Tag Archives: authenticity

Pregnancy IRL

I have friends who love being pregnant. They thrive on being pregnant. They would be pregnant all the time if they could. This, on the other hand, is me pregnant. wp-1455407450067.jpeg

This was taken about 3 weeks ago and I am wearing a band around my belly to literally hold my stomach together. I got a major umbilical hernia the last time I was pregnant, and parts of my abdomen are threatening to come through my belly button. Sounds like a blast, right? It’s not as severe as it sounds, it just hurts a lot, and apparently it’s not a big deal (!?) because I have yet to have a doctor/midwife seem overly concerned.

So yeah, this kid better love me the most.

I’m not mocking my friends who love pregnancy. I’m more than a little jealous, to be honest. And if I could take the good parts of pregnancy and have those always I would. Like my shiny hair, gorgeous fingernails, and umm… c’mon, there’s gotta be a third one…

The truth is, I don’t love being pregnant. It’s hard for me to write that. I prayed and longed for this baby for so long and I’m absolutely thrilled to be pregnant with this little parasite. And the first time I felt this baby move I was so in love I cried. So I feel weird saying that this is hard, and uncomfortable, and icky, and weird… But I think that’s why I need to say it.

There’s this thing about being a woman, or being a mom, where you’re supposed to pretend that everything is fine. If a mom makes a complaint about her children, she’s attacked. You chose to have these kids, why would you have them if you hate it so much? As if there’s only two options, love it all the time or hate it. So we smile, and say this is the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I wouldn’t trade it for anything. I live for my kids.

But Emily, you may be thinking, that’s true though. I do feel that way about my kids! That’s great. I believe you. I’m happy for you. I just don’t believe you feel that way 100% of the time. No one does. And I want us to have the freedom to admit it. Let’s not take to Facebook and complain about our kids, or how horrible our day is, but let’s give ourselves permission to text a friend and tell her we’re struggling. She gets it. Give yourself permission to put your kids in front of Netflix so you can get 20 minutes to recharge. Give yourself permission to lock the bathroom door and eat chocolate. You’re human.

I go through this time knowing the end result will make this all pale in comparison. It’s true for you too. Whatever the struggle is right now, it’s worth it. One day your child will use the potty on their own. Your little booger eventually will sleep all night. It will be worth it.

Until then. Give yourself grace. You don’t have to enjoy every moment. You can feel impatience, frustration, even anger, at your children. They probably deserve it! So take a cleansing breath, send those ornery monsters to their room, and remind yourself that you’re human. God is forgiving. Your children are forgiving. And this won’t last forever.

Do you love being pregnant? Tell me why. I want to vicariously enjoy it 🙂

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Not the Monday Post I Intended

So this isn’t what I had planned on writing about today. I wanted to write about how I’m treating Hashimoto’s with diet and supplements. I wanted to talk about the Paleo Diet and how it’s The Best Diet. I’ll have to get to all that later, because I can’t get my brain to work that hard today.

I didn’t sleep last night, hardly at all. I suffer from insomnia, and have for a long time. It’s been better lately, thanks to some amazing supplements, regular exercise, and a healthy diet. But every once in awhile, I struggle. Big time.

And my brain and memory do this fun thing where not only am I lying there for hours not sleeping, but I recall every bad, embarassing, awkward, stupid thing I’ve ever said or did in my entire life. And I obsess over them. And by morning I’m curled up in the fetal position convinced that no one could love me, I’m the worst at everything, and there’s a chance I might be becoming Gollum (I’ve been reading Lord of the Rings).

I had scheduled childcare for my boys at the YMCA this morning so I could work out, and as Tim was leaving for work I told him I didn’t think I could make it because I could hardly stand up because of my tiredness. He encouraged me to go anyway, and get the endorphins flowing (that’s what he always says, “Get the endorphins flowing.”), and since he’s almost always right (don’t tell him I said that) I got up and got ready to go.

When we pulled into the parking lot I looked at my phone, expecting it to be 8:00 and saw instead that it was 8:30. Wait, what? My reserved time was supposed to start at 8, and I was half an hour off. I’m still trying to figure out where that missing half hour of my life went, it just disappeared into oblivion, because I really thought we were on time. Sleep deprivation, guys.

Now, if you follow me on Instagram (you should, you should! Check it out! It’s over there ——> ) you might already know most of this. And that is why I needed to write about it.

When I’m struggling, or hurting, or miserable, I sometimes convince myself that no one else could possibly understand what I’m going through. I wonder if you do the same? I tell mysef, “There is not a soul in the world that could even know how I feel or has ever been in this exact situation. I’m hopelessly alone, I know it!” And come on, how stupid and egotistical is that? What? I think I’ve got the corner on human suffering all to myself? Of course not!

So today, I put it out there. I was open on social media about how crappy my day started. And I was overwhelmed by the response of my friends, those I see in person, and those I don’t. I have the best friends on Facebook and IG, you guys. The. Best. I felt lifted up, but I also felt like there were others who knew exactly what it felt like to be in that situation, or to have insomnia and depression go hand in hand. You all rock!

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I wonder if you would consider putting yourself out there too? We try so hard sometimes to create this facade of what we want our lives to be by only showing the beautiful things on social media. I wonder what it would look like to truly be our authentic selves. I don’t mean that we should complain all the time. There’s a difference between being honest and straight up complaining.

My good friend, Brittany, over at Little Mountain Momma, started this hashtag a while back: #letsgetrealmoms. She’s the best at it, really. She includes that tag with pictures of her messy life in all forms, created by children, and not. So maybe throw that hashtag out there the next time you post on social media. I’ll probably see it, I occasionally look through those tags, and we both will feel uplifted.

Let’s get real, moms. Let’s get real, women. We are authentic, and we are encouragers. Carry on, Warrior Women.