I try to keep blogging and Instagraming fairly separate, but I poured my heart and soul out into a post yesterday that I had to share. Since I try to make Mondays about motherhood these days, and this was a deep thought and feeling of my heart, I wanted to share it!
I looked at the spit up on my skirt today and thought back to a post I wrote and finally published two years ago about thoughts and experiences with infertility, and how I wish I spent church frustrated in the hall and with spit up and messy hand spots on my skirt. As I got both today and tried to calm myself from the stress of a Tasmanian devil thrashing in my lap and burping loudly repeatedly for all to hear, spitting up all over me, I realized I had wrote about fantasizing about the hard parts of motherhood one day being mine, and I’d gladly take them. It was a good self chastisement to remember what an amazing gift I’ve been given, how precious that child is, and how I’d take spit-up covered clothes over a smaller body and dry-clean only attire of days past. This job isn’t easy, but I’m grateful everyday that it’s mine!
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