Motherhood is no longer the effortless softness of a new, fresh life season for me.
But there is a triumph to it.
There is a commitment to beauty. A realness to the glaring magic spread long and loud between the harshness, loss, and brittle elements. And best of all there’s a knowing that rattlesnakes, difficulty, wilting, and every uphill current has no power to truly steal the love and joy you hold and nurture.
You’re a mother.
And it’s very, very good…
Magic-strewn. Hard. Tired. Rich.
It’s bright to the point of sunburn. It’s good to the point of wonder. I write more about these thoughts here and share about this state of joy, this state of everything always right here. But if you simply want the poem which says so much of all this succinctly, here you are.
I am a happy woman!
(book full of poetry about early motherhood.)
(when holidays meet motherhood…so magical and imperfect…so sweaty!🤭)
(reflections for our 8th wedding anniversary)
Sierra V. Fedorko 
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