The Sweetest Mother's Day Gift!

I used to be fit and thin, but then I became a mom.

I used to go running for the fun of it, often spur of the moment with my favorite tunes playing in my earbuds.

Now if I want to go for a run, there’s nothing spontaneous about it. I have to work around nap times, strap my toddler into the jogging stroller, bring snacks and water for him, and listen to him whine about wanting out so he can play on the neighborhood playground.

I used to dance full-out for two hours straight every day at dance team practice in high school and college. All with a big smile plastered on my face.

Now I have to pace myself just so I can get through a Zumba class. And I’ve taken a peek at my face in the mirror. Talk about total concentration! It’s not a pretty sight.

Needless to say, I don’t run or dance much anymore. In fact, I’m often winded just climbing the stairs.

I used to be able to eat anything I wanted and not gain weight. I could enjoy my sweet and salty cravings and not feel any remorse whatsoever. As active as I once was, my body was constantly burning calories.

Now it seems I gain five pounds just by looking at a piece of chocolate.

As a postpartum depression sufferer for almost two years, food became a source of comfort for me. Now I’m forced to deal with the extra weight I gained. I often feel like I’m in a constant state of maintaining instead of losing the unwanted weight.

I used to have a fun sense of style and a full wardrobe with unique jewelry to match each outfit. Every day, my body was a fresh canvas to create a fresh look for the day.

Now, I struggle to find clothing that flatters my body so I end up wearing sweatpants or leggings most days. I rarely bother with jewelry anymore. My toddler will yank it off if I do.

I used to take the time to apply a full face of makeup each morning. Some neutral eye shadow to enhance my natural look, and a little bit of eyeliner and mascara to highlight my big, hazel-green eyes.

Now, I’m lucky if I remember to apply foundation and swipe some blush on my pale cheeks. Unfortunately for me, the worry lines on my forehead and bags under my eyes are not as easily disguised anymore.

I used to have a head full of dark, strawberry blonde curls. Curls so tight and springy that my hair bounced when I walked, just like in those shampoo commercials.

Now my hair is more of a mousy brown, dull and stringy. The roller coaster my hormones were on during pregnancy and postpartum have caused my hair to permanently lose its bounce and vibrancy.

I used to be fit and thin. I used to take care of myself. It used to be easier.

But then I remember . . . 

I used to go running to pass the time because as a single lady in my 20s, I desperately wanted a spouse and family to share my life with.

Now I have a husband who comes home to me each night and our sweet, little growing family is the answer to so many lonely prayers.

I used to feel like my identity was all wrapped up in dance. To be a part of such elite teams took all my time, dedication, and energy.

Now I know that my identity is found in Christ alone. He’s blessed me as a wife, mother, friend, and so much more. Plus, I now have the honor to share my love for dance with my children. Random dance parties with my toddler son are the best!

I used to eat most meals alone. Single and living on my own, I never made elaborate meals for myself. So TV dinners while binge watching Friends or Gilmore Girls was a regular occurrence.

Now I have the honor to cook for my family. While most our meals are still simple and easy, I’ve graduated from TV dinners and now enjoy dinner conversation with my hubby and son.

While the extra weight I currently carry may be a nuisance during swimsuit season, most the time it really doesn’t faze me. My husband says he likes my extra curves. So I will choose to celebrate my body in its current state, instead of mourning the loss of what it used to be.

I used to dress to impress and a full face of makeup was always a must. Even though it sounds cliché, I often failed to understand that true beauty lies within me.

Now I’m much more forgiving of myself when I don’t look my best. I dress nicely when I feel like it and wear makeup and jewelry for special occasions, but I’ve learned to embrace my natural look and enjoy the coziness of leggings and sweats. Plus, it’s so much easier to keep up with my active toddler when I’m not constrained in jeans.

But my hair . . . oh my beautiful hair . . . I miss you, my friend. I will forever mourn the loss of my lovely, bouncy, vibrant, spirally curls.

But even the loss of my once-gorgeous hair is worth it. Just to be a mom.

You may also like: 

Hey Moms, Lose the Weight

Dear Baby, You Were So Worth It

I Love Being Your Mama, My Son

Want more stories of love, family, and faith from the heart of every home, delivered straight to you? Sign up here!

So God Made a Grandmother book by Leslie Means

If you liked this, you'll love our book, SO GOD MADE A GRANDMA

Order Now!

Alaina V. Fletcher

Alaina is a midwestern girl, married to her one and only boyfriend who she met in her mid-twenties. Together they have a young son and 4 angel babies in Heaven. Alaina’s childhood love for reading and writing led her to earning a college degree in English. She’s a fair-weather runner and former dancer reliving her glory days in weekly Zumba class. She’s a writer, dance teacher, & photography-lover. Alaina writes about motherhood, miscarriage, depression & anxiety, “introvert life”, racial reconciliation, discovering your giftings & passions, and living a life of purpose & love. She’s been published by Her View From Home and TODAY Parenting Team. She’s the creator and writer of The Living Loved Movement at thelivinglovedmovement.com where she inspires others to live their lives through the lens of love. You can follow the movement on Facebook and Instagram.

To My Angel Babies

In: Baby, Loss
Photo frame with ultrasound image

To my three angel babies, From the moment I saw that first positive pregnancy test, you became a part of me. You were never just an idea, a hope, or a dream—you were my babies. I loved you from the very beginning, and I still do. Not a day passes that I don’t think of you or pray for you. I dreamt of watching you grow up with your big brother, dreamt of who you would become, and all the memories we’d make. You may have been tiny, but the dreams I had for you were not. To some, you...

Keep Reading

Having a Holiday Baby Is Extra Special

In: Baby, Motherhood
Newborn baby in santa hat sleeping with lights around him

“That’s right, my secondborn will have mashed potato cakes every year for his birthday,” I say with a forced laugh, knowing exactly how cheesy I sound. My husband and I didn’t exactly plan for a holiday baby, but here we are. Our due date is November 21st, so depending on the year, our son may often share a birthday party with the holiday of gratitude and pumpkin everything. When people find out when we are expecting, the responses are usually mixed, like they’re unsure what to say. These statements range anywhere from a slightly sarcastic “Oh, that will be a...

Keep Reading

I’d Given Up on Getting Pregnant‚ But Hope Had Other Plans

In: Baby, Motherhood
Ultrasound photo of early pregnancy

This is the story I wish someone had shared with me when I was losing all hope. I never imagined I would be the one writing this. But here I am, opening up about something that once felt too painful to say out loud. A truth I believed I would carry silently forever: I had given up on becoming pregnant. After five years. Five years that left me emotionally worn out, physically drained, financially stretched, and spiritually defeated. Five years that included five separate rounds of ovulation-stimulating medication. (I’m purposely leaving out the name to protect others from self-medicating.) Eventually,...

Keep Reading

It’s a Good Day To Celebrate Your Rainbow Baby

In: Baby, Grief, Motherhood
Rainbow baby lying on blanket with onesie that says "rainbow"

Dear Mama, Today, take a moment for yourself. A moment to reflect on this powerful journey. And just soak it in. Soak every single second of it in. Hold that baby a little longer. A little tighter. Smell their sweet little head and stare into their big, beautiful eyes. Whether it’s been a day, a week, a month, or longer since that precious little life joined the world, chances are it’s flying by. So take a minute to slow down, soak it in, and celebrate. Celebrate this little miracle you prayed for so hard. This little human you and your...

Keep Reading

What Comes after the NICU? Sometimes It’s the Struggle No One Sees.

In: Baby, Motherhood
Mother sitting beside preemie in a NICU basinette

They clap when you bring the baby home—finally, miraculously, out of the NICU. They celebrate the milestones, the trials overcome, and mark the battle as won. You made it. You’re home. You’re okay, the baby’s okay. But what about what comes after? What about the silence that follows the storm? The slow, aching process of unpacking trauma no one talks about, and few understand. The wounds no one sees. The moments you’re expected to be grateful when you’re still gasping for air. The days spent trying to be okay, when so much of the past few months have been very...

Keep Reading

Surprise! I’m 42 and Pregnant.

In: Baby, Motherhood
Pregnant woman holding belly, black and white image

Seven years after I gave birth to my youngest child, I made an appointment with my primary care physician. I was 42, had been sick and fatigued, and thought I might have diabetes, thyroid cancer, or be going into menopause. When she asked if I could be pregnant, I laughed. I mean, it had been six months since my husband and I had been intimate—not the recipe for pregnancy. Then, the hCG test came back at 66,000. Shocked doesn’t even begin to encompass my feelings. A little backstory: When our youngest was two, my husband and I tried for a...

Keep Reading

To the Moms of COVID Babies Turning Five

In: Baby, Motherhood
Elevator door in hospital during COVID-19 pandemic

To the mamas of babies now turning five, the ones born during the height of the COVID-19 pandemic. Alone, masked, giving birth in a hospital filled with fear and protocols. Some of you left through back hallways or maintenance elevators—quiet exits where there should’ve been balloons and cheers. The ones with no hospital visitors, no sibling introductions, no joyful flood of family holding your newborn. No newborn photos, no parties, no sweet “welcome to the world” celebrations. Just fear. Isolation. Quiet. Survival. You missed out on moments you dreamed of. And if that baby was your last, it might ache...

Keep Reading

Dear Mama, There’s a Story In Your C-Section Scar

In: Baby, Motherhood
Mother in hospital selfie

I’ve given birth four times. Each experience has been uniquely different and beautiful. My last baby was born by Caesarean section after a complicated and traumatic pregnancy. After three natural deliveries, the thought of a major surgery to bring my baby earthside TERRIFIED me. Having a C-section never made me feel like I was taking “the easy way out.” Never did I hold myself to a different standard than other moms. Never did I feel like I had failed in birth or motherhood. In fact, it was the complete opposite. Enduring major surgery while entering into the most vulnerable days...

Keep Reading

He Was Almost the Boy I Let Get away

In: Baby, Motherhood
Mother and young toddler cheek to cheek

After two kids, two miscarriages, and a journey through postpartum depression, I was afraid to keep trying for the third baby I always knew I wanted. As I looked at the second negative pregnancy test, I felt a familiar range of emotions. I wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or disappointed. Did I feel relief because for another month I could avoid the daily fear of worrying I might miscarry again and spare the girls, my husband, and me from getting our hopes up just to have them crushed again? Did I feel relief because I was scared of going...

Keep Reading

Dear C-Section Mom, It’s Natural to Feel Whatever You Do

In: Baby, Motherhood
Woman with c-section scar holds baby on hip

When I was eight months pregnant with my firstborn, I thought I had it all figured out. I’d read the books, attended the birthing classes, and listened to the podcasts. I crafted a cutesy birth plan handout with a very clear message for the hospital staff: a natural, intervention-free birth. Ideally, there’d be some soothing instrumental music in the background to make it all feel organic and magical. I practiced my deep breathing and yoga ball moves. I packed the essential oils. I was ready. In reality, the complete opposite happened. I hit 39 weeks at the start of a...

Keep Reading