Mama, your ‘ordinary’ life is actually quite extraordinary

The only difference between you and I is that it’s all new to you. It’s like learning any new skill. It’s not supposed to be easy or feel comfortable.

And what you can say instead.

I hear you mama, when will it all end? The thing is, one day it will. Sooner than we anticipate.

Nothing has brought me greater joy than motherhood, but nothing has brought me greater grief than becoming a foreigner to my own skin.

I have to imagine you feel this too. I have to believe that these feelings, these days of mine are felt by others. I’m saying it out loud because this rawness is so very real, it’s oh so real, and I can’t cover it up.

It’s holding on. To firsts and lasts, to moments of magic in the mundane, and to an ache of loving so deeply.

You taught me that mothering—or womanhood—does not always have to be synonymous with strength. That there is room for weakness and error. That I have somewhere to rest my weary head until I have the wit to rise again. Thank you for being a resting and a rising place all within the same breath.

I’m a mama in Oregon. But, because I’m a mama, my heart feels the terror of a mama in Ukraine.

In your presence, your child feels an emotional security that allows them to be vulnerable, unguarded and exposed.

Simple ways to take something off her plate—today and every day.

"If you could do any part of today over again, what would it be?"

If we don't do anything about the guilt it can eat away at us.

Recognizing our needs is the first step to reclaiming what we want.

You just keep getting bigger, doing more, needing me less.

You are the incredible gift who gave me my cherished title of ‘mother.’

I know you’re worried. I know you’re scared. But you know what I know? You’ve got this.