chrysalis of mamahood.

My words don’t seem to fully make sense sometimes and I think that it’s this transition that mamahood creates. Like, I’m stuck in this multidimensional chrysalis that I will be gnawing at for years and years to come. The transition to mamahood isn’t overnight. It’s this ever growing, every changing process that involves high moments of feeling powerful to these moments where you are bone-tired, exhausted, and filled with this boiling ball of frustration that you can’t really explain. .

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I don’t know when I left the house last. The memory that my own momma is dead is resurfacing (I’m so angry at this). I felt so frustrated by one of my kids this week that I felt distant from him – trying to find pieces of myself in his face that doesn’t resemble my own. I have started tasks and haven’t been able to complete them. I’ve been needing help finishing goals but not actually accomplishing either (help and goals). I am struggling. I’m in the part of the chrysalis where I’m gnawing and gnawing and not capable of making it threw. And this is mamahood. This is the mamahood you’re not seeing in my posts about my babies accomplishing a specific material or in the wood floors and rainbow toys. This is mamahood that, in the whispers of dms, that I’m chatting with other Mamas about. Because this isn’t a special occurrence. This is life. It’s up. It’s down. And it’s a multitude of struggle and accomplishments and everything in between. .

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I’m tired today. I’m hiding in the bathroom after a day of being pulled on, barely any sleep, pooping with two babies scratching my knees, and having to come up with lunch with a baby on my back when all I wanted was to be cared for – isn’t that what we need sometimes? To be cared for. I’m envying those Mama’s who get pampered today. I really am. I’m trying, I’m vulnerable, and I’m always striving to be honest with you. With Myself. .

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This photo is important. Moya Baby was barely a foot long and over 2lbs (dropped to 1lb 8oz) when he was born. We have this hanging in our living room (Prasadam baby has one on the other wall) so that we don’t forget (like we can) just how they entered into this world. Too early. Too early. Too early.

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