The Good, the Bad, and the Filtered (Truth About My Post-Partum Life)

It’s late afternoon. Juliette is napping and Greg is at the pool with Veronica. I have a cold coming on and my limbs feel sticky and achy, my throat sore. I’m tired too. And drained. And kind of sad.

But you wouldn’t know that from the pretty pictures I post on Instagram all day, would you?

Every day I take photos, probably several dozen. I capture little moments of my life. The bright, blue California sky. My two girls holding hands or Vera in her underwear helping me make muffins. They are sweet, colorful and poignant pictures, snapped carelessly sometimes but always with intent.

But they don’t tell the whole story.

What I don’t take photos of is me and Greg bickering at 5AM because Veronica has awoken from a nightmare and Jules is stirring and we’re both sleep-deprived and stretched too thin. I don’t take photos of the two of us taking turns bouncing a colicky Juliette around our living room at 9:30 at night for the sixth night in a row, after Veronica has finally gone to bed and we’re both exhausted. I don’t take photos of the bottles of wine I eye greedily throughout my day, hungry to take the edge off this stressful time in my life. I don’t display the envy I feel for my friends who don’t have kids, my friends who are enjoying summers at the beach and traveling to visit friends and family.

I also don’t take photos of my fleshy post-partum body that makes me turn away from the mirror every day, scolding myself for not sticking better to my diet. And I certainly don’t take pictures of our sorrowful bank account, the very one that leaves me crying in heaves once a month as we struggle to make rent and pay preschool dues. I can’t take pictures of how frustrated I feel to not be writing, to barely have time to respond to emails, or to help friends with projects. I don’t know how to capture the anxiety I feel about how Greg and I will make it through our girls’ early years and survive happy and romantically attached. I can’t show you the moments in which I feel worried about my career, my future books, or about when and how I’ll ever find time to write again.

So I don’t. I just take photos of the pretty parts. Of Vera’s face, lit up by sun casting off the Pacific Ocean, or the way Jules purses her ruby lips in her sleep. I take photos of my handsome husband holding hands with my oldest daughter as they stroll close to the ocean. I take pictures of our wonderful friends who stop by, the very friends who later confess to me that my life looks idyllic.

But that’s where the disconnect sets in. Several times in the last few weeks different people have remarked on how idyllic my life looks. My two beautiful girls, the little house in Santa Monica, the California sunsets and constant friendly gatherings. And yes, those things are real, and I’m grateful for them every day.

But most of the time I feel frazzled, depressed and coiled tight with anxiety. Being a mother is hard. Being a wife is hard. Being a writer is hard. Living in California is hard. I worry about the future a lot. I worry about the present. I worry that I’m not being present.

And maybe that’s where the photos come in. I spend so much time feeling like things aren’t good enough, that when they are I take a picture, desperate to hold onto that moment for just a little longer.

I know these first months with a newborn are one-of-a-kind, that each day moves me towards a place where I’ll be able to breathe a little easier. I just wanted you to know that my life isn’t perfect, that instead it’s built up of a series of wonderful, terrible, beautiful, tiny, tragic, flawless, and human moments.

Just like yours.

My paperback hits shelves December 24, 2012, but it’s already out on e-readers or for available for pre-order!




  • Posted July 30, 2012 at 12:14 pm | Permalink

    beautiful honesty.

  • Posted July 30, 2012 at 12:19 pm | Permalink

    I love this, every honest reflection of a life is precious to me. Also, do you take fish oil ? 🙂 It helps SO much with mood- and a billion other things. It is the closest thing to a miracle there is in the supplement world. I take four capsules a day and it has changed my life. My periods are so much better- fish oil regulates the hormones that cause the inflammation and pain of periods. It also, as I said, is an effective anti-depressant/anxiety supplement, if taken daily and in the right amount.

  • Posted July 30, 2012 at 12:30 pm | Permalink

    Claire, you are the BEST….;) FYI, being single and “carefree” can also leaving you feeling stressed frazzled and drained! 😉 The grass is ALWAYS greener until you decide you like your own backyard, right? No matter what the weather is like at the moment….!. WON-derful post, thank you, babe! xoxo

  • Posted July 30, 2012 at 12:40 pm | Permalink

    I am so with you – thank you for writing and sharing this. It’s been on my mind a lot lately – are we giving a false impression with pretty instagrams and upbeat blogs? But no: because that is there, too. It’s never so black and white, yes? And we definitely must hold on the beautiful, fleeting moments … wishing you ease and peace in all things right now.

  • Lyssa
    Posted July 30, 2012 at 12:44 pm | Permalink

    Always honest, I love it! It’s been so easy for me to be longing for your life….two beautiful girls, little house in SM, and a flourishing career….This is reminder to me to stop wishing for everything I don’t have and realize that every phase of life comes with the good as well as the not so fun. So I’m going to try to enjoy my time here:) Thanks for the post!

  • Ashley
    Posted July 30, 2012 at 12:45 pm | Permalink

    With three young kids, I totally understand. Thanks for writing such a beautiful honest post!! I needed this today! Thanks again.

  • Posted July 30, 2012 at 12:54 pm | Permalink

    Oh, I remember those newborn days and how I felt like I was all alone and feared I was losing my mind. It’s hard to adjust to having two kids. As if one wasn’t exhausting enough. But things will get better. Once Juliette starts sleeping longer stretches, you’ll get more sleep and will have more energy. You’re juggling so much at once. You’re not just writing; you’re also promoting a book, which is draining, rewarding, and everything in between. Just think about how far you’ve come since the days you wrote about in your book. One day you’ll look back at your photos and will only remember blissful days.

  • Tracy W
    Posted July 30, 2012 at 1:02 pm | Permalink

    Hi Sweetie! Remember – no ones life is perfect, and make sure you don’t take any extra weight on your shoulders trying to be perfect or trying to be some elses vision of perfect. Just be yourself – sometimes life is good, sometimes its hard. Somehow we survive it all. I think our trials make for good juicy stories later in life. Remember where you friends and family are if you need a hand or even a shoulder or an ear!

    Did you ever hear that song by Dave Barns “Amen” –
    “We will have hope, we will have doubt
    There will be memories we could never live without
    We will have tears, but there will be grace
    there will be prayers that we never thought we’d pray

    Amen, Amen – with the dawn, we all begin again
    Amen, Amen – what is done, and yet to come, Amen”

    Thanks for sharing such personal thoughts! Sending strength and loving thoughts your way.

  • Posted July 30, 2012 at 1:05 pm | Permalink

    The thing is, those tough times? The ones that every single person who has ever been a parent can relate to from the very pit of their stomach? Those are not what you will recall on down the road unless, like your generation of bloggers, and former generations of journal-keepers, you stumble across those written remembrances of long-gone realities years later among the piles of photos. And ahh, the photos! Such luxury to be able to capture literally dozens of happy memories every single day! I was lucky to have camera in hand for one a week, and even then no guarantees that the moment had been successfully captured until weeks later when the film was finally developed. Momentous indeed to have captured this set of feelings, Claire — affirming to others who are in the middle of their own similar struggles, and a remarkable treasure for the future you. Gigantic hugs to you, dear girl!

  • Annie
    Posted July 30, 2012 at 1:10 pm | Permalink

    Claire, thank you for your honesty. Sometimes we take for granted the apparent ease with with some people present themselves and their lives. I think especially when you’re in a profession like yours – a writer and a therapist – it is all too easy to think that you’ve it figured out and you can take care of yourself and your worries just as you take care of others. People turn to you for wisdom and clarity and you’re so gifted at providing it but that can be a lot of pressure as well. Wishing you some peace and sending hugs xo

  • Ashley
    Posted July 30, 2012 at 1:15 pm | Permalink

    Wow! Really glad you posted this before I walked into my post-partem expecting it to be a tranquil, easy, blissed-out second honeymoon! You’re right. The instagram feed paints a totally different vignette. But, I know that that picture is no more “false” than this one is “real.” Both are valid, genuine and representative of you and your life. But I am glad to see both sides, because my expectations may have been a little skewed. You were making it look easy to the point that I was having anxieties about whether or not I could live up to that standard! Even so, you are an inspiration and the model that encourages me along the busy path I have set for mt own self. I love and miss you!!

  • Posted July 30, 2012 at 1:54 pm | Permalink

    Your life IS beautiful. Beauty comes at a price. Hang in there. YOU are AMAZING.

  • Lisa Lilienthal
    Posted July 30, 2012 at 2:07 pm | Permalink

    As always, so beautiful and so heart-felt and so honest, so thank you for that, Claire. Every time a writer opens their head and their heart, we forge a deeper connection, both to you and to ourselves. That said, I hope it does help — as everyone has said — to know that it gets better and easier — sometimes because it is actually better and easier (i.e., they sleep through the night) and sometimes just because it is different — as one stage blends into the next, you let go of one worry or stressor and trade it for another, but at least it is a different one. Some day, a long time from now, I will have to bend your ear about young teens, social media, and how bold and stupid it makes everybody!

    I have heard people talk about the “face” that people show to the world, particularly through visual social media like Instagram, and how it isn’t “real.” But those happy times are real, even if they are fleeting, and I love Instagram in particular because it is such a happy place. I love it when I have a couple of free minutes in the day to scroll through and see pictures of beautiful places, smiling babies, gorgeous food, and the like. To me it is a reminder to savor a moment here and there. Hang in there!!

  • Posted July 30, 2012 at 3:32 pm | Permalink

    Thanks for being so honest and real, as always. As a writer myself, I envy your strength to be so open and honest in your writing. After reading your post, I realized how ironic it is that we always look back on the hard times with nostalgia. I know it is hard to see it now with all of the stress and pressure you’re feeling, but you will probably look back on these days as some of the best in your life.

    I was beyond depressed when I found out I was pregnant, terrified of the birth and a bit overwhelmed during the newborn days. The funny thing is, I’m now obsessed with looking at pictures of that time period and thinking how wonderful it all was! Even though we’re now back in Los Angeles (finally! yay!) where all of this took place, I’m finding that I can’t just go back and recapture that time in my life. I want to drive by the apartment we were living in, the hospital I gave birth in, the grocery store we shopped at. The feeling lasts but the moments are gone forever.

    I’m not sure what I’m trying to get at here except maybe just know that someday you will look back on this time as an amazing period in your life. I’m sure you already realize this though since you know the importance of being in the present. 🙂

  • Posted July 30, 2012 at 4:51 pm | Permalink

    Claire — Like everyone else, I thank you enormously for the honesty.It is such a huge thing to give life to another human. It changes a woman every time in different ways, and it is deeply interesting and gratifying to know that others feel the incredible ups and downs of it all. I hardly ever wrote a word about my own experiences when my kids were little, so I admire anyone who has the foresight and energy (I know it has to take energy to sit down and write even a few paragraphs!!) to write. Thank you.

    In fact, I hope you know that the fact that you are writing at all –here on this blog, every few days — that’s _real_ writing! I know you have another book and other projects looming, but all that you are writing here in its openness is so lovely for us readers and surely is also keeping your writing juices flowing in some way.

    Finally, just wanted to say that you shouldn’t hesitate to seek help if your depression or anxiety are or become overwhelming. Postpartum can do that, of course, but there is lots of help! Even if you know all the “reasons” why you might be overwhelmed and depressed, they can still cause real physical havoc that can be alleviated in various ways. So glad you have a supportive husband and friends — that’s such an important foundation!

    Blessings to you, Claire!

  • Posted July 30, 2012 at 5:20 pm | Permalink

    claire, i never got the impression that your life is idyllic–MINE is idyllic! and yet guess what–i still complain. when i brought over dinner it was such a wonderful time for me, and yet so much was imperfect–the oven not being turned on, vera wanting her OWN pasta (she missed out!), jules pooping her diaper (how DARE she when you have company?), vera dropping her ice cream bowl twice. and yet i remember how you and i laughed about the ice cream. because…it was funny!

    believe me, i saw the cracks, and i heard them in your conversation, but it was a rich and fantastic conversation that we all shared, and that is why i appreciate you sharing the cracks. anyone who has had a child knows how hard it is–the idyllic part is that you have a husband at home (a handsome one!) and two beautiful healthy daughters who will, in time, be less of a burden to care for. and you will get your body and your mind back, and want to do it all over again. (ha!) all of us (your friends) near and far are willing to support you–i know that i will be happy to bring dinner another night. it is of benefit to me as well (i get to cook and i get to share a meal with friends). chin up, dear friend, or find a shoulder to rest your head on and have one hell of a cry, then get back up and do what you do so well, knowing that it will not always be this hard.

    love you!

  • Alyssa
    Posted July 30, 2012 at 6:32 pm | Permalink

    Ah, Claire. I’m just a few months ahead of you in this game, and I promise it does get better. Eventually. A lit bit every day. Except maybe the sleep deprivation, but that’s mostly because our girls are sharing a room. I keep reminding myself one day I’ll have my life back, and I’ll probably just bemoan not having my little ones at my knees anymore. It’s so hard to liveinthemoment when the moment is fatigued, irritated, sticky, and annoying. But we keep on trying, don’t we? 🙂 thanks for the post, helping me feel not as isolated in this lonely sport.

  • Posted July 30, 2012 at 6:45 pm | Permalink

    i do have to remind myself that most people choose to share only the good because that is what most people want to read and that is what most want to remember. i am guilty of the same on my blog – i don’t talk about the petty fights i get into with my husband, the self-hate after too many skipped workouts, feeling sometimes overwhelming lonely in my new city without a community of friends yet. but nearly everyone experiences these same things on some level and we can’t have a true online community without sharing the good with the bad, thank you for sharing ALL. your writing, both professional and personal, always stays with me and has me coming back to it days later. hang in there, claire!

  • Posted July 30, 2012 at 8:00 pm | Permalink

    I wish i could sweep in and clean for you and spell you for naps; you will feel better; you will get through this, but oh the exhaustion. I will keep you in my heart’s chamber where whisper prayers of assistance for others.” You are so authentic, it all goes together! hugs

  • Posted July 30, 2012 at 11:21 pm | Permalink

    With this post, I hope you have started to tackle one stress factor you can do without. Trying to look good, to conform to others’ and societal expectations. An excellent forthright public confession where you have only got applause, and no rebuke from comments above, is a great start. Now you only have to dump a few decades of conditioning. Easier said that done, but you’re on a roll here.
    You have a lot of friends who accept you as you are. Your new arrival, a very recent interloper on the scene, should expect to learn how to fit in. Buy earplugs. A bit of strategic neglect is a useful parenting tool. Do it your way with the reasonable expectation the most recent little brat, oh I’m sorry, darling daughter, has to fit your regime.
    I have no doubt you have noticed a different tone to my comments from those above. Can’t help it, I’m a bloke.

  • Posted July 31, 2012 at 9:33 am | Permalink

    I don’t know you at all, but I got your Rumpus letter months ago (it’s the only one I’ve actually KEPT, folded into my journal and I read parts of it to anyone who will listen). Then at Barnes & Noble one day, there–I thought–to buy the new issue of a lit mag, I passed by the “new nonfiction” shelf and by total luck saw your name on a book… I didn’t even make it to the magazine rack. And for the first time in like 10 years, I bought a brand new HARD COVER book at BARNES & NOBLE.

    I read it in like 2.5 days. Savored it each morning with my coffee, sitting in bed.

    I don’t know what it’s like to be a mother of a newborn (or of any -born) (obviously, since I’m sitting in bed with my coffee and savoring something first thing in the a.m.), but I do know what it’s like to feel at the bottom of things–like in your book. And I do know what it feels like to think I’ll never write again (and not because there’s anything as tangible as a newborn baby, or even a husband, or even a BOYFRIEND!, taking up my time). And I know what it’s like, just like you do, to make it to the other side.

    A friend of mine, a mother, a writer, her two girls both solidly in elementary and middle school respectively, said she panicked (in just the way you described) about her writing, when she had her babies. And she wishes now, now that she’s writing regularly again, and publishing, that she could go back to that writer her and tell her the writing hiatus was just temporary. That it would be okay. That her marriage would stay the course. So she could have not been so hard on herself.

    I didn’t start this comment to say any of this. I meant to say: Thank you.

    Just that.

    For writing your post. Addressing reality (it’s truly not for everyone).

    Once when freaking out about NOT writing (during a particularly awful time in my life) a successful writer friend of mine was sick of hearing me talk about it and he said “Are you really NOT writing?” I said “Well, in my journal, sure, but not really *writing* writing, not doing *work*.” He said “How about we just say what the truth is, that you ARE writing. Period. Because you are.”

    So, y’know, you ARE writing. You are writing these incredible blog posts that make a girl like me cry. And they are not wasted. They are material. Possibly for the future.

    big thanks to you,

  • Lynne
    Posted July 31, 2012 at 4:47 pm | Permalink

    Hope you know how much your honesty is appreciated! Thank you so much for sharing this! You touch my heart with your writing, Claire.

  • Katie
    Posted July 31, 2012 at 4:54 pm | Permalink

    Love this post. I am right there with you- 2 kids 3 and under. It’s no joke! I think a lot times we put so much pressure on ourselves to do everything, be everything, and fix everything- but we can’t!! I too feel the depression and anxiety in the pit of my stomach. I have to tell you it does get better. You have beautiful children! I know sometimes it helps me to have a good cry, feel sorry for myself for a bit, and then move on….

  • Colleen McCann
    Posted July 31, 2012 at 6:43 pm | Permalink

    My son turned 25 today and my husband and I spent tonight reminicsing about the early years. They were difficult and we worried about paying 10.00 for disposable diapers and we cringed writing out the check for preschool! I can so appreciate how you are feeling. I wish I was able to go back in time and really live in the moment and savor it all with a clear mind. Lol, unfortunately not possible! Your life does look idyllic! It will get easier! Your girls are beautiful!!!

  • Posted July 31, 2012 at 7:20 pm | Permalink

    SO powerful. SO beautiful. Thank you for sharing this.

  • J. Stringfellow
    Posted August 1, 2012 at 6:20 pm | Permalink

    I hear you! It is very overwhelming and exhausting, and at the same time amazing. I appreciate your honest thoughts! BTW, I loved your book.

    Mama to a brand new 2 year old, and 10 month old. Yes, 13 months apart. 🙂

  • Posted August 1, 2012 at 10:27 pm | Permalink

    Love your honesty!

  • Posted August 2, 2012 at 6:35 am | Permalink

    I adore you. Truly.

    It must be a mother thing, but I always know about your photos that you are training your eye to find the beauty because of the rawness of this time. New motherhood feels like an exposed wound with wind blowing over it whether it’s your first baby or your fifth. You know the hard time will pass, but it seems so far away.

    Hang in there and trust the process. You and your beautiful family will come through strong, but it’s an upward hike. We are here for you. xo

  • Posted August 3, 2012 at 8:56 am | Permalink

    I just wrote a post about this very issue, and Julie sent me over here to read this- I’m really glad she did! Thanks so much for writing it!

  • Natalie
    Posted August 4, 2012 at 8:31 am | Permalink

    Loved this. Found your name on “Letters in the Mail” and read the post you had written. I felt
    myself relating to your words so I found your book “The Rules of Inheritance” and purchased it! Then found your blog here and must say, it definitely is hard living in California. That is why I moved to Washington before getting married and settling in Massachusetts. Just remember that no matter what struggle we are currently facing, we always seem to get past it. Try to focus on the good that is going on in your life, like your photos. Remember that your kids won’t be young forever, these are the magical moments in your family’s life! Best of luck to you and KEEP WRITING!!!!

  • Bridget
    Posted August 8, 2012 at 3:06 pm | Permalink

    Thank you.
    That’s all I can say through my tears.

  • Posted August 10, 2012 at 3:56 am | Permalink

    I never for one moment think that the pretty is all that is going on in other people’s lives, but I love seeing it when it happens and I love recording my own. Because the pretty happened too. And that’s nice to remember.

  • Julia
    Posted August 16, 2012 at 7:47 am | Permalink

    I feel exactly like you. Thank you.

  • Trish
    Posted August 16, 2012 at 9:11 am | Permalink

    Thank you for writing this. I’ve always admired writers who are able to so adeptly capture their feelings and thoughts on paper. Reading this felt as though the words were flowing out of my brain, it is so precise to how I have felt, to how I still do too often feel. Thank you, thank you, thank you for sharing.

  • Charlotte
    Posted August 26, 2012 at 5:27 pm | Permalink

    I can’t thank you enough for writing this with such honesty. I randomly came across it on a day that I was close to tears and could only find a moment of peace in the bathroom. I needed a minute to pull myself together and found this. It could not have come at a better time. It’s like you put into print everything in my head.
    Thank you, thank you for posting this.

  • jennifer
    Posted September 20, 2012 at 9:30 am | Permalink


  • Posted September 20, 2012 at 11:13 am | Permalink

    i worry everyday about not being present. now i am years beyond post pardum and i still worry. i worried then, i worry now. and i certainly only take the pretty parts. lovely article and blog. x

  • Jamie
    Posted September 20, 2012 at 5:31 pm | Permalink

    Beautifully written! You are.not alone in these very true feelings. All of us at some point after becoming mothers, already being wives and working women find ouraleves at this place. Hand in there, enjoy every moment and trust all has to & will improve.

  • Emily
    Posted September 22, 2012 at 1:41 pm | Permalink

    Thank you!

  • Jackie Wernberg
    Posted September 23, 2012 at 7:55 am | Permalink

    On the other side of the world, and way past post partum – if fact post menopausal is more like it. Having a particularly rough day, emotionally, and this piece of eloquent writing hit the right spot. Thank you
    Jackie, Cape Town

  • Anna
    Posted November 27, 2012 at 6:11 pm | Permalink

    you took the words right out of my mouth. thank you for saying what I always feel.

  • Posted November 27, 2012 at 7:29 pm | Permalink

    Wow…and the reason you feel you are not “writing” is…?
    This is old school “reach-out-and-touch-someone” in the crossroads where a mother’s regrets collide with her reality.
    Keep on “not writing” 🙂

  • Posted November 28, 2012 at 6:11 am | Permalink

    Just perfect.


  • Posted November 28, 2012 at 10:05 am | Permalink

    Thank you. Your words so perfectly capture exactly what I have been thinking about lately… the chasm between what I am often feeling & the “picture” I present to the world. Some days it is a minor crack, others the grand canyon. So glad to have discovered your writing.

  • Emily
    Posted November 28, 2012 at 6:19 pm | Permalink

    Reading this was just what I needed today! Thank you. Beautifully written and very validating.

  • Jana
    Posted November 30, 2012 at 4:44 pm | Permalink

    Yes. Exactly. Thank you for your honesty. Something strange happened when I became a mother – a gap formed between the real me and the ‘me’ I was putting out there. It’s taken a few years and another baby but I’m finally putting the truth out – in photos and words. This is what we need – each other’s honesty. Brilliant.

  • Posted November 30, 2012 at 7:37 pm | Permalink

    Wow. You nailed it on the nose. The beautiful part is that it does get better :). Thanks for the honesty and openness!

  • Michele
    Posted December 2, 2012 at 3:30 pm | Permalink

    Oh how wonderful to come across this post (via cup of Jo). Trying to figure out my new life with newborn and a preschooler. WAY harder than I could have imagined. The challenges, stress, and extreme sleep deprivation have a way of dampening the sweet joyful love that is supposed to be there with a newborn. It is so hard to savor moments of this new life & it saddens me. And in frustration i wonder whenl I will again have time to do things I need to do? Or get my memory/body/career back? Right now it feels like it will be forever, but I am heartened by not just your words but also those of your readers! I have to remind myself to release certain expectations and savor any moment I can enjoy with each child. Thank you.

  • Posted December 8, 2012 at 7:26 pm | Permalink

    Well done..WELL DONE!!!!!!!!!

  • Posted January 2, 2013 at 9:55 am | Permalink

    I just wanted you to know how much this truly hit home for me. I’m days away from having my second daughter and worried about how life will be when she arrives. I struggled with post-partum depression and felt ashamed a lot of the times because of how I felt. No one (besides my husband) ever knew though because I relied on the the beautiful pictures and my blog to get me through. Thanks for being brave enough to write this and there really are so many women out there who feel similarly.

  • Posted January 2, 2013 at 10:09 am | Permalink

    Aw, thanks Christen! Those last days before number two arrives can be so anxious! Wishing you luck and peace and patience. xo

  • Ruby
    Posted January 20, 2013 at 2:56 pm | Permalink

    I was thinking of getting off facebook and instagram because it seems I am always jealous of everyone else and all they seem to have. It’s a constant struggle for me to be grateful for all that I have. Reading this was extremely helpful. You are a fantastic writer. Thank you for your honesty.

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    […] Family Photographs…(see more here) Thank goodness somebody came out and reminded us that her life isn’t absolutely idyllic and perfect, despite what their blog/Facebook/instagram might suggest. It’s reassuring to not have to […]

  • By Stumble Sunday - Eeep I'm A Blogger on May 11, 2013 at 7:58 am

    […] Family Photographs…(see more here) Thank goodness somebody came out and reminded us that her life isn’t absolutely idyllic and perfect, despite what their blog/Facebook/instagram might suggest. It’s reassuring to not have to […]

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