Motherhood is exhausting — no, scratch that! Motherhood exists on the very precipice of delirium. Don’t get me wrong; it’s an incredible miracle and beautiful and deeply rewarding and all of the things you’re told so often… but also, it’s not.

It’s a living, breathing, happening contrariety that makes your head hurt. So much so, that you think, “How is it possible to be existing in a state of deprivation and deep love all at once?”

But you are and, oddly, you wouldn’t change a thing…

Not the several hours of raspy red-faced cries, explosive diaper bombs or your puke covered t-shirt (the one you’ve completely abandoned changing at this point).

Or the repetitions of cry-change-feed-burp-sleep every hour or two. Like clockwork.

Or the friends who don’t understand your new role of keeping another human being alive, instead of dropping everything to go shop or party with them.

Not even the death of your sleep cycle — may it rest in heavenly peace.

Sometimes you catch yourself sighing, “How is this my life?” And reminisce about the good old days where you felt like a babe — when you had time to dye your hair, throw on a pink lipstick pout and get your sexy on.

Ah, those were the days.

Though these thoughts are quickly overshadowed by five tiny fingers wrapping tightly around your thumb, a crooked gummy smile and curious eyes begging you to love them.

You wonder how you ever went a day without knowing the little face staring back at you.

It’s innocent, it’s pure and it’s unconditional.

This… These are the days. Unfolding.

And just like that, “How is this my life?” adopts a new meaning. You question what you did to be blessed with the amazing tiny person before you. To have been given the important and delicate task of guiding a soul into existence.

Suddenly, you aspire to be everything you knew you could be, everything this newborn deserves.

And what they deserve is the best of everything and all the world has to offer — and it’s absolutely terrifying.

There’s no hiding anymore. No avoiding. No numbing. You’re forced to look at yourself and everything you’ve dusted under the emotional, spiritual rug.

There’s just you and motherhood. 

And sometimes motherhood is a stonecold bitch, but your heart still feels like it could turn inside out from the joy of it all.

Because in those moments, when it’s good to you, it’s really good. It’s a gift from above.

It’s like nothing else… ever.

Motherhood sucks, but you wouldn’t change it for the world.