A Mother’s Love

I’ve been really fortunate in my life to have experienced so many different kind of love. The protective and nurtruring love of my parents as a little child - how it made me feel safe and protected and it was never questionable. Being a sister to my brothers - growing up together, playing, fighting, being ourselves and not having to be anything other than what you are. Friends I’ve made throughout the journey and who become like your family because you have chosen them and they have chosen you and they see you for whatever you actually are. The love of a husband who sees all my worst parts and still chooses to be there throughout all the ups and downs - that’s patience as well as love.

Then I became a mother when I was 32. It cracked me open in a way I never could have predicted. I had always wanted to be a mum and have a family of my own - to recreate all the memories and magic my own parents had given and that shaped me. But nothing prepared me for the experience that would peel back all the layers, make your selfishness vanish overnight and the journey to building yourself back up as almost an entirely different person to who you were before.

Its a funny kind of love. One that I find really difficult to put into words, so I’m writing this free flowing and not overthinking what I’m saying. It’s