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<\/p>\n\u201cDear Woman in Target,<\/p>\n
I\u2019ve heard it before, you know. That I \u2018spoil that baby.\u2019 You were convinced she\u2019d never learn to be \u2018independent.\u2019 I smiled at you, kissed her head, and continued my shopping.<\/p>\n
If you only knew what I know.<\/p>\n
If you only knew how she spent the first ten months of her life utterly alone inside a sterile metal crib, with nothing to comfort her other than sucking her fingers.<\/p>\n
If you only knew what her face looked like the moment her orphanage caregiver handed her to me to cradle for the very first time \u2013 fleeting moments of serenity commingled with sheer terror. No one had ever held her that way before, and she had no idea what she was supposed to do.<\/p>\n
If you only knew that she would lay in her crib after waking and never cry \u2013 because up until now, no one would respond.<\/p>\n
If you only knew anxiety was a standard part of her day, along with banging her head on her crib rails and rocking herself for sensory input and comfort.<\/p>\n
If you only knew that that baby in the carrier is heartbreakingly \u2018independent\u2019 \u2013 and how we will spend minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, and years trying to override the part of her brain that screams \u2018trauma\u2019 and \u2018not safe.\u2019<\/p>\n
If you only knew what I know.<\/p>\n
If you only knew that that baby now whimpers when she\u2019s put down instead of when she is picked up.<\/p>\n
If you only knew that that baby \u2018sings\u2019 at the top of her lungs in the mornings and after her nap, because she knows her chatter will bring someone to lift her out of her crib and change her diaper.<\/p>\n
If you only knew that that baby rocks to sleep in her Mama\u2019s or her Papa\u2019s arms instead of rocking herself.<\/p>\n
If you only knew that that baby made everyone cry the day she reached out for comfort, totally unprompted.<\/p>\n
If you only knew what I know.<\/p>\n
\u2018Spoiling that baby\u2019 is the most important job I will ever have, and it is a privilege. I will carry her for a little while longer \u2013 or as long as she\u2019ll let me \u2013 because she is learning she is safe. That she belongs. That she is loved.<\/p>\n
If you only knew\u2026<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Update: Five years ago today, baby Gracie and I inadvertently blew up the internet.<\/p>\n
What started off as me venting to a closed audience after a chance encounter while grocery shopping at Target became something much bigger than I had ever expected. \u2018Dear Woman in Target\u2019 was shared by friends, family, strangers, celebrities, and more media outlets than I can track at this point \u2013 and published in the print edition of the Love What Matters book. It has been shared more than 75,000 times.<\/p>\n
My message then was simple: Mamas, hold your babies (and not so little babies). Hug your babies. Snuggle your babies. Love your babies. Meet them where they are. No apologies needed, ever. No regrets.<\/p>\n
A lot has happened in the intervening years. Some of those things were wonderful, some of them were not. And until recently, I did good and bad days with a little Bird on my chest, back, or hip.<\/p>\n
My message now, five years on from meeting that older woman in the baby aisle, is tinged with the profound emptiness that only Gracie\u2019s passing can bring. But it is exactly the same as it was the first time I said it\u2026 Mamas, hold your babies (and not so little babies). Hug your babies. Snuggle your babies. Love your babies. Meet them where they are. No apologies needed, ever. No regrets.<\/p>\n
No regrets. Only love.\u201d<\/p>\n
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\u201cDear Woman in Target, I\u2019ve heard it before, you know. That I \u2018spoil that baby.\u2019 You were convinced she\u2019d never learn to be \u2018independent.\u2019 I<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":5439,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[3],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-5436","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-story"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/storieshub.xyz\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/5436","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/storieshub.xyz\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/storieshub.xyz\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/storieshub.xyz\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/storieshub.xyz\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=5436"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/storieshub.xyz\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/5436\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":5440,"href":"https:\/\/storieshub.xyz\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/5436\/revisions\/5440"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/storieshub.xyz\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/5439"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/storieshub.xyz\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=5436"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/storieshub.xyz\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=5436"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/storieshub.xyz\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=5436"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}