I know for some this post may be uncomfortable because it's about boobs. And, not that I think I have a huge reader-base, but I do know some men visit this blog. I am not trying to alienate you and I would actually encourage you to read on to hear about the trials women go through when caring for the fruit of your loins.

We are going to talk about the way boobs give life and how it can be difficult for some.

When I was pregnant I had visions of breastfeeding my child in the sunshine with smiles and butterflies and happiness. I was not prepared for the two boulders that would be my boobs when my milk came in. I'm sure Luke wishes he was prepared for the urgency of which I shouted at him to put together the breast pump at 3 am and for the terrifying, unattractive sight of my engorged milk-taps.

I was also not prepared for clogged ducts, milk blisters and mastitis. For those that have never experienced any of those: they're awful.

1. Clogged ducts: the milk keeps making but there's a....wait for it....clog in the system and so it backs up and backs up and backs up.

2. Milk blisters: a blister on the tip of your nipple that must be popped in order for milk to come out.

3. Mastitis: a feverish infection of the boobs that makes you want to die.

Some experience one or two or three or none of these wonderful experiences. I've been lucky enough to get the trifecta. It's been hard and it's been painful. But sustaining life can't be for the faint of heart.

And, after its all said and done: it's been worth it. I would do it all again.

The tears, the awkward nursing places, the pain....it's all been worth it to me. Some of my reasons are superficial: breastfeeding helps you lose baby weight and it saves a lot of money. Some are medical: BF lowers your risk of bleeding after birth. Some are for the short term benefits for him (I'm not sold on the research that studies the impact 5-10 years out): better immune system.

And, yes, some are emotional. I thought I'd be super bothered by having something need only me and it was overwhelming on the beginning. But, the connection I have with my babe is something I've never felt before and the times when my infections brought me to the point of maybe giving it up I was devastated. I love spending that precious time with my little boy. Whether it's slowing down for an few minutes during a busy day or in the silence of a sleepless night those feedings I cherish. They rejuvenate the both of us.

I'll let you in on a little secret. Many times when Luke takes my milk from the freezer or sees me pump he says "I still can't believe your body creates this for Little Man. It's unreal and awesome."

Damn right it is.

So, even if it's hard try it. It's worth pushing through.

And, if you can't or decide you don't want to, that's fine. Upon my study of human beings in general, intelligence is predetermined by raising and personality. I'm pretty sure breastmilk is not a factor. I myself was formula fed and feel quite certain I'm smarter than some breastfed people. But, I will ask you formula feeders not to judge us just as you ask us not to judge you.

The past week has not been an easy one in the sleep department. Babies with snotty noses are not good sleepers. Poor G has been on top of Luke or me every night. I could complain, but I won't.

When I heard his cries and sniffles, I walked into his nursery and softened when his pudgy hands reached for me and his cries silenced as he put his head on my shoulder. My wild man very rarely snuggles so I enjoyed the affection from nursery to bedroom. As I laid with my boy finally sleeping next to me (one, tiny foot pressed against my leg just so he was sure I wouldn't leave him) I cried. I sobbed thinking of the beauty we miss because it's cloaked in sleeplessness and difficulties. I thought of how that exact instant where father and son were sleeping with snores in unison, the house was silent and I was allowed to just soak in the beauty will one day be a precious memory and not a burden. Yes, we all sleep better when little man is in his own bed snoozing without phlegm getting in the way, but good nights get lost in our memory-banks.

I'm not saying that every hard moment is easy to enjoy. There's plenty of nights when I've begged God to let the babe sleep or I've out and out cried out of frustration. Exhaustion is no joke. But I do know that for every difficult moment there's a person that would love to have that "burden". There's a mama who would love to hold her baby boy one more time. She longs to be cried out for in the night. There's a woman who just wants the chance to be someone's mama and would give anything to have someone need her in the night.

My cousin and her husband lost their little boy a month ago. Perhaps it's this tragedy that makes me give thanks, even in the dirty parts of momhood. I can't imagine their loss. But, I am so proud of them for making good out of darkness and for allowing their bright light of a child to have a legacy of good. Sweet Riley will be remembered for his foundation and not his tragedy. Visit their Facebook page and join the cause: /RileysRainbows/

The word "success" has been thrown around in my world the past few weeks. I've decided it's one of the most relative terms in the English language.

Success can be measured in different ways within your own life. Some day success is as big as giving birth to a baby and others as small as brushing your teeth before noon. Maybe graduating with your masters is a success but getting to graduation on time is also a victory. Perhaps quitting your job is viewed a success on one day and a failure on others.

Bottom line: we can't base our worth on whether or not others or we think we are successful because it's as changing as my kids diapers.

On my first Mother's Day I have a new appreciation for my own mother. I know why those teenage fights were so heated. I can only imagine that when the same babe you sacrificed so much for rebels it creates hurt and anger that can only come from intense love. I also know that the power struggles were never her not wanting me to leave the nest, but her wanting me not to fly into the wrong direction.

As I look at my baby I realize my mama held me with the same love. I finally understand that when she says I'm her baby girl how much passion and heart are behind those words. I understand how hard it is to love a child because of that passion. I understand how hard it is to walk in this ugly world and know you have to prepare your child for what it has to offer.

Mama taught me to take care of myself. She prepared me for this world in all the best ways she knew how. When I thought other kids were spoiled and I wasn't, I see I was the one truly being showered with love. Whether it was having to choose an extracurricular activity or a job with no option to loaf around, requiring me to cook dinner every once in awhile, or having actual chores that extended beyond making a bed, she prepared me to be on my own. She knew that life was hard and she knew shielding me from it would only result in it eating me alive.

She taught me I was entitled to nothing. That the only life I deserved was one God gifted me and I worked for. She gave me a distaste for spoiled children and I have no desire to ruin Grayson as a result.

She taught me to not whine and complain when I didn't get something I thought I deserved. Life isn't fair. All you can do is deal with it gracefully and move on.

The most important thing she taught me is your children come first. I watched her weather storms of her own heart alone and in the quiet of post-bedtime routines. I heard the muffled sobs at night, but only saw the smiles at breakfast. She healed while guarding her kids from her own hurt.

I love her most for that.

She taught me to be brash and fierce but also to be humble and to make decisions that are best for the family and not just for yourself. She taught me to be a mama bear who stands for her kids and dares anyone to harm them while teaching them to defend themselves. She taught me to fight my own battles while knowing she was a step away from joining the fight.

Happy Mother's Day, Mama. I know now what a wonderful, impossibly hard job it is. Thank you. I'm glad God gave me to you and no one else.

I find myself bombarded with opinions and viewpoints and beliefs. Whether it's about Beyoncé's "Lemonade", the article about women needing a "MEternity", or the election someone has something to say.

Now you may expect me to say: we need to put aside our beliefs and just move on. But, I'm not.

I've got too many opinions to keep them
to myself and Google gives me access to a place where I can voice them FO FREE.

Move on or read on. The choice is yours.

1. Beyoncé's lemonade
I like that the ol girl is mad/strong/independent, yet forgiving. And, she is clearly still married to and making millions with her husband. People can be idiots and sometimes moving on (or crushing them) is the answer, but sometimes keeping your family together is more important. Plus, she's Bey and she can do whatever she wants. I wish I could smash things and threaten people without being arrested. Oh and also have an on point outfit and look hot while doing it.

2. MEternity
Stop it. MAternity is 6 weeks of literal physical healing from a major medical event. It's a magical time, but it also sucks.  Getting to know little man was awesome but walking around with ice packs in my underwear and on my engorged chest was only the tip of the discomfort iceberg. Now, granted, I was unaware of the magnitude of healing came after childbirth until after going through it. HOWEVER, were I to write a book about something I had never experienced....I would have done extensive research.

3. The election.
Maybe the end of times really is sooner than anticipated........