8 years. 3 kids. A lifetime of change packed into one body.
I’ve gone from a size 4 to a size 14. My cup size shrank from a C to a B. I’ve battled postpartum shedding after every pregnancy and navigated postpartum depression—not once, but three times.
Now, at 38, I’m still adjusting to a body that surprises me: bladder leaks, daily aches, joints that creak when I bend. And through it all, I homeschool all three of my daughters.
But the most important transformation wasn’t physical.
It was finding my voice—because I knew, from the moment my daughter was born, that I had to speak up to defend her.
Becoming a mother awakened a fire in me I didn’t know I had. Suddenly, silence wasn’t an option. I couldn’t sit on the sidelines of my life anymore—I had to step forward and stand tall for the little girl looking up at me.
I learned to challenge what didn’t feel right. To speak up in rooms where I used to shrink. To ask hard questions, demand better, and lead with love even when my voice shook. I was protecting her—but what I didn’t expect was that, in the process, I was also learning how to protect myself.
By speaking up for my daughters, I learned to advocate for me.
To set boundaries I didn’t know I was allowed to have.
To listen to my needs, my body, and my emotions without apology.
To finally give myself the care and compassion I freely gave to everyone else.
I went to therapy. I dug into my silent triggers—the ones I had ignored for years—and faced them so I could heal.
Not just for them, but for me.
Because the greatest gift I could give my daughters was to become a woman I could be proud of.
By loving myself enough to speak up and pour into my own well, I became a much better mother—more present, more peaceful, and more powerful.
My Daughters Are Watching
Some days, I catch myself criticizing my reflection.
But then one of my daughters says:
“I want curls like you when I grow up.”
“I like my tummy—it’s soft like Mommy’s.”
And just like that, I’m reminded: I have a responsibility to speak kindly to myself—because they’re learning how to speak to themselves by watching me.
I’ve learned that confidence isn’t something you bounce back into. It’s something you build—quietly, deliberately—while no one’s watching. It’s choosing softness when the world says “toughen up.” It’s choosing rest when burnout calls your name. It’s choosing yourself—over and over again.
Confidence Looks Different Now
It’s not about makeup, clothes, or bounce-backs.
It’s:
- The comfort of Knix leakproof underwear after a long homeschool day
- Five-minute skincare and hair routines that help me feel like me again
- Choosing grace over guilt
- Embracing stretch marks, laugh lines, and softness as signs of love in motion
- Knowing I don’t have to be everything to be enough
To the Mom Still Figuring It Out…
You are not failing. You are evolving.
You’re allowed to be proud of your stretch marks and tired eyes.
You’re allowed to be both soft and strong.
You’re allowed to take up space.
And if you’ve been waiting for permission to pour into yourself—this is it.
Sandy Esprit 
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