I just had a moment — one of those quiet, soul-marking ones I never want to forget. Our morning was thick with chaos… managing the house, juggling meals, chasing the clock, contemplating big decisions — all while mothering little hearts who need me every minute. I walked into my room, holding back tears I didn’t have time to process. And there he was. The sweetest gummy smile and sleepy eyes staring up at me — freshly awake from his nap. I scooped him into my arms, and he melted into my neck like he knew exactly what I needed. In that instant, his tiny body calmed every frayed nerve in mine. We snuggled into the rocker, and I nursed him as tears rolled down my cheeks… flooded with a kind of gratitude words barely touch. Then this thought came to me: It’s been 15 blessed years. Fifteen years without a “break” — either pregnant or nursing — 5,420 days of giving, growing, nourishing. And somehow, in that moment, I didn’t feel drained. I didn’t feel depleted. I felt full. Full of the quiet, holy truth that this is the greatest gift I’ve ever been given. Motherhood has been the hardest, holiest thing I’ve ever walked through. It’s stretched me beyond what I thought was possible. It’s broken me wide open. And in that undoing, as I’ve gotten lost in this role, it continues to rebuild me into someone even better. I’d do it all over again in a heartbeat. At this point it feels like home. This journey… it’s sacred. It’s refining. And it’s ours. A gift that many of us get to walk in — together. Tell us how long you’ve been blessed to grow and nourish little humans.👇🏻