I don’t remember the exact event. I can picture the location, the people, and around the time. I am sure it was the brain fog. I remember being excited. Casey and I had three babies under four. Cal was fresh, still in the carrier. I was a proud mama. Kids were invited. I had them dressed and still managed to take time to dress myself up, too.
I do remember it starting to unravel. They weren’t bad, but Caroline and Charlie were excited and then restless. Cal got fussy. His bottle satisfied . . . until it didn’t. The event was ending, and I knew our time to go had come. I was bouncing Cal and the other two were running around. I felt a little tension. We were on our way out and I heard it, “Bless her heart.”
Then the words that stung the most, it was something along the lines, “I would never want to be in her shoes.”
It was whispered, not meant for me to hear, and from a friend. Pity. My face was hot. We got home and I ran a sink bath for Cal. I let the warm water run over his tummy. The water washed away his fussiness, and I cooled too.
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I had chosen this life—the kids and the fullness. I didn’t want pity.
I know I didn’t make it look easy, but even so, it was beautiful to me.
Motherhood is hard.
Loving them up sometimes looks like poop-filled diapers, sleepless nights, wrinkled clothes, crying babies, piles of laundry, chicken nuggets on the floorboard, and kids climbing.
It is messy.
But don’t ever feel sorry for us!
Motherhood is a blessing and children are a gift.
Somewhere under the hot cheeks that night, I knew it.
I was blessed.
I can spot it a mile away—the sweet mama deep in the messiness.
I never feel sorry.
Sometimes, I just admire. Sometimes, I offer to bounce the baby.
But the older I get, the more I just want to let her know I see the hard and I feel the hard, but I also see the beauty.
I would be blessed to be in her shoes.
Let’s rejoice in the blessings.
Let’s jump in to help.
But let us never pity!
Love them up! Love covers.
Originally published on the author’s Instagram page