Picture Perfect
Last week, on Christmas night, I laid in bed- with a belly full of wine and food; a house overcome by ripped-open boxes and toys and clutter; and two happy, sleeping babies in the rooms next to me. And instead of staying up late to clean and organize and tidy, I instead cozied up with Netflix and a peppermint cookie, and scrolled through Instagram.
And while I perused through the stories of some of my peers, I felt triggered. And less than, if only for a few minutes. Why did their houses and Christmas dinners looks so much more pristine than mine? I didn’t see any remnants of plastic LOL doll wrappers, or torn open boxes or empty bottles of wine or dirty dishes in their photos. And for some reason, it bothered me. Probably more than it should have.
But really, more than anything, it reminded me of why I’m here.
It’s not to influence you to buy my dress, or give advice on how to raise your kids or even what you should do if you’re struggling to start a family. I’m not an interior decorator or a chef or an expert- in really anything at all. I don’t want my life to be aspirational or to appear to be picture perfect. I’m here because I felt so abundantly alone as a 29 year old girl trying to start my family. There was no one to commiserate with or cry to as I was inundated with medical terms and prescriptions and gut-wrenching disappointment.
And I longed for a community of women like me- that were desperately, hopelessly, trying to conceive. And after our first girl was here, after years of trying and so many procedures, I felt compelled to begin a conversation of truth- originally about the the shittiness that is infertility, but later about the brutal, honest challenges that come with motherhood.
And sometimes, as this little business grows and collaborations and partnerships come my way, the lines can get a little blurred- and I sometimes struggle to find the balance between showing slices of glossy perfection and the very real, messy truth.
And it is true: I do find beauty in both.
Or at least it’s been my mission to try to.
To remind myself that I wouldn’t have stretch marks if I hadn’t created two beautiful beings. I wouldn’t have a messy home riddled with too many toys if we weren’t lucky enough to sometimes spoil our kids. There wouldn’t have been empty bottles of wine and far too many dirty dishes to deal with that night if our home hadn’t been full of some of my very favorite people in the world, all day long. And my arms wouldn’t ache and my hair wouldn’t be falling out in clumps if it weren’t for my recent miracle.
That’s not to say these “imperfect” moments don’t sometimes frustrate me; that I haven’t cried or had bad days or wished I could just click my heels and fast forward to an easier time in this journey. But it’s much more worthwhile to search for the good in it; all the while admitting that it can, at times, be a mess.
So as we begin this new year, I’m setting an intention to share even more of the real with you. And to be even more transparent about the good and the bad. Because yes, there are some pretty beautiful, perfect moments in our life- just like most of us.
But it certainly isn’t a loop of frame-worthy snapshots. And I never want to lose sight of why I’m here: which has been to create camaraderie around, and to find the beauty in, this perfectly messy life. Even when it takes a little work.
