There are days that I don’t want to get out of bed. The warm baby next to me and the endless hours of nursing, changing, burping, and cuddling from the night before make it even easier to pull the covers closer and drift off deeper.

There are days that I don’t want to look in the mirror. The body looking back at me is marked with the scars of two pregnancies. I want to look the way I did when I got married, when I ran every day and wore smaller clothes and frequented trendy places. I want that body back, but if I did I wouldn’t have my two beautiful children. So I look back in the mirror and I am proud. I am proud of this body. This body that carried two children and gave them life. This body that screamed through the beautiful pain of childbirth - twice. This body that has fed and nourished two babies. This body may be be stretched and fuller and larger than my former body, but it is my badge of honor. It is the body of a mother.

There are days that I mourn the loss of romance in my relationship with Kyle. Even after Kade was born, we always found time to connect. Having a child intensified our love. Having two children has pushed intimacy out the window. Kade still goes to bed early and with little difficulty, but Liv has decided that once Kade is in bed she is going to be awake and alert. Once she does finally fall asleep, she cries as soon as you lay her down so I hold her until I go to bed. Our new romance is in the quiet kisses we share over Liv’s sleeping head.

There are days that I want to run out of the house screaming. Dealing with toddler meltdowns, constant dirty diapers, spit-up, leaky boobs, lack of sleep and annoying dogs on a daily basis can drive one over the cuckoo’s nest in no time flat.

There are days that I cry.

But every day - I wake up, I get out of bed, I look in the mirror, I kiss Kyle, I stay home with my children, I wipe my tears. I am a mother and a wife and a woman and I love it.