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Motherhood is not beautiful
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Motherhood is not beautiful.
It is ugly. It is feeling on top of the world one day and down at rock bottom another. It is crying so hard in the difficult moments that your face is puffy and red and you think you might never stop.
It is ugly. It is feeling on top of the world one day and down at rock bottom another. It is crying so hard in the difficult moments that your face is puffy and red and you think you might never stop.
It is scary. It is losing control. It is feeling anxious and nervous and terrified at that loss of control and your simultaneous need for it. It is lying awake at night with your heart racing and a nauseous feeling in your stomach, anticipating being woken up yet again.
It is vulnerability. It is having your heart opened
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to so much love that you can’t bear to think of losing it or using it wrong. It is sobbing into a cup of tea at 5am because you feel hopeless and you wonder when this phase will end. It is feeling guilty for being angry and for wanting a moment for you. It is the guilt of neglecting everything else in your life a little bit more.
Motherhood is not beautiful. But it is extraordinary. It is knowing unconditional love. It is being a role model. It is being reminded, in the moments of hopelessness and ugliness that it’s also pretty amazing. It is first
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steps, first words, first kisses. It is a miracle. Sometimes miracles are messy. But they’re miraculous all the same.
Motherhood is not beautiful in the traditional sense. But there is beauty in ugliness. In fear. In vulnerability.
And there is beauty in miracles.
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