Thursday, June 27, 2013


No, this isn't a post about me struggling (yay!). It's a post about letting go of struggle. Because sometimes it seems that I live to struggle...that struggle becomes an obstacle course with a clear winner at the end...The Best Struggler!
But I wanted to write about letting go of struggle...of not really catering to my propensity to struggle.

Or maybe I just want to point out, for this moment, I'm not struggling. I am sleeping. I am eating. I see a few friends when I can manage it. I'm enjoying motherhood. I have read a few books and finished them and they were FICTION (note: I rarely read fiction, but I find that I am enjoying it at the moment).

I know that parenting is a practice in letting go, lowering expectations, and living in the present moment, and I also want to include that it doesn't have to be a struggle. Living in the present moment is really helpful when sometimes I want to live in the absolutes (never, always, etc)...K is sleeping now, which doesn't mean it won't change, but for now, it's working. It will change. It has changed. And in the present moment, I am enjoying it. But I don't have to hang out with the thought, "It'll never last!" (There's that 'never' I mentioned earlier). Of course it won't last, but right now it's good, and I want to say, I see you, good moment, and I can sit with that.

Sometimes I feel like I attract struggle to prove things: my strength, patience, ability, tolerance. But do I continue to need struggle to continue to "prove?" What if I just accept that I AM those things, and I don't need to struggle to offer proof to myself (or others)? Hmm. Interesting.

Okay, just wanted to share...

Wednesday, June 26, 2013

In my other life...

In my other life I am a budding industrial designer
I wear stylish glasses, have more than one pair
I sit around a table, thinking up ideas, playing with cardboard mock-ups

In my other life, I am on a book tour
People think I am funny and pay me to make them laugh
I am witty and respected

In my other life, my clothing is designed by an artist friend
My curves are appropriately accented, my cleavage isn't accidental
My colorful shoes are comfortable and stylish, but not bought on clearance

In my other life, I have a small house,
One that is sustainably efficient, clean and comfortable
There are no dust bunnies, no unfinished parts, no long remodels

My other life pays bills on time, gives money to charity
I take my husband out for dinner, without a second thought
I help a friend in need, I'm out of debt

In my other life, my passport is full
I speak multiple languages well, with the right winks and nods for each country
I know my wines and cheeses, I fit right in

In my other life, I fantasize about the life I live right now.

Monday, June 17, 2013

Dear Mama (if K could blog...)

Dear Mama,

I know that whenever you want me to say "ma-ma," I always say "da-da." Don't feel bad. I'm doing that because I know it means a lot to papa (I'm working on my "p's") and I already get and give so much attention from/with you, that I wanted to make him feel special too. Don't worry, "ma-ma" is coming and I imagine it won't be too soon...

I know that you are hurting...there are a lot of things going on, and I just keep growing and growing because I can't slow down. But there are so many things to do, learn, grab, slobber on, and cry about. I can't take it all in. I get that from you...the world is so big and I'm so small, will I get to taste, feel, love it all? Will you help?

You've been telling everyone that we're no longer nursing and I know that you are sad about it. And I know that you are worried that it's not okay. But like everyone said, I'm doing really well and just because I no longer have mama milk, doesn't mean anything has really changed between us. I still want to cuddle, I still want you to pick me up, I still love to see you in the morning. You're my mama! Nothing changes that.

You are conscious and awake and you are present to what's going on with me and that's all I want. You listen and worry and wonder and appreciate. Those are the things that come from you forever...milk was only ever a passing thing.

I came to you because we are going to teach each other about love...and that will happen with every experience we have from crazy diaper changes to late nights to walks to the park to late night drives to get papa. The journey has only just begun and you are already an amazing mama. I am so lucky.

I love you,


What about NOT letting go?

Of course, the blog is about letting go, but should I exclude the idea of not letting go of some things? Maybe not.

With motherhood and parenthood comes excruciating amounts of cutting, severing, allowing, releasing, forgiving, forgetting, surrendering, and more. But in order to not fly away with the wind, I gotta hold on to SOME things, right?

Like what?

I don't know. I just started writing this entry because I feared that I was starting to let go of too much, too soon and then I was also thinking that I wouldn't be able to hold on to anything.

I'm learning that letting go is not an absolute activity. I don't just all of a sudden release, forget, and move on. In fact, letting go is more like a spectrum...what I let go of, how fast it happens, if I try to hold on again, etc., is all a part of the process. If I love something, let it go, and then it comes back, can I hold on again? Or is it just simply a letting out the string of my kite, letting it catch the wind, reeling it in when the wind dies down and then trying again?

Many a song talks about nothing being forever...which is super pessimistic, right? I don't like to think like that. I like to reframe that idea to allow that things just ebb and flow, they come close, then wander off, they hang around in the foreground, then fade to the background when it's time.

Just wanted to allow the parts of me who like to hang on, to be what they are. Not everything can be peacefully let go of. And that's okay too.

Thursday, June 13, 2013

Dear K,

Tiny Baby,
I usually write to you more privately. I usually tell you what unique to you things you are doing so when you are bored at age 17, wondering what the hell mom and dad were like (by then you'll likely stop calling us mama and papa) and what you were like (I know, my tenses are horrible...but it's hard to talk to you in the future...), you have a record.
But today, I am writing more publicly. Because this part of our/my journey has been more public.
And part of the purpose of this blog (most of the purpose, actually), is to write about and be conscious about letting go as I move through motherhood.
So here it is.
You are nine months and about three weeks (we can call it 10 months). I was aiming to breastfeed you until you were at least 12 months old. It was a goal I heard from other mamas and I figured it was good enough for me. I have a very, very supportive community, with lots of resources, ideas, milk, education, and positive encouragement. I was going to kick breastfeeding's ass (hmm. Interesting choice of words).
Early on, when you were losing weight (ack!), we started giving you formula. We were warned, but honestly, at the time, I did not care about anything but you gaining weight. I didn't think you were too small, but I also didn't like that you cried for more milk after every feeding and I didn't seem to have any more for you. Heartbreaking is an understatement. I also didn't like thinking that you might not be getting enough food. Not what this mama wanted to hear.
So we gave you 1/2 formula and 1/2 mama milk. You gained weight and it was better. My milk supply went down a bit when I went back to work, as we supplemented with a bit more formula. I wasn't able to breastfeed you during work (a dream I thought I could manage, but it was unrealistic). I was severely sleep-deprived, but I kept on pumping at work, feeding at night, and doing whatever I could do. I talked to moms, lactation consultants, the Dr., the midwives, my family, and I read websites, books, made cookies, took hot showers, pumped the majority of my time at work, took supplements, got milk donations, drank water, drank special tea, and kept a positive attitude.
But, Sweet Pea, after just now reading about another mama wanting to re-lactate (her milk dried up and mine is too, so I started reading voraciously in case I  missed something...), I realized I am at a crossroads (a common theme running through motherhood for me...) and I have to make a choice. Hopefully, you'll agree, a conscious choice. I have to weigh the benefit of continuing to try to make more milk and the peaceful release of the expectation (set up by me mostly, and some shame I feel at the idea that I might be "giving up too soon.") to keep making milk. They both stress me out a little (a lot?). If I stop, am I ruining your chances of immunity? If I don't stop, am I stressing myself out so much that I don't have immunity for my own body? And will other mamas look at me as a quitter? (No, they won't, but you can't tell me that sometimes, because I always believe they do...which is horribly inaccurate, I know) Will you throw it back in my face if you get some god-awful thing that could only be prevented by breastmilk? Is there such a thing? Will you be sad that we didn't share this bonding ritual for two more months? Will you be jealous of your friends who got to self-wean? Are you even registering this dilemma at the moment?

This is why this is so hard and only one of the decisions I have to make in the course of your/our lifetime. It sucks, honestly. I feel like a sad-sack when I pump and get .25 oz from about 40 minutes total of pumping per day. And woe is me, that I'm not a big "producer" as if you think less of me because of my milk output. I know, that's not giving you enough credit.

So instead of saying I stopped breastfeeding because of my milk production, (that feels like I am giving my power away and placing blame and it just doesn't feel completely true in its simplicity), I want to say to you and everyone else, that I am choosing to care for myself, my emotional and physical fragility, my body, and my sanity (and ultimately you) and that's why we're stopping.

You are not crying and reaching for me, I am not spending less time with you, you are not hungry, you are not malnourished. When I leave my pump at home, I feel lighter. I know, that even in your non-verbal-ness, you are okay with this. I am the one holding on and not you. (We'll verify this later). I know that when you get older, you will likely say, "Hey Mama, please don't let me and what you think are my expectations of you, hold you back. That's not why I came to you. I came to you to help you let go, to be free, and to teach you to soar." Just like I took the drugs for hyperemesis because I wanted to feel better and to love being pregnant (rather than soldiering on--which might have been way more detrimental to both of our bodies), this is like that. I am stopping breastfeeding because we can move on to other ways to bond, other ways to share, and other ways to nourish. We have a lot to teach each other Little One, don't we?

So there is no big ceremony. The grandest gesture I know is to write. And your grandest gesture is to smile that killer smile of I will let go and let those be our moments as we continue on...and I won't hang my hat--or yours--on milk or the right diapers/food/toys/books or being perfect or knowing all the answers. You release me and I trust you enough to let go...

Tuesday, June 11, 2013

Those pesky expectations

As a newer (admitted) extrovert (I used to be a really social introvert), socializing is a big deal to me. Not just at parties, but seeing other people live their lives, tell their truth, etc. For those who know me, it's a complicated, big deal.

When one has kids, things change. If I had a nickel every time I heard this...

When I had a kid, things (expectations, specifically) indeed changed. And got more complicated. I feel pretty vulnerable right now talking about how I socialize, because those I socialize with (or don't socialize with, as the case may be) are pretty much the bulk of this blog's audience. So I'm "reporting on" but also "talking to" this group. See? Already too complicated.

But being vulnerable is a part of letting go. I know that in the deepest of places. If I can't say stuff out loud to myself and at least one other person it's like one hand clapping in a forest where no one can hear it.

So back to when I used to be an introvert... Introversion is not about being anti-social, which I have never really been. It's about where I get/got my energy. Do I feel more energized with people or on my own? For a long time, I felt more energized on my own. My rules, my food, my space, my clothes, my time. A lot of "mine." I used to have one chair facing the TV in my one bedroom apartment until a dear friend told me that that's no way to attract a partner. Hmm. Conflict arose in the concept that with all the "mine" there was no one to share it with. Huh.

I also, by nature (or was it nurture?), am someone who is capable of helping people out. And way back when, I think I did this a lot, or some might say, too much. Helping people out is innocent enough, but for an introvert, it's not as fulfilling as it sounds. In fact, I think I may have wanted to help so that when I was alone, thinking about my life, etc., I wouldn't seem like an asshole. God forbid. It's not that I helped people insincerely, it's that it wasn't exactly what fed me. But how I felt about myself fed me, so it worked.

Until it didn't.

Shortly after the single chair moved out and a couch moved into to the aforementioned apartment, "mine" started getting boring. But this is where it got complicated. I liked helping, but not too much. I liked people, but only until they wanted something I didn't want to give. So the math was something like this: If I help people they will take all the energy I have, leaving me spent and angry. If I don't help people, I will be, and feel like, an asshole. And "mine" is now boring. And I'll probably also end up spent and angry from my own doing. Ack!

Enter the estranged boundaries. I wanted to put them in quotes, but I don't want to poke fun at them. Boundaries were like a cool distant cousin, who dressed well, liked the cool, hip music, and didn't care what people thought of her. Man, did I want to be like that cousin! But I had no idea what to do with boundaries. They felt gangly and awkward. Like I was trying on a smokin' hot dress for a college student's body, as a 10 year old. Double ack.

I started hanging around people who had boundaries (also known as therapists and those IN therapy) and while things still looked insanely awkward, I also saw that these people still had friends, did not vanish in a puff of smoke, and seemed to have self-esteem. Victory!

And here is where these worlds now I'm a mom, with a much better handle on boundaries, and to the naked eye, I might still seem like an asshole. But trust me, my lack of socializing isn't personal. Some days, even though I am home, "doing nothing," I am really just storing up some alone time. Or I am being more honest with myself when I say to myself, "You know, it's okay to not do or go or plan right now."

It can also be heart-breaking...I know I miss many of my friends. And some friends have complained that my lack of time for them is becoming detrimental to our relationship. And I lie awake at night stewing about this...because that was never my intent, but I just don't feel the same about socializing like I used to. I have my built-in social group, who share my house with me, and when they are gone or asleep, I get some breathing room. I need breathing room. Now more than before. So it's a dance and one I'm still awkwardly navigating. When hubby is gone for the night, sometimes with the car, sometimes not, I am constantly weighing the pros and cons of interaction. Some days going out wins, some days, it loses, and I eat grilled cheese and watch tv. When I stay in, K gets better sleep because I am focused on his cues. When I go out, sometimes, it's more important that I get some attention, rather than K. I'm still looking for his cues, mind you, but I'm just not ignoring my own.

I have a hard time explaining this sometimes. But overall, I just need to learn to let go of my expectations of myself and not expect others to let go of theirs. I can't blame others for missing me. And for being angry that I'm not more mobile, willing, available, sans baby, etc. Hopefully our friendships will endure and things will change (working on getting a second car is top of the list, FYI) and we will hang out more often, once more. Until then, don't write me off. I still love you dearly.

Wednesday, June 5, 2013

I don't want to write about this

Because I don't want it to be true...

One of the hardest things to let go of, is couplehood. I have to say, I've REALLY enjoyed being in a relationship, being  married, being a couple. I like saying "we," I like having things in common with my spouse, I like hearing what hubby has to say. I like the cuddle (actually, we've coined a phrase: huggle), I like the hanging out together, the reflecting together, the errand running, the everything.

And with another person in the mix, the couple becomes a triple. And an unequal triple. In fact, I think of it like a molecule (bare with me, chemistry was NOT my strong suit) with three atoms, two being more stable than the third, but either of the adult two can help the younger third become more stable and sometimes the three of them can be stable together, but sometimes (most times?) not. Because the third atom is young and volatile. One day they will all be more stable (hopefully), but for now, that's a tough standard to uphold.

Frankly, I'm not doing very well at letting go of couplehood. In fact, I don't want to let it go. So really, 1 and 1 and 1 make two and also make three, in addition to making four and five. There are a lot of combinations (math, also not a strong suit) that we can be now. I guess I didn't look at it from all the angles. I just thought we'd be a team and leave it at that. I also imagined an 8 year old child and forgot to imagine ALL the other ages.

Many people tried to scare me (and did so successfully) regarding my marriage and a new baby. But, and I might be in the minority, I want to keep working on the couple part too. Baby K needs to see that our relationship is not JUST in service to his well-being. It's in service to the whole family and the individuals. So, yeah, I won't be letting it go, I'll just be letting go of trying to make it exactly how it was before and instead working on improving it with its new components.

I know the holding on will change and the couple will change too. Part of my spiritual inclination to be in a marriage was to catapult me beyond what I could do by myself. And so it goes that after we go as far as we can in a twosome, the additional person added into the mix will again catapult us to a different place. And I want that too. But this is just one of those "claw mark" moments...

I like other stuff too

I have a post in the works about my social life and new expectations...while I work on that, I wanted to talk about a similar concept.

Yes, I'm a new mom (can you tell?) and I love the stuffing out of my Little Person.


Wait for it...

Here it comes...

I like other stuff too!

I know it's hard to believe, because if you've been in conversation with me lately, (and you're also reading a blog called mamaletsgo...which is about parenting), you hear a lot about my kid, but I really do like other stuff too. Still.

I still like to write, make stuff, eat healthy food (okay, well, this is harder to do, but if you offered it to me, I would eat it), have deep conversations, do personal development work, read non-baby/parenting books, listen to music, watch movies and TV, garden (don't look at our yard...), figure out interior design projects (and promptly forget about them still...can't blame that on parenting...), run businesses, talk about businesses, and loads of other stuff.

I don't like admitting this, because I kinda feel horrible sometimes that I don't want to talk about my amazing kid. I know that his arrival now gives people who normally would have NOTHING to say to me, something for them to talk to me about, but after the "He's awesome" answer, I feel like we're back to where we started.

And I want to talk about other stuff! See? I just italicized it, which makes it doubly true.

Has motherhood changed me a lot? Sure. But many things aren't different. I'm back to getting sleep, so we don't need to talk about how tired I am, either. I'm not sick, I'm not that fat anymore, I'm struggling with different things, but overall, I still like to make pop-culture references, go to the library, eat yummy food, meet new people, go shopping, walk around, and people watch.

I also still like to do things. Is it harder? Yes. Am I far less available and sometimes subjected to the whims of a 9 month old? Of course. But if you want to hang, sans baby, I can ask for childcare. I'm also still helpful. Except for some language loss, I still have creative ideas, still like to help people, and still enjoy your company, even though you don't have kids (and may not ever want them). I didn't like to drink before, so nothing has changed in that regard, but that never stopped me from having fun. Actually, I'm kinda into more things in a way too. Camping, hiking, nature-y things, etc. Go figure. I'm still obsessed with cleaning, even though I don't do it anymore...we're working on it. But just because my house is messier, doesn't mean I don't care anymore. It just means another person is there making it a bit harder. Oh well.

I don't watch my language still (and after reading this, I'll probably keep swearing, so beware), I don't want to shop for kids clothing/toys/schools/colleges, I won't show you pictures of my kid (unless you ask), and I'm not trying to turn every room into the baby's room/playroom/walk-in closet, etc. Our child is a member of our family, which has two other immediate members and about 13 other still pretty close members. So he's not the entire focus of my brain. Don't hate me. Or call CPS. Or think I'm selfish (well, think whatever you want).

I'm just not interested in letting go of ALL of the things I like about myself because I have a new person in my life. K should know that I have a life in addition to our shared interests...that's healthy I think. That he isn't the center of my world creates stability for all of us, because he's just changing too much. I create the stability so that when things get crazy, we all don't fall apart. So I'm not letting go of me...

Monday, June 3, 2013

Milk and myths

I had a moment this morning, as I walked defeated, into the kitchen, to show Papa my morning's milk production. I have been fighting off the "less than" feeling for months. 9.5 months to be exact.

I pumped the night before at 9p and then slept nine hours and then thought I felt some intense let down in the morning (I've been eating a LOT of lactation cookies, but alas, I am finally grasping that they aren't helping) so I was eager to see the results. It was pitiful. In fact, I became pitiful just looking at it. I have these huge milk containers that hold 6 oz of pumped milk, and I feel horrible using them now because my milk no longer even covers the bottom of the bottles. It's hard not to feel inadequate. I'm slowly drying up and I will likely not make it to one year of breastfeeding (I do have milk donations, though, for which I am grateful).

I have ranted before, to my various moms groups, that I feel angry and resentful that just because I am categorically not doing all the granola-type things I aspired to when I was pregnant, (or worse, even when I was not pregnant), that I am 1) not a natural mama 2) that I am uneducated 3) that I am lazy/giving up easily 4) not doing what is best for my child.

There are some crazy myths and a whole steamboat of judgments around the way parents do things. More than anything, it really degrades our ability to support each other and that degradation, in my far from humble opinion, leads to violence, isolation, suicide, depression, poor health, and overall shitty lives. The fact that doing or not doing something (abuse of any kind, violence, etc. are not the things I am talking about) MEANS something (ie, if you do not do X, it MEANS you don't care...), is damaging.

First, an apology. To all the parents I secretly (or not so secretly) judged, I am more sorry than I can properly express to you. There are specific people I am talking about, but I'm also talking to the complete strangers that I interacted with or just saw in supermarkets, on buses, in museums, on airplanes. I did not then, and do not now, have all of the answers.
I should've hugged you. I should've at least touched your shoulder, knowingly (I wish it wouldn't have seemed creepy). I should've high-fived you. I should've thought, "Wow, they are doing the best they can AND they are taking their kids to the zoo---what ROCKSTARS!" I should've simply said, "You're doing a great job. It looks like your kid really loves/trusts/respects you."

Second, I am tired of propagating the myths.There is no one (right) way to do this parenting thing. There is not even one natural way to do this. That's because humans, living all over the world, do different things. Period.

We don't get asked in our infant wellness checkups if we love our kids and how much we love them. We are not asked what our efforts are, we are just asked if we put in any effort. We aren't even asked if we can assess their mental well-being and if they are happy, connected, etc. And even kids who aren't happy or connected aren't always worse off. It's not really a doctor's job to ask you this or pay attention to this (well, not exactly anyway).

So I am left to read books, defend opinions and experiences, cry alone in my therapist's office, weep softly into my pillow at night, put on a happy face, keep "giving it a shot," listen to the reassurance of my husband, and keep a lot of things to myself until someone else admits it first.

Time and again I am reminded, by lovely, supportive people, that my child is happy, healthy, bonded to me, social, and developing normally. And that he loves me pretty intensely. It's true. I would be insane if I tried to deny it. The smile on his face when I walk into a room could care less whether I was a milky machine or formula-making machine. He never throws the bottle in disgust. He never cries at my boobs. When we put his crib in the room next door, he didn't flip out. When I leave for work he doesn't fall apart. None of those things have ever happened. We worked really hard to make transitions bearable. When K giggles because of something absolutely ridiculous that I did, I forget to add that to my list of "Why I Rock Parenting." Such a shame, too. To instigate a giggle like K's is surely an accomplishment (I'm debating adding it to my lifetime achievements). He doesn't withhold the giggle because I produce less than an ounce of milk daily and we can't really breastfeed normally anymore. I must give him more credit than that.

My baby is not an innocent bystander. As I have always said, he communicates very clearly what he needs and wants. And I, one of his capable parents, pretty much take care of his needs pretty damn well, I must admit. In fact, I need to give myself more credit. I know the pattern of his crying. I know how long is too long, I know how much is too much food, I even know when things are the wrong flavor, temperature and consistency. I know when it's time to head outside and when it's time to head home. I know cuddle positions and I know when it's good to let him be in his bed quietly playing without the likes of me barging in to start the day. I know how to redirect, distract, comfort, kiss, and tickle my child to show him that I am paying attention and that his welfare is pretty much the top of my list.

Thanks for letting me get that all out. Milk doesn't equal love. That's silly. I'm sad that I kinda felt that it did. Just like with my c-section, I don't want to start telling a story that isn't true. I HAVE fought long and hard to provide milk to my kid. I've shamelessly asked others and accepted their donations. I am not entirely giving up (I have a few more things I want to try), and when I stop, I won't call it giving up anyway.

My "good enough" is amazing. My child will know that when I have let go, it's after all the appropriate options have been tried. This is something I cannot find in a book, there is no chart for it, no research, and no drug to boost my efforts. Since the beginning of pregnancy, I have done everything I could...maybe that's what I should've called the blog...

Sunday, June 2, 2013

Fashionista trapped inside 'Mama Body'

I admit it, it's a horrible title. I'll take suggestions. Sometimes titles are just not where I am at.

I started the decluttering process with my clothes today. I always harp on the papa about his clothes, but truthfully, we probably have about the same amount, I just categorically hide mine in boxes. :) Sneaky, huh?

Well, I know that I'm in my mid-thirties now and even though I am fully capable of losing my 15 extra "baby weight" pounds (previous methods were extreme, but simplified concepts can help), to be honest, it's not top of my priority list. Eating better, exercising, and feeling energetic ARE priorities, but I don't want to keep thinking of these boxes of clothes as my motivation. I want K to be my motivation. I want better sleep to be my motivation (consequently, better sleep is strongly linked to weight loss...duh!). I want long life to be my motivation.

So I opened the boxes, which have sizes 6-12 in them, and started trying things on. If you haven't known me long, you might think that I enjoy wearing shapeless, blah clothing, that hides my contours (as if you can't tell what shape I really am...) and allows me something of a "invisibility cloak" in public. As a new mom, with a less than ideal body shape (I'll take pear-shape or bigger busted or curvy or something easier to shop for, but being all of the body types lead me to wear sweats a lot), it's hard to look at past clothing and think I can ever be stylish again. But my style has nothing to do with my clothing choices right now. And just because a size 6 doesn't (and likely won't) fit, it doesn't mean I am destined to be style-less for the rest of my life just because I'm a mom now.

Part of that process involves me telling myself, "Screw it, I'm a beautiful mama with a few more lumps and rolls. I can wear this...because I don't really care anymore." Will the rolls go away? No. Do I really care anyway? Not really. I want to wear nice clothing and I don't want to have to be curve-less to do it. I see people all the time wearing clothes that I would feel self-conscious in, but when I wear my frumpy clothes, I don't get to escape self-consciousness...I just fool myself into thinking no one is looking. Ack! 

Part of raising children isn't just handing them some nicely rounded up ideas of self-image, self-discipline, and self-confidence. They can't read at the time they are able to absorb this information from you. And no book will show them that their mama and their papa love themselves (and each other) no matter what size they yikes! I'm teaching K, unintentionally, that unless I can look a certain way, I don't get to dress the way I feel. What a disservice! To all of us!

Yes, the boobs are bigger, the love handles are lovier, the belly shows my recent history, but those things are not meant to keep me trapped in boxy shirts and unrevealing clothes. 

I am stylish. I can appreciate and care about style on others. I even have ideas for clothing (but man, the follow through is another demon) that I think would be amazing...and my size and shape are not my boundaries. While I can appreciate not trying to squeeze myself into clothes that don't fit, I absolutely can wear things that may not be originally designed for size 12 and higher, but that's just where I get to be creative and figure out how it can work for me. 

I want K to see that style isn't dictated by magazines, despite our cultural bias that it does. I've seen plenty of handmade items that are AMAZING, crafted with care and love and an appropriate sizing chart. Yes, they are a bit pricier, but if you can't make it yourself, it's worth it to buy it from someone who can make it, and to really love how you look. 

So I'm letting go of will take time to build my new mama wardrobe, but I am ready to look and feel attractive and to be proud of my amazing body.


My favorite baby

My inspiration

My inspiration