It took two years to finally feel like I’ve got the hang of things.
Two years to find a community that we needed when he was born.
Two years to find the spirituality that I so craved when he was a newborn.
It took two years before it became easy.
Two years for my husband and I to feel like ‘us’ again.
Two years to feel some independence.
Two years to get my career back on path.
It took two full years to find my own happiness again without anti-depressants.
Two years of laughter. Two years of tears. Two years of pain. Two years of awe.
It took two years to get close to my pre-pregnant weight.
Two years to get my stomach muscles back.
Two years to start to heal from the hip pain I got while pregnant.
Two years to grow my hair out after I cut it after his birth.
Two years until we actually wanted to have another one.
Two years to forget the pain of childbirth and remember the joy of it.
Two years of milestones. Two years of confusion. Two years of discovery.
It took two years for my son to find the amount of words he needed to say what was on his mind.
It took two years to finally learn to calm down about my son tantrums and crying.
Two years to learn to not take it personally.
Two years to find inner peace that my son need from the beginning.
Two years of falling deeply in love with this little person.
Two years of the toughest and most amazing years of my life.
Two years that I will happily do again.