Women entering pregnancy can now benefit from an expanded, multifaceted group approach to prenatal care offered at Bon Secours St. Francis Medical Center.

CenteringPregnancy® is a nationally recognized program led by certified providers usually nurse midwives; it augments individual prenatal visits with group sessions and gives expectant women better control of their pre-natal care, through a group setting.

“Expectant women are more empowered today than 10 or 20 years ago in making their own health care decisions, and CenteringPregnancy helps them achieve this by bringing women out of isolated exam rooms and into groups for their care,” said Mary Anne Graf, vice president of women’s services, Bon Secours Virginia Health System. “CenteringPregnancy has a proven track record of ensuring healthier babies and healthier, well-informed new mothers. While moms often desire to be in the driver’s seat of their pregnancy, labor and delivery by making their own choices, they also can find pregnancy to be isolating and intimidating at times. CenteringPregnancy provides a supportive setting of women who often share the same ‘pains and passions’ of pregnancy.”

After completing their first obstetrics appointment at a Bon Secours-affiliated practice or clinic, women receive information on CenteringPregnancy and are offered the choice to participate in the program. Women are grouped by similar due dates. In each weekly session, they receive a private, prenatal check up by a certified nurse-midwife, including weight and blood pressure monitoring. This is followed by a two-hour group educational session led by a certified nurse-midwife. The weekly sessions enable the women to discuss health concerns and expectations in a supportive setting. Weekly topics including nutrition and healthy lifestyles, labor and childbirth options, breastfeeding, pregnancy discomforts, newborn care, child development and more.

Through this unique model of care, women become empowered and feel confident to play a more active role in their pregnancy and overall health. They have access to all their charts, ultrasounds and lab work, and they are acutely aware of how their pregnancy is progressing. Each woman is supported physically, spiritually, psychologically and socially, through bonds that develop within the group.

Initiated in the early 1990s by a nurse-midwife in Connecticut, and today with sites nationwide, the CenteringPregnancy model has resulted in positive health outcomes for pregnancies, specifically increased birth weight, fewer preterm births, shorter postpartum hospitalizations, and fewer unnecessary visits to the emergency room. The satisfaction expressed by both the women and their providers support the effectiveness of this model for the delivery of care.

“Women often are each other’s best teachers, and groups enable them to share a wealth of information with one another,” said Jean Curtacci, RN, a certified nurse-midwife and a group leader of CenteringPregnancy at St. Francis Medical Center. “The women in my groups are more willing to express what they’re really feeling, and they feed off of each other. The experience also is enhancing the way I provide prenatal care in a traditional setting, because I am learning more about what these women are going through in any given week of their pregnancy.”

“CenteringPregnancy has proven to be a really powerful process for a woman’s pregnancy, and it’s changing the way women are receiving their prenatal care,” said Graf. “New mothers especially are seeing this group approach as what prenatal care is, and will be in the future. The support setting will enrich their prenatal health, and the bonds they form will play an important role in each other’s lives. We see this as a new paradigm in the way prenatal care is delivered in the future.”

CenteringPregnancy comes to Bon Secours as a result of its 12-month qualitative and quantitative research, revealing how women today are more empowered than the previous generation of women to seek options and resources to pursue their own health needs. To support this, Bon Secours also is introducing other new programs this year, including Moms in Motion®, a nationally recognized fitness program.

Bon Secours is an advertiser with Richmondmom.com

My son playing in the snow. (elatedexhaustion.com)

“No, no, no, no,” I repeated to myself over and over. “Don’t list it. Not again.”

I watched with baited breath as it cycled through. They are always in alphabetical order. His was coming up soon.

And there it was. Henrico County Schools were closed. Again. (And Chesterfield and Richmond in that case.)

“I really don’t have time for this. How can I get my work done when school is cancelled every other day? It’s too cold, then it’s snowing, then it’s parent teacher conferences and the holiday. Really, can’t they just have school? It’s not even supposed to get bad until later in the day!”

I tend to spout off when I’m frustrated. Uh-hem.

“I’m sorry, babe. I know you’ve got a lot going on right now. I can try to come home early so you can get some work done,” my husband countered in an attempt to calm the spiral that I had turned into.

“I just don’t know what to do with him. We are running out of things…” I trailed, trying to come up with ideas.

“Movie day?” my husband asked.

“He’s had so many of those lately,” I quickly dismissed his suggestion.

“I’m sure you’ll figure something out,” he responded as the TV regained his attention.

And there I was, left pondering how to keep a 4 year old entertained during yet another full day without school.

I googled it. “Have a movie marathon day!” said the internet.

I looked on Pinterest. “Do all of these amazing activities that you do not have the time to prepare or the materials for!” said the website that I love to look at but can never quite achieve the same results as.

I checked Facebook and Twitter and found statuses expressing similar dissatisfaction with the inconvenience of rearranging plans for the next day because the little ones don’t have school.

And then I realized how ridiculous I was being.

I was frustrated because my son being home from school meant I would be missing my plans of working from home on my writing, cleaning, and catching up on laundry.

I was frustrated that my morning TV would now probably include Disney Jr. instead of the TODAY show and that my lunch would no longer be a peaceful moment alone, but would rather include a chatty four year old and a lot of ketchup.

What if, I thought, what if having a snow day meant having an amazing day. 

What if I didn’t get the work done that I’d planned?

What if the bathroom goes one more day without scrubbing?

What if the laundry basket continues to overflow?

What if I used the snow day as a day to spend with my son, and instead of checking off my to-do list I made memories?

So I had a new plan. A plan to spend an amazing day with my son and leave the to-do list unchecked.

Well, except for the laundry. The little one will need clothes to wear when school opens again.

Love it or dread it: how do you feel about snow days? Let us know in the comments below and give us your best snow day activity suggestions!

 Snow Day got you down?
Keep you kids occupied with crafts
From the Archives:
Richmond Snow Days and the negative effects on parents: an unscientific study

Mary Henry of Henry Bros. Circus, 1940s

I told my husband before we got married that I wanted it all.  However, 10 years later, I still struggle with balance.

My personal experience with motherhood is this: It is the toughest job I have ever done and I was totally shocked to learn this, despite other parents passing on this gem that seemed more like a cliché than reality.  Motherhood has also made me have more compassion, organization, patience, tolerance, and an overall expanded perspective on life.

We all know that becoming a mom affects us.  I have had the same job pre- and post-mom, and I can tell you I am much more efficient now at work, out of necessity.  And no matter which way you slice it, whether you are a stay at home mom, a trying to enter-into-working-outside-the-home mom, or working outside the home mom, it is a challenging job.

It seems that I am always on a quest to find balance.  Many have researched the phenomenon of having it all and keeping those plates spinning.  And Richmondmom’s own Rebecca Suder offers, “…while I can’t have it all at one time, I see no reason why I can’t have it all in one lifetime”.  I think perhaps she is on to something.  All I know is that for me, it comes down to the lollipop principle, which has become my anchor.

One day as I got dressed for work, I chose to wear my favorite jacket — a black brocade print, with tiny multi-colored flowers in my favorite hues.  I remembered that my jacket was in the car and I grabbed it to complete my ensemble as I ran off to give a presentation with an important follow-up meeting.  About 10 minutes into the presentation, I noticed something was uncomfortable.  As I moved in front of the screen, I could feel something sticking to my side and back.  I reached around and felt something sticky.  As I opened my jacket, reminiscent of an old fashioned salesman exhibiting his wares, I revealed a half-eaten green lollypop, stick and all, adhered to the inside of my jacket.   I was mortified.  But I kept going through my presentation without missing a beat, despite having the tacky confection adhered to me.  Now that is a new mommy-enhanced skill-set for me.

Photo Credit: Kyle Slattery

Inevitably, there are some little things that get left by the wayside.  Lollipops are small.  The big stuff at home gets taken care of and I try very hard (sometimes unsuccessfully) not to sweat the small stuff.   A form might get turned into school late or the dry cleaning may wait just a bit too long.  And it still turns out alright, lollipops and all.

What is your most embarrassing moment that you have experienced from trying to balance your different life roles?  Do you feel more efficient as a parent?

How appropriate that on the morning that I was going to write this article, my fourteen-year-old, going on thirty-year-old daughter, ambushed me on her way out the door to school, questioning me on why I didn’t want to travel to a family function in Northern Virginia this weekend.  I say ambushed because this is her M.O. lately.  Bring up a topic that was previously “put to rest”, at an inopportune moment so that she can re-open the case and make her arguments, as only a fourteen-year-old girl can, snarky remarks included, leaving me wallowing in the stress. Her mission accomplished.

Rediscovering the JOY of motherhood is for those times when a mother wonders just what the heck she was thinking about when she decided to become one.

Sometimes I need to make the conscious decision to choose to find the joy in being a mom. I have four kids, ages twenty-seven, (they are always your kids no matter how old they are), twenty-five, fourteen and eight. They are on vastly different levels of maturity and have a variety of interests -some hobbies I can understand why they find them to be interesting, and some that I have to feign interest in, as they are excitedly telling me about them.

For instance

• when my twenty-seven-year old son is showing me his website that he and a buddy have created to sell their tee-shirts, getmtees.com, I find it kind of cool.
• When my twenty-five-year old daughter skypes me from the Dominican Republic where she is volunteering teaching English I get very excited to see and hear all about her classroom decorations and the kids that she loves there.
• When my fourteen-year-old daughter wants me to look at her Pinterest account of her ‘wish-list’ that is filled with Lilly Pulitzer and Vera Bradley and Vinyard Vines merchandise, I have to keep my eyes from rolling. I was raised on J. C. Penney and Hecht Co., I’m not entirely sure how my kid developed such a pricey taste in things?
• When my eight-year-old little boy wants me to go outside and play catch with a football or shoot baskets with him, I sigh and do it because at least I am getting some fresh air, but so help me if I break another fingernail doing this…

So, back to the teen-aged daughter situation.

Instead of getting myself worked up about her latest issue, I decide to make a batch of chocolate chip cookie dough to put in the refrigerator for her to make while she babysits her younger brother tonight. I find joy in baking things for my family. This will make them happy tonight and may have the added benefit of teaching her that even if she drives me crazy at times, I still care about her and her happiness. Or it may not…

Everyone has those days when the kids are all demanding of your time and they all need something ‘right now!’ and they are claiming that ‘there is nothing good to eat in this house!’ and they need their gym suit washed because they forgot to take it out of their backpack, and they are throwing the couch cushions on the floor looking for the TV remote and they are all ignoring the barking dog that needs to go out! So, one may question why they ever thought that being a parent would be all that and a bag of chips! I’m fairly certain that every parent has at times, fantasized about getting in a car and driving as far south as possible and just living alone on a Florida beach. I know I do. And, I know that my mom did too.

As luck would have it, it isn’t that difficult to rediscover the JOYS of motherhood. Next time one of your little angels wants to talk with you, try putting aside whatever it is you are doing at that moment, and look them in the eye as they speak. I mean really listen to them. Focus on what they are saying to you – their mother. Don’t let your mind wander to the myriad of things that a mom has on her mind at any given moment of the day.  Forget that you cannot find the permission slip for little Billy’s field trip tomorrow.  Forget that you have not yet thought about what to make for dinner and it’s already six o’clock.  Forget that you didn’t call the plumber and the toilet won’t stop running.  Concentrate on your kid, holding his gaze till it even makes him a little uncomfortable and he asks, “Why are you staring at me?” Then you get to say, “Just because I love you.”

My little boy was practicing a song for his class Thanksgiving performance. He came up to me in the kitchen singing, “What are you gu-gu-gu-grateful for?” I reply, “Yu-yu-yu-you. I’m grateful for you!” pointing at him and doing my best lame rapper impersonation. He genuinely smiles for a second then adds, “I mean food-wise Mom.” But, I saw the faint smile. I found the joy.

The other night, after a long day of substitute teaching and being a mom, all I wanted to do was get in my pajamas, crawl under my electric blanket and do a crossword puzzle until I fell asleep.  Nope.  My daughter yells up the stairs all excited for me to quick come down and see whats on the computer!  The latest release from the band One Direction was playing-OMG!  I had to see it?  I made the choice to sit there and watch with her, even though I was soooo tired.  Her excitement and enthusiasm was infectious and we ended up having an impromptu dance party-it was fun.  I found the joy.

With a nod to the Blue Collar Comedy team, I submit the following:

• When, after dropping $40.00 at Party City to buy your kid a Captain America costume, with built-in muscles and a talking shield that he pleaded with you for two months to get to wear on Halloween, said kid, decides at the last minute to go trick-or-treating as a hobo wearing his dad’s jacket and your straw beach hat…..FIND THE JOY

• When, after making your famous shepard’s pie from scratch that basically takes all day to prepare, for your family’s dinner your kid says, “Yuck-I am not eating that. All of the foods are touching each other!”…..FIND THE JOY

• When your young adult child comes home from a party in the Fan with the side mirror busted on the car you let her borrow…..FIND THE JOY

• When your kid offers to help you in the kitchen using the mixer and lifts up the beaters to see how they work and splatters the room with cake batter…..FIND THE JOY

• When your little one comes into the living room smiling and so proud, to show you how she brushed her teeth all by herself, “Just like a big girl” and moments later there is a waterfall coming out of the kitchen light fixture because she left the water running and the stopper still in the sink…..FIND THE JOY

What could have caused such an outcry? I wondered. And then I stumbled upon the article Dear Mom on the iPhone: Let Me Tell You What You Don’t See.

The viral post from the Deseret News out of Salt Lake City had originally been published by an otherwise nondescript mom blogger and ironic Christian who, by her own admission, was moved by our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ, to incite this latest round of the mommy wars – let’s call it the technology edition. After all, when the Lord calls upon you to take to the Internets with broad assumptions and sweeping generalizations about other mothers’ priorities in today’s media-driven society, how do you say no?

In any case, mystery solved – social media had been afflicted by what I like to call the Curse of the Sanctimommy.

The Curse of the Sanctimommy is what inevitably ensues whenever insufferably smug moms – who are no doubt the best moms who ever mommed – publicly ascend to their high horses to tell the rest of us how it’s done, while not-so-subtly implying that they do it better. Think Anderson Cooper’s 2012 henfest, appropriately titled “The Mommy Wars,” that reignited the ongoing working mom vs. SAHM debate; or Jamie Lynn Grumet’s defiant gaze from the cover of TIME Magazine as she nursed her three-year-old son beside the glaring headline “Are You Mom Enough?” (for which, yes, TIME is equally accountable); or the utter vitriol flung at women who manage their anxiety and depression with medication in the wake of the recent Parenting article Xanax Makes Me a Better Mom.

In each case, the World Wide Web exploded in defensive rebuttal, as women everywhere – myself included – took to their blogs with a collective proclamation of, “Oh, no she di-ent!” Such is the Curse of the Sanctimommy. And now it had struck again.

Much like death and taxes, “sanctimommies” are a fact of life – and they’re not limited to the Internet.

Case in point: I used to have a friend. We really had nothing in common save for our daughters, who were close in age – which, as it turns out, is not necessarily the best foundation on which to build a strong friendship.

Inherently, she was (and is) a good person. But her constant desire to dissect and discuss motherhood when we were together was positively draining on the soul – especially given the marked difference in our parenting styles. And while my husband and I were (and still are) prone to winging parenthood using trial and error, she and her husband seemed to view it as an exact science – one for which they already had all the answers.

As a result, I often felt as if I was being silently scrutinized for my parenting skills (or lack thereof) whenever I was in her presence, and that everything between us was destined to become a competition. Over time, our interactions grew less enjoyable; in fact, I often came away from them feeling as if I was failing miserably as a mother.

In the end, she had her own issues with me as well. And so the tension between us eventually came to a head in a spectacular showdown during which she unleashed a hail of harsh judgments about my character, my marriage, and my role as a working mother.

That was it – I was done. There are some lines you just don’t cross.

“You’re simply too judgmental,” I told her. “It is exhausting to be your friend.”

And with that, I washed my hands of our entire tenuous relationship.

Is it no less exhausting, then, to engage the smug superiority of online sanctimommies? Can we, as both bloggers and women in general, collectively agree to just wash our hands of such judgmental nonsense?

These women certainly aren’t reading our words of righteous indignation, after all. Nor are they interested in an open dialogue celebrating the diversity of motherhood. Whether perched high upon their self-imposed pedestals or hiding behind religion, they are merely sitting idly by as they reap their fifteen minutes of Internet fame and notoriety. So, perhaps if we simply ignore their drivel, they will eventually slink back into relative obscurity and the flames of the mommy wars will never be fanned.

After all, the bottom line is a message that we all know well and has been repeated ad nauseum: As moms, we should all just keep on keeping on, parenting in the way that feels best for each of us individually and confident in the knowledge that our kids love us exactly the way we are – and possess an amazing aptitude for forgiveness in those instances when we invariably let them down.

So, when the Curse of the Sanctimommy invariably strikes again, why not resist its siren song and expend the time and energy we would otherwise put into crafting a defensive rebuttal instead doing something we deem truly enjoyable?

And yes…

Playing with your phone counts.

After all, anyone who has ever heard the echo of a four-letter word reverberate from the angel mouth of a child after an inadvertent slip of the tongue knows full well that kids are entirely too shrewd for that crap. If anything, they’re going to do as we do, not as we say.

With that in mind, I try to model for my nearly three-year-old daughter the fundamental values that I hope will ultimately define her as a person. No easy feat for someone who admittedly has impulse control issues and a rather flimsy internal filter. And if there was ever a time and place for both to be tested, it was Election Day on Facebook.

On this day (and the days that preceded and followed it), my news feed was a live wire of political fervor. And interspersed among benign announcements of having voted and earnest attempts to get out the vote were a slew of disturbing sentiments.

I observed blanket stereotypes labeling conservatives as greedy, narrow-minded, and prejudiced, while liberals were tagged as lazy, unemployed, and entitled. I read glib, uninformed commentary on current issues, angry condemnations against entire subsets of Americans, and Chicken Little rhetoric about the impending demise of our nation. And I witnessed heated arguments and severed friendships.

Indeed, over the course of this presidential election, the vitriol on both sides grew increasingly tacky and tiresome, as individuals chose to turn their private ideologies into public spectacles. And through it all, I couldn’t help but wonder: When did personal politics cease to be… well, personal?

There are three things I have learned never to discuss with people:
Religion, politics, and the Great Pumpkin.
~Linus Van Pelt

I stayed out of it.

I no more felt the need to announce that I had voted than I would the fact that I brush my teeth every day. I didn’t encourage others to vote because I don’t feel it’s my place to do so. And I did not state for whom I voted because, frankly, it’s nobody’s damn business.

That said, I also didn’t question, mock, or insult – either individually or in general – the views of others, even when I felt they were uninformed and/or did not align with my own. I certainly saw no point in ridiculing either of the men whose patriotism and sense of public service instilled in them a desire to take on the thankless job of leading our nation during these troubled times. And in an effort to choke back bitter words of frustration and reproach, I hid from my news feed those who chose to publicly display their own ignorance and bigotry.

I stayed out of it because I value the democratic process and the right of everyone to vote without being persecuted for their beliefs; because I believe the office of the President of the United States of America commands respect, regardless of who occupies it and how his (or her) ideologies may differ from mine; and because I maintain a high regard for basic respect and civility, even when others do not.

Real Richmond mom and longtime friend, Julie Walker Joyner, was moved to express similar sentiments after an Election Day encounter that left her questioning the long-term effects of political intolerance. While waiting in line at WaWa, she said, an older gentleman chose to disparage one of the presidential candidates.

“But isn’t it amazing that we get to vote for our beliefs without persecution!” Julie said.

“You must be voting for the wrong one,” he replied.

“Do you suppose he taught his children that people who don’t share your beliefs are stupid?” she later asked. “Tolerance, respect, grace, humility, goodness, honor, courage – these are the characteristics that define the kind of person I want to model for my children.”

“Additionally, I believe it’s important to teach them to be respectful of people in positions of authority,” she continued. “Regardless of my beliefs, I am going to speak thoughtfully about the leaders of our country, state, and locality.”

In other words, should we not strive to inspire our children to do as we say and do as we do?

In my life, I’ve said and done things that do not make me proud. I’ve used bad judgment and made poor choices. I have, in fact, acted like a complete boob at times; similarly, I’ve engaged the likes of other boobs – always a futile endeavor.

Simply put, I haven’t always liked me.

Even in the wisdom and maturity that has accompanied age and motherhood, I still second-guess myself often. As a parent, do I walk the fine line between lenience and discipline? Do I handle conflict appropriately? What kind of example do my words and actions set? Am I a good role model?

As the drama of this year’s Election Day played out on Facebook, I took part in my first parent-teacher conference, during which I expressed these concerns.

“I think you’re doing fine,” my daughter’s teacher assured me. “Just this morning, Vivian told me that when she grows up, she wants to be just like her mommy.”

Caught off guard, I pondered this revelation. While touching in its sweetness and sincerity, I knew such a statement held underlying implications. And so I had to ask myself… am I someone I would want my daughter to emulate? Like so many things in life, the answer was hardly black and white.

Maybe not quite yet, I realized…

But I’m getting there.

Blogger at Late Enough

I have many good friends having their first babies. I guess Scott and I are ahead of the curve because that was so 6 years ago for us. However, it does offer an opportunity to share the best survival tips for living with an infant and a staircase, which is more of a physical challenge than any parenting book admits.

1. Have a place to change your babies diaper on every floor. Yes, your changing table in the nursery is ADORABLE and the 5 minutes your baby spends in there, she’ll love. But seriously, when there’s poop squirting down a chunky thigh or the baby thinks diaper changing is a lot like murdering her, you want to change the diaper and quick. And by “place” I mean diapers and wipes in every other room because the place is the floor/couch/chair/lap/table/bed ANYWHERE!
2. Do not have 20 different bags depending on what you and/or the babe might do that day. Have 1 diaper bag or purse that sits by the front door unmoved by anyone who wishes to keep their limbs and fits everything you need. By “everything” I mean diapers your baby hasn’t outgrown overnight, change of clothing possibly for both of you, money, credit cards, keys, a phone to call your partner crying when a store yells at your for have an un-magical infant who MAKES NOISE, food for you when you forget to eat, food for the baby if you aren’t breastfeeding because he will get hungry even though he just ate 10 minutes ago mostly because you forgot to bring a snack, wipes and your sanity.
3. Buy 2 deodorants and keep one downstairs preferably by your front door. The moment I had the baby in a clean diaper and not hungry with a diaper bag full of EVERYTHING (see #2) and I had finally found my car key, I was NOT about to go upstairs after realizing I hadn’t put on deodorant. And the fact that I could only get in a shower every 4 days meant I REALLY needed it. (Of course, I still have a downstairs deodorant 5 years later, but I’ve never been much of a shower-er.)
   

   Proof I take my own advice. Also, there's a nail clipper next to my downstairs deodorant because you never know when your kids will be distracted enough to have their claws cut.

4. In fact, have 2 of anything you want to do that is in your bedroom/bathroom. You like lipstick? Keep it downstairs. You like shoes? Keep them downstairs or you will run errands in your slippers. You like bras? Clean teeth? Ponytails? Not-naked kids? Keep one of all of those downstairs. (Well a bra, toothbrush, hair tie, baby clothes, respectively, because keeping a set of clean teeth and a set of clothed kids downstairs is an entirely different article)
5. If you use a pacifier or anything that keeps your baby happy for 5 minutes (blanket, voodoo doll, cat) have it attached to your belt at all times. A flight of stairs is a LOT longer when a baby is screaming. It’s a scientific fact and the only reason a fanny pack should exist.

These 5 suggestions will be a lot more helpful than the 15 parenting books you’ve purchased. Trust me.

And you’re welcome.

Sure, hauling around the ascending pregnancy weight, that’s something; but squelching the rotational urges to vomit, nap on the job, and consume nothing but the nutritionally-bereft-yet-oh-so-satisfying Krispy Kreme chocolate-iced doughnuts with sprinkles, now that takes fortitude.

While large-with-children, most of my girlfriends were good-naturedly heckling me about aspects of my pre-Mama existence that might merit modification after the babies’ arrival: my proficient (and prolific) use of the spicy word or two, my passionate relationship with all things caffeinated, my intimacy with intoxicants, an unabashed affinity for sleeping—-you get the picture.

Surprise, surprise. Little did they realize, unacquainted with maternity’s mandates, behavioral changes should not, would not, could not wait. Wee ones could hear in-utero, so we started reading some Seuss (as if that preceding sentence didn’t give it away). True confessions: we did watch The Sopranos with the volume turned down so they couldn’t hear. Java and vino were ill-advised, and oddly enough, inexplicably (or biologically) unappealing. As the weeks progressed, no matter how often I found myself (or forced myself) recumbent, I suffered from severe sleepus interruptus.

Of course once our duo arrived (and I’ll spare you the immodest self-congratulatory strength validation involved in that arrival process), there was little sleep to interrupt. Yet somehow, I felt stronger than ever. No, I couldn’t carry just one baby to the car in infant carriers; why not do double baby-bicep curls? Hauling the weighty Diaper Genie “link sausage” aftermath to the supercans with clockwork regularity/repetition? Child’s play! The contortions and stretches galore in the early days with twins rivaled any gymnastics workout of my youth.

Suddenly, with the unstructured exercise of motherhood—and the literal drain of breastfeeding two—I was ten pounds under my pre-pregnancy weight. No gloating here, however. The number on the scale might be pleasing, but the alteration of my shape disqualifies me from auditioning for the Victoria’s Secret catalog. My breasts and booty reside in a new latitude; but my perspective is spot-on. Free your mind, and your hips will follow….or at least your perception of them. Truth: As a mother, my body feels better, stronger, faster, more loving, more capable, more invigorated than ever before.

Strength. Restraint. Empowerment. Motherhood.

Hear me—hear us—roar.

c. 2011