I was Lauren
My Precious Children,
Before I was Mommy, I was Lauren. Sometimes, between all of the sippy cup refills and diaper changes, bath time and bedtime routines, I forget that I still am that girl. I'm now a woman with a history of experiences that you will only hear about. Writing and performing skits in my parents' basement. Sleeping in a pasture under a huge, mid-summer moon. Moving to a new town. Trusting the wrong people. Discovering my strengths in places I never expected. Road-tripping across the state at midnight. Painting canvases in my pajamas on the kitchen floor. Some you will never hear about. There's good reason for that.
I am a woman cloaked in imperfection. I have a cluttered vehicle and an even more cluttered mind. I arrive for meetings at the exact moment they're set to start, despite every effort I make to show up early. I bite my nails and forget about the laundry in the washer. I refuse to take medicine until I am keeling over in pain. I'm too stubborn to admit I can't heal everything with warm tea and a heating blanket. I agree to things I don't want to do and have trouble being direct with people. I don't practice very good self-care, despite that concept being a major part of my life's work.
You will come to know me as your very flawed but eternally devoted momma.
But, if I'm being entirely honest, this chapter is a hard one. Loud. Exhausting. I feel impatient and depleted from time to time. Some days, I yearn for the quiet time when you have both gone to bed for the night. I look forward to the two or three hours when nobody is needing a cup of milk or a boob of milk or a butt wiped or a change of clothes because that milk just spilled all over the gosh-darn-place and I'll get you a paper towel. Dang it. Where are the paper towels? Why are they way up there where we can't reach them? Where is the step stool? ROBBY! COME GET A ROLL OF PAPER TOWELS PLEASE! Josslyn, please get off your brother. Do you see his face? He doesn't like that. No, you can't have any oatmeal. Because it's bedtime. You already ate, so you're not starving. No means no, Josslyn. Please get off your brother! ROBBY, THE PAPER TOWELS!
But when you finally do drift off to sleep, when the house gets quiet and my mind is still, my heart aches for you again. I miss you when you are right up the stairs. I miss the way your eyes look to me for comfort, answers, connection, and love. I miss your soft hands and your silly smiles. Don't get me wrong, I love this time at night. I love being able to write or talk with your daddy or daydream or eat a snack that I don't have to share. But when my head hits the pillow at night, the thing that centers me and excites me for the following morning is the thought that I will get to hold you again.
My babies. My kids. My heart. I'll be challenged. I'll struggle. I'll lose my cool. I won't parent you perfectly but I will love you fiercely. Every single day. Without fail, without conditions.
And I will love myself too. Even when it's difficult. Even when I'm not feeling particularly lovable. I will remember the young woman who questioned if this kind of love was possible, who questioned if she would ever feel safe again, who doubted she would ever be comfortable in her own skin - I will remember that girl that I was and I will honor her by living a life that would make her proud. I will honor myself as your momma and also as Lauren. The artist. The singer. The writer. The adventurer. I will love myself because I will choose to show up and be authentically myself every day. And that right there is the gutsiest thing I've ever done.
Thank you for being a part of the most beautiful and exhausting chapter of my life.
Love Always and Forever,
Momma
Before I was Mommy, I was Lauren. Sometimes, between all of the sippy cup refills and diaper changes, bath time and bedtime routines, I forget that I still am that girl. I'm now a woman with a history of experiences that you will only hear about. Writing and performing skits in my parents' basement. Sleeping in a pasture under a huge, mid-summer moon. Moving to a new town. Trusting the wrong people. Discovering my strengths in places I never expected. Road-tripping across the state at midnight. Painting canvases in my pajamas on the kitchen floor. Some you will never hear about. There's good reason for that.
I am a woman cloaked in imperfection. I have a cluttered vehicle and an even more cluttered mind. I arrive for meetings at the exact moment they're set to start, despite every effort I make to show up early. I bite my nails and forget about the laundry in the washer. I refuse to take medicine until I am keeling over in pain. I'm too stubborn to admit I can't heal everything with warm tea and a heating blanket. I agree to things I don't want to do and have trouble being direct with people. I don't practice very good self-care, despite that concept being a major part of my life's work.
You will come to know me as your very flawed but eternally devoted momma.
But, if I'm being entirely honest, this chapter is a hard one. Loud. Exhausting. I feel impatient and depleted from time to time. Some days, I yearn for the quiet time when you have both gone to bed for the night. I look forward to the two or three hours when nobody is needing a cup of milk or a boob of milk or a butt wiped or a change of clothes because that milk just spilled all over the gosh-darn-place and I'll get you a paper towel. Dang it. Where are the paper towels? Why are they way up there where we can't reach them? Where is the step stool? ROBBY! COME GET A ROLL OF PAPER TOWELS PLEASE! Josslyn, please get off your brother. Do you see his face? He doesn't like that. No, you can't have any oatmeal. Because it's bedtime. You already ate, so you're not starving. No means no, Josslyn. Please get off your brother! ROBBY, THE PAPER TOWELS!
But when you finally do drift off to sleep, when the house gets quiet and my mind is still, my heart aches for you again. I miss you when you are right up the stairs. I miss the way your eyes look to me for comfort, answers, connection, and love. I miss your soft hands and your silly smiles. Don't get me wrong, I love this time at night. I love being able to write or talk with your daddy or daydream or eat a snack that I don't have to share. But when my head hits the pillow at night, the thing that centers me and excites me for the following morning is the thought that I will get to hold you again.
My babies. My kids. My heart. I'll be challenged. I'll struggle. I'll lose my cool. I won't parent you perfectly but I will love you fiercely. Every single day. Without fail, without conditions.
And I will love myself too. Even when it's difficult. Even when I'm not feeling particularly lovable. I will remember the young woman who questioned if this kind of love was possible, who questioned if she would ever feel safe again, who doubted she would ever be comfortable in her own skin - I will remember that girl that I was and I will honor her by living a life that would make her proud. I will honor myself as your momma and also as Lauren. The artist. The singer. The writer. The adventurer. I will love myself because I will choose to show up and be authentically myself every day. And that right there is the gutsiest thing I've ever done.
Thank you for being a part of the most beautiful and exhausting chapter of my life.
Love Always and Forever,
Momma
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