The memories and milestones.
All of it.
One day, we’re holding a sweet-smelling newborn in our arms,
so tiny and delicate.
Then he’s a toddler looking at ice cream the same way he looked at his bottle.
Suddenly, he’s putting cologne on for his first date,
and BAM, he’s 18 and leaving the house.
Mothering is a blur,
of late nights,
early mornings,
middle of the night feedings,
and non-stop exhaustion.
We remember everything, BUT we don’t.
Did we even stop to enjoy it?
Were we a good enough mom?
Did our kids feel loved each day?
So much runs together. The days. Months. Years.
And the blur is inevitable because motherhood’s exhausting.
It’s hard not to get caught up in the whirlwind of expectations,
mom guilt,
insecurity,
and the day-to-day distractions.
But I hope to be present enough to say;
“𝐓𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐦𝐲 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐧 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐟𝐞𝐥𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐫, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐈 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐝𝐚𝐲,
𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐲 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐧 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝. 𝐒𝐨, 𝐈 𝐝𝐢𝐝 𝐚 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐣𝐨𝐛.”
✍️: @livingfullaftered
📸: @o_trocatintas
Better World 🌎 
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