Hey everyone. I wanted to check in since going silent last month.

I hope that you’ve been having a great year, as short as it’s been. January has been a bit rough for us- between my husband being gone, tragedies with his work, sicknesses in our household, and a general feeling of sadness that I just cannot shake. Ordinarily, I am not this candid on my blog. Rather, I tend to save my true feelings for Instagram. However, I thought screw it. It’s time to be honest, and stop being afraid of what people might think.

I had quite a few mothers reach out to me in my last post regarding my miscarriage. Thank you. Thank you for being brave enough to share your stories, coping mechanisms, and more. I truly feel united to you all, and wish you nothing but the best. This is a safe space for those who would like to connect and tell their truths. I support everyone who wishes to do so, and will tolerate no hatred, bullies, or trolls. If the latter relates to you, your comments will not be approved nor read by me!

Looking back through my Instagram feed, I’ve noticed that since having Remy, my face has changed. I used to be a carefree and naive girl. Now, I feel like I physically, mentally, and emotionally am so different. I’ve grown up, and as such, my appearance has matured. I no longer try to look happy and perfect in my photos, but rather, have a look of contentment and solemnity. I also seem to never look at the camera, but to focus on Remy instead. This is not forced, it is instinctive. It is motherhood.

A few weeks ago I set out to capture a few outfit photos. I used to regularly feature my outfit of the day, and I wanted to try bringing that back. After looking through the images, I saw someone I didn’t recognize. My eyes look sad, my hair is its natural dark, and my smile is contrived. The images were so raw that I considered not posting them. Then, relating back to my second paragraph, I knew that they needed to be published. This is me in pain. This is me carrying on during the day as if I didn’t lose my second child. This is me in my current state. This is me needing to change. I’m going to stop putting myself last in our family and take the time to put effort into how I think, feel, and look. I’m going to do selfish things that make me feel like a normal person again. I’m going to colour my hair, get my nails done, and return to the gym. I’m going to stop suppressing my emotions and instead let them out. I deserve these things. We all do. We shouldn’t deny ourselves of self-care. I have for 2 years now, and it’s going to stop. This death doesn’t signify an end. This is the start of something new.

What do you guys do for self-love? What brings you back to feeling normal?

Emory

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