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Motherhood is lonely.
Maybe you feel it when you lay awake at 3 a.m. nursing your babe while the rest of the house sleeps.
Or maybe you feel it when you see photos of friends out together, having a laugh. Or maybe it’s because you haven’t spoken to an adult for the last 48 hours straight.
Motherhood is frustrating.
Maybe you’ve repeated a sentence 14 times. Maybe you have three screaming children, pulling you in different directions.
Maybe you just wanted to take a crap in peace, yet the kids are seconds away from busting down the door.
Motherhood is all-encompassing.
Nothing else in this world has demanded so much of you. And it’s reflected back at the world—in every facet of your life.
We see it in your home, in your vehicle, in your purse, your wardrobe, your eyes.
Oh my gosh, motherhood is my everything.
You see, for me, motherhood is sitting on my kitchen floor. Putting a pause on obligation, disregarding the mess. Observing my daughters face with wonder. Tracing my daughter’s features with my eyes.
The dimples in her cheeks, the way her eyes disappear when she smiles. Her full little lips and those two crooked bottom teeth. The utter perfection that is her.
So really, when I think about it…
I would say that motherhood is a woman divided into pieces. Pieces of herself that live outside of her body.
The most integral pieces. The best pieces.