Category Archives: Uncategorized

There’s a saying i got on a coffee mug from a toy subscription you may be familiar with – Lovevery.

It said;

The days are long but the years are short.

Lovevery mug

And any parent can tell you that this statement couldn’t be truer.

But right now, in this moment, at 9:44 pm, as I sit in the bathtub with racing thoughts and emotions after my toddlers physically and emotionally assaulted me and my fiance for the last 3 hours- all that is stuck in my head is- the days are long.

And in about 30 minutes when I go back to my bed my Google photos will show me memories “2 years ago today” of my sweet chubby innocent babies and I’ll sob like a baby myself. I’ll sob because I lost my patience with those same innocent babies tonight, because I’m grieving those days that I honestly don’t fully remember because of sleep deprivation and other stresses. I’ll sob because I know how short the years are and yet in the moments of challenging authority, playing when they are supposed to be sleeping, destruction caused by curiosity – all I feel is rage, and numbing stress. I know that I’ll look back on these days and miss them too and I damn myself for not being able to “in the moment”.

Although I do think that’s the biggest fucking hypocrisy I’ve ever witnessed and experienced in my life. The message that we need to “cherish” these days. To be “present” with our children who test our every inch of patience and self development we’ve ever practiced. Because my god- it is so damn hard sometimes.

And my God, I love them so much. My heart wants to explode out my chest just at the thought of how much I love them. And, if I’m being completely and utterly honest, sometimes I loathe these days.

I loathe not knowing if I’m doing right by them, not knowing how to react to them. I loathe how irritated and frustrated I get with them. I loathe how restless, impatient, and never ending their demands can be. How impatient I can be with them. How impatient Keith and I are with each other as a result. How stressed I get about everything else in my life and on my to do list.

But I also fucking love these days. I love their curiosity and their questions. I love when they mispronounce big words or surprisingly pronounce them correct. I love the look of wonder in their eyes when they learn about something new. I love asking them how their day was and them actually telling me what they did, and their friends name, and what they learned. I love naming every single type of truck on the way school and pointing out every single red car. I love spraying them with the hose and watching them run away and scream laugh. I love teaching them how to water our garden and dig in the mud. I love when they look at me and say “I love you mama”.

Parenting envokes every single emotion I’ve ever had and then some. Every. Single. Day. It tests every wound i thought i “healed” and every negative reaction i thought i surpassed. it challenges me every single day to be better. And not for me, for them. And I’m trying my damn best. And some days my best isn’t really all that good but I still promise to wake up everyday and try again.

Oct. 2022 I wrote this post 8 months ago.. I’m finally getting to posting it so let that be the preface for this piece. I also originally wrote this in the 2nd perspective using “you feel” and “you have to” but realized this is all about me, my experience, my perspective and sharing MY truth with whomever chooses to listen.

Being a mom is one of the hardest “jobs” in the world. Im using the word job for the sake of this piece but I want to make it clear that in no way is being a mother close to comparison with a job. Not even close.

Motherhood is all encompassing. Mentally, physically, emotionally, spiritually. Entering this status quiet literally changed everything I know about the world and especially about myself. I no longer look through a lense of “me” but rather “we”. I see every possible influence, wether positive or negative. I sacrifice most of my own thoughts and desires and needs for those of the little humans who just started their journey in this big crazy world and damn do I want to set them up the best I can. So que the added pressure to not only do all the necessary things for these beautiful beings, I must do them to the BEST of your ability.

Motherhood is the deepest purest form of love I could ever possibly feel. It is easy to vocalize and conceptualize the hard things; the sleepless nights, the messes, the physical work. It is not so easy to conceptualize the love. The warmth. The pride. The bond. There is so much beauty in the sacrifice. So much growth. It is all so riveting.

The part I find myself struggling with lately is what I’m supposed to do with my past self. My new self as Mom is so full with so many new passions, interests and hobbies. Which are a bit less “productive” than my past selfs passions, interests and hobbies. A bit more internal than external.

I’m also so blessed to have a career that has grown and evolved with me and more importantly allows me to be home a lot of the time with my babies. And as blessed as I am, I can’t help but feel that when one “self” prospers, the other wanes..

As a Realtor, I sacrifice time, money and energy in the hopes of making sales. Sometimes things happen and sales fall through, time is wasted, and you learn and move on. I actually loved this aspect of real estate. I still do. The learning. Its growth. The trouble I’m finding now is that I have larger responsibilities that need my attention and I don’t have the luxury to “learn” as much. Simply because it isn’t worth my time. My time is worth more spent at home. Not only because I have to pay someone to be with my children when I am not but because missing out on priceless moments is gut wrenching.

But sometimes I can’t help but think – is this natural? Does this family dynamic work? Are we both meant to do it all? Or are their gender roles for a reason? Is that lifestyle better to have one focus and responsibility and thrive in that?

Let me say that I love to work. I love being a Realtor, I love helping people. I love the people I work with, I love the grind. I love to dream, work hard and crush goals.

And I am a a Mother expected to, and love to, tend to the children and the home. To make the breakfasts, lunches and dinners. The laundry, the cleaning, the organizing, the planning, the decorating, the household shopping, the list goes in..

My fiancé is an amazing father. He is Dad of the year sharing the load of nightly wake ups, cooking, cleaning, etc. And he is a Father expected to, and loves to, provide for his family financially. He loves his work, he loves his kids.

Equality = perfection right? We both work, we both care for the kids? Should be peaceful right? Idk man. Idk if I’m convinced… What I’m really struggling with right now is what do I truly want? Do I want to be a focused on my career and my goals? Do I want to be a fully involved Mom? Is it truly possible to be both? Do I want to do both? Simultaneously? Can I wait? I really dont know.

I have so many goals and aspirations. A Realtor, real estate investor, online marketing company, create and sell an online course, a non profit, a podcast, a book. All aspirations I have put very serious thought and work into. Huge dreams. And why would I be given these visions if not because they were meant for me. Because I am meant to bring them to life to be of service to others. I know its possible and I know it takes work and I’m willing to do it.

Until I wake up in the morning and see two beautiful faves peering at me over their cribs, smiling and giggling pointing to the window that they know I will soon let the light shine through. And suddenly all ambition is out the window. I just want to lay on the floor with them all day. Watch their wonder. Create art and play with them. Just live a simple life. Simply BE in these precious moments with them.

I don’t really have an opinion here nor am I looking for one. Just sharing what is real for me. I’m at a crossroad. And sure I have plenty of time to live out my dreams but they call me every day. I get a ping for something to do with one of my dreams every single day. I love who I’ve become and where I can go and I love being a mom. I truly don’t believe I have to chose but also doing both, especially doing both well is extremely exhausting and doesn’t feel right all the time. It doesn’t feel natural or easy. So for all my working moms out there who have an identity crisis 3 times a week – I’m right there with ya with lots of questions and no answers, a lot of ambition and 0 energy, and two beautiful little beings I get to watch grow for a lifetime.

Yes, it could of been worse. It can always be worse. And I am so damn thankful that everything turned out well with no issues. But I’m also starting to realize that it is nothing to be compared. There is no worse or better birth story. There is just my experience and how I feel about it and that’s what I am going to share with you here. I think it is healthy to acknowledge when things didn’t go as we wanted them to. To feel the hurt and disappointment. It’s okay to be simultaneously grateful and happy with how things turned out while being disappointed and sad with how they didn’t.

The expectation: My perfect birth story

It’s a cold winter day in December. I’ve finished my “chores” for the day (AKA from what I could actually still do barely moving my torso). I’m 38 weeks pregnant with twins and ready to meet my babies any day now. Or today.

I’ve had a beautiful pregnancy. Truly. Being pregnant has felt so special. Both physically and emotionally. The slowness and stillness I was able to experience in the last few months as movement became harder and harder has been a lifestyle shift. I have never experienced such content in my whole adult life. Yet it was almost uncomfortable how still I was. Nowhere to be. Nowhere to go. Nothing to do. Just waiting. Just growing and waiting.

I imagined myself hanging out on the couch maybe enjoying a snack when I would feel the first pull. The tightness in my abdomen that would signal the start of a marathon. I imagined feeling that slight panic while at the same time feeling relief that the day has come. “Let’s do this.” I would tell myself. “I can do this.”

Keith and I have spent the last 4 months reading Hypnobirthing and reciting birth affirmations. We have a birth plan, essential oils, candles, etc. We know we don’t know what to expect, but we know we can handle it.

Keith is working from home so we get to enjoy these special moments together. We both cry with fear/excitement in our eyes. We would call our doula and let her know it was happening. She would give us maybe an hour to experience early labor together. We would snuggle in bed, watch a movie, try not to freak out. I would get in the tub and coach myself through the subtle surges that increased with each wave. As if a strom was rolling in.

When our doula arrives, we’ll scream and shake with excitement. She’ll capture the beautiful moments of my labor at home. Tub, yoga ball, breathe, dancing, breathing, eating, more breathing. And then the time would come. We have to go now.

We’d pack up and be on our way to the hospital. We’d be greated with open arms and brought to our room. We’d be able to set up our space with the oils, the pictures of chakras, the moon phases- all things to remind me that I am magic. I can do this. More tub, but now my doula has set up candle lights around the tub (I love her). I’m in my body, fully. Feeling every second of each surge. Breathing. I am ready. I can do this.

And from there, in the tub or moved to the bed if that’s what must happen in a hospital, I would birth my babies. In the most magical, beautiful & raw energy space I have ever experienced. Fully connected to the source of life. Trusting my body. Trusting my babies. We would meet earth side for the first time and it would be truly a miracle. I did it.

But life had different plans.

The reality: My perfectly imperfect birth story

I think I was around 33 weeks when we got the news “Baby A is breech”. Okay, let’s flip this baby, I thought. I’ve been preparing for a vaginal birth for weeks and I wasn’t going to give it up that easy. So every night I would do inversions (kneeling on the couch, elbows on the ground for 10 minutes or so). I was pretty much doing any and all exercises possible to try and get him to flip, but things were getting tight in there.

It’s uncommon for twins to be delivered vaginally, this I know. But I wanted to try. I wanted to give my body the opportunity to do what it was made to do. I wanted nature to play it’s course. But it felt like the doctors, my OB team, didn’t really see it that way. In there mind, the pregnancy was more than likely ending in the OR even if Baby A was head down. A natural birth was really important to me and I wish there was just a bit more support in the medical atmosphere to follow through with that. But now he’s breech. Baby B is transverse. They will not “allow” me to deliver vaginally. That ship has sailed. We are having a belly birth. *sigh*

I’m 37 weeks pregnant and going to the OB and MFM two times a week for the past month. They scan and measure the babies and listen to their heart beats to make sure everything is okay. At 37 weeks, after one of the scans, the Dr. mentioned some measurements were off. “Baby B stomach is measuring small.” “Baby A’s fluid is low”. I don’t really know what this means, it scares me. I go to the OB two days later and he says the babies might have to come this week. He wants to see one more scan but if not this week then next.

A few days later, another scan. Everything looks normal. We have one more week. C-section is scheduled. Saturday 12/12/2020 at 8am. This is happening. Okay. I surrender.

I atleast wanted to experience labor. I wanted my babies and my body to decide when it was time to meet. So for the next week I did all the things; spicy food, yoga ball, sex, bath, icepacks, more yoga ball, more spicy food, more baths, inversions (I was wayy too large for more sex at this point). But nothing happened. No one budged. They could of stayed in there forever I’m convinced. So I talked to them. I asked them if they were ready to meet me. I told them all I could about life on earth. About their parents and their home that they would soon get to experience. They were ready.

We anxiously got maybe an hour of sleep that night. I couldn’t wrap my head around the fact it was our last night as “us” as we know it. We wake up at 4am, bags are packed, our doula is meeting us at our house to capture some moments. We were told she would be able to attend the birth with us still. She would be able to photograph the birth and be my advocate during the procedure, help us nurse and become accustomed to our new babies.

We get to the hospital right on time, 6am. As they open the maternity ward, the nurse greats us at the door. “Unfortunately we are no longer allowing doulas to be present due to new covid regulations”. Uhm- what. But they said– nope sorry. Beside ourselves, we say goodbye. Then the nurse adds, “also it looks like your c-section was rescheduled to 1 o’clock today.” Uhm- WHAT. Its 6 am, why did nobody tell us?! “Do you want to go home or stay in your room?” We are not going home. After some discussion with the nurses, they were able to get our OB in for 9am. Thank god. I probably would of drank the whole bottle of lavender essential oil by 11.

From here the procedure went as I assume most do. Lots of wires and needles and masks and hair nets and the whole bit. I was clearly nervous but luckily my OB was great and really helped me relax into the situation
Okay, I’m in my body still. This is happening. Spinal epidural, okay I can’t feel my body anymore. Am I in my body? Okay, here we go. I did get to have a playlist I created playing in the OR, I focused on the familiar music that would help me welcome my babes to the world. Keith’s here finally, thank god. He sits by my head. We hold hands. I’m shivering, probably my body’s reaction to the drugs. Before I know it, I hear it. His first screams. Jasper is here. I get to peak at him and then they take him and clean him and do all the things that I didn’t really want done until after I felt his skin on mine. It’s okay. Keith is with him now, thank god. I surrender again.

Exactly two minutes later, Saige is here with us too. Our family is whole. I see her through the tears and watch them take her to the station. Keith is such a good Dad. Then he needs to sit.. I can’t imagine what that view was like. Moments later Jasper is all bundled up and on my chest. I kiss his face. I want to bear hug him but this will do. He’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Oh no- “can someone please take him, I don’t feel good”. Then I’m getting sick, on the table. Shaking. Nurses are taking to me but I’m not sure what they said. I’m focusing on the music. I’m trying to find my peace. I surrender, again. What seemed like hours went by and finally, I am back together, meeting & kissing Saige for the first time. Both of them on me as I am wheeled back to our room. I walked into the OR pregnant, I was rolled out a Mother of two beautiful, healthy babies. Blessed.

I surrendered. I let go of what I could not change. I let God take the wheel and I trusted that my babies and I were in good hands. I let go of what I thought was best. I let go of the birth I envisioned for us. I let go and everything worked out fine. Our babies are healthy. I am healthy, for the most part. It could of been worse.

But it still hurts. It hurts to feel like I missed something. To feel like I didn’t have a say. It hurts to feel so disconnected from body when bringing my children onto this planet. I am grieving those moments I never got to experience. The connection I wanted to have with source. I’m grieving the trust I had in my body to endure the pressure of birthing life. I’m grieving the birth I played in my mind over and over. The physical and emotional.

I am overwhelmed with gratitude that my babies came to this earth as perfect as can be and I know that that’s all that matters. But I also don’t want to discount my feelings of remorse for how I wanted to meet them.

I’ve always been up for a challenge. I’ve always wanted to push myself to my limits to see how I will grow and evolve. I know that beauty is found in the deepest, darkest moments. I did evolve through this birth I suppose, just not in the way I anticipated. I felt powerless, I surrendered. I wanted to feel powerful, I wanted to FEEL.

All is well that ends well. I just want to feel and share so I can heal.

In honor of C-Section Awareness Month, I also want to add a few thoughts. Another disclosure, these are my thoughts. This is how I felt. This is not be taken as “right or wrong”. All births are beautiful. Women have c-sections for many different reasons and many times it saves lives. I’m not completely convinced I wouldn’t of been able to birth my babies naturally but I also didn’t get the opportunity to try. I will wear my scar with pride showing how I brought my babies into the world but the scar will always be tender. Thanks for reading.

A phrase that actually causes many to do the exact opposite. Maybe its because of past triggers of being told what to do or maybe it’s because we genuinely don’t know how to.

For the past 5 years, I have consistently worked 2-3 jobs at a time while working on building a business. As most entrepreneurs know, starting a business is a 24-hour-7 days a week job in itself. As you can imagine, there has been minimal boredom as there is always something I should be doing to be productive. With the exception of some vacations and traveling for a few weeks at a time, it has been years since I felt pure “freedom” from all responsibilities.

To be honest, I truly fantasized of a time where I could go days or weeks without the worry or concern or pressure to complete something, or do something productive. (Which I am now realizing, is a self induced “responsibility”- being productive.)

Over the past few weeks, as we await the arrival of our two little munchkins, I have been lucky enough to truly live this fantasy. Maternity leave from work in property management. Referring out clients from our business. The house is put together. The nursery is prepped and ready. There is truly, nothing to do. I have created the space to just be, which has been my intention from the start of this all. But now what?

But why does it feel so hard? This whole “doing nothing” thing.

Every day, I have still made checklists for myself, I am still outlining my daily schedule in my head and working to figure out the next move. I catch myself subconsciously thinking of how my time is best spent, how can I be “productive” in these last few days before my time is very much preoccupied with the needs of two newborns. Read this book, do the laundry, write the blog post, pay the bills, etc. There is always something to do if you look hard enough.

And then I stop. I remember to tell myself to just be. Just take every breathe and urge as it comes. Talk to my babies, take a bath, read, take a nap. It is more than okay to do nothing right now. You deserve it.

I’ve realized that the reason my life feels so busy and hectic sometimes is simply because – I CREATED and PERCEIVE IT TO BE THAT WAY. I think we live in a such a busy world with so much pressure to be productive, that we lose sight of how to just be. And most importantly, how to just be with ourselves. Listening to our own thoughts. Really listening, reflecting and understanding ourselves on a deep level. This is the truly hard work that I tend to avoid and leave at the bottom of the “to do” list because it is so much easier to just throw a load of laundry in or vacuum.

I am grateful for the coaching and experiences I have had that have taught me how to do this, just be with myself, because it does take work. If I didn’t have that coaching and those reflections previously, I wouldn’t be reminded of it in these days where it really counts. This isn’t a practice that happens overnight. It takes, well, practice. I just finally have allowed myself the time to really put it to work by clearing my schedule and letting it be okay to do nothing.

This had been an interesting observation for me to see how once I have what I so desperately desired- free time- I am still trying to convince myself that I don’t. I am still looking for reasons to say “I’m so busy” which leads me to reflect on if I really ever am “so busy”. Yes I have more responsibilities typically- which I miss having btw- but it’s okay to be here now as well. Soaking it in because this time doesn’t last forever.