6 Style blogs moms can't miss

Photo credit: The Wiegands

I’m all for mom style. Two words that tell the entire story - from a post-baby body to getting out of your comfort zone, wearing clothes that are comfy yet make you feel good about yourself, accepting this new body image with an extra layer of chubbiness and rediscovering this new you. Loving yourself and creating your own story by wearing your personal style on your sleeve, literally.

Mom style isn’t about fashion weeks and cat walks. It isn’t about dress sizes and washboard tummies. It’s so not about blindly following what others are wearing and hating what you’ve just slipped into. Mom style is about owning your story and creating your own look irrespective of what others think (because that's why it's called 'personal style'). It’s about ditching the track pants and trying out new combinations, all from what’s in your wardrobe and maybe, a few simple additions.  

What if...(newborn pictures, wishful thinking & a mother's memories)

(In Pic 1 & 2, Baby N is 10 days old. He was off the ventilator by this time but was in an oxygen tent because he still needed assistance with his breathing. Whenever I went down to be with him in the NICU, he was taken out of the tent, and I gave him whiffs of oxygen from a tube.)

Just yesterday, I was reading another blogger’s family update and looking at the happy pictures of his newborn. A fourth member, all tiny and wise, with almond eyes and tightly-curled fists. Dressed in a pastel-hued onesie, the newborn baby was at peace on the soft white sheets of his bed. Gauzy morning sunlight streamed through the window…just the right light conditions for a newborn photo shoot.

I looked at the photographs with part amazement and part wistfulness. I have a 13-month-old baby boy now, but I still don’t know what my own baby looked like when he was a day old, a few days old, a week old, a fortnight old.

(Pic 3. Baby N, 1 day old, on ventilator)

I don’t know how he would have looked without all those tubes and canulas snaking through him. I wouldn’t know how he would have looked without the pin pricks and splatters of dried blood on his translucent skin. I don’t know how he would look if he had been at peace, on the crisp sheets of a bed at home, in my arms, in a pastel-hued onesie.

And I’ll never ever know.

While I’m plenty grateful for having him with me today, for not having lost him to the dark shadow of death, I still wonder. The thought crosses my mind every time I see a newborn baby’s picture; every time I see a very new baby dressed in rompers and lolling around amidst a sea of crisp cotton sheets.

9 Must-reads for Moms

As I was flipping through photographs from the year past, I couldn’t help but think of those intense first few months. A phase steeped in exhaustion and uncertainty, diaper duty and nights spent decoding a newborn’s piercing cries.

Eight hours of sleep seemed like a luxury I couldn’t afford for the next 20 years.  And eating an unhurried meal at home, watching a movie in a theater or shopping in my favorite store – simple pleasures that I took for granted earlier, were elements that I could say goodbye to forever. Or so it seemed, at that time, when New Motherhood seemed like a job description from Mars.

6 Style Blogs I love + my style journey

I’ve been experimenting with my personal style. Not with fashion, and what’s hot and what’s not. But with that thing that defines a person’s look. That creative combination of clothes and accessories and attitude that tells a story of its own.

For a very long time, I was kind-of clueless and disinterested in ‘style’ (and I still am about anything related to fashion). Give me a pair of old jeans and a comfortable t-shirt and sneakers and I’m done for the day. I couldn’t afford a whole lot of clothes, and even when I could, I just wore what was practical and what was available.

My Attitude to Gratitude: This is what it looks like for me…

From my window, gratitude looks like a piece of bright blue sky, a day full of golden sunshine and a picnic lunch, a plate of buttered toast with real fruit preserve. An hour’s worth of exercise with blood rushing through my veins and oxygen through my lungs, a good book savored sans interruptions, half-a-cup of delicious coffee – strong with just a hint of sugar. My husband coming home after a day of flying.

Gratitude for me is about a day full of peace and joy. A holiday spent with my husband and son, a walk with my dog, a bowl of soup relished in a pool of lamp light. Gratitude is cooking a nourishing meal for my family, watching a movie at home, a snuggle and a cuddle, kind words and laughter.