Dear Ann Landers, have a 5- month-old son and things are back to normal now but the first four months were a nightmare. Why? Because al- most every day four or five sets of friends and relatives came to visit. Some didn't even call first. My mother-in-law brought over a THE ANN LANDERS ENCYCLOPEDIA 717 woman I barely knew. She told me how she had developed complications while nursing her baby and almost lost her breast. (A great story for a young mother just getting started.) Another woman brought her young child along and after an hour said, "I really ought to take Billy home. He had a 102 tem-perature this morning. I'm afraid he's coming down with something." The constant round of company made me nervous. The baby became cranky and my husband and I started picking at each other. We realize now we were fools to let thoughtless people do this to us. It's too late for now, but next time we'll know better. MAD IN MOR-TON
Hi! It's Margo here. I'd love to know what you think of the letters -- and the answers!
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Our Reader to Reader Question of the Week:
Dear Readers, , I’ve had it awfully good. In high school, I was well-liked and involved in everything: cheer- leading, drill team, student council and sports. I was elected to the homecoming court. My home life is fine. I have two successful, loving parents. Outside of school, I was involved with a church youth group, taught Sunday school and have done some professional dancing. I entered my freshman year majoring in biology-premedicine and later that year pledged a sorority. I’ve never been short of fun or friends, and am the most cheerful, friendly, outgoing person you could know. Because of my bright smile and love of making people laugh, you’d never guess that I want to die. I don’t know when I first became obsessed with dying, but every night, I lie awake in my bed and beg God for cancer or some other ter-minal illness. The way I see it, I’ve had the best of everything and I want to die young with all the chips in my corner. Please understand that I’m not suicidal. I would never kill myself. I just wish something would kill me. I’ve mentioned this to a couple of close friends and they can’t under-stand why I feel this way. What’s wrong with me, Ann? Why is it that I want more than any-thing to die, when I have had it all? I know very well that if I put my name and city on this letter, my phone will be ringing off the hook, so I’ll just sign myself -Death Wish Sophomore Who Needs Some Answers
