FIVE YEARS AND THREE BABIES | A LITTLE LIFE UPDATE

It feels like just yesterday, I was writing a blog post called ’10 Years and 18 Months’ where I finally shared our struggle to conceive. Here we are five years and three babies later and it feels like almost everything has changed. Our little house is full, busting at the seams with the pitter-patter of little feet and giggles from room to room, and our hearts still struggle to grasp the fact that they’re ours. That we have the privilege of raising them and shaping their little hearts. It overwhelms me, in the best way, and so much of the last few years feels like the most beautiful blur.

In July, Linen will be five and Stable and Port will be three years old. Within that time, I may have opened my computer to write a handful of times. Eight maybe. Let’s be honest, those hands have been quite full, but it’s more than that. When Linen was born, I wanted to document everything within her first year; written down in black and white so I wouldn’t forget a single moment. Shortly after Linen’s first birthday, we found out we were pregnant with twins. After a little time to process and celebrate that news, I did my best to write then, too. To share it all in the most honest way possible, knowing I wear my heart on my sleeve. If I’m feeling it, it’s staring back at me like a reflection just waiting to be seen. Within the last three years, the desire to pour my heart out within this space never left, but it inevitably took a back seat. Each and every day, I knew it came down to my capacity to give and in full transparency, I haven’t had anything left that didn’t feel utterly required. As a mother, you give all day long. From that first cry in the morning until you twist the lamp light off at night, tucking them in safe and sound. As a feeler, you take on that x 1000. Every time I lost my steadiness for a moment, every boo boo I couldn’t prevent, every big emotion I tried to overcompensate for, constantly navigating how to wear each and every hat. Moreover, how to wear them well.

A few weeks after the boys were born, as I was in the depths of postpartum, I had a day where I realized I had to ask for help. Sleep was non-existent, every time I got one baby settled, the other became upset as they traded places, and I had a newly two year old needing parts of me I couldn’t give her. I felt like there was a need to meet at every glimpse, and all the while, I couldn’t find one that reminded me of who I was without them. I couldn’t even form the words to draft a text to my doctor, so as best friends do, mine did it for me. Looking back, the irony of that day was poetic – three babies crying, simply needing their mama and one new mother, overwhelmed and out of sorts, who didn’t know what to do except call hers. By the end of that day, I had a new rX to be picked up: a daily anti-anixety and anti-depressant to help me put one foot in front of the other for a while. To be my first line of defense when the hard became overwhelming and the grace for myself stopped existing. That ‘while’ kept me afloat and I’m so thankful it did.

A couple of months ago, one of the people I love most was struggling with something deeply personal. In that moment, sitting in a closet with her, my heart was with hers every second, but my body could not have a physical reaction no matter how hard I felt it. I knew what taking medication each day meant for suppressing my own heaviness, but I hadn’t fully realized how much it was numbing me until I felt like I had no control over my response that day. I ached with her so wholeheartedly, yet wasn’t able to release the empathy that’s always been at the core of who I am. Sure, we’d joked plenty of times about not being able to shed a few tears here and there (insert Cameron Diaz in The Holiday), but that’s sort of the point, right? To give you a little relief within what feels overwhelming. For months, I’d glared into space and zoned out at times rather than have the in-depth conversation I usually initiated. It was within that moment of feeling so disconnected to myself, that I realized I didn’t need that version of myself anymore. More so, I didn’t want it. As a woman and especially as a mother, I believe you deserve to be filled in the same way you pour. To know what you need when you need it and to trust your gut as you have the humility to ask for it.

For the last two and a half years, I have met so many different versions of myself. Not only did I embrace them, but I learned so much about myself while doing so. My energy, my intention, and my heart has been poured out each day and I wouldn’t change one second of that. From trying to produce enough milk to feed two babies and waking up a dozen times each night to them running circles around me and potty training two little boys, we’ve come a long way. I feel like I’ve been swimming underwater, seeing all the beauty around me with every thrust forward, and there hasn’t been much space for anything else. From trusting my intuition, to protecting our peace within the four walls of our home, to prioritizing our family – the role I once defined as ‘refining me’ has evolved into such clarity. Like I’ve made it to the surface for air and taken the deepest breath.

The older I get, the more I’ve learned there are seasons for everything in life. And for a season, that little white pill helped me float through the hard and doggie paddle against the current most days. To stay consistent, in a healthier mindset, and truly just sit in the moment with the ones who matter most. I was so much better for it, so thankful to never stop choosing that hard. One day at a time, I decided to wean off the rX. I invited that grace back into my life and gave myself permission to remove the hedge of protection. However, what I know to be true is – the only thing that really heals any of us is time and the people who love us through it all.

The partner we share our life with. The children we raise, as our hearts walk outside of our bodies, constantly trying to figure how the balance of holding on and letting go. The people who walk through our door and the ones gather around our table at the end of the day. And you all – the ones who have seen almost every version of me.

I believe we connect with people based on how we love. Sometimes I don’t know why I’m drawn to a certain person or why they instantly feel safe, but I do know it’s because my soul feels something for them that’s deeper and greater than anything on the surface. Especially as mothers, we gravitate towards people who love like we do. People who have the same heart. Their insides matter more than anything else does and you’re moved by the same things. We run towards those people because they bring us comfort. They make us feel understood as much as we feel like we understand them. It’s a simple moment that feels empathetic and their actions speak louder than their words. For me, the circle is small – the trust is big. They love you for exactly who you are, the messy and the unfiltered. From the very first post I shared here, to this one nearly 15 years later, I hope that’s what I’ve cultivated here, too. The content has shifted, the heart has never wavered.

As always, thank you for being here as the love has grown. Thank you for loving our family and sharing in the little joys of each day. It feels like we’re in a season of transition as our babies grow and I’m holding on tight – not taking one single moment of granted. So happy to be back here, in a safe space, one that I’ve always protected. I hope you’re all having a beautiful Summer and happy July 4th week!!! (aka my Super Bowl!)

xx,

Meg