The first time I left our newborn at home with her father, she was 2 1/2 weeks old.

I had confined myself to the house since we brought her home from the hospital. I was still recovering from an emergency C-section that had followed a difficult labor. I was sleep-deprived and trying to figure out how to nurse her without shrieking in pain.

My body felt torn up (probably because it was), and I was anxious about being separated from our baby, even briefly.

But I forced myself into a clean pair of sweats and got behind the wheel of my car for the first time since giving birth.

I drove straight to my polling station. I voted in that midterm election. Then I drove home and fell back into bed.

I had a good idea back then of the political direction my state was headed, based on polling data. I suppose I could have stayed at home, knowing that my individual vote wasn't going to change the outcome.

But since I turned 18, I've never stayed at home on Election Day.

So when GOP presidential nominee Donald Trump tells his supporters they need to "monitor" polling sites, he may not realize the other group to whom he's signaling.

He is also sending a message to those of us who have never taken the right to vote for granted. He's talking to those who don't back down because of self-appointed "monitors."

A recent Huffington Post investigation reported on "Vote Protectors" recruiting Trump loyalists to conduct fake "exit polls" on Election Day. This harkens to the Republican "Ballot Security" strategy in the 1981 New Jersey governor's race, in which the national GOP sent armed, off-duty police officers to the polls in minority neighborhoods.

Trying to rekindle illegal voter intimidation strategies can make targeted communities more resolute in their desire to stand up for their rights. A senior official with the Trump campaign reportedly told Bloomberg BusinessWeek, "We have three major voter suppression operations under way," going on to explain that the campaign is targeting idealistic liberals, young women and African-Americans.

Perhaps they have underestimated women like LaTanya Reeves, 33, of Webster Groves, Missouri. Reeves is an African-American woman who says she recognizes the battles that have been fought to secure her fundamental right as a citizen.

Voting is a sacred responsibility.

"It's my duty to those who came before me," she said. "I am responsible to listen to my ancestors. I am responsible for that."

She doesn't take threats of intimidation or voter suppression efforts lightly. It's personal when someone threatens your voice.

"I'm voting by any means necessary," Reeves said. "I know that I count. I know that I matter."

Ruba Abusharif, 33, a stay-at-home mother in Wildwood, Missouri, knows she matters, too. This is the first election in which she is eligible to vote, having become a citizen in 2013. Her parents had left Palestine as refugees to Jordan -- a monarchy -- and she was born and raised in Saudi Arabia, another monarchy. Never before has Abusharif had a chance to vote for who she believes should lead the country she lives in.

"I'll be voting for the first time in my life," she said. "I don't think there is anything that will intimidate me."

Oftentimes, it's not fear, but rather hassles that prevent people from voting.

A few years before my postpartum vote, there was a midterm election where the polling station didn't have my name on the rolls. I had stopped by after work, and I didn't have enough time to go through whatever appeals process they suggested. I left feeling disgusted and disenfranchised. I vowed to vote as early as possible from then on. Before my children were school-aged, they came to the polls with me, even if I had to stand in line with two toddlers.

There are reasons why women and people of color take this civic duty so seriously, especially this year.

It's how we honor those who fought and died for this right for us.

It's how we respect the legacy of women who were denied the right to have their voices heard before Aug. 18, 1920.

It's how we show our voices matter.

On Nov. 8, we will not be deterred.

Election years can magnify the cracks in even the closest relationships. And this election is the San Andreas of familial and friendship fault lines.

Those who live in politically divided families can either agree to disagree or try to influence the other party without letting it get too personal. But it's hard not to take it personally when the stakes feel so high. Or when the other person's views appear to be based on misinformation or prejudice rather than policy differences. Both leading candidates have large swaths of people who deeply dislike -- even loathe -- them. It's unsettling to see someone you love or admire support someone you feel is dangerous to the country.

One friend confided that he is dreading an extended family vacation soon after the election. Another is worried her relationship with her mother will never recover, based on what she's seen her mom post.

It's similar to the relationship strain people reported after the unrest in Ferguson. Views on police shootings are often influenced by one's own experience with the police, which can vary dramatically by race. Social media laid bare these differences.

In some ways, the fallout from this rancorous, deeply polarizing election has been even harder to take. Sharing one's views on politics, race and religious beliefs always runs the risk of offending those who disagree with you. For ordinary citizens, elections are when beliefs translate into actions that can influence the society in which we live. This is why it can feel like a betrayal when those close to us don't see what we see; we see their actions impacting our lives and our children's futures.

It's hurtful to see a friend or relative share bigoted or sexist views publicly, but even more so if you happen to belong to the targeted group, whether it is Muslims, Mexicans, immigrants or African Americans. It's hard to look at people the same way after learning they believe debunked conspiracy theories.

Often, it's best to limit the mental and emotional toll these interactions can take: No need to engage people of little consequence in your life. High school classmates you haven't spoken to in years? Let them go. Fringe social acquaintances you rarely see in person? Forget about it. The "mute," "unfriend" and "unfollow" features on social media are especially handy this time of year.

But relationships that you want to maintain -- spouses, parents, children, close friends and neighbors -- require a different approach.

A dinner guest recently started railing against illegal immigrants "living off the government" during a family meal. I suppose I could have tried to offer a facts-based argument about the percentage of crimes committed by various groups of people, or shared which demographic group in America is actually most likely to be "living off the government." But I don't think facts would have influenced her opinion. More likely, any counter-argument would have inflamed the situation. So I changed the topic to Mexican desserts.

Gracias, tres leches, for the pivot.

Then there are those who can manage political difference in the most aspirational way.

Alex Kaminski, 32, lives in Maryland Heights, Missouri, and says his family is a mixed lot, politically. He refuses to argue with those "whose information is solely based on political ads on TV and pounded into their heads." There are people on Facebook whose posts he will ignore until the election is over.

He does, however, try to understand and engage with those willing to agree to his ground rules.

"If you really want to talk about this, let's agree to a few rules," he has said to family members. No interrupting, you can't get mad at the other person and you have to listen to one another respectfully.

"You have to try to separate your emotions from what you believe in trying to understand the other person's point of view," he explained. These conversations have actually changed his mind on how he plans to vote in this election.

He had planned to vote for a third party, since he isn't a fan of either major party's candidate.

"Conversations with my mom and sister have convinced me otherwise," he said.

These dinner table discussions show us how civil society functions best.

You ignore the loudmouths, listen to reason and if all else fails, pass the dessert.

Jessica Hall's youngest daughter got lice from a catcher's helmet early this summer.

She didn't panic when she discovered the bugs in her 5-year-old's straight blond hair. Her eldest had once caught lice about a decade ago in elementary school, and it was fairly easy to get rid of.

Hall, an elementary teacher in Independence, Kansas, knew that catching the highly contagious parasite had nothing to do with the cleanliness of her home or children. While there isn't reliable data on how many people get head lice each year in the United States, the CDC estimates 6 million to 12 million infestations occur each year among children 3 to 11 years of age.

So, Hall tried the same approach that worked last time. She bought Nix Lice Treatment, an over-the-counter cream, and applied it. After that, she combed through her daughter's hair and did it again less than a week later. The itching kept coming back.

She treated her kindergartner six or seven times this summer, switching between Rid and Nix, and spending hours combing through her hair each week. The week before school started, her middle child caught it.

Hall started treating them both. She braided both girls' hair and sprayed them with a natural rosemary spray she bought from the hairdresser. She cleaned and washed everything in the house. She treated them with the OTC chemical formulas every week. She spent 10 to 15 hours a week combing out their hair and picking out eggs or bugs. She bought special combs with lights on them, replaced all the hairbrushes, tried special shampoos.

This went on for months. She used the chemical treatments on their scalps anywhere from 15 to 20 times.

She called her pediatrician, who prescribed a thick cream used to treat scabies. She lathered her kids' scalps with it.

The lice came back.

As soon as she would see one of the girls scratch their heads, she would call them over and inspect their scalps. They each would have to sit for an hour and a half each time she combed through their hair.

By October, the family had spent nearly $1,000 and countless hours fighting these bugs. Finally, she said to her husband: "I am done doing this. I am not getting it out. It's not working. All this stuff I'm buying, it's not working."

Her husband searched online and found Heartland Healthy Heads in Liberty, Missouri. It's a lice-removal clinic that uses the FDA-approved device AirAlle, which blows hot air to destroy lice and their eggs. It's been shown to be safe and effective at treating lice.

"I didn't know there was such a place," Hall said. "I would have done it the very first thing."

Her husband took the first available appointment, took the girls out of school and drove 150 miles each way to have them treated.

Cherie Parker, a nurse practitioner and owner of Heartland Health Heads, says she has treated a lot of desperate people. Lice bugs have adapted to the over-the-counter treatments, which don't work anymore. This new strain of super lice has to be treated with different prescription medications or the AirAlle. Their treatment costs $159, which includes a re-check and 30-day guarantee.

Parker says they do about 100 treatments a month. For those who do not live near a treatment center, it's best to get a prescription from a doctor to treat resistent lice.

"Lice has nothing to do with income level or cleanliness," she said.

A study published in the Journal of Medical Entomology earlier this year found almost all lice collected and tested from 48 states had mutations responsible for resistance to the active ingredients in widely used OTC treatments.

"We know the resistance is here," Parker said.

Oh, the resistance was known in the Hall household for the past four months.

Hall says her husband was very excited to see an end to the evenings she had to spend picking bugs out of their daughters' hair.

"It was a little crazy," she said.

They have been lice-free for more than a week, but Hall knows far too well not to start celebrating too soon.

She lost several battles against super lice, but may have won the war.

Unless, of course, someone catches it at school again.