea and scared shitless when the tug boat went over on this crazy pitch at one stage.

Anyway I don't know why but he ended up leaving or loosing that job and went off to work somewhere else and in my early teens he cut his fingers off at work doing some fucking thing or another.

I have like these almost good memories of riding motorbikes while camping in the bush but we were never allowed to go anywhere on them. My mother would only let us ride them around camp or just up the road a little way and back, she never like us getting far enough away that she would lose control of us.

very very very controlling women, the biggest and most prominent trait I remember of her is her controlling us, she always had to be in control. I HATED her for that as I got older.

I have this memory of a little honda motorbike dad bought us that didn't go and he had it for years until we were big enough to ride it and then I remember working on it with him and his mate in the shed and fixing it up and getting it running.

I have this memory of working on another motorbike engine too that he did a full teardown and rebuild on. His motorbike that he use to ride to and from work.

I remember the first time I saw the pistons inside a v8 with the heads off, blew me away picturing all those violently flying up and down inside the engine. I think it was a Chrysler engine.

I can confidently say that beyond 12 years old I absolutely unequivocally hated even single day of my childhood without question. I DID NOT have one pleasant day beyond 12 years of age.

I was not allowed to go anywhere with my fiends or do anything at all on my own. I had to be home doing the washing and hanging it on the clothes line, doing the dishes, cleaning out the laundry of the dirty litter etc from the cats and dogs.

I have memory after memory after memory of all my friends being off doing this and doing that and myself not being allowed to go. I suffered massive socially at school because of it and never ever had a friend or mate until my mid 20's but I think I also never really made any connections with my friends at school and truly became mate because I was to busy secretly hating everyone and my life and I knew that if I did become mates with them the next time they asked me to come to a party at night or something I would not be allowed because of my mother and I would yet again look antisocial and like a weirdo.

I didn't start to develop a personality until around 17 because I wasn't allowed to be who I wanted to be or have my own opinion in my mothers house. chatting back after being spoken to was absolutely not tolerated and having your own opinion was completely out of the question. To this day I cringe every time one of my nieces tries to back chat or explain her point of view to my brother and he shuts her up and won't listen. it is really really bad to not listen to what your children are trying to tell you and get across their thought or what they are feeling to you. it makes them have to bottle it all up inside. You must listen to your children when to are trying to speak to you and / or tell you what they are feeling!!!!!

this made my teenage years the most stressful and oppressed years of my life to date.

Mother would sit on the couch and if we didn't have any chores to do or disturbed her in any way or prevented her from being the fat lazy cunt she was sitting on the couch she would scream at us to get out of the room or make up some indiscretion for an excuse to send us to our room.

My parents never once spent one on one time with us or sat down and quietly played games or did activities with us or entertained us and bonded with us

my earliest childhood memory is my mother jamming a cake of soap down my throat because I swore or said something wrong. I clearly remember the feeling of feeling like I needed to try and swallow this block of soap.

I think I was maybe 7 or 8 at the time.

I have really vivid memories of several occasions where my mother grabbed my brother and I by the hair and smashed our heads together for doing I don't know what wrong.

Is it the violence or the pain that makes these memories clearer than the others? does anyone know?

Maybe a question for a psychiatrist.

I have this really clear image of my father standing over me while I was lying on my back upon my bed with my knees up to my chest and my arms at either side of my head while he was standing over me beating the fuck out of me until I had an asthma attack from the crying and screaming and couldn't breath.

I remember how much more it stung when he missed our ass with the strap and got my back instead.

I have the most vivid memories of lying in bed listening to my older brother running around the lounge room screaming while dad chased him around beating the shit out of him with his strap and fist and the even more vivid memory of my mother screaming " hit him neal, hit him neal"

As I write this and bring back these memories i'm wondering if I should be crying. I am not. Is that bad?

As I got a little older the beatings became less in their severity and frequency because my asthma attacks started to get worse when he beat me and so he couldn't

I wonder if my asthma became phsyco-symptomatic because I knew he would stop hitting me when my asthma come on.

I don't suffer from it now.

My older brother called the Department of social service after one of my father's beatings when he had a black eye and was covered in bruises. I remember he had to stay home from school because of the black eye and all the bruises and he told me as I left for school that today while everyone was out and he was home alone DOCS where coming to see him.

They came back later in the week and took him away.

I think he was put into foster care initially and then eventually he was placed with my grandparents.

My mother cut off the whole family and I never saw my grandparents again. They died a few years ago with me never getting to see them.

I always hated that I couldn't go to the Christmas parties.

Mum could never admit what she had done was wrong in any way shape or form, everybody else was at fault.

Even my brother was at fault. My mothers poor parenting skills and the reason my brother acted out was all my brothers fault.

I had two brothers but neither of them were intelligent enough to see past what my mother was.

I was the smart kid of the three boys and I only really started to open my eyes to what was going on when I went to high school.

I went to a catholic high school and it was there I saw real parents that supported their kids and treated them with more intelligence and more equally.

I think the only time I had fun was when I skipped school for the day and went and smoked mull under the bridge with the pot heads from school. there is a kind of happy memory I think.

This one time we were under cherries bridge smoking cones and bubba ( guy named Rodney but everyone called him bubba cause that's what his mother called him due to the fact he was the baby of the family) got the munchies real bad and decided to eat one of the poisonous berries that grew under the bridge there.

Fatty (guy named Garth but he was a big boy and even called himself fatty) yelled at him " bubba what did you eat that for they're poisonous man " and bubba turned to me and said " justo am I gunna die now man?" made me piss myself laughing stoned as I was.

There we go I think I found a happy memory!!!!

No bubbas were harmed in the making of this story.

When I was 20 I fell fucking madly in love with this red haired / strawberry blond bitch named Michelle.

I stayed with her and her parents in their family home for a while and it was then that I saw a real family at work and it truly showed me the disfunction of my own.

They were not perfect but they were this supportive family that was not unnecessarily strict and spoke to each other with civility and respect in measured tones.

A grumpy but respectful father and a holy supportive mother.

Tho I had very little in common with either of her parents I entirely respected them and still do to this day 20 years and another life later. I haven't seen or heard from them in many years but I bet they are still the same people I remember them to be.

My early 20's were my happiest years to date. I had a real friend or two for the first time in my life, people I could call mates and I could go out and enjoy myself with them and have a personality and a life. I was in love and in lust. I was happy.

I think I made it through the 80's being to young to know if I was happy or not. I think I spent the 90's entirely in dread, all I remember is stress and hatred.

Actually I think stress and especially hatred sums my 90's experience up perfectly.

The early new millennium I learned what happiness could look like.

Who else remembers their childhood as a stressful unhappy time? we all have a difficult childhood don't we? especially our teenage years? or am I unique.

Writing this reminds me that even now I need to try and strive to find happiness and fun in life and try to produce the same for my immediate family.

Grab your kids and go make some happy memories with them. Do something THEY will wholely enjoy and remember as a fun day in their childhood.

[ohaidacia-blog]

My birth story. 4 months later

35 weeks and 1 day. ONE DAY.

I woke up that day feeling pretty crappy and not crappy because I was having laboring pains or anything. Crappy because the Friday before I was told I was 4 centimeters dilated and to be "admitted" I had to be 5. My doctor told me I was 4 centimeters, told me she could feel one of my twins head through the bag of water, tried to stretch me just a tad be wider and even called Labor & Delivery to see if I could come in a have my twins. No luck. I went home overemotional and in very much pain. I had no energy or even cared to try to walk up stairs, have sex or any of those other things proven to pick up labor. My contractions were consistently at 4-5 minutes or 5-7 minutes apart but I always knew what to do (drink lots and lots of water) so I ignored it. Plus, with as many times that David and I went to L&D and they stopped the contractions and told me I was "too early" I just slept through them that night, after a hot shower to ease the pain, of course.

Here we are, Saturday. I was 35 weeks and 1 day. I woke up feeling the exact same way I went to sleep, i.e. contractions, exhausted, tired of being pregnant. My contractions had continued all through the night and into the morning. David and I were just lounging around the house as we usually do on Saturdays. Around 1 pm, something did not feel right. My water did not break or anything for cause of concern, but I just did not feel good. I called my advice nurse, texted my mom and got ready. I was instructed to go into L&D. Hearing this for the fourth time did not make me jump for joy. In the past, me and my husband would go in and they would load me with fluids, check my cervix and send me home, all within 5-8 hours. Hearing that, I casually finished my slice of pizza and packed my puppy, Minnie. Nothing too fast and dramatic, I was dreading this hour drive and to be told to go back home.

Two hours later, after making a pit stop for ice chips (mmmmm) and dropping of my puppy at the in laws, we had arrived. I did not feel like I was in labor, if anything my contractions were the same 4-5 minutes and honestly not even hurting me. I was content. We got up to the third floor of Holy Cross Hospital and I check in. Nonchalantly giving the receptionist all my information (because I know the drill by now, it's the fourth time) and then I sit in the waiting room. There is about three other laboring patients in the lobby. I was, obviously, the biggest (being pregnant with twins and all) but I didn't think I was the one in most pain and laboring as bad as the others. Looking around the room I saw this sign that read "patients will be called back based on urgency and number of beds available". In my mind, I read "Dacia will be called back last". I sat there and watched the Olympic recap and probably some politics and then, my name was called. What? 

Being called back so fast, and before the others who looked to be more in pain to me, was a total shock. And to be honest, those lady looked just as shocked as I was. Was it because I was 35 weeks with twins? I felt totally fine.

Walking back into triage was something I remembered. I asked my nurse, who I'd been with about three out of the four times now, if I needed to pee in a cup because I had been saving it for this exact moment. She told me "no". That was something new. I got to my room and stripped down, not needing to be told and I took off everything except my socks and had the gown opened to the back. A few nurses who noticed me came in and had quick conversations. As I've stated before this was my fourth visit and also, to add, my aunt had worked in triage and L&D at Holy Cross Hospital and my mom had delivered 7/8 o f her kids here. The last name Epps is not as common as you think. My husband loved being known and having connects, it made him feel important and almost like a celebrity. For me, this was normal everywhere I went.

Anyway, back to being butt naked in a gown in triage. I was put on the monitor, as usual, to monitor the babies movements and contractions. Everything was normal. The only difference between this time and the last time was how much further along I was. That’s all I needed, apparently. My nurse Michelle pulled back the curtain and said "are you ready to have these twins?!" with such a huge smile on her face. Happiest day of my life.

I remember them telling me how much longer it would be until someone would come wheel me into L&D and how many people were in front of me for C-section. It all hit me right there. I was so anxious to have these babies out of me that I had never mentally thought about how they'd  come out or just delivery day period. I had so many emotions. Excited because I'd meet my little men who had been kicking my ass these 8 months, nervous about having my first major surgery, curious if the babies would need assistance breathing and if they would be big enough to come home with us.

Getting our room in L&D was the most surreal part. We had never gotten this far yet. David was handed some scrubs and nurse after nurse came in to tell me about my wait time and prep me for my epidural. After that happened, we waited. I was handed my hair cover and was told to take all my piercings and jewelry off and then wheeled away. My husband waited outside the operation room and waited for the O.K. to come in. I remember the operation room being so bright and cold, I was literally shivering. There was music playing and lots of chit-chat. The vibe was AMAZING, saying I was about to get cut open and risk my life for my babies. Nothing too serious because I was not a serious person. Many nurses introduced themselves but I was half listening because I was wondering "where is my husband?". There was team Baby A and team Baby B, double the nurses. Plus there were the surgeons and a student. This was only his second C-section… yikes. I remember thinking to myself that my twins would go in the books for him.

When they were about to get started someone said "where's dad?" I will forever thank that person because I'm sure I was seconds away from being cut open. He came in with the biggest smile on his face and sat right beside my head. We had  some weird side conversation, because what else do you talk about when you're being cut open and about to become parents?  I was mostly chatty because I did not know if I was going to feel a lot of pain or what. That conversation only lasted about 1 minute because the next thing we heard was "here comes Baby A" and a cry.  The cutest newborn cry. I instantly cried, and I don't know why because stuff like that doesn't bring me to tears. I guess its some type of chemical thing when becoming a parent because David cried during our first ultrasound at 8 weeks hearing the heartbeat and discovering we were having twins and I cried as a baby gets pulled out of me. Anyway, next thing I heard was a doctor asking David if he wanted to cut the cord and so he did. Seconds later, Baby B was pulled out and brought into this world. August 27th, 2016 at 9:01 and 9:02 pm.

 David had the option to stay with me or go with the twins and I told him, yes told him, because we had had this conversation numerous of times, that he must go with the twins. Looking back, he wished he would have stayed because my surgery went downhill. While the boys were getting cleaned and bathed, I was bleeding out on the table for two straight hours. I remember receiving two more blood transfusions while I was in and out of consciousness. I remember a surgeon yell out "Mrs. Swanson, if we cant get your uterus to contract and the blood to stop we will have to remove your uterus". You know I was that much out of it because I said "okay" knowing damn well that I wanted more kids. I was hemorrhaging, bad. My uterus was so overstretched because of the two 5 lb. 5 oz. babies that had just came out of me and I am only 5 feet and 115 lbs. myself. I started to feel a lot and apparently starting moving my legs and becoming fidgety and the anesthesiologist  continue to dose me up with more and more medicine. Eventually I would be out cold for the rest of the surgery and eventually the rest of the night.

I don't remember much after the last dose of medicine that went down my spine, other than the fact that it was cold going into my spine. I don’t remember being wheeled back into my room, I don't remember being greeted by my husband or seeing my babies. Periodically through the night I recall a number of nurses surrounding my bed trying to wake me. I now know (because my husband told me)that they were asking me a series of questions, such as who I was and where I lived. I recall answering these questions but maybe it was in my head because I never opened my mouth or even my eyes. I remember hearing my husbands voice and answering him, but that never happened either.  I was shivering uncontrollable to where there was about five heated blankets on me. The nurses came in like clockwork to push on my stomach and check my bleeding. It honestly felt like they came in every hour but it was every 15 minutes and progressively got further apart. I was asleep from the birth of my babies until 10 am the next morning.

 When the next morning rolled along, I had no clue about how unresponsive I was and how I had worried all my nurses and my husband. I had no clue where my babies where and even what time of day it was. How long had I been asleep? I called my husband over who had been sleeping in the couch on the other side of the room.  I was very weak, I threw something at him to get his attention because I couldn't yell. He explained how I was practically out cold and unresponsive to the nurses, what happened during surgery and that the twins are perfectly healthy and in the nursery so that I could rest. Meanwhile, while he was explaining this I was dosing in and out. I knew I had to get myself together in order to see my babies because I figured they would not give me them being drugged up and falling asleep mid… everything. So when the next nurse walked in I sat up straight and tried to pretend everything was good. Pretend I was completely responsive. Pretend I was not still dosed up on whatever. Just pretend. The nurse came in with the doctor and I was able to drink water and juice. The doctor then told me how much I worried the team last night and that "it's highly recommended to not get pregnant for another year or so". Done deal.

It was about 10:30am when I finally got to see my babies. Almost 14 hours the next day after delivery. I was still dosing off but I had my husband watch me and stay by my side. I remember looking at them and saying "they are so perfect" but maybe it was in my mind again. They had so much hair, great complexion and were swaddled so snug, it was amazing!  They looked just like my husband. Even better, they were healthy and breathing on their own (No NICU!) Everything I went through was worth it (although I didn't know how much pain I was in because I was still on a lot of the medication from the night before).Shortly after I got to hold them for the first time, we were all wheeled upstairs to the maternity suites. There my road to recovery would begin, and it would be a bumpy road.