Motherhood doesn't always feel lovely when you're living it. 

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The moment that little line turns blue, you find out it's true. All of a sudden your energy is nowhere to be found and "morning" sickness didn't get news of its AM parameters; and when that little person finally makes his/her grand entry into the world, you come to the conclusion that it was perfect and amazing, but good golly it wasn't pretty! 

 

2:00 AM feed sessions (and 4:00am and 6:00am) are full of messy diapers, engorgement, and no one tells you that you may *literally* cry over three ounces of spilled milk. Teething and diaper rashes and the first time your baby catches a cold will all send you on frenzied google searches until your stomach is in knots, and more than once you will squint at the baby monitor because you can't tell if they are breathing.

 

Postpartum depression is hard, and it can last for years. Potty training will make all those times your newborn peed on you seem like a walk in the park, and fighting a tiny version of yourself on eating their veggies is about as fun as it sounds. Road trips become interesting, and you spend Friday night researching preschools instead of heading out. There are more loads of laundry than days in the week, dinner is a frozen pizza, and coffee is less a luxury and more a lifestyle.

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I see you, mama. It doesn't always feel lovely.

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But the first time you KNOW you felt that tiny baby kick will move you to tears, and the little cry as they are laid on your chest will do the same. When they meet your eyes and hold your finger with their perfect little hand, you will swear you've seen an angel in real life. When they smile for the first time, when they learn how to say "mama", when it's midnight and no one else in the world is awake but the two of you. When they're sleeping and all you can think about is how amazing it is that you get to raise this tiny person.

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All of the breathtaking milestones that make you look back and wonder how they ever fit inside your body - all of the firsts, and of course, all of the lasts.

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The last time they fit in a newborn outfit. The last time they nurse. The last time they do that cute little scoot on their bum across the floor. The last time they sleep in a crib. The last time they mispronounce that word. The last time they are three. The last day of preschool.

 

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The last day you hold them.

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And then you truly see the beauty amidst all that chaos. 

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Because each little thing is so gosh-darn fleeting.

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Babies don't keep, y'all -

 

That's why this season of yours is so lovely;

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Truly, my job is easy.

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I'm just an awed bystander with a camera, clicking away.

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