Allison Cooper

Stretch marks. Tiger stripes. Road maps. Ant trails. Tattoos. Mommy stripes.

I’m planning ahead for the holidays, getting a budget intact, and asking some experts about how to really up the ante with my multitasking skills.

This little, strong-willed, giggly baby girl is attached to me in every single way imaginable. It’s gotten so bad that any time I know I need to step out of the house, I feel myself worrying about it all day long up until the very moment I leave, because I know how bad her reaction is going to be.

Most of us grow up envisioning the “perfect” family that we will have one day. One boy, one girl – 3 years apart. Right?

I've noticed an evolution within myself over the past year: I’ve been avoiding leaving my house at all costs.

I’m not going to lie or sugarcoat my feelings right now — I’m nervous about going from a mom of one to a mom of two. My son is seven, so he, my husband, and I have had seven years of time as “just the three of us.”

I’m well aware that this should probably be the last thing on my mind as we get ready to deliver Baby Number Two in a few months, but it’s there. Yes, it’s mixed up in my brain with thoughts of getting the right crib and making sure that our organic crib mattress gets delivered on time, but it is a dominant thought, something that I’m legitimately worried about.

In case someone comes out of the woodwork and goes extra hard with the mom-shaming for choosing to bottle feed, here are some really important reasons not to feel ashamed.

Just like anything else in the world, the struggle is very real. It’s my struggle and I wouldn’t change it for anything in the world. Every day I get to experience my joy, my downfalls, and my life — and no one can really judge unless they have walked my path.

Last month, I turned 30 (gasp!). It still gives me a little bit of a heart palpitation to type that out, but nonetheless, it happened.