@ptitloup.86: C’est brouillon mais c’est nous ! 🕺 @Danyl #pourtoi #fypシ゚ #concerts #danyl #festivals

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Sunday 24 August 2025 13:28:07 GMT

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it started slowly. little things at first. i began crying at things i used to scroll past. commercials. birth stories. a baby’s giggle. a mom alone in the grocery store, wearing her baby and looking like she hadn’t slept in days. i wanted to hug her. i was her. then came the softness in my body, not just the stretch marks and the way my skin now folds where it used to be firm, but the way i carry myself. the way i cradle instead of rush. the way i sit still now, with a baby on my chest, and forget everything else. my body is softer because it made space. because it stretched for someone else. because it continues to give, even when it’s empty. and somehow… that feels holy. my voice is softer, too. i whisper lullabies i didn’t know i remembered. i speak with a kind of gentleness that only comes from knowing your words are the soundtrack of someone’s entire world. my baby hears me first. so i soften, even when i want to scream. my eyes are softer. i see pain where i used to see big and loud i see overwhelm in women who look “put together.” i see stories in strangers that i never noticed before. because now i know what it means to walk through the world carrying more than what’s visible. i’m softer with myself. or at least… i’m trying to be. i offer myself more grace than i ever did before. i say things like “it’s okay” and “you’re doing your best” and some days i even believe it. motherhood stripped me bare, of my pride, my plans, my perfectionism. it cracked me open in the most unglamorous ways. and somehow, in the wreckage, i found a new kind of tenderness. one i never knew i needed. one i never want to lose. this softness is not weakness. it’s the kind of strength that holds space for big emotions. that stays up through the night. that breaks and bends and still wakes up to do it again. it’s the kind of strength that knows presence matters more than perfection. motherhood made me softer. and softer made me more human. more whole. more me

it started slowly. little things at first. i began crying at things i used to scroll past. commercials. birth stories. a baby’s giggle. a mom alone in the grocery store, wearing her baby and looking like she hadn’t slept in days. i wanted to hug her. i was her. then came the softness in my body, not just the stretch marks and the way my skin now folds where it used to be firm, but the way i carry myself. the way i cradle instead of rush. the way i sit still now, with a baby on my chest, and forget everything else. my body is softer because it made space. because it stretched for someone else. because it continues to give, even when it’s empty. and somehow… that feels holy. my voice is softer, too. i whisper lullabies i didn’t know i remembered. i speak with a kind of gentleness that only comes from knowing your words are the soundtrack of someone’s entire world. my baby hears me first. so i soften, even when i want to scream. my eyes are softer. i see pain where i used to see big and loud i see overwhelm in women who look “put together.” i see stories in strangers that i never noticed before. because now i know what it means to walk through the world carrying more than what’s visible. i’m softer with myself. or at least… i’m trying to be. i offer myself more grace than i ever did before. i say things like “it’s okay” and “you’re doing your best” and some days i even believe it. motherhood stripped me bare, of my pride, my plans, my perfectionism. it cracked me open in the most unglamorous ways. and somehow, in the wreckage, i found a new kind of tenderness. one i never knew i needed. one i never want to lose. this softness is not weakness. it’s the kind of strength that holds space for big emotions. that stays up through the night. that breaks and bends and still wakes up to do it again. it’s the kind of strength that knows presence matters more than perfection. motherhood made me softer. and softer made me more human. more whole. more me

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