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In Her Own Words

Statistics can’t tell the stories of these average mothers

Julia Bennett, 18, North Beach

My pregnancy wasn’t easy. I was in and out of the hospital because Carter wanted to come out three months before he was due. I was constantly worried about him being a preemie, but the doctors kept him in my belly. Then once his due date came, he decided to be stubborn. I heard about the problems that could happen if he stayed in my belly for too long, and I worried some more.
    The second he was born on July 22 and was placed into my arms, all that stress disappeared, and all I could feel was happiness. He fit right in my arms, like he was meant to be there. He felt it, too. He tugged on my finger the second he was in my arms.
    Being a mother has its ups and downs. The worst is when Carter is sick. He gets fussy and doesn’t sleep. Moms know; if the babies don’t sleep, we don’t sleep. I was up for a week straight, with little naps here and there, no lie. It was a state of delirium I didn’t even know existed. I was saying things that didn’t make sense and trying to wash dishes with hand soap.
    But it’s amazing watching him grow up and getting smarter every day. Today, I showed him that if he pushes different buttons on one of his toys, it makes different noises. Now he pushes away, practicing his next great symphony.

Kate Bornschein, 30, Edgewater

As I troll Facebook after a long 12-hour day while my toddler ate a package of animal crackers that would certainly spoil his dinner, I find a question asking me if there really is such a thing as an average mom. Upon becoming pregnant with my first child, I had visions of my future chock-full of homemade cupcakes and running and laughing with my child in the yard.
    Now that I am well into mommy-hood and my beautiful baby is a terrible toddler, I find I aspire toward other things. Things like getting out the door on time. Or making sure my kid looks clean and well taken care of before he leaves the house.
    Home-cooked dinner? Maybe. Working out? Probably not. Glass of wine? Make it a bottle.
    I won’t be Class Mom (frankly, I don’t want to be), and I will not be attending every field trip. What I contribute to school parties will most likely be store-bought if I can even remember to go to the store. I’m average on a good day. But I’m happy. And my family is happy. And we think that’s not half bad.