For everything…there is a season. 

Im going to try my best to not sound like a cry baby through out this post. 
But I come here to write and get my emotions out and be raw and completely real. And some how I feel completely relieved after the fact.
As I lay here in bed with my sweet baby girl beside me I am so thankful for her.
Tonight was hard. 
Breast feeding is hard. 
For me, breastfeeding has meant staying home braless and laying on the sofa feeding the baby off and on while binging on every show on Netflix. Easy right? Not necessarily.
I’m so over the moon and filled with joy to be breastfeeding. I wouldn’t change it for the world.
But being exclusively breast fed means I’m the food source. I’m the one who feeds her. I’m the only one capable. 
With this being said I feel very tied to the house. 
As I sat home tonight while my parents went to a wedding and my husband was in Ohio enjoying a guys night out…I was stuck in the house with a crying baby who just wouldn’t go to sleep. Alone.
But I know I’m not alone. I know so many mom’s feel the way I do. Isolated and trapped and confined. It’s hard.
I know I could go out. But going out usually ends in me sweating from anxiety and the baby fussing the whole time we are out. 
Praise the Lord we were able to spend an hour in target yesterday without having to pull the boob out in some awkward corner of the store to feed or have a massive blow out which leads to dirty carseats and changes of clothes. I was able to rush through trying dresses on, grabbing mother’s day cards, and flipping through Bathingsuits before she started to lose her crap (lol). 
Being a mom to a small baby is seriously the best thing on planet earth. Raising a small human is one of the greatest blessings in life. But if someone tells you it’s easy…they are lying to you. Lies lies lies and so many lies. It’s hard. 
Going from 1 to 2 has been an adjustment. Breastfeeding has been a learning process. 
Having a high maintenence baby has challenged me on so many levels. 
Postpartum depression is real yall. 
The struggle is real. 
But as everything…there is a season. This is just a season.
One day those clothes will fit again. One day there will be a bra without clasps for easy access. One day leaving the house won’t feel like an act of congress. One day those stretch marks will fade. And one day those babies will grow up.
So today…I lay here braless and plan less on a Saturday night waiting for the baby to cry so I can feed her. This is my season. 
Stay strong mommas. You’re not alone.
Thanks for reading,


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