I sat there on my turquoise sitz bath, staring down at a Maxi pad the size of a toddler’s pull-up. Staring down at a bulging tummy of purple stretch marks that looked like a tribal sun tattoo around my belly button. Listening to a newborn cry across the hall. Trying to find a moment of quiet and calm as I attempted to balance my journal on my knees. Trying to create some meaning in a piece of writing. I was 2 days postpartum with my second son. I wish I could say it was all beautiful and wonderful but I felt disgusting, sore, and exhausted. It was in that moment I decided that acceptance was my key to survival in this new life of mine. Accepting my less-than-ideal body, my messy house, my tiredness and frustration. This was my life. I was experiencing it fully. Strongly. The happiness and the sadness, because there were both. And therefore this life was good, because it was real. I realized that life is beautiful when it is felt fully, known fully. I decided that my goal was not to forget the pain, rush through the frustrating, worry about the upcoming, or even cling to the positive. But rather see each moment as good, own each moment, because it is my life. And that is the miraculous truth.