E. P. T.

You thought I meant a pregnancy test, didn't you! No uterus, no babies. In this case, EPT stands for extensive pep talk. Sorry to confuse or disappoint. If I was pregnant it would be newsworthy. Like medical journal newsy. 

Anyway, on to the E. P. T.:

Hey, you. You've got the world by the tail and aren't paying attention. You have a roof over your head, clothes on your back, food in your belly, and supportive family and friends. You are fortunate. 

You have a son who loves you with every ounce of his complicated being, as evidenced by his inability to allow you to pee solo, sleep eight hours straight, or contemplate life without him. You are blessed. 

You have a job you've dreamed of having since you filled out your grad school application. You have the opportunity to be a giver of hope, provide new perspectives, and change lives. You are able.

You have a network of friends that spans the globe. You may not have seen many of these faces in many years, but the footprints they have left behind in your memories and heart remain fresh. These people have helped shape you into the person you are. You are embraced. 

You now put your head down every night beside someone who accepts who you are, inside and out. Who is willing and able to open his heart to you and your son. Who eases your fears and dries your tears and keeps you safe without demanding anything in return. Who you love beyond the sky, in ways you didn't know existed. You are loved. 

You are full of love and life and magic. You are capable and smart and inventive. You are snarky and vulnerable and a tornado and a calm breeze. You are your dreams, not your nightmares. You are strong and sincere and true. 

And you forget this. 

And it's hurtful. 

And unfair. 

And ridiculous. 

Stop forgetting. You are worth every word.