You'll remember me when the west wind moves upon the fields of barley
You'll forget the sun in his jealous sky as we walk in fields of gold
So she took her love for to gaze awhile upon the fields of barley
In his arms she fell as her hair...
There is no perfect, ideal, and cohesive road for motherhood, only the twist and turns of the “figure it out yourself” sort... Was I ever a fully-fledged person before I had my children? Why yes, of course I was… I had a life and it was a great one –...