The newborn days are far gone. But I haven't forgotten.

I remember...
Pacing the entire house and knowing every nook and cranny as Luke bounced in my arms. Tired legs, tired arms, tired eyes; endless fatigue, endless hour upon hour. Pacing. Pacing. Pacing. It's possible that even though it was my second, I felt like I'd never done this before.

I remember...
Admitting to a friend that "this time the newborn days aren't fun. This isn't fun. I'm not having fun. I. Don't. Like. It. There! I've said it." It's possible that admitting this out loud felt amazing.

I remember...
That one fateful afternoon. Hubby at work. Me exhausted with a newborn in the sling. A few moments to myself. My gaze somehow caught a picture on the shelf from the day I married; my wedding day almost five years ago and I was glowing and I had felt pretty and I had felt like people could see that I knew it was my pretty day.

But then...I caught my reflection in the glass frame. I patted my hair and wondered where the blond had gone. I traced my face and thought I looked my age. I saw the mascara under my eyes and tried to wipe it away. Tried to just wipe It all away. And as I was wiping and tucking loose strands of hair behind my ear, a song began to play from the stereo. An artist I rarely listen to was playing a song and it went something like this...

you're up all night with a screaming baby
you run all day at the speed of light
and every day you feel a little bit less like the beautiful woman you are

you fall into bed when you run out of hours
and you wonder if anything worth doing got done
maybe you just don't know or maybe you've just forgotten
that

you, you are changing the world
one little heart beat at a time...

It's possible that I gasped. It's possible that the reflection in the glass smirked, smiled, then laughed out loud. It's possible that this song was played five times in a row then again and again and again. It's possible that my baby kept fussing for the first 3 months of his life and I paced at the speed of light often falling into bed too many tines to count and that making just one meal felt like climbing a mountain too high too conquer.

But I had that song. And I remember that.

I remember...
A friend placing her hand on my shoulder during a lunch meeting and asking casually "How are you?" and me melting into tears and she dumb-founded with the unexpected. We talked in a corner that entire hour me trying to make sense of my expression of tears. I remember telling her how I didn't know what to wear to the lunch meeting and was trying on so many clothes on body I didn't know or accept and I'd left the house feeling ugly and fat and "who needs my company anyway?" I remember she laid her hand on mine and it's possible there were more tears. And it's possible my deep emotions surprised even me but man that was good to get out!!!

And now I'm on the other side.

To Mom's. Who've been doing it for centuries and will continue to do so.