This is one of my favorite photos of my grandmother and me. She passed away last year on Good Friday, a synchronicity I think she would’ve loved. She was- complicated. Strong-willed, hot-tempered,…
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Mariah
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The more I notice it, the more questions I have. Is our elevation of the pregnant woman and unborn life just a glorification of our growth potential? Does the degradation of new moms and motherhood, in general, speak to how little we value the messy process of becoming? Of the actual growth itself and the effort and time it takes?
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In the early days of motherhood, everybody and their second cousin will tell you it gets easier. It does, but when you’re in the thick of things you can’t see the light at the end of the tunnel. Here are a few words of wisdom and advice I wish I knew then.
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The mental gymnastics required of women is exhausting. We are inundated with messages to lose weight, stay slim, have large breasts and a robust bottom (but small waistline), and yet when expecting a baby, the opposite becomes true.
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How do we know when stretching our limits will lead to growth or burnout? When the bad mood is an indication to slow down and reassess or a sign that the time out of the house or the social commitment is even more needed?
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The hours, days, and weeks following our discharge from the hospital and Noah’s arrival on this side of life, have been a kaleidoscope of emotions and will. Our previous daily routine pared down to the bare minimum, a merry-go-round of feed the baby, feed ourselves, change the baby, sleep (in fits and starts), feed the baby again, feed ourselves, try to sneak in a shower, sleep again, etc.