Written by: The Sleep Help Institute

It’s not breaking news to say that becoming a mom means lots of changes. Motherhood brings abundant joys, but sadly, better sleep is not one of them. There’s no shortage of jokes or anecdotes about pregnant mothers and parents of newborns being so sleep-deprived as to be virtually sleepwalking through each day. While we don’t want to go overboard with the cliches, this issue is one that is certainly on the minds of expecting moms and dads and new parents alike.

Beginning with pregnancy and into parenthood, there are numerous ways in which sleep can be disrupted. Changes to the quantity and quality of sleep are commonplace and can affect both moms and dads. While some parents may assume that consistent sleep deprivation is inevitable, there are in fact steps that you can take to improve routines and sleep hygiene.

Understanding the ins and outs of sleep in pregnancy and parenthood can enable you to wake at least slightly more well-rested every day. This sleep guide for moms and dads starts with information for pregnant moms and then covers information for parents of newborns. We’ll also provide links to resources that can help you read more, connect with others, and find products that may contribute to your sleep.

 Written by: Ashland H.

We just got back home from watching Captain Marvel and I couldn’t help but to immediately sit down and write all my feelings about this movie down. I am going to be completely open and honest and admit to you that there was a part of this movie where I sobbed…and I mean SOBBED!

This movie really got to me on a personal level and inspired me to write this post! With that being said, I am going to attempt to take a deep dive to explain why this movie punched me in the gut. To start off, I just want to say that Carol Danvers is a total BOSS! I mean, even before she becomes Captain Marvel she is independent, in the Air Force and there is no other description besides an overall, kick-ass woman!

 In my opinion, this movie has a HUGE, deeper message that not just every single woman should hear, but every HUMAN on the planet should hear.  I am going to warn you, there are spoilers throughout this post, so if you have not seen the movie and do not want me to spoil some scenes for you, I would suggest bookmarking this page to come back and read it later.

 As mentioned earlier, you find out from the start that Captain Marvel or Carol Danvers is, pretty much, a badass. She is tough, she can fight and from the get-go, you can tell she has a stubborn independence about her.  She starts off on this planet named “Hala” with these humanoid aliens called the “Kree” who make her believe that they have given her these “powers.” You also find out from the beginning that she is constantly told that she is “too emotional,” and that eventually, this will become her downfall.  The Kree inhabiting this planet also threaten to take her power away if she keeps being “too emotional.”

 As the movie progresses, you start to learn about her past prior to her gaining powers and end up finding out that she is actually human and that these powers were something that she absorbed, becoming part of her. There is a pivotal part in the movie where she finds out that this planet Hala that she has lived on, and these people who have always threatened to take her power away have just been lying and brainwashing her into thinking that these powers were “given” to her by them. When in reality, she had the power all along, they were just programing her into thinking that it didn’t belong to her as a way to control her. They also knew that her emotions, which made her human, would cause her to see that the Kree were actually evil and her empathy would kick in to fight for the greater good instead of blind loyalty to them.

That pivotal moment that I mentioned was the moment in the movie where I sobbed. I sobbed because I internalized what she went through. I related and I relived it on the big screen through Captain Marvel herself. In another life, I worked in Corporate America and there was a particular person who told me I was “too emotional” …and upon leaving Corporate America they told me I really never was cut out for it. Now, deep down, I always had felt that I didn’t fit in with the “Corporate America mold” that you are supposed to fit into, but I forced myself into that mold. I tried to push away my emotions, tried to hold back tears at times when I wanted to cry and tried to mimic what I was told you were supposed to become to move your way up the ladder. For years, I tried and I tried hard… I felt like I had to earn this power, achieve a position and keep working towards becoming this unemotional businessperson that cared more about profits than people. I became depressed and I became depressed because I started believing the lie, I tried not to be “too emotional” but no matter how hard I tried, I kept breaking down into emotion.

You see… the lie is all wrong because I don’t think there is such thing as “being cut out for Corporate America”.

I think that there is no Corporate America mold to be cut into. I don’t think you earn power nor do you achieve power… I wholeheartedly believe that you already own power; you were born with it. I think this rat race that we put ourselves in is a lie. I think deep down, we already have what we want.  Some people are emotional, some are quick-witted, some are creative, some are analytical, some are a little weird… and all of it is power. Being “too emotional” is your power; it means you care a lot. Which means you have empathy and that you are ethically minded. The mold doesn’t actually exist in Corporate America; it is a façade. You do not need to fit into the mold to succeed. So, I am going to give that person who told me I was “too emotional” credit. You are right, I am.

The difference between now and then though is that I realized that, that was the power that I had all along. It is what allows me to relate to people in my writing, my art and my communication. It is my compass when making the decision of right and wrong, selfish and selfless. It is my power. Like Dorothy, I got to the end of the yellow brick road clicked my heels and found out I had the power the WHOLE TIME. I was held back too long listening to the lie that this power was actually my weakness.  Leaving Corporate America was my pivot, my Captain Marvel moment… and believe me, I am just getting started.

_________________________________

Ashland is a mom and lifestyle blogger based in Southern California. She worked for years as the event planner at Disneyland and has recently followed her heart and created a space to share her thoughts and dreams with her blog. To learn more about Ashland, click here. You can also follow her on Instagram.

Raising a feminist son.

Written by: Ariel M.

Yeah, I said it. My son will be raised to be a feminist.  Before you keep scrolling, let’s dig into the actual definition of feminism... Feminism: political, social, and economic equality for all sexes See? It’s not about one sex rising to power over another. It’s not about dominion at all. In fact, feminism has a lot to do with respect regardless of sex. We try to be very intentional in our house with our words and actions to teach our little how to be a feminist.

Raise your hand if you have ever heard one or more of the following phrases:

-You ____ like a girl!

-Boys don’t cry!

-You’re acting like a girl!

-You can’t do that, you’re a girl!

I could go on, but I’ll stop right there. There is nothing negative about females.

I will say it again for the people in that back: THERE IS NOTHING NEGATIVE ABOUT FEMALES.

Considering a female gave him life, my son will certainly be taught that females are to be respected. We make a conscious effort to not use language that would never put down a female. It can be hard because these are phrases that WE grew up hearing. Breaking the generational mold can be touchy, but especially with this topic, it is necessary! So, my boy wants to help his mommy clean, great! He will know how to take care of himself and be an active partner when he lives with someone in the future. Yeah, I have no issue if he wants to play with a baby doll. He is learning how to be caring and compassionate. If you have a problem with that, then maybe you need to practice with a baby doll. I don’t compare my son to a girl when he cries. Crying is okay. Crying is natural. Neither sex is wrong for crying. Plus, I don’t want my son growing up thinking that being compared to a female is detrimental. That gives the notion that being a female is somehow bad, and it’s not. Not only do we show him how to show respect with our words, we show respect to him as a person with our actions. Never do we try to force or goad our son into being affectionate if he says no or shows signs that he is not feeling hugs. That’s okay. He is allowed to make decisions for his body and personal space. That is his right as a human being. My goal is that he will learn through our actions how to respect someone else’s body and space. This is not a how-to with five easy steps to getting a feminist son. This is just me sharing my thoughts and ideas hoping that it resonates with another parent out there. It might not change the whole world, but it can change somebody’s whole world! I’ll let you know in ten years how it works out for me! ;)

Love and light,

Ariel

________________________

Ariel is a blogger and proud wife and mama of a young gentleman. She writes a lot about Midwest livin' and has some fun recipes and meal prep ideas.

To learn more about her blog, click here. You can also follow her on Instagram.

Written by: Codi B.

 

Since moving to a whole different city, my Military Children have established roots in a place they probably will never live or call home again after we PCS. They are growing up and changing in this city in a way they never will again. They are learning new things here. They are experiencing a different culture here which more then likely will be so different then the next place we live. They are surviving and thriving in this season of their lives. They are being typical normal children with a totally less than normal childhood.

Both of my Military Children were born in different states. They don’t even realize right now that they have different birth certificates and they were born at different hospitals approximately 1,300 or so miles apart. If and when we have another child, that child will more then likely be born in a different state, maybe even country, with a different birth certificate than their older sisters. The joys of being a Military Child, right?

That’s the amazing thing about these children; they are so much more than I could have ever imagined. Every single Military Child I’ve met has this amazing ability to be at home where ever they are; to see the joy in an otherwise bleak situation; to plant roots all over the country and the world. They fly where the wind takes them and they are dang proud of the country their parent serves. They have friends who they call family in every corner of this world. Their emergency contact on their school forms are probably not a grandparent or an aunt, but rather their parents friend who has become a family member in their own right. Birthday parties are usually not spent with blood family, but rather a family they have created around them at the specific place they are stationed at. Holidays are spent with those same people, and on the off chance there is ever an emergency, those people come running with no questions asked and are there through it all (if you’re reading this, you know you are and we love and appreciate you more than you will ever know)!

Military children have been compared to dandelions many times. These flowers can grow in almost any climate. Their roots run deep in this earth and they are very hard to destroy. If you blow a dandelion the little seeds are sure to fly with the wind and plant in far away places to call home. It’s a very hardy plant. It’s a resilient plant, much like Military Children. Dandelions are tough and rough, just like the children that are said to be like this plant. The beauty isn’t always seen from the outside, but on the inside the plant, and the Military Children are full of so much perseverance, strength, love, and courage. Military children are full of patriotism, hard work, and sense of pride and love for a country they too are serving.

Military Children are so much more than I could ever put into words.

These people are growing up in a time and place where war is always at their back door step. They know goodbyes all too well. They’ve said goodbye to their parent or parents probably more times then they can remember. And yet, the military is still part of this strong backbone all these children have. The goodbye’s haven’t destroyed them by any means, but have been something they’ve learned to deal with. Because saying goodbye is always so hard, but saying hello again is always so much better.

Military Children are so much. They are resilient. They adapt to everything. They are mature and wise beyond their years. They have to go with the flow and learn to semi accept and like whatever situation they are in. They are so brave. They are so strong. They plant roots where ever the wind blows them. They know home is not a place but a feeling. They are warriors. Military Children are part of the future of this amazing country and serve right along with their parent who serves and their family.

Hug a Military Child today if you know one. Tell them you care and know that these children are tough and are representing such a small part of this country, but such a proud part as well. Military Children are aware of so much around them, but telling them you are proud of them means so much.

To my two military children, my nieces, and all the military children we are around every single day; you guys are my heroes. You teach me so much about this life and how to adapt as an adult to this military lifestyle. I’m taking a page out of your book and learning to embrace the change and embrace new beginnings. Because of all the amazing military children I’ve been around, I know how such a better understanding of how to be a military wife.

We can all be like dandelions and military children in our own right; ready to fly where the wind takes us and ready to plant roots where ever the military sends us to call home. Be brave. Be strong. Be courageous. Be a warrior. Be resilient.

You military children are amazing!

____________________________

**Daddy Dolls is an amazing company that creates the doll the girls have next to them in the last picture. If you’re interested in purchasing one of these special dolls head over to www.daddydolls.com and use code ‘CODI’ to get 15% off your purchase!**

Motherhood Winging It With 3 Tiny Humans 

Written by: Chelsea Webb 

When I first sat down to write this post, I kept thinking about tips and tricks I could talk about. But, the truth is: there are NO tips and tricks to winging it as a parent. That's why it's called winging it!

Believe it or not I never wanted kids! Growing up I had so much responsibility being the oldest of six that in all honesty, I was tired.

I had already changed more diapers than I could count, rocked crying babies to sleep for hours at a time, helped them with their homework, made countless dinners, done more loads of laundry than I care to mention...and let's not even talk about the dishes!!!!

When babies are born, they should come with instruction manuals because each child is different. They have different personalities. Different likes and dislikes. They each learn and express themselves differently. You have to wing it each day. No two of your children will be the same. Even if you have twins!

I was very fortunate to have a very EASY first child. He barely cried. He slept well. He did great at nursing. He walked before he was one. Potty trained by two. He was amazing! Still is!! He's two grade levels above where he is supposed to be. Top of his class! A wonderful help to me around the house. You might even call him my co-parent. I have had it very easy with him.

On the other hand, I have had a much harder time with my second child. He is very stubborn. Refuses to potty train (he is 3). He is full of energy and very high maintenance. Talk about winging it... every day presents a new challenge with him. Most days are very difficult. I think the one thing I have learned through all of this is to not only have patience but to have the right mindset. Knowing that he is a harder child and that my days are going to be difficult help me to better prepare for the situations that I know will come up.

I wish I could say follow steps A, B & C and your days as a parent will be bliss, but I can't. What I can do, is encourage you to surround yourself with other mothers going through the same thing you are and hopefully, you can share with each other and uplift and encourage each other because let's be honest, none of us know what the hell we are doing. When it comes down to it we do the best we can every day and we wake up hoping to be better than the day before.

Ultimately, I want to say how grateful I am that God had other plans for me. I would have never known all the love and blessings I would have missed out on as a parent. The cuddles, unconditional love, and amazing memories generously outweigh any challenges that have come my way!

 —

Chelsea is originally from SoCal but currently lives just outside of Las Vegas with her husband and their 3 tiny humans. She recently started a fashion and lifestyle blog and you can follow her journey on Instagram.

Written by: Lindsay M. 

When it comes to cooking in the kitchen, one thing is for sure, in our house, it’s a family affair. Since the very early age of one, Sophia, my four-year-old has been cooking and baking up a storm in my kitchen. She learned how to crack her first egg before the age of two and found a love for creating recipes very early on in her cooking career. I must admit I was nervous about the mess that would become of my kitchen, but the memories we would make and the moments we shared far surpassed these concerns. As the years have gone by, Sophia has become quite the little chef. She makes the most delicious apple pie I have ever tasted and her secret ingredients would make you laugh… but they work! I’ll give you a hint… there is more fruit than apples and a pinch of salt goes a long way! 

Over the last few months, she has found a real joy in baking family creations for the holidays. Sophia and I create fun recipes and share them with followers on our blog and social media channels. She and her little sister Priscilla have a blast creating “cooking shows” to share with our followers. We just love to celebrate every single holiday together and Easter is one of our favorites. We decided it would be fun to share an easy family friendly recipe that kids can make almost independently with just a little help from an adult.

Rice Krispies treat nests were the perfect snack/craft to feature for this holiday. They are so simple to make and aside from melting the butter and marshmallows, children can do the rest on their own! Sophia and I had so much fun making these little Peep nests to share with our followers, and we hope you will have a great time making them with your family too! The best part is you can use your imagination and get creative with your nest filling! Sophia chose Peeps, but you can fill them with anything-- jelly beans, fruit, the possibilities are endless!

Melt butter and marshmallows till blended well. I use the stove top, but you can do this in a microwave safe bowl. Mix in crispy cereal and blend well. Use cooking spray and coat muffin pan well. Using hands or spoon place mixture into pan and press center to create a nest hole. Let cool for about 15-20 minutes. Take out of pan and decorate with fillings. 😊 Enjoy!

 ____________________________________

Lindsay is a lifestyle blogger and mom to 2 little ladies. To read more of her blogs, click here. You can also follow her journey through motherhood on Instagram.

Motherhood + Hypothyroidism

Written by: Violet Jauregui

Every Motherhood is different. Every Motherhood is special and unique to your family life. So when something new is thrown into the mix it can make life even more challenging. My new challenge began during my postpartum recovery with my youngest babe. I had two older children when I went through that pregnancy and I remember thinking to myself, “OMG, this is so much harder than I remember”.  About 5-ish months into my recovery I knew that something wasn’t right. I didn’t feel right, I was anxious all the time, I was becoming forgetful, and I felt like I didn’t know what I was doing when it came to my new baby. I was having anxiety attacks, which were new to me, and there was a different kind of depression that I was going through. These were just a few new symptoms I was feeling. This went on for almost a year.

I have been blessed with kids who love to sleep, so by the time my youngest was 3 months old he was sleeping 5-6 hours at a time.  As a newborn momma that’s an amazing night of sleep! Yet, for me I would wake up even more exhausted, my brain fog was getting worse, and in a matter of 2-3 months I gained 40+ lbs. These were some of the signs that finally made me see a doctor and I got my official diagnosis:

Motherhood + Hypothyroidism.

I felt a little bit of relief that I could finally put a name to how I had been feeling for so long. At the same time, I was overwhelmed and scared. I had no idea what it meant to be hypothyroid, I didn’t fully understand how my thyroid worked and how it affected my body and mind the way it had. I had no idea how important my thyroid was and I didn’t even know where it was located on my body until I was diagnosed. It’s this tiny butterfly-shaped gland at the front base of your neck that produces the thyroid hormone and is pretty much needed in almost every cell of your body. With hypothyroidism; also called an underactive thyroid; everything slows down and causes some serious disruption in your body. There are so many symptoms linked to hypothyroidism and each body has its own mix of symptoms. The treatment from my doctor was a general synthetic thyroid hormone replacement medication that I took without question. I tried functioning on the medication for over a year hoping everything would go back to “normal” but there wasn’t a big change for me.  There’s no way knowing exactly when I became hypothyroid but I believe it happened during my postpartum recovery with my youngest son. My thyroid just didn’t start back up again.

I think some of the hardest things I’ve had to deal with since my diagnosis is with people who make assumptions about me based on what they see on the surface. Some would say I’m just pretending to be sick because they didn’t believe all my symptoms are connected to my thyroid. At times some would make comments of how they didn’t believe me because they know of someone with the same illness that have done well on the same medication. Others would make comments about my weight gain calling me a lazy mom. Since when is your size an indication of your mothering skills?

What a lot of people don’t know is that my illness debilitated me to where I felt like I was just a shell of who I was before. I lost some pregnancy weight but it’s the hypothyroid weight that I gained and struggle to lose to this day. It’s easy to look at someone and make assumptions not knowing the internal battles that are being fought. I’ve been in survival mode for a few years and most people have no clue. Only my loved ones knew at the beginning because I was ashamed of my illness. I let it bring me down and I had legit mom guilt over it.

It has taken me years to understand that making myself a priority doesn’t take away from my kids and husband being a priority.  Trying to get through each day running on empty or fumes wasn’t attainable for very long even though I kept pushing it. It wasn’t until I literally couldn’t get out of bed to take my kids to school that I realized that I needed to put myself and my health first so that I would be able to take care of my family. I had to learn how to take care of myself.  We moms take care of everyone else and put ourselves last. I had to learn to give myself a whole lot of grace so that I could get through the day, even if it was slower than what I was used to.  I was growing in my motherhood and learning new ways to accomplish even the smallest tasks at home and with my kids.

I started giving myself permission to not have to do everything on my internal chore chart for the day. I gave myself permission to cry if I felt overwhelmed over nothing or over everything. I gave myself permission to know that it’s ok to not always be ok. I gave myself permission to feel and work through my anxiety and depression. And I gave myself permission to not feel guilty about any of it. I have let go of the things that aren’t doing me any good, surrounded myself with the things and people who uplift me and love me for who I am inside. Simple things like listening to my favorite playlist, gym time, texting my best friend or a movie night with my kids and husband make me FEEL better. I still have dozens of symptoms daily but I’ve learned how to take care of myself and I now know certain triggers to avoid so that I can get through my day in the best way I’ve learned how. I am embracing this season of my motherhood + hypothyroidism, through my good days and my bad ones, with a touch of grace, acceptance, understanding, cuddles and lots of love.

XO,

Violet

@lifebyviolet

Written and submitted by: Krystle S. of Founders in Real Life. 

My husband and I have been married nearly ten years (together fifteen). Yes, applaud away. It’s no small feat these days. We’ve been together since I was 19 years old. Which, in retrospect, is an age that feels akin to infancy. We’ve experienced so much; we’ve grown, we’ve changed, and by the grace of some sparkling universe unicorn, we’ve done all those things together.

During our ten years of marriage, we have been blessed with three boys. These boys have taught us so much about ourselves by exhibiting their versions of our personality traits. We’re often caught saying, “Oh, he gets that from you” or, less politely, “that’s all your fault”. When children teach us things, it’s not in traditional lesson format. They don’t sit us down and prepare us for the knowledge they’re about to drop on us. They just drop it, like lead legos on your toes.

My oldest son, Eli, is now six years old. I’ve been told he’s quite a bit like me. My mother always wished (half-cursed) upon me a daughter who was exactly like me. Well, I didn’t get any daughters, but I think the universe served its purpose when Eli was born. He’s the first born. He’s sensitive, which can be both a curse and a blessing. He experiences the good and bad of the world with a higher intensity than most. He gets hangry, with a capital “H”. He likes things the way he likes things. All just like his mama.

When my husband and I got married, we received a traditional silverware set. It’s not actual silver, but some weight in stainless steel. It’s held up for us all this time. We chose a set with an understated design. The best way to describe it is that the handles of each utensil are rounded a bit. They allow us to eat food without dirtying our fingers, so I’d say they’re quite wonderful.

Over the years we’ve hosted gatherings with both friends and family and, inevitably, some dish, or Tupperware, or spoon gets left behind with no one to claim it.

Enter: The “Flat Stanley” Spoon

I don’t have a clue who left this spoon or when. It stands out from the rest because, you guessed it, the handle is flat in contrast to our otherwise rounded handles. Honestly, it annoys me because it’s not like the rest, and it messes up the stacking situation in the silverware organizer thingy. But, my six-year old became rather enamored with the thing and decided it was his *favorite* spoon. It’s THE spoon for morning cereal. He specifically looks for his “flat stanley” spoon and if it’s not in the drawer, he goes to the dishwasher that’s usually clean in the mornings if mom and dad were on their game the night before. If the dishwasher and flat spoon are dirty…. HOLY HELL. The day is automatically shot. We’re all going to hell in a handbasket. Life CANNOT go on. Queue the whining and, if it’s a particularly tough morning, queue the full-on temper tantrum.

It makes me insane. My immediate reaction is, “who cares, it’s a SPOON?!”. At first, I tried to coax him down by doing #allthethings. You know, I get down to his level, I acknowledge his feelings, I give him the hug, and I try to help him find alternative solutions on his own. After, I don’t know, probably three similar incidents, I now immediately launch into the “do you know how many kids have NO spoons and NO bowls and NO milk and NO cereal to eat before they go to school, IF they even have the privilege of attending school?!??!” You know that speech.

Anyway, he loves this freaking spoon and it annoys me. Because, spoons are spoons, right? Who freaking cares whether the handle is flat or round? It’s a SPOON. Get over it and eat your damn cereal.

Enter: The Knowledge Drop

It’s a Saturday morning, long after we initially realized that the flat spoon was a “thing”.  On Saturday mornings, my husband is on duty which means I get to leisurely make my way downstairs when I’m good and ready. I have some time to actually get myself dressed, if I so choose. I have the luxury of making myself breakfast before anyone else and I get to drink a coffee while it’s still hot. I know, it’s so amazing that you’re thinking, is this a parenting story or soft-core porn? Hard to tell.

I take my coffee with almond milk and some form of sweetener (ugh, okay I put maple syrup in my coffee because I’m a snob and I’m weird). So, I get the milk, the maple syrup, my favorite mug and I head on over to the Keurig. I’m like one of Pavlov’s salivating dogs except my dinner bell is the blue light on this heavenly caffeine machine. The happiness is just bursting out of me like sunbeams. I hit the buttons and make my coffee and then realize, I forgot a spoon to stir it up before I imbibe. I open the silverware drawer and I don’t find what I’m looking for. Yes, I see spoons, but not what I’m looking for. So, I head over to the dishwasher, just as Eli would if he couldn’t find his flat spoon.

I ask my husband, “where’s my coffee spoon?”

He replies, “your what?”

“My coffee spoon. You know, the one that’s has the scalloped edges and is a little smaller than the rest? It’s THE spoon I use to stir my coffee.”

He gives me a markedly long blank stare followed by the slow curling up of a half smile and responds, “Oh, he gets it from you”.  

Ah, yes. Like mother, like son. The affection my son shows for his flat spoon is equivalent to my love for my special scalloped coffee spoon. Did he learn it because he observed my behavior? Or was this a gift I gave him when I contributed to his DNA? Either way, in retrospect, I absolutely picked this up from my father with his intense affection for, of all things, miniature spoons (measuring spoons in increments of “dashes”, “pinches”, and “smidgens”). Whatever it is, it’s a family trait. An heirloom, if you will, passed down from generation to generation (my mother is rolling on the floor laughing right now).  

Since my enlightenment, I’ve changed my tune a bit. If Eli’s flat stanley spoon is dirty, I’ve taught him to wash it himself. We like what we like, and I’ve learned to appreciate that other people may like things that I would otherwise deem inconsequential. In return, he’s learning that he can have his spoon and appreciate the cereal he’s eating with said spoon. We agree that we can express gratitude and still maintain our preferences. The best part about all of this, is that every single time I see either of our spoons, I smile. My heart is quickly warmed by the fact that some sparkling universe unicorn gave me a little human who is just like me.

To learn more about Krystle and her amazing platform of resources for finding the right conferences and workshops for you, click here.

When I found out I was pregnant with triplets one of the first things I did was Google women pregnant with triplets! I remember wondering how my small petite body would be able to actually carry 3 babies at one time and asking God, “please help me carry my babies.” My first Doctor, recommended a selective reduction. She told me I would have an unsuccessful pregnancy because I was too skinny, not tall enough, and had never delivery a child before. I knew then I needed to find a doctor who was willing to support me to carry all three babies and that is exactly what I did. •

The weeks went by and my body stretched and stretched. I knew my body was transforming into something new and wouldn’t be the same as it was before. And it certainly did. My stomach is covered in loose saggy skin and stretch marks. It has taken a daily effort to change my perspective and see the beauty that is right before my eyes. •

Mama, remember wherever you are on your journey, have grace for your body. It takes time to fully embrace your new mom body, but with intentional effort I believe you will see the beauty I see in you too💕 •

Bra: @knixwear

 -Desiree F. @theperfectmom

To read more about body positivity, click here. 

Post originally written by mother of 2 adorable tiny humans, Christina Peng of @onbeingmommy

It's Women's History Month.

It's awe-inspiring to think of all the incredible achievements made by so many women today and throughout history, whether as suffragists in earlier times, activists, scientists, educators, and business leaders, to name some of the roles played by many that we most commonly hear about and recognize.

It's absolutely amazing. But for those in the trenches of motherhood, it can sometimes feel discouraging or even depressing. The endless effort. The backbreaking work. The never-ending worry. The constant pouring out. We give so much of ourselves every minute of every day - yet it sometimes feels like we have little to show for it when the day is over.

There is no achievement award to celebrate that amazing parenting breakthrough you might have come up with. There is no year-end bonus to honor how you went above and beyond. There is no title or promotion to recognize the experience and skill that went into keeping it all together.

Yet we do it. We do it because that's what we do. We're moms. We are wired that way. We're more exhausted than we thought possible, but somehow we still love it. Because as hard as it may be, it's easy for us to pour it all out, when there, right before us, in the form of these beautiful miraculous little beings, lie our very hearts.

And though we may not feel it nor the world realize it, a mama's work is truly the some of the most significant work there is. For we are shaping the worlds of our little world changers, molding the minds of miracle workers, and building the character of the next generation of leaders. We are growing them, raising them, teaching them. And most important of all, we are Loving them, instilling identity, agency, and purpose into the ones who mean the most to us.

That's significant. In fact, it's the most meaningful work anyone could do. And the impact is far-reaching, beyond what we imagine, because every child affects those around them. Every child has influence. Every child makes a difference. And every child grows up to become an adult who changes and impacts the world in some form or another.

So today, I want to recognize all the mamas out there and remind us all that our work matters. There may be no page in a history book, no monument, no fancy interviews, or media features. In fact, more often than not, there's hardly much recognition at all.

But behind every history maker is a mama who made it all possible. A mama who labored, who birthed, who cared, who gave, who sacrificed, who made ends meet to make it all happen. The world truly runs on the love and labor of moms.

And for that, I celebrate every mama this month. Because every mama is making history, whether she knows it or not.

 (Pictured above: Christina P. in our 'Mother' tee)