Sometimes being a mommy was like the ocean that disappeared into sand. Vast and unmeasurable, mommy-hood was never completely accomplished or satiated. Its demands drained, yet its beauty abounded. I wanted confidence, “You’ve got this.” But mothering was often a murky insecurity of, “I don’t know how to do this.” I wanted to thrive, but sometimes I struggled just to survive.
If your plate is piled with mommy expectations, if perfection is always one runny nose away, let me grant permission to knock down some of the assumptions of maternal fantasy and soak in a bit of the pleasure.