It's Time To Grow 🌱
*Heads up this one may have you crying and/or reaching for tissues
I watched this TikTok the other day (lol surprise, surprise!) and it was about how the frequency of the birds singing in the Spring tells the plants and mycelium in the soil, “It’s time to grow!” (I cried like 3x watching that TikTok).
There’s something beautiful about the Spring Equinox and our awakening into a new world and way of life. Our whole world outside is transforming day by day. The sound of wind replaced by birds, the snow turned to flowers and greenery, the world becoming lighter, brighter, and louder beckoning us to be a part of its transformation.
And so, my friends that is what I am doing emotionally, mentally, spiritually… and quite literally physically. Our family will be gaining our newest member by the end of the summer. And while I survived the first trimester (plus flu and norovirus), this pregnancy still feels so new and raw and wild.
My friend Ricki took our announcement pictures and to be quite honest the shoot date was moved so much that when it did end up happening it was so last minute and random and we were an hour late to meet her, the behind the scenes in all of this could actually be its own newsletter, but what’s insane is how beautiful these pictures turned out, like you’d never know I tried a new TikTok hair trend the day of the photos (honestly I blame the pregnancy because that was a wild choice), that DJ copied my exact outfit (and it somehow worked), it happened to be perfect weather and we were starving during the shoot so all the pizza eating was authentic lol.
Anyways, here’s more photos and shout out to Ricki Ann Photography for making this the cutest announcement ever with no hint of stress or pizza sauce-smeared faces in sight!
On Growth
Now here’s a story about a journey I’ve been on and some exciting news!
In May of 2023 I was at a Barnes and Noble with my partner, DJ, while he worked and I job searched. Except that day these words were swirling in my mind like a spinning vortex. I just couldn’t shake them, so I opened a Google doc and wrote them down. It was a “free write” exercise if you will just brain dumping every word and thought without re-reading or checking grammar.
It felt like I twisted my head off and dumped the words out of my brain then screwed my head back on. When I finished, I went back and read it from the beginning. I was surprised to see that not only did it make sense, but how real and big those thoughts were to me. Thoughts I don’t like to focus on or think about.
After sharing it with a few friends, my therapist, and an old writing group, I finally took this Google doc of brain dump (otherwise known as an essay) and started submitting it. In the beginning, I was so disheartened by the rejection emails. But as I continued to submit and research (and receive more rejection emails), I realized that these rejections were helping me find the best fit for my essay. As I explained to DJ, my essay is a puzzle piece and every literary journal is its own detailed puzzle. It’s hard to know which one is a good fit without reading through the journals, getting a grasp on style, tone, aesthetic, and mission. Each journal has its own vibration, which is lovely! But it takes a lot of mental energy to sort through the journals accepting your genre, journals specializing in writers with similar backgrounds as you or to promote writers from specific demographics.
During the early days of my pregnancy I’d go with DJ to Starbucks (during the short morning window of the kid’s overlapped school day) and he'd work and I would scroll through the Sub Club newsletter and research journals to submit my essay too. After the two-and-a-half-hour window was up I’d found maybe one or two to submit to (I’m not kidding its arduous and time-consuming). I realized finding a window of time and rhythm to submit took the stress out of it and helped me stay consistent. It was like this new life inside of me gave me the push I needed to get serious about submitting, idk how or why, but somehow this baby made me realize that I needed to get out of my own way.
One morning in February, while I bleary-eyed checked my phone in bed, I opened an email from a journal with the opening sentence, “I am thrilled to inform you that we have selected your piece…” I sat there in complete shock. I screamed! I took a screenshot afraid the email would disappear (and I needed it to be real!). I ran downstairs screaming to DJ who had no idea what this meant but somehow was able to get that the thing I’ve been working at for months was finally coming together.
And so my friends, it is with a grateful heart that I share the news that my essay is officially published TODAY and is accessible here!
*Please note there is a trigger warning for birth trauma and medical trauma 🙏*
Brain Dumping on the Brain Dump
The essay that is now published (pinch me!) is called “Recovery.” It’s about my experience “recovering” from my daughter’s heart diagnosis and surgery, and my son’s sudden pre-term birth, NICU stay, and recovery. Both of these events changed me in drastic ways. I’d never wish them on anyone as I’m sure no one wishes their worst and scariest memories for someone else to relive.
I still struggle to talk about these traumas because they are so heavy and at times it just feels like a never-ending trauma dump. How do you tell someone about the scariest days of your life while not sugar-coating it while they look on in horror? It’s a hard thing. But I am grateful to have friends and family who have made space for me to share about it.
What’s completely wild to me is the other day I decided to post on my Instagram story about a Congenital Heart Disease petition. I hadn’t posted about Lily’s experience in years but that day I did and a friend reached out sharing that their friend’s son also had CHD and would be receiving surgery soon. She asked me how she could support her friend (which like what an incredible friend she is to be so aware and considerate). Her message and question took me back to memories I keep stored deep inside.
I remembered feeling completely helpless. Completely and utterly powerless and so fucking scared that there was nothing in me that could save or fix or help my child. I remembered disassociating the week before and the days before, not wanting to face the tsunami of fear that was coming straight at us. The not knowing what would happen and then not knowing what her recovery would be like. Seeing her tiny body in an adult-sized hospital bed, covered in cords and wires and tubes.
I told my friend the best she can do is offer to listen if she needs to talk, offer to bring coffee or comfort items during the stay, offer to be there however she needs whenever she needs. But at the end of the day, my experience and her friend’s will be completely different. And yet we will both be mothers constantly wondering “why did this happen?” and “how long before the next test/procedure/surgery?”
Separately, later that night while on TikTok (ARREST ME ALREADY!), I came across a video posted by a mother who was struggling with her pregnancy/birth experience and feeling isolated because of it. Her child was also born with IUGR (a growth restriction) and while her friends and others online posted heartwarming photos and videos of bringing their babies home and holding their baby after birth she didn’t have that experience. And reading her caption I knew what she meant. You feel robbed when that moment is taken from you, when your baby is taken away because something isn’t right and again, there’s nothing you can do.
I scrolled through the comments reading with tears in my eyes. So many mothers had commented, “My baby was IUGR too!”, “My IUGR baby is 21 now and thriving, hang on friend!” and “It gets better, I promise, the early days are the hardest.” It was a community I hadn’t realized I’d needed to know was there and so much bigger than I could have imagined.
It made me realize I wished I had known another IUGR/NICU mom. That someone would have been able to hold my hand and reassure me that he would be okay, and it would get better. Instead, I had the dark days of winter, Omicron variant going strong, and a NICU where I couldn’t stay overnight with him. It was torture. But I felt so grateful to have stumbled across this video and feel the love and support from so many mothers who know how hard the NICU can be and how stressful bringing a baby home weighing less than 5lbs is.
To anyone reading who has had a similar experience or has felt isolated in ANYWAY because of your experience in motherhood, please know you are not alone! 🫶
Pregnancy #3
After watching Lily go through heart surgery at the age of one while I was pregnant with Walter, and then Walter arriving a whole month early after a chill pregnancy, I didn’t think I could go through it again. But, as you can see in the photo above they are happy and whole and THRIVING! They both have come so far, and it blows me away how much they’ve endured and grown.
DJ and I had been talking off and on about having a third for a few years now. But each time I felt like I was still in the trenches of a medical emergency or one of our kids being at risk of one while also feeling physically/mentally/emotionally not ready and not able to give any more energy.
But never say neverrrr (sung like Justin Bieber) as I approached thirty I couldn’t stop thinking about the magic of pregnancy. How I’d never feel the baby kicks again. And I got so fucking sad. And slowly I realized Lily and Walter are both OKAY. And I do have more energy to give now. And also, as a wise friend reminded me, “YOU ARE ALLOWED TO CHANGE YOUR MIND!” The freedom of letting go to a hard and fast feeling and a hard and fast answer felt limitless. And so I free-fell into, “Lets try one more time!” And found myself pregnant shortly thereafter.
All that to say, we are ever-changing and evolving. The mother I was when Lily was born and when Walter was born are completely different versions of myself to who I am today. Change is a part of life, and inevitable. In the spirit of Spring Equinox I leave you with this question,
When the birds are singing what parts of yourself are waking up? Who are you growing into this next season? What new ideas are germinating?
So proud of you. Me not crying at photos of baby hospital hands 🥲