Ah, motherhood. It’s beautiful. It’s messy. It’s wonderful. It’s so so so hard. It’s an attachment and bond like no other. Nothing else in this world comes close, and I’m not sure it ever will.

I so wish I’d been better educated going into motherhood. I read books and took classes but it was all based on a very idealistic (ahem, fantasy) situation which in real life turns out to be so much more nuanced and generational than anything I’d ever dreamed up.

What’s up, followers? Once upon a time, at the beginning of the pandemic, I had a baby… Whew. Some days it feels like it’s still March 2020, and other times it feels like forever ago. Now that we’re nearly done with 2021, it’s time to share her birth story. There’s lots going on in this little lady’s life, but there’s no place else to start but the beginning!

Without further ado…

It’s been ten weeks of coronavirus shutdown. Since all this began, life has changed so much—both because of the covid-19 pandemic and because we had a baby at the beginning of the country’s outbreak. We’re not only adjusting to life with three kids but adjusting to a new normal along the way. And since every day is the-same-but-different as information and recommendations change, “new normal” seems like a moving target. 

“When are you having more children?” “Time for Another!” “Why Doesn’t ___ Have Kids Yet?” & other comments that don’t mean to hurt, but can.

This post has been mulling around in my head for a while, saved as a draft for weeks, as yet another pregnancy announcement has come. Spring is a time for new beginnings, fresh growth, and the celebration of new life. I so get it! I love pregnancy, I’ve been through a few myself, but even so, I really think we need some education on the appropriateness of the question “are you pregnant?” and it’s variants. I know that some will feel their feathers being ruffled by my words, feel defensive, or offer an explanation/apology–but please hear me out, you apologizing to me is not the goal.