You don’t have a long way to go till your back to normal.
THIS is normal.
One day my turn will come, to have a magazine worthy house, we're making memories excuse the dust.
We’re so busy making memories that you’ll have to excuse the dust. If you come for a visit, averting your eyes is a must.
My firstborn, I missed you and longed for you, sometimes just you.
You needed me in your core and my core was already being divided. It was harder than I ever imagined.
That first year, the year that two became three. No more hot tea.
My darling, you're fortunate to have the very best Daddy.
He won’t ever know the feeling of your tiny body wriggling inside his belly reminding him of your increasing presence, but he eagerly placed his giant hands on Mummy’s stomach in an attempt to connect with you.
It's ok if you don't want to wear these stripes like badge of honour.
It's ok to not love the scars that gave you your daughter. It's ok to not feel grateful for them in spite of the women who pray for them.It's ok to look in the mirror and not recognize this body and wonder if these negative thoughts you'll overcome.
One day I will look you in the eye & tell you the honest truth.
One day I will look you in the eye and tell you the honest truth.
I'll let you in on a little secret.
Want to know?
What would happen if we looked after ourselves the way we look after our kids?
Imagine how we’d feel if we mothered the child in each of us the same way we do our kids.
Or in contrast, imagine if we treated our kids the way we sometimes treat ourselves.
By our talented contributing writer Lou Marx.
You were never a twinkle in my eye.
You were more a nervous twitch, that never went away, a tugging in my heart that I wanted to ignore, because I wasn't 'motherly'. I didn't start to long for you until it became clear I might not ever meet you.
I didn't love it all.
I didn't love being pregnant but I loved knowing we shared the same body as you grew for 40 weeks, your heart right next to mine. I didn't love my leaking, swollen, stretched, slow, heavy and sore postpartum body. But I loved knowing it had carried you here safely, earth-side.
This is what I will remember Mama.
Dear Mama,
I don’t remember if our house was big or small or if we rented or owned.
I don’t remember if you had a fancy car, or if we had to take the bus.
By Jess Urlichs.
I’m guilty of saying this to my husband after a hard day.
It’s hard to sometimes not feel resentful that he gets to switch off from the craziness round here and pursue his career, or that he can eat his lunch in peace without being watched, whinged at, grabbed at or having to share it (if I eat at all).
I visualized motherhood in so many ways other than how it played out.
I wanted to conceive quickly & easily.
It took 2 years, surgery & many failed pregnancy tests.
I wanted a fit active, pregnancy.
I could barely walk, gained nearly 30kgs.
Please baby, don't ever change.
I remember us, young, carefree us.
Mama - Your Body.
Your loving arms have picked up, put down, carried, cuddled, hugged, comforted, jigged.
They’ve remained welcoming through all life’s trials and when open, provide the most perfect comfort your child will ever know.
I see you Mama, and something about you has changed…
I don't think I've ever seen you more beautiful.
You may have forgotten this amongst the throws of motherhood and find it hard to see it through the blur of these early days, but I see you.
If ‘motherhood’ was a job advertised on Seek.
JOB TITLE: Mother
JOB TYPE: Full-time, forever
LOCATION: World-wide
THE JOB
This is a multi-faceted position not for the faint-hearted.
By Lou Marx.
I don’t have many hobbies outside of my home.
I love my day job but it’s not my true passion.
I imagine I’m described as an absent friend.
And right now, that’s more than okay.
My friend, I owe you one hell of an apology…
I’m sorry I never knew what you meant when you said you were exhausted. Mentally and physically drained of everything. I’m sorry I didn’t know what it meant to have sore nipples and red achy eyes that so badly just wanted to close. I’m sorry there were days you felt overwhelmed, isolated and alone.
By Lou Marx.
