@bryanperera0: This song >> #fypシ #outfitinspo #streetwear #viral #fashiontiktok

bryan perera

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Region: GB

Sunday 26 November 2023 15:59:47 GMT

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Comments

Mustafa~_~ :

Where the cardigan from

2023-11-26 16:07:38

5

سيف :

what new balance are those ?

2023-11-27 13:52:52

3

H :

Where the cargos from please?

2023-11-26 17:20:59

2

Majikk🦇 :

beanie ain't it gang

2023-11-26 16:15:54

1

Alvin Signs :

The song hits different... I had to do a remix.

2023-11-26 19:27:21

1

johannesss03 :

Where are the cargos from?

2023-11-27 17:07:55

1

notsntana :

Yo for the weekday cargos do they fit tts cause i’m from canada and the large is a 36 waist but here it would be 32-34

2023-11-29 03:53:38

1

😶‍🌫️♾️ :

need to know this mans age pronto😭

2023-11-30 18:33:04

1

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Dear C-Section Mom, I know they’ve said it before—that you took the “easy way out.” But they weren’t there. They didn’t see it. They don’t know. They didn’t see you lying there under those bright, sterile lights, with your arms strapped down and your heart racing faster than the monitors could keep up. They didn’t feel the cold of the room or the weight of the fear pressing down on your chest as tears streamed quietly into your ears—tears you tried to hide, because you didn’t want anyone to know how scared you really were. They weren’t there in that moment, the one no one talks about when you were wheeled into that operating room alone. No loved ones. No hand to hold. No comforting voice. Just you, a team of strangers in scrubs, and a kind of silence that only fear can create. You were alone in the room where your child would take their first breath… until the last possible minute, when they finally let your partner join you. They didn’t hear the whispers of the medical team, or the silent prayers you whispered between clenched teeth—begging God to keep you and your baby safe. To bring you both through this alive. They didn’t feel the deep tugging as your body was opened, through seven layers. They didn’t feel your soul leave your body when your baby was lifted from your womb, but your arms couldn’t hold them. Not yet. They didn’t see you glance through the clear curtain, desperate for one glimpse of that tiny face, longing for skin-to-skin, aching for connection while your body was being stitched back together. They weren’t in recovery, where you waited to feel your legs again… waited to hold your baby… waited to feel whole. They didn’t hear the cries in the dark—not just your baby’s, but yours too—as the anesthesia wore off and the reality set in: you were in pain, exhausted, and still… you had a child to care for. They didn’t see the blood. They didn’t see you wince with every breath, every shift, every step. They didn’t see you try to nurse through the burning fire of an incision that screamed every time you leaned forward. They didn’t see the nurse pressing your abdomen so hard you could hardly breathe—trying to get your uterus to shrink while you held back screams. They didn’t see you get up for the first time, gripping the side of the bed, shaking as you stood, a catheter dangling behind you—because that’s what they don’t tell you: you don’t walk out of a C-section, you crawl your way back to life. And just when your body cried for rest, you were handed the most beautiful, fragile, utterly dependent little person and told: now, be a mother. You see, they think there are two kinds of moms: The “natural” ones… and the “other” ones. As if the way your baby came into the world could ever define your worth. As if you somehow didn’t earn your stripes the way they did. But I’m here to tell you: You are not “other.” You are not less. You are not broken. You are not weak. You are a mother who gave everything. You laid down your body, your plans, your comfort, your pride, so that your child could live. There is nothing easy about that. So let the world talk. Let them compare. But let me remind you of this truth: You are no less of a mother. You are no less of a warrior. In fact, you might be more. Because while they call it a scar, you know what it really is: It’s a love letter written in flesh. It’s a reminder that you went to the ends of the earth, into an operating room and you came back with life in your arms. That’s not weakness. That’s not failure. That’s holy. So to every C-section mama reading this: I see you. I honor you. And I will never let anyone forget how brave you are. You didn’t take the easy way out. You took the only way through. And you did it with more strength than most will ever understand. You are absolutely, breathtakingly powerful. #csectiondelivery #csectionawarenessmonth #csectionmom #csectionrecovery #csection #csectionmom #postpartum #postpartumjourney #ppd #birth #laboranddelivery #MomsofTikTok #momsover30

Dear C-Section Mom, I know they’ve said it before—that you took the “easy way out.” But they weren’t there. They didn’t see it. They don’t know. They didn’t see you lying there under those bright, sterile lights, with your arms strapped down and your heart racing faster than the monitors could keep up. They didn’t feel the cold of the room or the weight of the fear pressing down on your chest as tears streamed quietly into your ears—tears you tried to hide, because you didn’t want anyone to know how scared you really were. They weren’t there in that moment, the one no one talks about when you were wheeled into that operating room alone. No loved ones. No hand to hold. No comforting voice. Just you, a team of strangers in scrubs, and a kind of silence that only fear can create. You were alone in the room where your child would take their first breath… until the last possible minute, when they finally let your partner join you. They didn’t hear the whispers of the medical team, or the silent prayers you whispered between clenched teeth—begging God to keep you and your baby safe. To bring you both through this alive. They didn’t feel the deep tugging as your body was opened, through seven layers. They didn’t feel your soul leave your body when your baby was lifted from your womb, but your arms couldn’t hold them. Not yet. They didn’t see you glance through the clear curtain, desperate for one glimpse of that tiny face, longing for skin-to-skin, aching for connection while your body was being stitched back together. They weren’t in recovery, where you waited to feel your legs again… waited to hold your baby… waited to feel whole. They didn’t hear the cries in the dark—not just your baby’s, but yours too—as the anesthesia wore off and the reality set in: you were in pain, exhausted, and still… you had a child to care for. They didn’t see the blood. They didn’t see you wince with every breath, every shift, every step. They didn’t see you try to nurse through the burning fire of an incision that screamed every time you leaned forward. They didn’t see the nurse pressing your abdomen so hard you could hardly breathe—trying to get your uterus to shrink while you held back screams. They didn’t see you get up for the first time, gripping the side of the bed, shaking as you stood, a catheter dangling behind you—because that’s what they don’t tell you: you don’t walk out of a C-section, you crawl your way back to life. And just when your body cried for rest, you were handed the most beautiful, fragile, utterly dependent little person and told: now, be a mother. You see, they think there are two kinds of moms: The “natural” ones… and the “other” ones. As if the way your baby came into the world could ever define your worth. As if you somehow didn’t earn your stripes the way they did. But I’m here to tell you: You are not “other.” You are not less. You are not broken. You are not weak. You are a mother who gave everything. You laid down your body, your plans, your comfort, your pride, so that your child could live. There is nothing easy about that. So let the world talk. Let them compare. But let me remind you of this truth: You are no less of a mother. You are no less of a warrior. In fact, you might be more. Because while they call it a scar, you know what it really is: It’s a love letter written in flesh. It’s a reminder that you went to the ends of the earth, into an operating room and you came back with life in your arms. That’s not weakness. That’s not failure. That’s holy. So to every C-section mama reading this: I see you. I honor you. And I will never let anyone forget how brave you are. You didn’t take the easy way out. You took the only way through. And you did it with more strength than most will ever understand. You are absolutely, breathtakingly powerful. #csectiondelivery #csectionawarenessmonth #csectionmom #csectionrecovery #csection #csectionmom #postpartum #postpartumjourney #ppd #birth #laboranddelivery #MomsofTikTok #momsover30

Za ba cha bawar nakram!! #zayxfam

Za ba cha bawar nakram!! #zayxfam

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