I didn't love being pregnant but I loved knowing we shared the same body as you grew for 40 weeks, your heart right next to mine.
I didn't love my leaking, swollen, stretched, slow, heavy and sore postpartum body. But I loved knowing it had carried you here safely, earth-side.
I didn't love breastfeeding, the cracked torn nipples, the mastitis, the engorged breasts. But I loved knowing I'd tried my best and fed you from my body for 8 weeks.
I didn't love not knowing what your cries meant in those early days or how fragile you felt, I thought I could break you. But I loved knowing I knew instinctively how to hold you close to my heart.
I didn't love the anxiety, the mood swings, the feelings of overwhelm. But I loved the intoxicating love that engulfed me at just the thought of you.
I didn't love not being able to do what I wanted when I wanted, particularly sleep ha. But I loved being trapped on the couch, hypnotized by the smell of you, hanging off every little coo, smile and stretch.
I didn't love the postpartum complications like prolapse, that I'll manage for the rest of my life. But I love the strength and confidence those lessons and experiences shook out of me.
I didn't love that nothing about motherhood made sense yet everything did make sense, at the same time. But I love that even though I had no idea what I was doing, I knew I was born to be your mum and I do love everything single little thing about you.
From our gorgeous contributing writer HannaH Findlay.
You can read more of her work over at: