Cheerio, Mommock

Whenever I speak about my grandmother to other people there is always this look on their face like “what’s a Mommock?

So, this is typically where I would stop and explain that, yes, we do in fact refer to our British grandmother as Mommock. I know it’s odd, but if you say it with a British accent it is actually quite beautiful sounding.

I don’t remember the specifics of how she got that name – but I do know that it fit her perfectly.

Our grandmother wasn’t like yours. She drove an emerald green, two door Firebird, smoked Virginia slims, and rocked the gray haired pixie cut. Mommock hung out at coffee shops, where she would always order a latte-extra foam-with two packets of turbanado brown sugar. She loved ballroom dancing and Kenny Rogers. She had a room in her house dedicated to her collection of all things “blue and white” and a glass table with my favorite kaleidoscope on it that I wasn’t aloud to touch unless she was supervising.

She was also a woman who had a true passion for foreign languages. Gosh, she knew so many odd sounding words that were spoken in so many different languages, it almost made you question if she had made them up. You couldn’t just simply say “bless you” or “I love you” and walk away. Nope. That was just an opportunity for her to teach you how to say those words in Swahili or Japanese. And it brought her great joy when you would speak it properly.

Doe-e-tash-e-mash-e-tay: this meant, “don’t touch my mustache” – that one I’m convinced she made up.

Oh-bang-a-me-gum: “god bless you”

Amari: “I love you”

How-now-brown-cow: this one is not a foreign language and served no purpose other than it gave her the opportunity to tell us that we talked funny

One of my favorite things about Mommock was how she always would carry a small drawstring pouch, full of word cards, in her purse. Whenever I went to see her, the first thing I would ask for was my word for that day. I would close my eyes, hoping to get something magical, pull out a small card with a word on it and we would spend time talking about what it meant and how I could apply it to my life that day. Sometimes I would want to give back my word and grab another but she never let me.

This past week we found her pouch full of words and it honestly took my breath away. I thought it was lost. I eagerly opened it up, closed my eyes, and pulled out my word.

Clarity – the quality of being coherent, of being certain, of transparency

Synonym: freedom, purity, wholeness

I know with my whole heart that God has made Mommock whole again. He has given her freedom from the chains of her illnesses. He has reunited her with her parents, her siblings, and her grandson (my brother) Ethan. All of this gives me an overwhelming sense of peace.

She is home.

She isn’t hurting.

She is happy.

I was with Mommock last Friday night and early Saturday morning, along with the rest of our family, when she left this earth to go home with Jesus. It was the first time I felt ready to go see her in the nursing home. As I sat by her bedside holding her hand and marveling at her beauty, I thought only about her leaving. I thought only about the impact she had on my life for good. I thought only about the many many good memories we had during her life.

I thought about all the times she would let me paint her nails – each nail a different color.

I thought about all the times we would spend picking pecans in her front yard and blowing bubbles for what seemed like hours.

I thought about the sunflower clock she made for my bedroom years ago.

I thought about her thimble collection, and her fancy jewelry, and her old schooling books from England, and her remarkable childhood.

I thought about all the times I would teach her “American humor” and she would teach me British slang.

This week, as we said goodbye to Mommock, it hit me how incredibly lucky I have been to have a grandmother who was so present in my everyday life and in the first few years of my children’s lives.

You see, our parents give us life.

But our grandparents give us a sense of who we are and where we came from. They are our living roots.

Cheerio, Mommock. We’ll see you soon.

Words From a Tired Stay At Home Mama

It’s currently 12:21 AM and I have just put my son back down to sleep for the second time since 7:30 PM. We’re going on night 3 of this fun little sleep regression/teething madness/time change bull crap, so you can only imagine the bags that have appeared underneath my tired eyes.

*update: this was beginning of a nasty fever virus that we are still enduring a week later*

As I was sitting there rocking my sweet boy back to sleep, trying not to think too loud for fear of waking him, I got this burning feeling in my cheeks – like I was angry or something. I wasn’t angry at him or at my situation or at the fact that I was dog tired, I was actually thinking about how some people truly think being a SAHM is an easy job filled with all this time to do whatever you want whenever you want. And holy shirt balls that couldn’t be farther from the truth. (By the way I used to be one of “those people”)

You see, I’m a used-to-be-working-mom-who-is-now-8-months-in-to-being-a-stay-at-home-mom. So, I feel kind of equipped to enlighten “those people” about just how incredibly hard it is to stay at home vs working outside of the home. I’ve done both and each are difficult in their own way, but honestly, FOR ME, staying home has been 10 times harder. The funny thing about it is, when I worked outside of the home I would always say that I would get bored being at home with my kids…that I would need something else to do…that I would go crazy.

HA! My goodness I was so naive. *face palm* I mean, I have 100% gone crazy but not in the way I thought I would. But y’all, if I had that mentality can you imagine what others think who don’t have children??

Staying home to raise your children is not as glamorous as some try to portray it to be. It’s actually quite the opposite. Now, don’t get me wrong I feel extremely fortunate to be able to stay home with my kids, but this ish ain’t easy! Being a stay at home mom actually reminds me a lot of when I was 9 months pregnant with my daughter and I took 18 kindergarteners to the zoo – there is a lot of sweating and it always ALWAYS smells like poop.

People think when you get to be home with your kids all day that you’re going out to lunch with your girlfriends and on cute little play dates and it’s all just perfection and relaxing. They think you get to sleep in and wear your pajamas all day and cut out cute shapes in the pb + j sandwiches. They probably even think that your kids just happily play independently while you vacuum and straighten up the house. *and when I say “they” I’m talking about my pre-stay at home mom self*

No.

It’s taking your kids to Chick Fil A at 10:30 am because you need them to go burn some energy so that they’ll take a good nap.

It’s taking your kids to the park every day because you’re just not sure what else to do with them.

It’s having zero adult interaction besides the awkward “I’m so sorry” to another stranger at Target as you peel your tantrum throwing toddler off the floor of aisle 7.

It’s putting the baby down for a nap so that you can finally get a quick shower and brush your teeth…but then your toddler decides to join in on the fun and now you’re trying to shave your legs with a 2 year old staring at your private parts asking “what’s that mommy?”.

It’s forgetting to actually brush your teeth.

It’s drinking cold coffee that is meant to be hot.

It’s folding laundry and doing dishes and vacuuming and mopping and picking up and wiping down and putting away and taking out and this and that and doing all the things…with a needy baby tugging at our legs and another on our hip. EVERY.SINGLE.DAY.

It’s going to bed late and waking up early…and getting up a few extra times in between.

It’s putting everyone else’s needs before yours.

It’s holding the baby and yelling at the toddler to shut the door as you’re trying to do your bidness on the toilet.

It’s being sick and not being able to “call in sick”.

It’s getting no breaks – no time away to remember who you really are.

Its leggings and t-shirts every dang day, with no makeup and a buttload of dry shampoo.

It’s eating your kids leftovers because you were to busy to make yourself some food.

It’s praying to God that your children take a nap at the same time so that you can get something accomplished.

It’s sitting in the same spot on the couch all day because your new baby needs to be fed.

It’s counting down the minutes, seconds even, until your husband gets off work and walks through the door, so that you can pass the kids off to him and breathe for a hot minute.

It’s a lot of things. It’s a lot of heated moments, lost tempers, and time-outs. It’s pouring your entire soul into your children day in and day out. It’s sometimes losing yourself in your title as “mama”. It’s having to remind yourself that this is where you are needed the most. It’s mundane. It’s ordinary. It’s exhausting. 

But, holy cow I’ve never loved a ‘job’ more than I do being at home with my kiddos.

It’s snuggles on the couch as we all are slowing still waking up.

It’s cooking breakfast for the entire family and being able to sit together and eat at our own pace.

It’s movies during lunch time and picnics on the living room floor.

It’s afternoon walks to the park and sitting in the backyard playing fetch with the dogs.

It’s being able to make memories all day every day – even if those memories are just spending a few hours walking around the toy aisle in Target.

It’s never having the feeling of missing out on your kids’ life.

It’s joyful chaos.

I think deep down I always knew that I wanted to be a stay-at-home-mom simply because of my own mother. Growing up, and even now, she was/is always there to take care of us in addition to doing all the things around the house. She is the true definition of a superwoman – and I’ve always wanted to be just like her. 

Staying at home with my babies is the greatest gift I could have ever been given. Although some days may be harder than others, I’ve never taken this opportunity for granted. I do my best to wake up each and every day, no matter how tired I am, and take the bull by the horns – potty training, sleep regressions, sickness, and everything in between. I’m here for it.

Stay at home Mamas I want you to hear me when I say this…you are doing Kingdom work. There IS glory in the everyday moments of picking up toys and doing the dishes and making pb+j sandwhiches, and forgetting to brush your teeth because you’re so focused on your kids’ needs. There IS glory in it all. The work you are doing, being with your kids day in and day out, matters so greatly to the Kingdom of Heaven. 

You’re so much more than just a stay-at-home-mom.

Words From A Tired
Stay-At-Home-Mama

A look inside a seasoned Mama’s diaper bag

Hi, I’m the “seasoned” Mama (lol) and I’ll be showing you exactly what is in my diaper bag as a mom of two littles.

Coming from experience, I honestly live by the rule that “less is more” – even in a diaper bag. You do not need to pack as if you will never return home. All you really need are a few essential items for the kids, and yourself, and you’ll be good to go!

Before we get to the inside contents of my bag, let me talk about the diaper bag itself – o.m.g. I love it. My sweet cousin gifted it to me when we found out about baby #2 and let me just say that it has gotten us through the trenches. I could probably fit my 8 month old son inside and still have room for a sippy cup. Ok not really, but you get the picture.

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It’s less than $30 on Amazon and well worth the price. It comes in 14 different colors and is very roomy. Get it here !!

Okay, next up is what is actually inside of my glorious diaper bag. Let me remind you that I am a seasoned mother and absolutely have my shit together at all times. I’m always prepared and never caught off guard or without what I need for my children. I am perfect and so is my diaper bag.

And if you didn’t pick up on the sarcasm, we can’t be friends.

Let’s take a look…

  • Front pocket: a crumbled up Chick Fil A receipt from July of 2018
  • Side pocket #1: a second crumbled up Chick Fil A reciept from August of 2018
  • Side pocket #2: nothing
  • Inside pockets: 
    • a pair of socks
    • one diaper wipe that left it’s pack and never returned
    • a paci
    • gum wrapper
    • an old insurance card
    • and a peice of paper used to enterain Maddie during church.
  • Main area of the bag: 
    • one size 5 diaper, just one (I have TWO kids still in diapers…)
    • my wallet
    • a crumbled up Target reciept
    • more paper used to entertain Maddie during church
    • four more crumbled up recipets
    • pair of panties + pair of pants for Maddie (don’t worry, the panties were still attached to the pants as if we had just taken them off her body #winning)
    • a hat for Joseph
    • burp cloth + bib
    • extra pair of pants for Joseph
    • a travel sound machine
    • a bow
    • ONE shoe
    • a flashlight + hot pink nail polish + a pen
    • crumbs
    • a shit ton of change

Well there you have it, friends. I am a hot mess Mama and I have the diaper bag to prove it. Nothing in my bag is useful and I’m usually throwing items in it while running out the door.

And for the record, all you really need when leaving the house with your kids is extra diapers + wipes, snacks, and a whole lot of confidence.

F-minus in Motherhood

Yesterday, I recieved an F-minus in motherhood.

No, really I did. It left me not only feeling like a complete failure, but it also opened my eyes to some critical mistakes that I make as a Mama on a daily basis.

Mistake #1: Trusting a Toddler
Ever since our daughter was born, we’ve always felt like she was older than she really was. Because of this, our trust in her probably seems odd to most considering she’s only two and a half. I trust her to play independently in the other room while I do the dishes. I trust her to go to the pantry by herself and grab a snack. I trust her to go out in the backyard and play with the dogs while I’m cooking dinner. Shoot, I even trust her to go into the play zone at Chick-Fil-A without my physical presence. However, yes, there are times when her silence sparks anxiety and I go running to see what chaos she has caused. But, most of the time, I catch her quietly making a normal mess while playing with her toys or simply watching tv.

Except for the time when I found her covered in hair conditioner…or the time I found her in my parents bedroom putting Vaseline on the two littlest dogs…or the other time when I got out of the shower and she had put diaper rash cream all over the chair in the nursery – those things are harmless, right? *eye roll*

But, yesterday. Ah, yesterday was a different story. 

My daughter is obsessed with dogs – we have four – and it’s actually becoming a problem. She enjoys eating dog food in the pantry with the door closed *ugh* and her favorite game is to grab a few treats and run around the house while teasing the poor dogs…and then she eats them. She doesn’t give the treats to the dogs, no, she eats the treats herself. (Don’t worry, Maddie is no longer aloud to play that game)

There is also one more game she likes to play with the dogs. Maddie loves to put a leash on any one of the animals and walk them around the house and into the backyard. Now, usually an adult has to help her put the leash on their collar – but not yesterday. Nope  Somehow, this little girl managed to do it herself. She also managed to find two mismatched shoes and put them on the wrong feet.

And she marched herself, and our 80+ pound dog, Sully, right on out the front door for a nice morning walk.

Mistake #2: Not Locking the Front Door
If you’re a parent to a tiny human, do yourself a favor and make sure that all doors exiting the house are locked. Just do it. You see those videos all over Facebook about how babies are found just wandering the streets and it makes you sick to see. You know the videos…the ones where we are all thinking “where the heck are the parents?!”… “what type of parents don’t know their child is gone?!”…Well, just a little PSA: It can happen to anyone. You can be a dang good parent and not realize that your child has just let herself out of the house to take the dog for a walk.

So quit your judging.

I was in the kitchen doing something – honestly, I think I was standing by the sink scrolling through my phone, ugh – and I heard Joseph on the monitor. So, I walked to the stairs to head up and get him. That’s when the “mom gut” hit me, stopping me in my tracks, and I thought to myself “uh…where is Maddie?”. Normally, I’m pretty calm when I’m going to check on her, but my intuition was screaming at me to act quick. I just knew she wasn’t in the house. My stomach dropped. I looked out the window of the front door and there I saw her RUNNING out of the cul-de-sac, with Sully in tow.

My bright pink Crocs and I have never ran so fast and my Mama voice has never sounded so intense.

“MADDIE-KATE STOP!!!!!” I screamed over and over until I was by her side. I will never forget the feeling of sheer terror I felt when I realized what had just happened. Immediately after I snatched her up the lies started flooding my brain – lies of failure, lies of not being good enough, lies telling me that I just plain stunk as a Mama. And I believed them.

Pump the breaks.

First of all, feeling like a failure is. not. from. God. Let me say it louder for the Mamas in the back – FEELING LIKE A FAILURE IS NOT FROM GOD. Much of our weariness results from our constant battle against the world, flesh, and the devil.

The world would love to see you fail.

Flesh of humans want to see you fail – it makes us feel better about ourselves. Unfortunately.

The devil will do absolutely everything in his power to make you believe that you’re a failure.

But God? God wants you to succeed. God is on your side. God will never leave you feeling like a failure, sister. God is near…and if you fall He’ll pick you up and dust you off.

I get it though, our day to day life is fast and its busy and we tend to get caught up in the mess. At the end of the day, we are left with this feeling of not being good enough – this feeling of failure. We’re replaying the day in our minds over and over and we beat ourselves up for the things that went wrong: the way we reacted to our children out of frustration, or the way we didn’t greet our husbands in a loving way when he got home from work, or how we haven’t replied to any text messages/missed calls and probably won’t for a few more days. Or how you let your toddler escape out the front door and have herself a little adventure without you knowing any different. 

Instead of dwelling on all the things that went wrong, what if we shifted our attention to God?

What if, instead of beating ourselves up about something, we give that feeling of failure to God and let Him dust us off and make us new. What if, instead of getting caught up in the mess, we allow Jesus to meet us where we are and give us grace. What if, we accepted the unconditional never-ending love + grace of Jesus Christ and we remember that if we do fail, because we will, He has a good reason in allowing it to happen. Learn from it. Stand back up and keep going.

With all the craziness and chaos that comes with motherhood, despite your best efforts, you must remember to forgive yourself every. single. day.; and strive to be better the next day. Listen to me, even the best moms that you see all over Instagram wonder sometimes if they’re really doing it right. But, in my opinion, no matter how good or bad you think you’re doing this motherhood thing, there is always room to be a better parent.

So, just remember, you can be a hot mess and make mistakes and feel like a failure (like me) and still be a damn good Mama.

P.S. – not 10 minutes after Maddie’s little adventure, I was changing Joseph’s diaper…I turned around to grab something and he almost fell off the bed.

 

 

 

 

Wake Up, Mama

Going into the new year I chose to focus on a word and use it as a guide to help me reach my goals. I’m usually not one to take part in ‘resolutions’ or ‘new year new me’, I really just wanted to be a better version of myself, for myself and for my family. So, for weeks I prayed to God asking what He wanted me to change about myself in order to become more like Him. It always good to strive to be better, right?

Awake.

I’m emerging from the “newborn fog”, as people like to call it, and I’m beginning to feel (a little) more rested and clear minded; we’ve found our groove – our routine – as a family of four. For the past seven months my focus has been on sleep, which isn’t a surprise if you’re a parent. Sleep is like the holy grail of parenthood – everyone talks about it and everyone wants a piece of it.

Is your baby sleeping through the night?

Are you sleeping when baby is sleeping?

Do you co-sleep?

Did you sleep train?

My baby puts himself to sleep.

Oh, well I have to rock my baby to sleep.

Ugh…my baby doesn’t sleep.

Sleep. Sleep. Sleep. Sleep. Sleep.

It’s like, all everyone wants to know is if your brand new human, who has been in the world for less than a year, is a good sleeper. And all us Mamas ever talk about is how we are “tired as a mother” (guilty) or how “my baby is such a great sleeper #blessed” (guilty). We buy books about sleep training, we follow sleep consultants on Social Media, we even pay money to take classes about sleep. Don’t get me wrong, I get it. Sleeping is vital for us to survive, especially when you’re raising children. And I’ll even sit there and talk about it all day long, because, well, when you become a parent all you talk about is your kids.

But sometimes I feel like I’m so focused on their sleep, that I’m losing time with them while being awake. Like, while they’re awake I’m literally counting down the minutes until nap time or bedtime, instead of focusing on our time together.

Are you following what I’m trying to say?

I’ve never been the type that requires a whole lot of sleep in order to function. Now, I’m not saying that I don’t like to sleep, because if I could sleep in until 10 I would. But, my body literally will not let me. I’m *usually* an ” early to bed, early to rise” type of girl – just like my daddy. And I kind of like it that way.

But the more kids I have, the more I feel inclined to get as much sleep as I possible can, whenever I can get it.

I’ve even been guilty of bringing my kids down stairs, popping on a movie for my toddler, putting the baby in his exersaucer, laying my tired butt down and closing my eyes. Ugh. Not a proud moment.

My seven month old goes through these phases where he’ll either sleep through the night with zero wakings, or he’ll wake up around 3:30-4am. *eye roll* One particular night I remember becoming increasingly frustrated, because I felt like I had tried everything to get him to go back to sleep – patting his bottom, paci, rocking in the chair, swaying and shushing…I even gave him a bottle – but nothing I did worked. His beautiful big blue eyes were wide open just staring at me. He would smile a few times and turn his head like he was getting shy, and I, being a very exhausted human being, did not find it cute. All I wanted was to go back to my warm cozy bed and close my eyes.

Then, God sent the Holy Spirit to wake me up.

In that moment, during the middle of the night, I knew what I needed to focus on in the coming year – being awake, being intentional with our time together. Within seconds I felt overcome with a sense of peace and calmness. I wasn’t frustrated anymore. My body went from being tense to feeling light and airy. I sat down in the rocking chair, holding my son and staring into his eyes, and I knew God wanted me to be intentional with my time with my children and to do it with a joyful heart. Even at 3:30 in the daggum morning. I was so focused on getting him to sleep that I was missing a vital bonding moment with my son. I was missing an opportunity to extend unconditional love and grace. I was wishing time away.

I rocked him for almost an hour that night. All he wanted was to be held. All he wanted was to feel safe. All he wanted was his Mama. So, I stayed awake for him with a joyful heart.

Wake up Mama, time is fleeting.

Today, I didn’t hustle during nap time

Oh, nap time – sweet, glorious nap time.

You’re a blessing, really. Two (hopefully) solid hours of quiet. No one pulling on your clothes wanting a snack. No tears. No tantrums. Nobody needs you.

Silence.

This time is sacred to us Mamas – ain’t nothin’ coming between my children and their nap. I am that mom who counts down the seconds until it’s time for them to sleep. I’m the mom who does a white girl freedom dance as soon as I shut the door. I’m the mom who will cry if a nap is missed or messed up by freaking FedEx. I’m the mom who texts her husband the red dress dancing emoji saying ‘they’re finally asleep!’ – like I’ve cured cancer or something.

I need those two hours.

Before I became a SAHM (stay at home mom) I honestly used to think that it would be easy. Like, yeah sure I’d love to stay at home and not have to work. Cook, clean, wrangle kids all day? How hard could it really be? Sign me up.

And then I had children.

Staying home to “not work” and raise my kids is a blessing, but let me tell you something…it sure as heck ain’t easy. It’s by far the hardest “job” I’ve ever had but equally as rewarding. Sure, it’s not a 9-5 type of gig where I get to wear real clothes and look like an actual woman – it’s an eyes open – eyes closed type of job. I wear the same outfit multiple days in a row and I consider myself lucky if I’m able to shower.

I eat last. I drink cold coffee, not because I want to. I use the bathroom with two tiny humans staring at me. And a few k-9s. I’m constantly picking up toys or wiping sticky fingers. I’m either changing a diaper or running my potty training toddler to the bathroom. I’ve got my hands full 100% of the time.

Unless it’s nap time.

As soon as I shut their bedroom door I go into freak mode. It’s time to hustle and get sh** done. Because, like, if you aren’t hustling during nap time are you even a mom? Dishes. Laundry. Vacuuming. Mopping. Picking up toys. Putting away clothes. Wiping down counters. You name it, us Mamas are trying to get it all done in a two hour window. Must. clean. everything.

But today was different for me.

I walked downstairs and stared at our life – toys everywhere, a potty in the middle of the living room, dishes still in the sink, dog hair on the floor, etc. And in that moment I thought, what if I just left it all and rest? *gasp*

So I did.

My house was a mess, but my heart was full. We had spent the morning playing barbies, laughing, sharing chicken nuggets, watching movies, playing basketball – just living life. And for once I didn’t want to pick it up right away. I didn’t want to shove our sweet memories back into a basket.

I wanted to lay down and soak in the joy that I was feeling. I wanted to pause and remind myself that there is more to life than a clean, tidy home. I wanted to breathe in the silence and not feel guilty about it.

Today, I didn’t hustle during nap-time.

Mama, I want you to know that it’s okay to rest while your babies are sleeping and not feel guilty about it. You don’t have to do those dishes right away. You don’t need to vacuum the floors. The laundry will more than likely still be there when you’re ready to tackle it.

Take a break.

Sit down.

Give yourself some grace.

Rest.

And leave the dang toys scattered everywhere, I dare you.

Dear Postpartum Body, I love you (kind of)

Current weight: 185.5
Goal weight: to feel beautiful and confident in my own skin

Having a baby is seriously one of the coolest experiences a woman can go through; it can also be the most challenging. Not only do we have to grow a human inside of our bodies, but we have to do it for 40 excruciating weeks. The sweet little kicks help, but there comes a point when you’re just freaking over it. You can’t sleep. Eating gives you heartburn. Everything hurts. You’re done. But wait, there’s more. Now you have to go through hell that is labor and delivery. And forget about sleep for the next year.

Again, coolest thing ever, but also so. daggum. hard.

Praise Jesus for epidurals.
Shoutout to all you ladies doing it natural.
And my c-section sisters, you’re a badass. Ya feel me?

As a woman, I’m extremely proud that my body and my body alone was able to keep my babies healthy, on the inside, for 9 months. I’m also extremely proud that my body and my body alone was able to endure hours of labor and successfully push out two little humans. It’s amazing. Our bodies are amazing. All the Glory to God for the miracle of life.

But, as a woman who has gone through two pregnancies, I am not proud of my postpartum body.

When I look in the mirror I see lumps and rolls in places that didn’t used to be there. When I run my fingers across my stretch marks I cringe and wish I could just rub them away. I refuse to wear clothes that show my arms because they’re twice the size that they used to be. Shorts? HA. Yeah, right. You won’t catch me in those unless I’m going to bed because I’m ashamed of my thighs and legs – they jiggle, they rub together, they’re imperfect.

I’m imperfect.

The thing about becoming a mother is that nobody really tells you about hard it’s going to be. Like, hi it would have been nice if someone had told me that I would be wearing diapers for 2 weeks.

You can go to all the prenatal classes you want to, and read all the baby books, but nothing prepares you for motherhood like the real thing. No one can get you ready for the moment when you’re pushing and the doctor yells to stop because your baby’s heart rate keeps dropping. No one lets you know that your postpartum hormones are from satan himself and you’ll spend day after day crying and begging your husband not to go to work. No one tells you how freaking hard breastfeeding is or that pumping makes you feel like a prisoner. No one prepares you for the moment of terror you feel as you’re leaving the hospital.

And no one tells you just how foreign your body is going to feel to you postpartum – the squishy pooch that is still there, your massive leaky boobs, the extra weight that didn’t magically disappear after birth. It ain’t glamorous. It’s not what you’re used to. And most of the time you want to hide behind loose fitting clothing and baseball caps.

I’m sick of feeling this way.

I’m tired of hating what I see in the mirror.

I just want to live my life.

I’m ready to love my postpartum body.

Society tells us women that we are *supposed* to magically lose the baby weight and “bounce back” the minute our child enters the world. This is pure crap. If you have had a baby you know good and well that you’re going to be rocking a 6 month pooch for a while. Society tells us that being a size 2 is what you *need* to be. Again, screw that. I’ve been a size 2 and I was just as unhappy if not more. Pizza is better than being skinny. Society tells us that small waists, big boobs, and plump lips is beautiful. No. Just, no. Society tells us what we should be eating, drinking, and wearing in order to feel accepted. Just because Kourtney Kardashian eats a salad every day doesn’t mean I have to.

Screw society.

You know what Jesus has to say about beauty?

In 1 Peter 3:3-4 he says “Your beauty should not come from outward adornment, such as elaborate hairstyles, and the wearing gold jewlery or fine clothes. Rather, it should be that of your inner self, the unfading beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which is of great worth in God’s sight.”

Inner beauty.

The unfading beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit.

In Genesis 1:27 it says “so God created mankind in HIS own image, the image of God he created them, male and female he created them.”

I am made in God’s own image. Wow. How can I hate a body that was made to look like God?

And in Song of Songs 4:7 it states “You are altogether beautiful, my darling; there is no flaw in you.”

THERE IS NO FLAW IN YOU.

Do you hear me? There. is. no. flaw. in. you.

You are perfectly imperfect because God made you that way.

I get it. Our bodies feel strange to us after giving birth. They’re softer that’s for dang sure. But, instead of focusing on how your body looks, think about what it has done. Think about how it was able to house a sweet child, how it was able to deliver that baby into the world, and how it is able to keep going even when it is tired. This about how it can literally feed your baby. Our bodies are incredible.

You know that old body that you so desperately want back? It couldn’t do half the things that your new, postpartum body can do. So, let it go.

Your worth is not a number on the scale.

Your worth is not a smaller pants size.

Your worth is not a flatter tummy.

Your worth is not a thigh gap.

Your value begins with the fact that you were created by the hand of our Almighty God. You are cherished in His heart. He loves you no matter what your body looks like. He loves you even when you don’t love yourself. Your worth is in Jesus.

Eat the cookies.
Drink the wine.
Love your body.

Beauty is fleeting sweet Mama, but those who fear the Lord are to be praised.