Striving for some unattainable fantasy version of ourselves, our children, or our relationships only brings heartache. It blinds us to the value and beauty in what already is, because we are too caught up in shame or resentment or self-improvement crusades to take in whatever the present moment may be offering. Contentment comes when we embrace, rather than deny or distort or resist or conceal or judge, all of what comes up in the endlessly complicated world of mothering. This is my hope for every woman, every marriage, every child, every family. Love unchained from illusions, and lives lived
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