Looking back eight years later, I can see that something was wrong just moments after my daughter, Hope, was placed, pink and new, on my chest. Instead of love or joy, I felt panicked, worried we were already nursing failures two minutes in. Yet because my lead-up to motherhood had been nearly picture-perfect — a happy marriage, a wanted pregnancy, a birth so smooth my OB had said I should have a whole football team of kids — it took me several weeks to understand that while Hope was healthy, I was not. Eventually I could name it — postpartum depression — and begin to recover, but for a while it just felt like all the good parts of me had slipped away the day I gave birth.
I used to spend time after school and on many weekends at my Aunt's home because I had no dad and my mom worked full time. My mom and Aunt knew I had female tendancies early on but I'll never forget the first time I got caught in the act. It was late at night and I thought my Aunt was asleep. During that day I stashed the perfect outfit to play with at night. I chose her panties, her white thigh high stockings and along with a white blouse and a blue pair of her culotte shorts and a pair of her sandal flats.
When I was 12 years old I had a sleepover I will never forget. Me and my friends Alex and Mitchell were all sleeping over at Alex's house. We had all just woken up and Alex's mom had left us a note in the kitchen "hope you all slept well. I'm out for the day and won't be back until about 4PM this afternoon.
A photograph was captioned as showing a year-old Ivanka Trump sitting on her father Donald Trump's lap during a concert at their Mar-a-Lago estate. The photograph does not in itself document any 'grinding' or other inappropriate physical activity between Ivanka and her father. How many times can the creepiness of the Trump family seriously shock us?