I am almost 31 years old.
I was 21 when I was told I had 18 months to get pregnant or it would never happen due to endometriosis.
My miracle just turned 3. My baby will be 1 on the 30th of this month.

I was sure that I would never be a part of this elite group of women who are called mothers. I was sure that if I was a part of a mothers group, it would be mothers of spastic OCD dogs.

Yet here I am. I'm a mother. I have 2 gorgeous girls. They are my life. My everything. They weren't supposed to be mine, but they are.

I had all these huge plans for myself. Places I wanted to go, things I wanted to experience. Of course they were all incredibly sophisticated things like buy a villa in Italy or France so I could go there whenever I wanted. I was going to be incredibly worldly and know all about fine wines.

My reality is play group, peanut butter, exciting successes with potty training and of course diapers. Not sophisticated in the least, but so much better than anything I ever had dreamed my life would become.