I used to hate myself.

I hated my annoyingly-too-large hands…until I realised that they were the hands my daughter reached for when she was nervous.

I hated my tummy, covered in stretchmarks and seemingly permanently distended…until I realised it had provided a safe place for my babies to grow.

I hated my ears…until I realised that BB has held onto my ear to comfort herself since she was tiny.

I hated my arms…until I realised that they were the arms which had held on to Sausage and BB for thousands of hours, never letting go.

I hated my smile…until I realised that my girls are what make me smile, a natural reaction to their wonderful personalities.

I hated my hips…until I realised they were where my daughters have sat whilst being carried around when little legs were too tired to walk any longer.

I hated my eyes…until I realised they were what allowed me to watch my babies develop and grow.

I hated hearing my voice on video…until I realised that was the voice which had read stories, sung songs and whispered comfort to both girls for the past 7 years.

I hated so many things about myself. Until I realised that my babies loved those things about me, and if they could love them, all of my perceived flaws, then maybe I’m not too bad after all. I hope that other parents can take a moment to see themselves through the eyes of their babies and realise that, once you strip away all of the self-criticism, there’s someone in the world who thinks you’re pretty perfect.