Maybe if we actually believed the things we say, the entire structures of our lives, vocations, and relationships would feel less tenuous. We'd believe that even if they got knocked down, we could put them back up just the same as before but with the weaker areas reinforced, stronger in the long run.
My daughter's failure to acquiesce to so-called expert advice heralded the beginning of a new way of living, for both of us. One that strives to work with her needs, rather than struggle against them.
The truth is, your definition of "myself" will change during this time.
Wise men and women have been telling us for centuries that the present moment is all there is. We don't have yesterday anymore, and tomorrow is not yet here. This second is literally all we have.
Just weeks prior, I had everything planned so precisely. Things that pertained not just to the infancy stage I was so freshly experiencing now, but things that I had no right to plan, as I wouldn't truly understand them for months and some even years.
You didn't know how much the living room clock would be your closest companion, watching it always and praying for it to be the right time: the time when you can finally feed your baby again, because you don't know how else to stop her from crying.
3. Dive headfirst into empathy.
I am with you—in the heaviness and the lightness. I just want you to know that. You're not alone, and I know I'm not either. And sometimes, that's what we need to know most of all.
"All I ever wanted was to be a mom, but when you're actually experiencing that, it's a shock," shares Bündchen.
Losing a parent so young is the antithesis of the gift that keeps on giving. Every special occasion, every achievement, every milestone in my life is a reminder that she's not here.
You'd think I wouldn't need to blink an eye about today, but you're wrong.
I am going to look for the light, even when it seems like its mostly darkness because, as I've learned, its never "easy" to be a mother—no matter the stage.
Before we know it, you'll be the hero you need, not me.
I heard a lot about how hard it is, but not as much about how wonderful it could be.
Starting to wean my last child from breastfeeding feels like the end of an era.
I will count it as a success of motherhood when you are able to leave me and find your own path—without my hand to hold. (Though it will always, always be here if you need it.)
Birth order stereotypes aren't always true.
I was pretty sure my son would be okay, but I was a whole lot less sure that I would.
This stage of motherhood is overwhelming and chaotic and wild. It takes every ounce of you and then more. Even when you feel you have no more to give.