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As a Mother, you adapt. You have many different faces.
Faces people don’t see, but that you feel.

Faces people DO see, but that they can’t read.
Faces you wear when you have to, but don’t want to.

The 3AM face, when your baby woke for a feed – but you couldn’t sleep again.

The ‘I swear all I ever do is cook and clean’ face that you wear the most.
In between wiping snotty noses, crusty food dried into cheeks, pulling left over omelette out of a highchair, hoovering for the 3RD time this week, no-one sees the graft that really goes in to maintenance of a home where Tiny Terrors inhabit.

The face that’s cried tears of exhaustion.
The face that wants someone to take over for a day, but if that opportunity arose you’d say no because you’ve got this shit now. It’s the idea of someone doing it all that’s attractive, not the actual doing.
You point blank, will not expose anyone to this face.

That face that says ‘I’m juggling the world right now‘.
When you’re holding a Tiny Terror that won’t settle without you, but doesn’t want to be held by you, that wants to run up the road because it’s funny, but then screams the street down because they’re tired of running but their pushchair tries to murder them so they won’t sit in it.

I’m ‘holding it together’ is the hardest face to wear.

When someone says, ‘when do you start back at work?’ and you instantly feel as though, the hardest job you’ve ever worked has been dismissed and put down to ‘she probably sits down all day’.
In reality, you’re covered in paint from a rainy days play, watching re-runs of Doc McStuffins, with glitter in your hair (that is not a reflection from a night out), taking out the bins whilst contemplating shoving waffles and nuggets in the oven for your Tiny Terror that’s all of a sudden gone from dining like Gordon Ramsey, to only eating the fluff off the floor.

The proud face you wear.
The milestones your baby reaches, the squeals that you unleash in the background of a video when your baby takes a few commando crawls towards you, rolls back to front / front to back, the louder claps and cheers when your baby takes their first few steps.. Those squeals belong to you. The proudest cheerleader of them all.

The warm smile that fills your face when your baby looks you in the eye and smiles at you.
That’s the best face of them all.

People may not see your faces, but we do.
We know these faces – we wear them too.

The woman behind the beautifully dressed, well fed, happy Tiny Terrors.
The woman behind the clean dishes, sterilised bottles, hoovered stairs, clean clothing on everyones back.
The woman that’s building her own empire.
The most beautiful empire of them all.
The wealthiest empire of them all.

An empire of love.
Filled with Tiny Terrors that will grow up knowing nothing but love at it’s purest.

Those faces? I see ’em Mama.
Your faces are beautiful. Your faces portray hard work and dedication.
Keep wearing em, learn to love the shit out of them because the empire your building? No-one can ever tear that down or take it away from you.

All my love, always, A. XO
Instagram – @missr0we (with a zero)

This post was written exclusively for Bump, Baby & You, by Amber Rowe. 

About Amber Rowe

HIYA! I'm Amber, 21 and a first time Mum to my Preemie, Oscar! I'm a natural born chatter box - completely open minded and I say what I mean and I mean what I say. A complete fan of the F Bomb! (Used regularly though, be warned!) There is absolutely nothing I will not talk about. I genuinely love the English language, words fascinate me - it's allowed me to become an advocate for normalising the 'negatives' in Motherhood. I'm obsessed with flat lays (buying cute clothes and laying them out to make a complete outfit) and I'm also a huge lover of anything social media! You can follow mine and my little Bears antics here, there and everywhere! Hope you enjoy my posts as much as I enjoy you reading them! 👋🏼💕 Instagram: @missr0we Snapchat: missr0we