“𝑰’π’Ž 𝒏𝒐𝒕 π’“π’†π’‚π’…π’š 𝒇𝒐𝒓 π’•π’‰π’Šπ’”.” ~ A Mama’s Mantra
When that one pink line turns to two, she looks down with gurgling excitement before the panic sets in and she starts thinking…“𝑰’π’Ž 𝒏𝒐𝒕 π’“π’†π’‚π’…π’š 𝒇𝒐𝒓 π’•π’‰π’Šπ’”.”
When the contractions are coming hard and fast, rippling through every ounce of her being… she screams in her mind, “𝑰’π’Ž 𝒏𝒐𝒕 π’“π’†π’‚π’…π’š 𝒇𝒐𝒓 π’•π’‰π’Šπ’”.”
When the doctor releases her from the hospital with only a test of how well she knows how to fasten a car seat… she whispers to herself, “𝑰’π’Ž 𝒏𝒐𝒕 π’“π’†π’‚π’…π’š 𝒇𝒐𝒓 π’•π’‰π’Šπ’”.”
When she’s fumbling in the middle of night to feed and sooth a fussy babe after an exhausting day that she can barely keep her eyes open… she groans, “𝑰’π’Ž 𝒏𝒐𝒕 π’“π’†π’‚π’…π’š 𝒇𝒐𝒓 π’•π’‰π’Šπ’”.”
When they take their first steps, stuff fistfuls of food (or whatever they get their hands on) in their mouth, climb on the coffee table… she sighs, “𝑰’π’Ž 𝒏𝒐𝒕 π’“π’†π’‚π’…π’š 𝒇𝒐𝒓 π’•π’‰π’Šπ’”.”
When they strap on their Spiderman backpack and head out for their first day of school… she tearfully cries, “𝑰’π’Ž 𝒏𝒐𝒕 π’“π’†π’‚π’…π’š 𝒇𝒐𝒓 π’•π’‰π’Šπ’”.”
When they decide training wheels are for babies and they take off down the street, wobbling this way and that… She worries, “𝑰’π’Ž 𝒏𝒐𝒕 π’“π’†π’‚π’…π’š 𝒇𝒐𝒓 π’•π’‰π’Šπ’”.”
When she sits on the sidelines of their first practice and watch another parent train, teach, reprimand, and build them… she frets, “𝑰’π’Ž 𝒏𝒐𝒕 π’“π’†π’‚π’…π’š 𝒇𝒐𝒓 π’•π’‰π’Šπ’”.”
When they want to have their first sleepover away from home, out of reach… She gnaws her nails as she thinks, “𝑰’π’Ž 𝒏𝒐𝒕 π’“π’†π’‚π’…π’š 𝒇𝒐𝒓 π’•π’‰π’Šπ’”.”
When they walk through the doors of middle school, discover social media, pick and choose friends… she bites her tongue and says, “𝑰’π’Ž 𝒏𝒐𝒕 π’“π’†π’‚π’…π’š 𝒇𝒐𝒓 π’•π’‰π’Šπ’”.”
When she sees a text that hints of a romantic relationship… she holds her breath while thinking, “𝑰’π’Ž 𝒏𝒐𝒕 π’“π’†π’‚π’…π’š 𝒇𝒐𝒓 π’•π’‰π’Šπ’”.”
When they take the driver’s seat for the first time and she presses her right foot down on an invisible pedal, internally screaming, “𝑰’π’Ž 𝒏𝒐𝒕 π’“π’†π’‚π’…π’š 𝒇𝒐𝒓 π’•π’‰π’Šπ’”.”
And when their messy bedroom that used to drive her mad is suddenly packed up and emptied out… she clutches the doorframe with tears in her eyes and cries, “𝑰’π’Ž 𝒏𝒐𝒕 π’“π’†π’‚π’…π’š 𝒇𝒐𝒓 π’•π’‰π’Šπ’”.”
Friends… I know how it feels.
We’re never ready for that next step.
Because we’ve never been there.
Never known what it’s like to let the most vulnerable, the most precious piece of our heart walk out into the world.
It’s scary as hell.
But.
If we’ve done our job.
Even if we aren’t ready.
They are.
They are because we’ve made them so.
It’s a wild ride, mama.
Ready or not…
Here it comes .
Words by: Raise Her Wild with Mehr Lee
“𝑰’π’Ž 𝒏𝒐𝒕 π’“π’†π’‚π’…π’š 𝒇𝒐𝒓 π’•π’‰π’Šπ’”.” ~ A Mama’s Mantra When that one pink line turns to two, she looks down with gurgling excitement before the panic sets in and she starts thinking…“𝑰’π’Ž 𝒏𝒐𝒕 π’“π’†π’‚π’…π’š 𝒇𝒐𝒓 π’•π’‰π’Šπ’”.” When the contractions are coming hard and fast, rippling through every ounce of her being… she screams in her mind, “𝑰’π’Ž 𝒏𝒐𝒕 π’“π’†π’‚π’…π’š 𝒇𝒐𝒓 π’•π’‰π’Šπ’”.” When the doctor releases her from the hospital with only a test of how well she knows how to fasten a car seat… she whispers to herself, “𝑰’π’Ž 𝒏𝒐𝒕 π’“π’†π’‚π’…π’š 𝒇𝒐𝒓 π’•π’‰π’Šπ’”.” When she’s fumbling in the middle of night to feed and sooth a fussy babe after an exhausting day that she can barely keep her eyes open… she groans, “𝑰’π’Ž 𝒏𝒐𝒕 π’“π’†π’‚π’…π’š 𝒇𝒐𝒓 π’•π’‰π’Šπ’”.” When they take their first steps, stuff fistfuls of food (or whatever they get their hands on) in their mouth, climb on the coffee table… she sighs, “𝑰’π’Ž 𝒏𝒐𝒕 π’“π’†π’‚π’…π’š 𝒇𝒐𝒓 π’•π’‰π’Šπ’”.” When they strap on their Spiderman backpack and head out for their first day of school… she tearfully cries, “𝑰’π’Ž 𝒏𝒐𝒕 π’“π’†π’‚π’…π’š 𝒇𝒐𝒓 π’•π’‰π’Šπ’”.” When they decide training wheels are for babies and they take off down the street, wobbling this way and that… She worries, “𝑰’π’Ž 𝒏𝒐𝒕 π’“π’†π’‚π’…π’š 𝒇𝒐𝒓 π’•π’‰π’Šπ’”.” When she sits on the sidelines of their first practice and watch another parent train, teach, reprimand, and build them… she frets, “𝑰’π’Ž 𝒏𝒐𝒕 π’“π’†π’‚π’…π’š 𝒇𝒐𝒓 π’•π’‰π’Šπ’”.” When they want to have their first sleepover away from home, out of reach… She gnaws her nails as she thinks, “𝑰’π’Ž 𝒏𝒐𝒕 π’“π’†π’‚π’…π’š 𝒇𝒐𝒓 π’•π’‰π’Šπ’”.” When they walk through the doors of middle school, discover social media, pick and choose friends… she bites her tongue and says, “𝑰’π’Ž 𝒏𝒐𝒕 π’“π’†π’‚π’…π’š 𝒇𝒐𝒓 π’•π’‰π’Šπ’”.” When she sees a text that hints of a romantic relationship… she holds her breath while thinking, “𝑰’π’Ž 𝒏𝒐𝒕 π’“π’†π’‚π’…π’š 𝒇𝒐𝒓 π’•π’‰π’Šπ’”.” When they take the driver’s seat for the first time and she presses her right foot down on an invisible pedal, internally screaming, “𝑰’π’Ž 𝒏𝒐𝒕 π’“π’†π’‚π’…π’š 𝒇𝒐𝒓 π’•π’‰π’Šπ’”.” And when their messy bedroom that used to drive her mad is suddenly packed up and emptied out… she clutches the doorframe with tears in her eyes and cries, “𝑰’π’Ž 𝒏𝒐𝒕 π’“π’†π’‚π’…π’š 𝒇𝒐𝒓 π’•π’‰π’Šπ’”.” Friends… I know how it feels. We’re never ready for that next step. Because we’ve never been there. Never known what it’s like to let the most vulnerable, the most precious piece of our heart walk out into the world. It’s scary as hell. But. If we’ve done our job. Even if we aren’t ready. They are. They are because we’ve made them so. It’s a wild ride, mama. Ready or not… Here it comes ♥️. Words by: Raise Her Wild with Mehr Lee
0 Commentarii 0 Distribuiri 4613 Views