Sometimes I miss her. The version of me before babies. The way clothes fit without overthinking. The ease of leaving the house without a bag full of snacks and spare outfits. The freedom to move through the world just... as me. I miss my body before it stretched. Before the softness stayed. Before my reflection started to feel unfamiliar. But then I think about the version of me who said yes to it all. The girl who carried life inside her. Who chose discomfort and change so these babies could exist. I cherish her. She was so brave. She did something sacred. And now... I’m here. Somewhere between the girl I was and the mother I’m still becoming. There are days I grieve the lightness I used to feel. And there are moments, quiet and loud, when I feel something deeper than freedom, I feel purpose. It’s messy and contradictory. I miss who I was. But I wouldn’t trade who I am now. And I wouldn’t undo any of it... because it gave me them. 💕