I didn't always dream of having babies. I fell into this role like Alice down the rabbit hole - terrified and ecstatic, unsure and amazed all at once. This change from an egocentric existence to living and breathing for another life did not always feel "worth it." I had days of questioning not only my abilities as a mother, but my decision to take it on in the first place. I know all the incredible developmental changes he's experiencing are overwhelming for him just as they are for me. That said, I can't ignore the whining or screaming just yet. It bleeds into my brain and scrambles up my thoughts. I can't physically hold or wear him as often as he wants. My body was built differently and my joints don't allow for it even if my sanity did. I don't flutter through my days like a gracious butterfly. I fumble and teeter through the hours while I hold on dearly to tender moments and search for the sweetness in between. These are the things I'm willing to say because I don't think they are said enough. Too often we see and hear all the amazing beauty of what you "should" feel and see and become when your baby is born. Rarely do we speak boldly about the cracking of this cocoon and the pain of rebirth in ourselves. If motherhood doesn't come easily to you, it doesn't mean you weren't meant for it. This is the job. It's not about slipping into this role like a soft robe. It's about contorting every part of you and breaking bones to fit yourself into this new shape. It's about abandoning self and finding the depths of what this space needs from you. Likely, it will ask more than you expected and more than you have to give. And this is where i preach to myself: Allow yourself to be lifted up, come alongside of, and filled back to brimming by those who love you. "It was not by their sword that they won the land, nor did their arm bring them victory. It was your right hand, your arm, and the light of your face, for you love them. Psalm 44:3"