I'll Show Myself Out

When I think back to the earliest years of motherhood, when my baby was one and two and three years old, my sense memory is primarily of sitting in an endless series of messes.

All around the world, from all walks of life, people are saying one version or another of “Mama, I’m scared.” If we don’t pause and acknowledge the fear, we miss the very stakes our hearts are rising to meet.

many of early motherhood’s tasks are endlessly repetitive, inherently forgettable drudgery.

It adds up, one little piece of sadness at a time, falling like dead leaves until there is a massive leaf pile of disappointment and fury and grief and horror that you can jump into and get trapped in, lying there in the cold, not knowing how to get up or get out.

I also decided at some point to add drawings to my little books, instead of including photos.

After wearing it around for a few days, I realized that not only was I in love with the jumpsuit, but it was all I ever wanted to wear every day for the rest of my life. I loved that it wasn’t trying to be sexy or chic. It wasn’t even trying to be considered clothes for daytime, or public exposure, or even really clothes. By being so aggressively o

With a newborn, every moment feels like the stakes are life-and-death. Getting permission to stop hand-wringing every single decision was so freeing, so calming.

This felt REALLY FUCKING WEIRD. I used to be a human female. I was now Teddy Ruxpin.

don’t want to do a big event because when I say we survived, I feel like I’m definitively alive, but barelyish.