Nursery Rocking Chair

... ghost can make a rocking chair or a dining chair slowly slide or rock... which room you enter: * The Nursery: Entering the children's bedroom at ... a specific room (like the nursery in Tanglewood), there is a ...

... the things he built today: rocking chair, crib, and dresser. She says... laugh. I went back her nursery tour from Anderson because I...

... ghost can make a rocking chair or a dining chair slowly slide or rock... which room you enter: * The Nursery: Entering the children's bedroom at ... a specific room (like the nursery in Tanglewood), there is a ...

... get sucked into specifically a "nursery chair". I'm pretty short and petite..., and so having a chair that felt like it fit ... store and sat in various rocking swivel chairs - and picked ...

... her, no rocking and I sing the same nursery rhyme and she... my partner sitting in a chair in the door of the ...

... has the MoDRN Glam Velvet Rocking Chair Off-White with Satin Brass for... Velvet Rocking Chair. This glamorous chair is the perfect accent to your baby's nursery...

.... Sometimes id sit in the nursery with both in the rocking chair and read books or play...

... quiet sigh and resumed mechanically rocking him back and forth. Satoru... recently," she muttered while slowly rocking him in her arms. "I... this after walking into the nursery one late afternoon. The curtains... sat in his little baby chair while wearing tiny black sunglasses... the tray attached to the chair and made a delighted noise. ...

Their new nursery is very lovely! ❤️The bunnies patterned wallpaper is sweet! The plushie cat in the corner is cute �The rocking chair corner is lovely for Hannah to enjoy sitting in the chair hugging her little twins � The infant themed furnishings are lovely.

... smaller vs bigger bedroom for nursery with my first (minus the... numerous reasons: I used the nursery from day one for nappy .../baby stuff. I had a rocking chair there for rocking and feeding. Even though the ... the get-go. So for me, nursery was in full swing use ...

... days, I worked on a nursery and an activity-rec room. I ... rooms on the lot. The nursery has a bassinette, crib, playmat, ... for younger kids, a potty chair, changing table, and rocking chair. I placed the yoga mat...

Such a sweet update! I don't think I've ever tried the rocking chair either - that looked very cute rocking her to sleep! �The nursery is so cute and it looks like everyone is settling in great to life in Innisgreen. I hope that Honey will soon get done with her studies and complete the aspiration. Love seeing Truffle and Meloday being such good friends - so adorable. ❤️

Shenanigans90 said: Good Morning, I hope everyone has a wonderful Sunday. I’m in my rocking chair on the back porch enjoying my coffee and the fresh air. I’m rocking along with you, but indoors in the nursery.. Coffee in hand though

Just shy of giving birth to my second baby. My almost two year old is still in the nursery and we don’t plan to move him for a few months after baby brother is here. We currently rock my son to sleep and love our nursery chair. With my first I would breastfeed and change diapers in bed but I would doze off or struggle to sit up comfortably even with extra pillows I kept next to the bed. I’m considering getting another rocking chair for our bedroom but want to hear from others; if you had a chair in your room, did you use it or did you end up just staying in bed? We could eventually move the chair down to our living room or play room. submitted by /u/Which_Establishment3 to r/NewParents [link] [comments]

Update: Apparently there are no Amish communities in Oregon and Washington, just Mennonites? Comparable? I'm preparing for my first child to make her arrival, and want a nice, heirloom rocking chair for her nursery. I'm talking, my parents still have the one they raised me in, and I want it to last for 27 years like theirs has. Amish furniture? Do places even make furniture that lasts for decades anymore? submitted by /u/Ok-Owl3819 to r/BuyItForLife [link] [comments]

Just wondering if anyone has recommendations for furniture stores in Melbourne that stock rocking or glider chairs that aren’t nursery brands (but will be used for bub)? I’ve looked at Il Tutto, but the style isn’t what I’m after, and I’m finding it difficult to dig up other retailers (live rurally so have to plan shopping trip ahead of time). I’m open to any style (wood, contemporary, leather, upholstered etc) and I’d rather spend a bit more on a well-made chair that will last. Thanks so much! submitted by /u/Paper-Wasp24 to r/BabyBumpsandBeyondAu [link] [comments]

How necessary is a glider/ rocking chair in a nursery? On the fence about getting one. submitted by /u/anyakluesner to r/pregnant [link] [comments]

Family shopper and non-birthing parent here! We have really struggled to find a decent chair for the baby's room. We've checked the furniture stores and no one has anything comfortable and affordable. We tried a chair from Wayfair and it was terrible. We tried one from Walmart that also had issues. This is our first, so we also don't entirely know what we need. But I've read quite a lot on Reddit and other places. It seems like being able to recline and have a comfy nap-trapped situation is more important than rocking? But also rocking is obviously useful? Not sure about swiveling. Our baby room doesn't have a ton of space, and while we could throw a pricey chair on a credit card, it's not a responsible thing for us to do right now. So we're trying to find something on the smaller side. My wife is pretty against an electric recliner. She's worried about safety, little fingers pushing buttons, and kids jumping off a footrest. On the other hand, I feel like while recovering, especially if she has a c-section, she'd appreciate just pushing a button rather than having to close the footrest with her legs. Of course the first few weeks, we plan on keeping the baby in our room. But I've been told that a chair in the nursery is still very helpful for the first year or so. If we had a single-story house, we'd just use the living room furniture. But I can imagine we wouldn't appreciate climbing up and down the stairs with a baby in the middle of the night. I'd love some insight from from some folks who have been through it. Are we overthinking things? Underthinking things? Have we been too influenced? Is there a decent, comfy chair under $300 that I just haven't stumbled across? Is that budget just too unrealistic? I don't know and this has been the hardest thing to shop for (aside from the 6 weeks it took to find the right leggings with pockets). submitted by /u/-a-rabbit- to r/BabyBumps [link] [comments]

Did anyone opt out of buying a nursery specific glider? I am really resistant to buying one for a few reasons. My sister recently had her first baby and she almost never used hers (just fed her baby in bed or on the couch and had a kid who was not into the rocking motion). These chairs are so ugly (mostly white and more modern than I would ever buy) and rarely all that comfortable. They are a rip off...shocked to see so many for nearly $1k. I am not adverse to buying things used but usually avoid fabric items secondhand. My idea is to buy a cooler and more cushiony chair that does not glide but at least is one that I would be happy to keep in my home long-term. Basically, how useful was specifically a gliding/rocking chair for the newborn stage? Thank you! submitted by /u/InfamousCharacter3 to r/pregnant [link] [comments]

I have a 2.5 year old son who still loves being rocked to sleep before bed. I am due in July and wondering if I should move his rocking chair into the nursery or buy a new one for the baby. If I don’t buy a new one what did you supplant with? Please note my son is still in a crib. He has shown zero signs of climbing out and I don’t want to get a big boy bed right before the baby is the born! submitted by /u/emster131 to r/Parenting [link] [comments]

Struggling to find a rocking/glider chair. I came across one on market place that I liked the look of and when searched online the reviews were great. But the asking price was more than what it's listed brand new from Walmart USA even after the conversion. It previously was available via Amazon as that's where I read the reviews. Any recommendations for a chair that's within the 3-400 range max in a lighter color. It's basically the only big item we will have to buy ourselves as my mother and mother in law have gotten the other big ticket items for us. submitted by /u/Another_ADHD_Girl to r/BabyBumpsCanada [link] [comments]

OK, people tell me what your favorite chairs are. I put nursery in quotes because we are not actually setting up a nursery, I think it’s pointless to waste the room for the year. With that being said, what is everyone buying?!? Our budget is pretty flexible but I put it out there to say I don’t necessarily want an Amazon special. I see advertisement for baby brands like nurture and babyletto, but are these fads? Nothing is reliable on social because everyone’s trying to make commission. I've seen some suggest lazy boy? What do yall have? I’m 5’3” normal bmi/body type. My husband is 6 foot wider built, so we want something comfortable for both of us. Thanks for any and all advise! submitted by /u/Personal_Contest_873 to r/newborns [link] [comments]

One of the things i wanted this year was a rocking chair like my parents had when i was wee lad, made of wood, curved feet, the classic american porch rocker, a nice thing for my bedroom, especially for reading, reducing screen time, and sitting in when i can't sleep. So i went looking, it turns out this style of rocking chair is expensive, i saw one i loved but it was £600, a lot of them look like something from a nursery or old peoples home, they're probably comfortable but not the look i was going for (they wouldn't have solved the problem i currently have anyway) Then i found a shaker style flatpack acacia wood rocker, the wood was a little light for my taste, but for £60 and the aesthetic i took it, free cushion too. I've had it over a week or two, sitting in it every night, it's a lovely chair but i found i couldn't really get comfy in it, i'd be holding my legs high up or letting my feet touch the floor and stop it rocking, i lived with it until tonight i decided to try adding some extra cushions, the cushion it came with + another cushion + two soft toys. It felt a bit better but the rocking felt different. I asked a chatbot if it was normal that i have to pad out my rocking chair to this extent. Nope it's not, it apparently means i'm too tall for the chair or the chair is too short for me, and that adding extra cushions could cause it to just tip over, since it rises the centre of mass. Apparently i should have bought a big and tall rocker, which i didn't even know existed. TL;DR: I didn't realize rocking chairs had sizes like clothes, i bought one i liked but it's too low to the ground to comfortably rock in submitted by /u/NoCommunication7 to r/tifu [link] [comments]

I’m trying to decide between a glider and a traditional rocking chair. I’ve never had either before, so I’m not sure what’s better for late-night feedings and just sitting with the baby. Has anyone found one type more comfortable or practical than the other? Thanks Edit: decided to go with #ad Nurture& The Glider Premium Power Recliner Nursery Glider Chair and ordered it for the nursery. Really hoping the glider setup makes late night feedings more comfortable. submitted by /u/ManinaVandalauskas27 to r/BabyBumps [link] [comments]

Hi my fellow mamas! I'm a first time mom and I got so many recommendations to get a rocking recliner. I do prioritize convenience so am a little torn because we already have two great chairs. We have a very 'adult-looking' leather recliner that just fit my body shape and aesthetics much than most of the rocking/gliding recliners we tried out there. We also have a very supportive accent chair that swivels/rotates but doesn't rock back and forth. Do you think we're mostly covered? Thank you! Edit: space might be a little tight if we get another chair. I also wonder if we can just swivel with the baby. submitted by /u/Tough_Art_5268 to r/beyondthebump [link] [comments]

It started six months ago. I was fresh out of grad school with a Master’s in History, a mountain of debt that gave me nightly anxiety attacks, and a resume that was getting ignored by every museum and university in a three-state radius. I was applying for everything: retail, data entry, barista. I was about two weeks from having to crawl back to my parents’ spare room when I saw the ad. It was discreet, posted on a high-end academic job board I’d forgotten I even had an account for. “Archival Associate. The Foundation. Discretion, precision, and an exceptional capacity for recall are paramount. No formal experience required. Generous compensation.” “Generous” was an understatement. The salary they listed was more than my parents make combined. I figured it was a typo, or a scam. But I was desperate, so I polished my CV and sent it in, not expecting to hear back. They called me the next day. The woman on the phone had a smooth voice but with a weight to it. She didn’t ask about my experience or my degree. She asked me a series of bizarre questions. “When you were ten, what was the pattern on the wallpaper in your grandmother’s kitchen?” “Describe the cover of the third book you see when you picture your childhood bookshelf.” “What was the name of the street sign you passed just before turning onto your current road this morning?” Luckily for me, my brain is just… sticky. Details cling to it, and I know for a fact that it’s a photographic, sensory thing. I can close my eyes and walk through my grandmother’s house, feel the cool linoleum under my feet, smell the potpourri she kept in a bowl on the sideboard. I answered her questions, and she said, “Please be at this address tomorrow at 9 AM sharp. Dress for an interview.” The address was a downtown monolith. A skyscraper with no name on the facade, just an elaborate, interlocking symbol above the heavy bronze doors that looked like a stylized knot. The lobby was a cavern of marble and silence. The air was cool and still, like a cathedral. A man in a simple, perfectly tailored grey suit met me and led me to an elevator, then up to a floor that had no button. He used a key. The interview was with a man I now know only as the Supervisor. He was ageless, with pale eyes that seemed to look right through me. He explained the job. It was simple, he said. Deceptively so. Each day, I would be given a single photograph. My task was to study that photograph from 9 AM to 5 PM. I was to absorb it. To commit every single detail to memory. The play of light, the grain of the image, the expressions on the faces, the stitching on a coat, the cracks in a sidewalk, the reflection in a window. “You will become the living record,” he said, his voice a low hum. “You will not write anything down. You will not make any copies. You will not discuss your work with anyone. At five o’clock, I will collect the photograph, and you will watch me incinerate it. The Foundation’s motto is ‘Quaedam optime memorandum.’ Some things are best remembered.” It was the strangest job I’d ever heard of. But the debt was on my chest, and the number on the contract he slid across the mahogany desk could change my entire life. I signed. My workspace was in a vast, circular room that felt like a panopticon. Dozens of identical wooden carrels were arranged in concentric rings, all facing a central pillar. Each carrel was a small, three-sided booth with a comfortable chair, a desk, and a single lamp. There were maybe thirty other people in the room, but the only sound was the soft rustle of clothing and the low, ever-present hum of the building’s climate control. No one spoke. No one even looked at each other. They were all just like me: head down, focused with an intensity that was almost unnerving. They had the same look I saw in the mirror every morning: a mixture of intelligence and quiet desperation. The first photograph was of a dusty, empty ballroom. Ornate, peeling plasterwork on the ceiling. A single chandelier, draped in cobwebs. Sunlight streamed through a grimy arched window, illuminating a universe of dancing dust motes. That was it. For eight hours, I just… looked. I memorized the way the shadows fell, the specific pattern of the water stains on the far wall, the number of crystal pendants missing from the chandelier (seventeen). At 5 PM, the Supervisor came, took the photo with a pair of tongs, and I followed him to a small, soundproofed room containing a sleek, modern furnace. He unlocked it, slid the photo inside, and pressed a button. A soft whir, a flash of orange light, and it was gone. He nodded at me, and I went home. The days fell into a rhythm. A new photo every morning. A wedding party from the 1920s, the bride’s smile just a little too tight. A grimy factory floor, men in flat caps staring grimly at a piece of machinery. A desolate stretch of highway at dusk, a single abandoned car with its door hanging open. A crowded market in a city I couldn’t place, faces blurred with motion except for one small child staring directly at the camera, their expression utterly blank. They were all unlabeled. No dates, no locations, no context. Just moments, frozen and silent. My colleagues remained phantoms. We’d nod sometimes, in the elevator or the sterile break room where we’d microwave our sad, solitary lunches. But we never spoke. It was a rule, and a powerful one. It was as if we were all part of some silent monastic order. I saw a woman who couldn't have been older than me, but her eyes had the haunted, distant look of a war veteran. An older man always rubbed his left temple, a constant, rhythmic motion, as he stared at his photos. We were all islands. The dreams started about a month in. At first, they were just echoes. I’d dream I was standing in the dusty ballroom, and I could smell the decay and the dry rot. I’d hear the faint, ghostly echo of a waltz. I woke up feeling unsettled but dismissed it. My job was to stare at images all day; of course they’d creep into my subconscious. But they got stronger. After a week spent memorizing a photo of a grim-faced family on a sagging porch in what looked like the Dust Bowl, I had a dream where I was the father. I could feel the rough, splintered wood of the porch railing under my hand, the grit of dust between my teeth, the gnawing, hopeless hunger in my stomach. I felt a desperate, protective love for the woman and children beside me, a love so fierce and painful it made my chest ache when I woke up. The day I studied a photo of a collapsed mine entrance, I spent the night dreaming of darkness. The oppressive weight of the earth above me, the taste of coal dust, the chilling, subterranean cold that seeps into your bones. I heard the shouts of other men, muffled and terrified, and the groan of shifting rock. I woke up gasping for air, my pajamas soaked in sweat, my throat raw from screams that had been trapped in my sleeping mind. This became the new normal. Every night, I was a tourist in someone else’s tragedy. I was a soldier in a trench, the mud sucking at my boots, the smell of cordite and fear thick in the air. I was a lone woman in a lighthouse, the storm winds howling around me like a hungry beast, the waves crashing against the stone with the force of cannonballs. I was a witness to car accidents, fires, arguments steeped in a quiet, venomous rage. I was living a hundred different lives, and none of them were my own. My own life began to feel thin and unreal. I’d be walking to the grocery store and the texture of the modern pavement would feel strange, alien. The bright colors of the cereal aisle seemed garish and loud compared to the sepia and black-and-white worlds I inhabited every night. My own memories started to get… fuzzy. I had to really concentrate to remember my college roommate’s name, but I could tell you the exact pattern of the rust stains on the hull of a shipwreck I’d studied for eight hours three weeks prior. The first major crack appeared on a Tuesday. I had spent the day with a particularly haunting photograph. It was a street corner, sometime in the late 70s judging by the cars and clothes. A crowd was gathered, looking at something just out of frame. Their faces were a mixture of shock and morbid curiosity. But my focus, for eight hours, had been on one man at the edge of the crowd. He was younger, maybe in his early twenties, with a thick mustache and a denim jacket. He wasn't looking at whatever the main event was. He was looking away, his face pale, his eyes wide with a specific, personal terror. He was the only one who looked truly afraid. That evening, on my way home, I saw him. I was waiting to cross the street, and he was on the other side. Older, of course. His mustache was grey, his face lined with the intervening forty-odd years. But it was him. The same wide-set eyes, the same shape of the jaw. The denim jacket was gone, replaced by a rumpled tweed coat, but it was unmistakably the man from the photograph. I froze. My heart slammed against my ribs. It had to be a coincidence. A trick of the light, my over-stimulated brain making connections that weren't there. But then he turned his head, and his eyes met mine across the four lanes of traffic. Recognition dawned on his face. And then, horror. The exact same expression from the photograph. A raw, gut-wrenching terror that seemed to suck all the air out of the space between us. He looked at me as if I were a ghost. As if I were the very thing he’d been running from on that street corner all those years ago. He stumbled backward, turned, and practically ran, disappearing into the evening crowd. I stood there for a long time, the traffic lights cycling from red to green to red again, the world moving on around me while my own had just ground to a sickening halt. That was when the paranoia began in earnest. The silence of the archive, once peaceful, now felt predatory. The hyper-focus of my colleagues no longer seemed like professional dedication; it looked like a desperate attempt to keep something at bay. I started watching them more closely. The man who rubbed his temple: his hand would sometimes twitch, his fingers splaying as if trying to ward something off. The young woman’s haunted eyes would occasionally flick towards an empty space in her carrel, her breath catching for a second before she forced her gaze back to the photo. I had to know what was going on. I broke the cardinal rule. I waited for the temple-rubbing man in the break room. He was nuking a container of what looked like plain rice. I walked up to him, my heart thudding. “Excuse me,” I said, my voice sounding rusty and loud in the quiet room. He flinched. He didn't just turn; he physically recoiled, his back hitting the counter. He looked at me with wide, panicked eyes, shaking his head frantically. He grabbed his rice, the microwave beeping insistently, and almost ran from the room, never once making eye contact. He didn’t say a single word. The message was clear. We don’t talk. We can’t talk. Maybe we’re not allowed to talk, or maybe we’re just too afraid of what might happen if we do. Then people started to disappear. One Monday, the carrel to my left was empty. The man who sat there, a quiet fellow with thinning hair, was just… gone. No one mentioned it. His desk was cleared out, as if he’d never existed. Two weeks later, the woman with the haunted eyes was gone too. Her carrel also wiped clean. There was no internal memo, no farewell card, just a silent, growing void in our ranks. Were they fired? Did they quit? Or was it something else? I was spiraling. My apartment no longer felt like my own. I’d catch a flicker of movement in my peripheral vision and turn to see a shadow that looked like a soldier in a trench coat. The scent of ozone and rain would fill my living room on a clear night, a phantom echo from a photo of a lightning-struck tree. The breakthrough, if you can call it that, came last week. I sat down at my desk and my hand brushed against something taped to the underside. It was a small, folded piece of paper. My blood ran cold. It felt deliberate, clandestine. I waited until my hands stopped shaking, then slipped it into my pocket. I spent the day in a fugue state, staring at a photo of a single, withered black rose lying on a cobblestone street, my mind entirely on the note in my pocket. That night, in the privacy of my apartment, I unfolded it. It wasn't a note, not in the traditional sense. It was just a string of alphanumeric characters: A7B3-C9D1-E4F8. I had no idea what it meant. A code? A web address? Then I remembered. Every archivist had a small, personal safe in the locker room, for valuables. We set our own combinations. But this didn't look like a combination. It looked like a serial number. Or a key. The next day, I watched the woman with the haunted eyes’ carrel. It was still empty. I took a chance. After everyone had left, my heart pounding so hard I could hear it in my ears, I went to the locker room. I found her locker. Next to the combination dial was a small, almost invisible keyhole. It was an override. This had to be it. I looked for a key, but then it clicked. The sequence was a password for the digital lock on her safe. I typed in the sequence. There was a soft beep, and a heavy click. The safe was full with paper. Scraps, notebooks, loose-leaf sheets filled with a frantic, spidery handwriting. It was forbidden knowledge. The one thing we were never, ever supposed to do. She had been writing it all down. I took it all, stuffed it in my bag, and ran. I’ve spent the last three days poring over her notes. It’s not a single, coherent narrative. It’s the fragmented, desperate research of a brilliant, terrified mind. There are clippings from obscure historical journals, printouts from physics forums, and pages and pages of her own synthesis. And I finally understand. According to her notes, certain moments in time, certain places, are so saturated with trauma, or violence, or some powerful, paradoxical emotion, that they create a kind of… scar on reality. A resonance. She used a lot of terms I barely understood: quantum entanglement, temporal feedback loops, mnemonic resonance. But the term she kept circling, the one she’d scrawled over and over in the margins, was genius loci. Spirit of place. But she’d added her own qualifier: Genius Loci Malignum. These aren’t just memories of bad events. They are the events themselves, still echoing. They are moments that have become sentient, predatory. A murder that was so brutal it imprinted itself on the room, and now the room itself lashes out at anyone who enters. A paradox, like a man who appears in a photograph of his own grandfather’s unit years before he was born, creating a loop that attracts… things. Unwanted attention from outside. These are glitches in the fabric of the universe. Hauntings of a moment, of a place, of an idea. The Foundation’s job is to find these glitches. They capture them. And the way they capture a rogue moment, a sentient memory, is to take a photograph. The photograph acts as a physical anchor, a key. But it's unstable. The note explained the process. Step 1: The photograph isolates the entity. It traps the genius loci in a single, static image. Step 2: The Archivist, through intense, prolonged focus, transfers the anchor from the photograph into their own consciousness. Our photographic memories, our ability to absorb every single detail; it's a prerequisite for the cage to work. We memorize the image so completely that our mind becomes the new vessel. Step 3: The photograph is incinerated. This destroys the original physical anchor, leaving the entity trapped entirely within the mind of the archivist. It has nowhere else to go. We are prisons. Human prisons for things that should not exist. The motto, "Some things are best remembered," is a cruel, literal joke. They are remembered by us, and only us, so that the rest of the world can forget. So that these malevolent echoes can't bleed out and harm anyone else. The few suffer for the many. The woman’s journal entries chronicled her decline. “October 12th: Archived the boardwalk collapse. I can still hear the screams when it’s quiet. Sometimes I smell the salt water and the fried dough.” “November 4th: Saw the arsonist from the warehouse fire photo on the subway today. He looked right at me and smiled. It wasn’t a human smile.” “December 19th: My sister came to visit. For a second, her face wasn’t her face. It was the face of the porcelain doll from that abandoned nursery photo. I screamed. She thinks I’m having a breakdown.” “January 8th: I have archived 112 anomalies. There isn’t much room left for me in here. I can’t remember what I had for breakfast, but I know the exact number of buttons on the coat of a man who vanished from a ship in 1924.” Her last entry was short. “They’re getting out. They’re leaking. The cage is full.” I’ve archived almost two hundred of them now. Two hundred of these… things. And the cage is full. My cage is full. My reality is fraying at the seams. Last night, I was making tea, and for a full minute, my kitchen wasn’t my kitchen. It was a cold, tiled morgue from a photo I’d studied months ago. The man from the 70s street corner: I see him everywhere now, in crowds, his face always twisted in that same silent scream, always looking right at me. The walls of my apartment sometimes ripple and show me the peeling wallpaper of a Victorian seance room. The static on the radio whispers words in a language I don’t know but understand with a cold dread. I think now that I am a walking, talking containment unit that has breached. And the entities I hold are starting to leak into the world around me. The other day, my landlord knocked on my door to ask about a water leak, and he flinched when he saw me. He said, "Sorry, for a second there… you looked like someone else. A lot of someone elses." He left without another word, his face pale. I found myself in my bathroom two nights ago, holding a bottle of pills. It felt like the most logical, rational thought I'd had in months. If I end it, they end with me. The memories, the things wearing the skins of memories, they all get erased. It would be a release. For me, and for the world. But as I was about to do it, the Supervisor's voice echoed in my head. "You will become the living record." And I realized, with a sudden, freezing certainty, that this is what they want. This is the end of the job cycle. It’s the Foundation's retirement plan. They hire us, they fill us up with these horrors until we break, and then we "retire" ourselves. It’s clean, efficient, and it completes the final incineration. So now I’m trapped. I can’t go on like this. I’m losing myself. My own memories feel like old, faded photographs compared to the vivid, high-definition nightmares I’m forced to carry. But I can’t kill myself, because that’s playing their game. That’s letting them win. That’s doing their dirty work for them. Is there another way? Can you fight a memory? Can you exorcise an event? I’m sitting in my apartment right now. The lights are flickering. In the reflection of the dark screen, my face is a flickering montage of a hundred others. A soldier, a bride, a factory worker, a terrified man on a street corner. The hum of the building sounds like a waltz, then like the roar of a fire, then like the howl of a storm at sea. They are all in here. And they want to get out. What do I do? submitted by /u/gamalfrank to r/nosleep [link] [comments]

I am NOT the Original Poster. That is Throw_Away4702723. She posted in r/amiwrong, r/AmIOverreacting and r/AITAH Thanks to u/BakingGiraffeBakes for the rec Do NOT Comment on Original Posts. Latest update is 7 days old. Trigger Warning: still birth; infidelity; emotional abuse Mood Spoiler: bittersweet Original Post: December 29, 2025 Throwaway account because a few friends know my username of my main account. This situation deals with infant loss, as you might tell from the title. It's not graphic, but is mentioned, so those sensitive please be aware. This story requires some context before I get to the main issue, so I'm sorry for such a long post. My sister (26F) is my only sibling and is a little over two years older than me (24F). We were close growing up until early teenage-hood when she moved in with our maternal grandmother and I stayed with our mom. Both our parents had drug/alcohol issues which also resulted in me moving in with the same grandmother a few years later. This will be important to the story later on. Growing up, my sister had different guys over to my grandma's house often. She was always dating someone and when it didn't work out, she would have a new boyfriend within the next week. There is nothing wrong with this, she wasn't sleeping around or anything like that, she was just very pretty and popular within school, so boys paid her lots of attention (cheerleader, blonde, blue eyes, tall, slim, etc.). I was not like her, but to each their own. I was a freshmen when she was a senior for timeline reasons. Well, beginning her senior year, she started dating a boy, we will call him Dave, who had graduated a year prior (she was 18, he was 19). Things seemed great at first, they had a great relationship, she was always smiling, and this seemed like a great thing for her. I was extremely happy for her! After she graduated, he popped the question to her in the summer and they were set to be married in the following spring. However, she found out she was pregnant around Christmas time that year, so wedding plans stopped and never picked up even all these years later. She had a healthy baby at age 21, right as I was finishing up my senior year of high school. It was a very exciting time for our family, both of our parents were a few years clean each, separated, and we were all very happy. That's when things started to change within my sister and Dave's relationship. A few months after having their son, my sister found out that Dave was talking to a few different girls online. I never had any clarification if they met up in person or if it was just online, but either way, my sister was absolutely devastated. When she told my mother and I about this, we tried to console her and offer as much help as we could. However, I was in a college dorm at the time and my mother was living back with her mom (our grandmother) taking care of her health, so there was little we could offer her in terms of leaving him. However, she surprised the both of us by staying with Dave. Dave was the only one making an income for their small house and my sister was a stay at home mother, and she liked that arrangement more than working, so she said she would try to make it work, especially for her baby's sake. We both understood what growing up in a broken home was like, so part of me understood why she stayed, but the other part wanted nothing more than to help her leave this situation. I promised myself that I would help her whenever I could once I had the means to. In my sophomore year of college, I met my now husband (25M), lets call him Jim, and we hit it off immediately. He's so respectful, kind, loyal, and always makes sure I'm taken care of. I felt like everything that went wrong in my life was worth it because I was able to meet this angel of a man. He is genuinely the best thing to ever happen to me. We both graduated at 22, Jim with a degree in business management and I a degree in nursing! We got our own home, got married, and work hard to maintain our lifestyles. Everything is great on our end. Our home is a three bedroom, two bath house and we have our own bedroom, a guest room, and one room that was our shared office. That was until I found out I was pregnant with our first baby this past May. We were over the moon with excitement. Jim and I had been talking about growing our family for years, had names picked out, nursery themes, the whole nine yards. Even more exciting was that my sister was also a few months along with her second pregnancy, my niece, and we were going to give birth about two months apart, her before me. I was praying to have a sweet baby girl so that my sisters baby, and our baby could grow up together. I found out in late August that we were going to have a baby girl and I cried tears of joy at the news. I always wanted a daughter and all our dreams were coming true. We had a name picked out and her nursery was coming together. I like to plan very far ahead, so we had most big furniture pieces like the crib, changing table, rocking chair, etc. ready. Aside from wall decor and small items like diapers and burp cloths put away, we were ready to bring our girl home. We never got the chance to. In early November I had some abnormal bleeding and we went to the hospital where we found out our baby had no heartbeat. We were beside ourself with grief. Jim was extremely supportive of me through this while going through his own emotions. I was hollow of feeling. The last thing I wanted in life was this. I couldn't imagine this terrible pain happening to myself. Anyone that has gone through this, I am so sorry and I share your pains. My sister had her baby in late November and while I was excited for her, when I came home from seeing her in the hospital, all I could do was cry. I hated myself for being so sad at the wonderful news of my niece being born, but I couldn't help my emotions. My sister got to bring home her beautiful baby girl and I didn't. I was embarrassed about my feelings and eventually had the courage to go see her again, and I am glad to say that part of me no longer feels so struck with grief looking at her little girl. Time for the actual part in the title. Yesterday, my sister found out that Dave has cheated on her again. This time, instead of staying at the house with him, she called me and asked if she could sleep at my house for a few days to cool off with her two kids, my nephew (5ys) and my niece (1mo). After talking to Jim, we agreed and got the room ready for her and the kids. The guest bed is a queen, so we got blankets for my sister and my nephew to share the bed and I brought out the bedside bassinet from my room and placed it in the guest room. This was the first time I have moved anything of my baby's and I was devastated while moving it, but pushed those feelings aside to help my sister. My sister arrives to our home and places bags for the kids into the guest room and starts to cry on the couch. I console her while my husband plays with our nephew and a few toys he brought. My sister is holding her baby, crying and wondering what to do about her next steps, where to go, how to get out, all of that. I am trying my best to support her, console her, and I assured she could stay at our house as long as she needs until things are in order. We order pizza for simplicity and had dinner with the TV and she sent our nephew off to bed in the guest room shortly after. My niece starts crying, to which my sister begins to nurse her in the living room. Jim and I leave to give her some privacy and tidy up the kitchen and talk amongst ourselves when I notice my sister walking the opposite was of her room a few minutes later, close to our room and the nursery. I call out to her quietly as to not wake the baby and ask where she's going. There is a restroom by the guest room and one connected to mine and Jim's room, so I know she's not headed there. She responded "Oh, did you already take down the crib in the nursery?" I kind of paused, then said a puzzled "no?" and walked closer as to not be too loud. She just shrugged a bit and said "Okay then, I'm gonna lay [niece] down for the night." I kindly stopped her and said I put a bassinet in her guest room and that she could gladly use that but she responded saying "Oh, well I figured she would be more comfortable in a crib like she has at home." and tried to walk towards the door. I kind of ran ahead of her and blocked the entrance of the nursery, explaining that I was not comfortable with [niece] using the crib and that I would prefer her to use the bassinet in their gest room. She just scoffed and turned around and said something under her breath and went to bed for the night. I felt bad, but figured that was it. Well this morning, I got up for my shift and found my sister getting the kids ready with all their bags. I asked what they were going to do and she said they were going back home to Dave. I asked why so soon, if she was really ready or if they wanted to spend more time here and she made a comment that 'we are clearly not welcome here, especially [niece]". I didn't want to escalate the situation in front of the kids, so I asked if she would text me about this, and she has yet to do so. I could hardly focus at work and had a panic attack about her being back with Dave on the way home. When I talked to Jim, he said that I did the right thing and that it was totally reasonable to not let her baby sleep in our late daughter's nursery. I also got a text from my mother saying that I should have just let our niece sleep in the crib as it is not a big deal and 'your sister is dealing with big things right now'. I feel as if I am going crazy, but I just want to make sure my sister is okay. On the same side, I want to be able to grieve in my own time and seeing another baby use our daughter's things when I wish it was her that could use them might make this pain come back tenfold. I love my niece so dearly and I don't want to have any resentment towards her, but fear I might if I see her using my late baby's things. Am I wrong for not letting my sister put her baby to sleep in my late daughters nursery? Do I just suck it up so that she can be away from Dave? I don't know what else to do. Any advice is appreciated. Some of OOP's Comments (from all three subreddits she posted on) sherwoma: This is such a hard situation. I lost my first born and we didn’t open the nursery up until we delivered our second child and essentially decided what to keep and what to donate. My heart goes out to you. I can’t imagine having someone so close to me having a living child while mourning my child. I can see both sides of this. Your mom is out of line, so is your sister for assuming that they could use your daughter’s room. I can’t imagine being in the position of your sister, but I think they’re being exceptionally tone deaf and not understanding how hard this could be for you. I am not sure there’s a way forward. You need to grieve your child. Period. And I’m sorry you’re being treated in a way you cannot. OOP: The grief truly doesn't go away and right now I am trying to focus on the small successes that get me through the day. I am so sorry for your loss and hope your second is doing well! I really do care about my sister, but having her treat me this way is something I definitely need time away from and I need some time away to process also. Thank you 1000thatbeyotch: You’re not wrong. You, too, are dealing with some “big things.” Much bigger than your sister realizing her spouse never changed. It is your home and you had a place for everyone to sleep. Too bad, so sad that it didn’t meet your sister’s standards. OOP: I truly do want her to be okay, but knowing she easily ran back into that home with her cheating spouse, I just want what's best for the kids. I don't know how they fight/if they do it in front of their kids either. I just want them to all be okay, but I know it's not my job to fix everything. Thank you Osidestarfish: You’re not wrong. She was also trying to put the baby down in a crib next to your room further from her own room? And one month old who is gonna be up and down all night feeding, changing, etc. She wouldn’t be able to properly care for her in a room across the house all night. OOP: That part was also something I didn't understand, and I also don't know if I could have taken being woken up to her baby's cries so close to me. Maybe I was not far enough along in my grieving process to allow them to stay and I am okay with coming to terms with that. OOP adds in a different comment: To clarify, yes, the nursery is closer to my room than the guest room. My kitchen/living room is an open plan with a small dining room area that leads to a short hallway, one end of the hallway is mine and my husbands shared bedroom and the other end of the short hallway is the nursery. On the opposite side of the house was the guest room, closer to the front door. I'm not sure of that layout makes much sense over text, but my bed is definitely closer to the nursery by several feet. I'm not sure if she brought a monitor, but it's possible since she assumed she would be using the nursery, and I'm not sure what her expectations for me waking up would be considering I never let her get that far. I hope that helps some in understanding. stupit_crap: That nursery is still your daughter's. It was insanely disrespectful of your sister to even walk toward that room. Had she not seen the basinette (sp) you put in the guest room? OOP: When I told her I placed a bassinet in the room for her already, she shrugged it off instead of acknowledging it was there, but I imagine she would have had to see it by the guest bed when she placed her bags in the room as she came in and to get her son in bed, which makes her choice to try and use my daughter's nursery hurt even more. Update Post: December 30, 2025 (Next Day) Wow. For starters, I did NOT expect my post to reach so many people and I appreciate every single one of your comments and messages. I have felt the immense love of the internet and me and my husband have had a great day of reflecting and reading comments and coming up with what to do. You guys have truly made me smile for the first time in so long, and I appreciate that more than many of you may know! Thank you for being so kind. For some clarification as well I am in therapy as well as my husband. A few of you recommended me some grieving counselors, mom groups to join, and a few other resources which are greatly appreciated. Please rest assured that I am getting the right help to navigate this loss as well as my husband. My sister and Dave are NOT married, which makes her leaving him even easier in my opinion. But alas, you will see where that goes shortly. My mom and sister are both quite self centered. After reading several comments, I have done some reflecting on not only this instance, but other instances from when we were kids/growing up and I see it so clearly. I guess hindsight really is 20/20. Now for the actual update: My mom DID end up reaching out to me first this morning and apologized for her statement and not seeing my struggles. We had a long talk on the phone that had some tears and long apologies, and while I am in no means fully forgiving her for what she said, I do find it a step in the right direction for our relationship. I am speaking to my therapist a bit more about this instead of solely focusing on the loss of my baby, so that will be great to unpack when it comes up in my next session. As for my sister, I reached out to her using some of you guy's points and statements from the comments. I was extremely respectful, put forward my boundaries, and explained that even though I love her and her kids dearly and how I want nothing but the best for her, I need time to process my grief still and how opening my house to her would not be the best option at the moment. I know that may sound like the minimum, but coming from being a giver and a people pleaser, this is a big step for me and I am proud of myself. I received no response back, but I did find out that she posted a LENGTHY FaceBook post about her loving family, her perfect husband, and most of all, her bundle of joy, my niece. If I could upload it here, I would, but I don't want anyone finding it and attacking her. Yes, I realized that this is a personal attack on not only my decision not to have her baby in my crib, but also, like many of you suggested, an excuse for her to run back to her husband. From what I know, he is not physically abusive, but there definitely has to be some sort of manipulation going on mixed with her self-centered attitude that makes them stay together even after this. Though I was extremely hurt by this, I've decided it is in my and my husband's best interest to block their social medias and stay low contact with my sister. Though it pains me to do so and I love her and her kids so much, this is what is best for me, my family, and my healing journey. I likely won't have many updates, if any, after this, but I figured everyone who commented and wanted to know how I was going forward deserved a sort of closure to this story. Thank you all so much for the kind words, the well wishes, the advice, and having my back when my family didn't. Sorry this isn't a more juicy update, but it is what I have. My healing journey is far from over, but I think someday I'll be able to look back on this situation and not be as hurt as I am right now. I hope everyone has a great holiday season and a happy new year! I wish nothing but the best to all of you internet strangers! ❤️ submitted by /u/LucyAriaRose to r/BestofRedditorUpdates [link] [comments]

So my (F22) husband (M24) came home absolutely shitfaced tonight. Yesterday was his birthday, which we celebrated as a family and then today we were all supposed to go out with friends to celebrate as well. He kept changing the plans and we ended up at a bar where my 6 month old baby is not allowed. I left him there and he was supposed to only have a few drinks and then come home. Now I was already upset when I left because I had not agreed to just be pushed aside and sent home with the baby. It would have been different if this was the plan and I knew I would be taking care of her for yet another night on my own. (I take care of her almost every night by myself with no help. I also take care of her all day while being a full time student and I’m starting at a full time job soon.) He was there for hours and then when he finally decided to come back he woke everyone up in the house and was throwing up in our kitchen sink. He stayed in the kitchen for over and hour before going into the bathroom and he was there for over an hour as well. I finally got him out of the bathroom so I could use it and I looked down and he had thrown up in the bathtub as well and couldn’t be bothered to rinse it. I was in there for maybe 2 minutes total when I heard the door to the nursery open. Here’s where I don’t know if I was the asshole or if I was correct in protecting my baby. This man couldn’t stand on his own. It took him 2 minutes to figure out how to work the doorknob after he left the bathroom. When I ran into the nursery he had managed to get the baby out of her crib and was sitting in the rocking chair with her. I immediately started trying to take her from him while he was fighting me on it and I told him to get the hell out. He gave me a hurt look and tried to argue so I told him he didn’t have the right to have access to her when he was like that and he wasn’t allowed in there again tonight. He’s now ignoring me and sleeping on the couch and I have me and my baby locked in my bedroom so I know nothing will happen to her. So AITA for taking my daughter away from him and kicking him out of her room? Edit: A lot of people are asking if he does this a lot. He used to drink like this all the time and he majorly cut back after way too many arguments about my personal safety. He wasn’t abusing me or anything but he would get loud, aggressive, and mean. This was before our baby and I honestly thought he had it under control until a couple months ago when he started drinking more frequently again. He works weird hours so I get maybe 2-3 hours with him when he comes home from work before he goes to bed and weekends it’s pretty much my same routine as weekdays but with a little help. I’m still the primary caregiver on the weekends even with him home though. Update: As a lot of people have had problems with it, I thought he had it completely under control when we decided to have a kid. It had been a year of him not acting this way when we decided to have a baby. He didn’t pick back up again until after I got pregnant and even then we had multiple conversations and this was the first instance in about 10 months that he had gotten back to this point. I also was not aware of this problem before marrying him. We didn’t live together before marriage, so he was able to easily hide what he didn’t want me to see. I would also like to clarify because somehow there’s been some misunderstanding, but I have never kept him from her when he is sober. He’s had plenty of time to bond with her and be around her in the past 6 months when he is home. That being said, he is checking himself into inpatient care tomorrow morning and my family has agreed to help me move back home if this happens again. Unfortunately I live 1500 miles away from my family, so options are limited at the moment but everyone is willing to pool together money if I need it. I am safe. He knows where I stand on this and this is the first time he’s taken this much accountability, but it did take me leaving the house for a couple hours this morning for him to realize how serious this problem was. I will be saving all the money from my job once I start, outside of what is needed for groceries, and building an exit plan in a separate bank account. submitted by /u/No-Block7487 to r/AITH [link] [comments]

From nursing your baby through to reading books together, what feature did you feel like was most important in a nursery chair, being able to glide/rock or being able to recline? I know they sell many chairs that are a combination, but if we were to get one or the other which would you go for? submitted by /u/Otherwise-Night4352 to r/BabyBumps [link] [comments]

I'm struggling to find a rocking chair that is both comfortable and affordable. I didn't realize how expensive they could get until I started looking around, it seems like the price points are very polarized, either it is extremely cheap and low quality, or they work well but cost more than the hospital bill or first year of diapers...with little to no in between. I see a lot of posts with people saying you need one that: Swivels 360 and rocks Has good cushioning Is tall enough to rest your head back Doesn't make a ton of noise Can be cleaned easily Has a reclining feature that doesnt require a donkey kick to make the feet go up and down ....and so on and I'm...overwhelmed. It looks like anything close to that description is four figures in price, which I'm surprised anyone can afford. I started by looking at some classic wooden gliders, but for most of them the reviews say they aren't comfortable or break really easily. Has that been most people's experience? Is it worth it to splurge on something better? And if so, what features (either on that list above or not) are actually important/worth the money? And where is it ok to compromise/sacrifice if it means bringing the price down by a few hundred bucks? Any specific chair recommendations that people love, or just general recommendations of places to look? Lastly, how much do you actually use the rocker? It seems like opinions vary, some folks say it rarely gets used while others say the practically lived in them 24/7. Parents who have been through this process....what are your thoughts? I know that's a ton of questions so thanks for bearing with me, I'm just in a mini panic mode over here submitted by

FTM. My fiance and I are probably not going to move until after baby is born. This means the baby will not have a nursery the first 6ish months. I'm getting only essentials. Do I need a rocking chair/glider? ​ submitted by /u/New_Mix_8004 to r/pregnant [link] [comments]

I am not The OOP, OOP is u/Vegetable-Passion809 AIW for not letting my sister breastfeed my baby? Originally posted to r/amiwrong & r/babybumps Thanks to u/queenlegolas for showing me these posts TRIGGER WARNING: obsessive behavior, potential child abuse Original Post July 15, 2023 Hi ok so I’m not sure if this is the right subreddit but I don’t know where else to rant about this. I F28 and my husband 39 recently had twin girls Lana and Clara. Clara is a delicate baby, she has some issues with her immune system but so do I so we figured one of the babies might have some issues with it. But Lana is a big strong baby. My younger sister, Lucy 24 has had some trouble conceiving and I figured she may have been jealous when I was pregnant but she didn’t show it which I appreciated. She has always wanted to be a mother so I tried my best to be a good sister to her and let her lean on my shoulder whilst also preparing for my girls. I had a hard birth and that coupled with my health issues means that I’ve decided to not breast feed and just formula feed. It’s important to note that both of the girls are healthy and at a good weight. Lucy has been somewhat erratic since the girls have been born, (they are 4 months), so I’ve been careful to monitor when they’re together but I thought it was important to let her be an Aunty. My husband was more concerned but I asked him to let it go so he has. We had a family gathering barbecue thing with our parents, my sister and her husband and some of our friends. Lana was awake and playing with our parents while we were cooking and Clara was napping so both of the girls were content. Lucy says she needs the bathroom and is gone for like 20 minutes so I go looking for her and I hear talking coming from the twins nursery. I figured that she was having a snuggle with Clara so I head into the room and oh my fucking god. I thought I was going to be sick, or hit her or I don’t know what. She was sat in the rocking chair trying to breastfeed my daughter!!! I’m being serious, she had her boob out with it in Clara’s mouth. Clara looked confused and didn’t know what to do with it as she’s never been breastfed. I started to shout at her asking what the hell did she think she was doing with my baby. I took Clara from her and tried to soothe her. Lucy tried to calm me down telling me that I should be grateful and thank her for acting in the best interest of my baby. She said I was failing them by not being able to breast feed them, but her fertility medication has let her start lactating so she decided to help me out. She said the reason Clara wasn’t as well as her sister is because she was being given formula and sickly babies shouldn’t be formula fed. She said I was being unreasonable and that her and Clara have formed a bond over this and that it was cruel to take her away from her. I have no fucking idea what that means. Does that mean it’s been happening more than once!? What the hell does she think she’s doing? Clara and Lana are my babies not hers! I feel sorry for her but I’m not wrong for thinking this is ridiculous right? EDIT: thanks for the advice everyone. I can’t lie I find the concept of wet nurses weird and steeped in bad history and slavery but I can appreciate it’s the right choice for some people. But I don’t like the idea of another woman having intimate skin contact with my babies. We will take the girls to their paediatrician tomorrow but I don’t even now if she was producing actual milk. She could be lying. EDIT 2: we went to the doctors and he said that Clara is fine. He doesn’t believe Lucy was even producing milk. Clara has an iron deficiency so that could be why she’s a bit sickly. I’ve tried telling our parents, they’re going to focus on looking after Lucy I think. CAN EVERYONE STOP SAYING TO THINK ANOUT LETTING HER BREAST FEED. NOW WAY IN HELL IS THAT HAPPENING. SHE WANTS TO BE MY DAUGHTERS MOTHER. AND TO THE MAN IN THE COMMENTS TELLING ME IM BEING TO EMOTIONAL AND FEEL ASHAMED AS I COULDNT BREASTFEED BUT LUCY COULD PLEASE STOP. IM THE MOTHER AND AHE VIOLATED OUR RELATIONSHIP u/lobo1217 leave me alone Formula shaming July 17, 2023 Ok so I have a bit of a unique situation that you can see on my profile but the gist of it is I’m not able to breastfeed both medically and out of choice and I walked in on my sister trying to breast feed one of my twin daughters. Honestly I feel so violated. The act of skin to skin contact with a baby is such an intimate experience for mother and baby and the fact that my sister has tried to steal that from me is so sickening. She says they have a bond and that makes me sick to my stomach. She’s my daughter. Anyways I’m being shamed for formula feeding as my daughter has an iron deficiency even though the doctor has given her supplements. My sister is saying I’m failing my daughter but she’s able to give her everything she needs. It’s really fucking with my head. I posted in Am I wrong but there are some horrible male commenters saying my sister would be the better mother, I’m begging too emotional and embarrassed. Update July 27, 2023 Hi guys. Thanks for the support under my initial post. I’m glad to know other moms share my feelings and boundaries. And it’s funny to me the people saying I should be grateful and allow her to continue are men… Anyways drama ensued after I warned my parents and BIL that they should get her help as she wasn’t ok. And expressed my boundaries that she wouldn’t see my babies for the foreseeable future. I’ve been working from home with Kerim since so we can spend some time as a family to bond. It’s been lovely. We’ve been keeping the girls close and having lots of cuddles. Thank for Clara and Lana still seem bonded to me and are happily taking their bottles from us. The iron deficiency seems to be getting better now that she’s getting some extra help. Lucy turned up to our porch yesterday crying hysterically and screaming at us to open the door. I rang my parents and told them I’d call the police if they didn’t come and get her. She started pounding on the door demanding I let her see Clara. That Clara needed her and her breast and that it was cruel to keep them apart. That she would be missing her and they were bonded. I told her she’d never see my babies again unless she got better and to fuck off before I slapped her. Our parents turned up to get her and I told them she needed to be taken to therapy or something. So that’s where we are now EDIT: we’ve spoken to police but they’ve said it’s a civil family issue (Europe). THIS IS A REPOST SUB - I AM NOT THE OOP submitted by /u/Direct-Caterpillar77 to r/BestofRedditorUpdates [link] [comments]

Hi ok so I’m not sure if this is the right subreddit but I don’t know where else to rant about this. I F28 and my husband 39 recently had twin girls Lana and Clara. Clara is a delicate baby, she has some issues with her immune system but so do I so we figured one of the babies might have some issues with it. But Lana is a big strong baby. My younger sister, Lucy 24 has had some trouble conceiving and I figured she may have been jealous when I was pregnant but she didn’t show it which I appreciated. She has always wanted to be a mother so I tried my best to be a good sister to her and let her lean on my shoulder whilst also preparing for my girls. I had a hard birth and that coupled with my health issues means that I’ve decided to not breast feed and just formula feed. It’s important to note that both of the girls are healthy and at a good weight. Lucy has been somewhat erratic since the girls have been born, (they are 4 months), so I’ve been careful to monitor when they’re together but I thought it was important to let her be an Aunty. My husband was more concerned but I asked him to let it go so he has. We had a family gathering barbecue thing with our parents, my sister and her husband and some of our friends. Lana was awake and playing with our parents while we were cooking and Clara was napping so both of the girls were content. Lucy says she needs the bathroom and is gone for like 20 minutes so I go looking for her and I hear talking coming from the twins nursery. I figured that she was having a snuggle with Clara so I head into the room and oh my fucking god. I thought I was going to be sick, or hit her or I don’t know what. She was sat in the rocking chair trying to breastfeed my daughter!!! I’m being serious, she had her boob out with it in Clara’s mouth. Clara looked confused and didn’t know what to do with it as she’s never been breastfed. I started to shout at her asking what the hell did she think she was doing with my baby. I took Clara from her and tried to soothe her. Lucy tried to calm me down telling me that I should be grateful and thank her for acting in the best interest of my baby. She said I was failing them by not being able to breast feed them, but her fertility medication has let her start lactating so she decided to help me out. She said the reason Clara wasn’t as well as her sister is because she was being given formula and sickly babies shouldn’t be formula fed. She said I was being unreasonable and that her and Clara have formed a bond over this and that it was cruel to take her away from her. I have no fucking idea what that means. Does that mean it’s been happening more than once!? What the hell does she think she’s doing? Clara and Lana are my babies not hers! I feel sorry for her but I’m not wrong for thinking this is ridiculous right? EDIT: thanks for the advice everyone. I can’t lie I find the concept of wet nurses weird and steeped in bad history and slavery but I can appreciate it’s the right choice for some people. But I don’t like the idea of another woman having intimate skin contact with my babies. We will take the girls to their paediatrician tomorrow but I don’t even now if she was producing actual milk. She could be lying. EDIT 2: we went to the doctors and he said that Clara is fine. He doesn’t believe Lucy was even producing milk. Clara has an iron deficiency so that could be why she’s a bit sickly. I’ve tried telling our parents, they’re going to focus on looking after Lucy I think. CAN EVERYONE STOP SAYING TO THINK ANOUT LETTING HER BREAST FEED. NOW WAY IN HELL IS THAT HAPPENING. SHE WANTS TO BE MY DAUGHTERS MOTHER. AND TO THE MAN IN THE COMMENTS TELLING ME IM BEING TO EMOTIONAL AND FEEL ASHAMED AS I COULDNT BREASTFEED BUT LUCY COULD PLEASE STOP. IM THE MOTHER AND AHE VIOLATED OUR RELATIONSHIP u/lobo1217 leave me alone submitted by /u/Vegetable-Passion809 to r/amiwrong [link] [comments]

I am NOT OP. Original post by u/DearRiver4425 in r/Nanny Acronyms used by /r/Nanny: NF: nanny family NK: nanny kid MB: mom boss DB: dad boss 1mo: 1 month old 1y: 1 year old 1F: 1 year old female (can also be done 1yF) 1moM: 1 month old male   How to save this relationship with our nanny, if we can. - November 20, 2021 My husband and I are first-time parents of 6-month-old twins. We hired a nanny to care for them while I work out of the house and my husband WFH. She started with us when they were 8 weeks old. I was under the impression that he was staying in his office a majority of the day, only coming down during the kids' nap time to eat (there's a bathroom right off his ensuite so there's no reason why he would need to be downstairs otherwise). In the beginning, everything seemed great with our nanny. She was kind and seemed happy to be working for us. Over the past month, I noticed she was acting weird and couldn't wait to leave. I didn't exactly blame her, she's caring for infant twins. I'm often excited to go to work so I can get a break from them. But it just wasn't her. I didn't know how to approach it until Friday night I came home a little early. My husband was starting on dinner and nanny was settling the kids in their high chairs. My husband went over to help her and then said "Oh, I think (son) has a poopy diaper". I said "Well, you can change it". He told me "Nanny is still here, it's her job, just let her do it". I was kind of appalled, it was the end of her shift and we were both home. One of us could easily do it and it seemed very flippant of her job. I apologized to nanny and took my son to change him. Later that night, I got a text from nanny letting me know that she was requesting a meeting to discuss her future with our family, because she's unsure she wants to continue. I asked her what was going on and she said DB was often asking her to do things that were outside of her contracted tasks (clean their high chairs after they eat, serve them already prepared food and throw in a load of laundry twice a week, I fold it when I get home). He had also asked her to come in early several days or stay late on nights I had to work late, which she had told us before starting work she couldn't do. She had already spoken to him several times and nothing had changed. I was embarrassed because I had no clue this was happening and felt awful she had been going through this. I spoke with my husband and he admitted he felt since we were paying her, she should be performing more tasks while the babies are sleeping. I quickly corrected him and reamed him out for this behavior. Once I was done explaining why this wasn't appropriate, he got a little sheepish and sent an apology e-mail to the nanny, agreeing to the meeting come Monday evening. I am worried that she is going to quit and I need advice on how to fix this. She has been an amazing nanny, the babies love her and I really do not want to lose her. Does anyone have advice on how to fix all of this? EDIT for clarification: The duties I listed are her contractual duties that she agreed to and does without a complaint. My husband was asking her to perform other tasks that exceeded what she's paid to do. ​ Edit 2: Here are the list of demands my husband had given her: deep clean the nursery and living room, cook meals, reorganize spaces. She didn't mention this but he also said he had asked her to take care of our pets which I had told her in the beginning to not worry about as my husband can feed them on his break and I clean the litter box when I get home.   Update to saving relationship with nanny - November 22, 2021 Og: https://www.reddit.com/r/Nanny/comments/qyhhuj/how_to_save_this_relationship_with_our_nanny_if/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=iossmf I was expecting to have an update tonight but my nanny ended up calling me this morning and saying after careful thought, she couldn’t be around my husband another day. He was with me and profusely apologized, nanny thanked him but said she didn’t feel comfortable working for him anymore. A bonus and raise were offered, she turned both down and recommended daycare for the kids vs a nanny. I promised her a great reference letter, she thanked me and said our keys would be in the mail today. I have never been so ashamed or humiliated in my life. I’m not blaming her at all, but I’m furious with my husband. My mom is watching the kids while I figure out next steps in terms of childcare. I want to thank you all for the advice. I’m hoping we can find another nanny as I didn’t want to put them in daycare but I also don’t know if I trust my husband to be a good DB going forward. Especially as he told me he felt the nanny overreacted. A comment and reply: Commenter: As a mom, with a nanny, and a former nanny, and a former placement and nanny agency assigner/contract writer… I would strongly recommend asking your former nanny to share with you EVERYTHING your husband did, because if she’s saying not only is it not a good fit for her, but is something she actively advises another nanny not have to deal with, it’s worrying. As a mom, I’d say your husband need to be finding new care or coordinating emergency care to show him how valuable it is. Also, yes he needs therapy, he treated this woman like shit and like kinda a hired help in the 40s way OOP: Yeah, I admit my mind is going there. I’m going to reach out again, because I’m honestly scared. We have a daughter...I just hope this wasn’t it.   Final update on nanny quitting over "extra work" - November 26, 2021 After a lot of advice, I asked to speak with our ex-nanny in private, without my husband knowing on Wednesday. I encouraged her to speak freely and at first, she was just reiterating what was already said, but I told her I needed to know why she felt I shouldn't bring another nanny into the equation. I told her it was a safe space and there'd be zero judgment. Eventually, she told me what I had been suspecting. My husband had been asking her to do things that went beyond cleaning and nannying duties. A lot of it was phrased as "jokes" and at first she thought it was just his sense of humor, but eventually it became clear it wasn't. That particular day, he had made some comments that made her feel extremely uncomfortable prior to the diaper situation and she had already planned on quitting. I had already been staying with my mom with the kids and we will be for the foreseeable future. My husband didn't deny what was said, though he claims it was seriously just joking. Given what the nanny has said, I don't think it was. Thank you all for your advice. My own for you all is to report, report, report. This has rocked my world...but I'm glad I can keep my kids safe for now. Edit: I have purposefully kept things vague for privacy reasons. I will not be sharing what we are doing going forward for that same reason and will not be taking legal advice off of Reddit. While I am thankful for everyone’s advice and concern, some of you are majorly crossing lines. Some select comment threads: Commenter: She was concerned for her own safety or the safety of the kids based on his comments? OOP: She was concerned for her own safety but I am concerned for everyone's given the comments. If he made them towards her, who's to say who he won't make them to.   Commenter: Is there an undercurrent of wondering if he might hide harming the kids? OOP: To me, the comments he made are concerning. And I do not trust his judgement around the kids.   Commenter: So this is vague was he sexually harassing the nanny? I’m not sure why she wouldn’t quit and you find another nanny? Why would she say she doesn’t think another many is appropriate? OOP: Yes. I was trying to be vague so as not to trigger anyone. Plus, it seemed quite obvious. But yes, he was sexually harassing her and there was a point to where he touched her.   Commenter: I'm very confused here, maybe I'm missing something. From what I've gathered he treated the nanny like a maid and he was an ass about it, she was uncomfortable and left. So your husband is an ass. Why didn't she feel safe? What I don't get is why did you take the kids and leave? Why don't you think your kids are safe with their dad? Did he sexually harrass her? Did he make threats? OOP: Yes, there was sexual harassment. No threats, but a lot of inappropriate comments and a point where he touched her. She didn't feel safe with him and does not feel another nanny would be either. I don't feel safe around him or my children if he is going to talk/touch people that way. Not only are we married and that is a form of cheating, he's doing it without consent. That is not safe. But you could've connected those dots without me having to spell it out. Thanks so much. Commenter: To be honest, no, a lot of people couldn’t have. I read your posts and the comments over and over and still didn’t put it all together until your comments confirm. I know you’ve been through a terrible ordeal, and we want to support you, but there’s no need to be rude and disrespectful to someone who was confused. OOP: I’m not trying to be rude, but to me, most of the thread was able to make it out. I don’t feel I need to reiterate every little detail.   Hiring with a “grandma boss”? - February 15, 2022 This is a new situation for me. I’m a newly single mom, currently living with my own mother. Both of us work full time and while for nearly 3 months we’ve managed to juggle it okayish, we both need to return to the office. I’ve decided to hire a new nanny. While I’ll be paying for the nanny on my own , my mom would also be one the nanny could talk to about how the kids are doing, ask any questions, etc. They’ll also likely “tag off” a couple of nights a week. This is new for me. Do I have my mom a part of the interviews or is that intimidating? What would you as a nanny prefer?   AITA for selling vs donating these clothes? - March 15, 2022, posted to /r/AmItheAsshole I have 10-month-old twins. Before they were born, my aunt generously gifted me a lot of nice clothes, some designer. A majority of the clothes were either 0-3 months or 6-9 month sizes and they quickly outgrew them. Most were worn only once or still have tags on them. They're going to be my only kids and I'm now living with my mom so I need to majorly downsize. I've donated a majority of their old clothing that is still in good condition (repurposing the stained stuff into rags) but with the designer stuff that has tags, I decided to try to make some money and listed them on a Facebook buy/sell group. My aunt saw and asked why I was selling them. She explained it's wrong I'm "profiting" off of her. In my mind, they became mine when gifted and I could use the money. AITA? For the record, commenters on the AITA post agreed she was NTA OOP's account has been suspended, so there are no further updates or comments available. Reminder - I am not the original poster. submitted by /u/star_eater to r/BestofRedditorUpdates [link] [comments]

I purchased a >$1000 Harbor Town glider for my baby's nursery. We rock my child to sleep in it every night. After less than two years of rocking a baby, a single bolt (which along with one other, was apparently holding the entire rock/glide mechanism together) sheared in half, rendering the entire chair useless. I bought La-Z-Boy because I thought they had a reputation for American-made quality. Instead, I have to wait two months for a service call and pay hourly labor rates for a technician to replace the bolt. They charge $120/hr (while they were able to reduce it to $60 as a courtesy, that hardly makes up for the two-month wait without a way to rock my baby to sleep.) I would never ever buy this company again. What a pathetic product, coasting on their former reputation to dupe customers like me. ​ EDIT: the bolts don't have a way to unscrew (they have smooth heads), so I can't remove to replace the opposite one. There isn't a good way to access the mechanism to replace the bolt, since it's now unhinged and will fall apart completely if we turn the chair over. At this point, I'm worried about damaging it more if we do try and DIY a fix. I think it's important to know one's limits when DIYing, and when to rely on an expert. And regardless of whether or not something is possible to repair yourself, a chair of this price and reputation shouldn't fall apart after two years. That's not "buy it for life" quality. submitted by /u/fluffybabypuppies to r/BuyItForLife [link] [comments]