Last week I had one of those days—the one where mid-way through you wonder where things went terribly awry and wish you could crawl back into hibernation and wake up and start again.
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These past weeks have been a culmination of magic and monotony, community and loneliness. Having a baby has forced me to slow down in a season that would otherwise be taken over by a “more” mentality.
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On a chilly morning in March, fighting first trimester nausea and fatigue, I woke up to a sharp pain in my lower abdomen. Trying not to think much of it, I sat up and began my morning routine.
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My sweet Cyrus,
You’ve watched in curiosity (and other times complete disinterest) as mommy’s tummy has expanded over the past few months.
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When seasons in our lives are changing, we find ourselves at a crossroad. Do I go left or right? Is one heavily trodden, and the other overgrown by little use?
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In honor of my mom’s birthday this week, I thought it would only be fitting to share some of the wisdom I’ve collected from her over the years.
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Not everyone is in a place in their lives where they can be a foster family. This does not mean that there is nothing else you can do. There are SO many ways you can get involved.
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Hope is a risky thing. Expectation, when life has taught us time and time again that it is a foolish endeavor, well sometimes it feels downright ridiculous.
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Some days I forget to breath until I finally lay my head on the pillow, realizing that I’ve eaten a handful of Frosted Flakes and an on-the-go dinner.
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When I was pregnant with Cyrus, I (like most mommas-to-be) had a lot of fears about motherhood.
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Quite possibly my favorite thing about summer as a mom is the ability to unashamedly relive some of my childhood nostalgia through my two-year-old son.
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Mother’s Day takes on a vast multitude of forms depending on who you are talking to. I have friends who are mothers of biological children and adopted children, step-mothers, foster-mamas,
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Can I level with you? This morning, well it just has not been good.
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As I sit in this quiet, empty living room, listening to the faint hum of the noisemaker breathing through the baby monitor, I’m overcome with this deep fulfillment but also an unrelenting sadness.
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These days are not what I expected they would be. They are both harder and better. More chaotic and more satisfying. I thought the tired-eyed, fuzzy-headed, new mom thing would have worn off by now, but it hasn’t.
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I have sat here and thought about what to write. Twice now, I’ve written about our foster babies.
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When I heard that malls are starting to die off, I wasn’t initially bothered because I could practically count on one hand the number of times I’ve been to a mall since I graduated high school (the better part of a decade ago). But I’m realizing
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“Well, I have a lotta years of fit throwing under my belt. Rarely works in my favor.”
-My friend, Jenny
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Let me begin with the disclaimer that I'm not writing this for affirmation or fishing for compliments. This is for the fellow moms who might feel the same way I do from time to time. I hope you can be encouraged to know there are others of us. With that said…
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I’ve been doing some thinking lately about Mary. You know, Jesus’ mom. I feel like if anyone understood the work of motherhood, it was her.
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