Do you ever catch sight of a woman who looks at you—before you had kids?


She’s rushing somewhere to work. (She’s very important.) Or she’s lounging at brunch with her besties—without a care in the world. She might have kids some day, but her mind cannot fathom what becoming a mother will do to her life. She literally cannot imagine it. She just doesn’t know.

I could have still been that childless woman.

Instead, I had kids. (Three of them, in fact, over the last 5 years.)

I could have had quiet mornings to sip my coffee and listen to my favorite podcasts in peace.

Instead, I had kids.

I could have had weekends to sleep in.

Instead, I had kids.

I could have had *way* more money in the bank.

Instead, I had kids.

I could have had a cool car.

Instead, I had kids.

I could have traveled around the world—London, Paris, Jerusalem, Beijing.

Instead, I had kids.

I could have had sexy, monthly getaways with my husband.

Instead, I had kids.

I could have had perfectly-styled hair and a killer wardrobe.

Instead, I had kids.

I could have had a beautifully designed home full of high-end furniture.

Instead, I had kids.

I could have spent years climbing the corporate job on someone else’s schedule, putting late hours at the office with nothing to worry about other than meeting deadlines and work goals.

Instead, I had kids.

I could have had a perfectly smooth belly, without stretch marks or stretched skin or childbearing hips.

Instead, I had kids.

I could have belonged to the cool gym with the chill instructors, instead of the affordable one with free childcare.

Instead, I had kids.

I could have been free to do whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted.

Instead I had kids.

Instead of quiet mornings, I have the voices of three little people chirping for breakfast.

Instead of lazy weekends, I have family bonding time.

Instead of global getaways, I have cheap vacations crashing with family + friends.

Instead of endless alone time with my husband, I have an incredible father for our children.

Instead of a perfect living room and a high end kitchen, I have a playroom full of art supplies and a kitchen floor dotted with Cheerios.

Instead of freedom, I have responsibility—and endless love.

Instead of money, I have three little people with a roof over their heads and full, chubby bellies.

Instead of self-centeredness, I have selflessness—(whether I like it or not).

Instead of vanity, I have acceptance of my body.

Instead of a daily blowout, I have a mombun that gets. it. done.

Instead of a flashy car, I have a functional one that gets us to preschool + back, safely.

Instead of a job that impresses the outside world, I have a flexible (though demanding) one that gives me deep meaning.

Instead all of that—I have these three little gifts that I wouldn’t trade for all the money, flat stomachs and lazy weekends in the world.

Instead of just us, we have a family.