Why Traditional Meditation Advice Fails Mothers (And What Actually Works)

"Just wake up 30 minutes before your kids and meditate."

I can't count how many times I've heard this advice. Usually from people who haven't been woken up every two hours for months on end. People who don't understand that those 30 minutes before the kids wake up? That's the only sleep I might get. Traditional meditation advice is designed for people with time, space, energy, and agency. Exhausted mothers have none of these things. And I would argue we need meditation practices more than anyone.

So here's why the standard advice doesn't work, and what actually does.

Problem #1: "Find a Quiet Space"

Traditional advice: Create a dedicated meditation space. Somewhere peaceful, away from distractions. Maybe add a cushion, some candles, make it special.

Reality: Sitting on the bathroom floor because it's the only room with a lock. Toddler banging on the door. Baby crying in the other room. Dog barking. There is no quiet space in your house. There is no quiet space in your life.

What actually works: Meditation in the chaos. Eyes open meditation while your baby plays on the floor. Breathing practices while standing at the kitchen sink. Mindful presence while pushing the stroller.

You don't need silence. You need the ability to find your center even when everything is loud.

Problem #2: "Meditate for at Least 20 Minutes"

Traditional advice: Research shows that 20-30 minutes of meditation is optimal. Less than that isn't really effective.

Reality: I have exactly zero consecutive minutes to myself. If the baby is sleeping, I'm either sleeping too, eating something standing up at the counter, or frantically trying to do the seventeen things that can only be done without a baby attached to me.

What actually works: Micro-meditations. One minute of breathing. Thirty seconds of body awareness. Ten seconds of intentional presence.

The research about 20-minute meditations is great. But you know what's more effective than zero minutes of meditation? One minute. Consistency beats duration every single time.

Problem #3: "Establish a Regular Practice"

Traditional advice: Meditate at the same time every day. This builds the habit and signals to your brain that it's meditation time.

Reality: Every day is completely different when you have small children. Wake times vary. Nap schedules shift. Routines are a fantasy. What worked yesterday might be impossible today.

What actually works: Flexible anchors. Instead of "I meditate at 6am every day," try "I take three conscious breaths every time I sit down to nurse" or "I do a body scan whenever I'm lying down with the baby" or "I practice mindful breathing in the car before going into the store."

Attach your practice to things you're already doing, not to a specific time that may or may not exist.

Problem #4: "Let Go of All Distractions"

Traditional advice: Turn off your phone. Close the door. Let go of your to-do list. Be fully present with your practice.

Reality: My phone is my lifeline. It's how I track schedules and reach my partner in an emergency. My to-do list isn't optional. There are actual humans depending on me to feed them and keep them alive. I can't just "let go" of responsibilities.

What actually works: Integration, not isolation. Mindful dishwashing (yes for real, this is a gem). Present feeding sessions. Conscious breathing while rocking a crying baby.

The goal isn't to escape your life. It's to be more present within it. Your meditation practice and your mothering don't have to be separate, they can support each other.

Problem #5: "Focus on Your Breath"

Traditional advice: Simple. Just follow your breath. In and out. That's the anchor.

Reality: Sometimes I realized focusing on my breath was making me MORE anxious. My breathing gets weird when I pay attention to it. Or my chest feels tight from nursing all day. Or breathwork reminds me of panic attacks. I have lots of breath work on my site but also other options exactly because sometimes this does not serve you in the moment!

What actually works: Multiple anchor options. If breath doesn't work, try:

• Physical sensations, aka grounding (feeling the weight of your baby in your arms, your feet on the floor)

• Sounds (the hum of the white noise machine, your baby's breathing)

• Movement (the rhythm of rocking or walking)

• Mantra or phrase ("I am here," "This moment is enough")

There's no rule that says breath is the only anchor. Use what actually helps you stay present.

Problem #6: "Meditation Should Feel Peaceful"

Traditional advice: You'll know your practice is working when you feel calm and centered.

Reality: Sometimes meditation just highlights how NOT calm I feel. I sit down to meditate and immediately notice how anxious I am, how exhausted, how overwhelmed. It doesn't make me feel peaceful, it makes me feel everything I've been pushing down. This happened a lot with a newborn and in my sobriety, and comes up every now and then. I try to recognize it for what it is and be ok with it. Something’s way off, but you can come back. Recenter.

What actually works: Redefining success. The practice isn't working when you feel calm. It's working when you're PRESENT with whatever you're feeling…calm or chaotic, peaceful or panicked. Some days meditation feels soothing. Other days it's just surviving three minutes without running away from yourself. Both are valuable. Both are the practice.

Problem #7: "Clear Your Mind"

Traditional advice: The goal is to quiet your thoughts and achieve mental stillness.

Reality: My mind is a constant tornado of: Is she eating enough? Did I pay that bill? Why is she crying? When did she last poop? Did I turn off the stove? Is she reaching her milestones? Should I call the doctor? What's that rash? Am I screwing up my kid? Is that a chin hair oh no has my husband even looked at me this week? My mind is not clearable.

What actually works: Noticing without judging. You don't have to stop thinking. You just practice noticing when you're thinking and gently redirecting your attention.

The thoughts will keep coming. That's fine. That's normal. That's what minds do. The practice is in recognizing when you've been swept away and choosing to come back. Over and over and over.

What Meditation for Mothers Actually Looks Like

Forget the cushion. Forget the candle. Forget the dedicated space and perfect conditions. Real meditation for mothers looks like:

• Three conscious breaths while your baby nurses

• Five seconds of presence when you first wake up (before the day crashes in)

• Breathing through frustration instead of snapping

• Paying attention to your footsteps during your daily walk

• Being fully present for the bedtime routine instead of mentally planning tomorrow

It's not Instagram-worthy. It's not what meditation "should" look like. But it's what works. And it's enough.

The Permission You Need

You don't need to meditate like someone who has their life together. You need to meditate like someone who's in the trenches of early motherhood. Exhausted, overwhelmed, doing the best you can with what you have.

You have permission to:

• Meditate for one minute instead of twenty

• Keep your eyes open

• Do it "wrong"

• Skip days without guilt

• Meditate while also doing something else

• Not feel peaceful

• Be interrupted

• Start over every single day

The meditation practice that saves you is the one you'll actually do. Not the perfect one. Not the "proper" one. The one that fits into your real life.

Why This Still Matters

I know what you might be thinking: "If I'm only meditating for a minute here and there, barely focused, constantly interrupted, is this even worth it?"

Yes. A thousand times yes. Because even these tiny moments of intentional presence add up. They're training wheels for staying grounded when everything is chaos. They're teaching you that you can pause, even for a breath, even in the middle of everything.

Every time you notice you're overwhelmed and take one conscious breath, you're rewiring your nervous system. Every time you catch yourself spiraling and bring your attention back to this moment, you're building resilience. It's not about achieving some zen state. It's about staying connected to yourself through the hardest days of your life.

What I Do Now

My meditation practice as a mother looks nothing like I imagined. There's no morning routine on a cushion. There's no uninterrupted time. There's no perfect focus.

But there are small wins:

• I take three breaths before responding when I'm triggered

• I do a short body scan when I finally lie down at night

• I practice being fully present instead of mentally reviewing my to-do list

• I tell my partner when I’m feeling frustrated and he gives me time to sit and breathe

It's messy. It's imperfect. Some days I barely remember to do it at all. But it's kept me sane. It's helped me stay present with my daughter instead of constantly living in my anxious thoughts. It's given me a way to be with the hard emotions of motherhood without being destroyed by them. That's what meditation for mothers actually looks like. Not perfect. Just present. One moment at a time.

Start Where You Are

If you're reading this thinking "I don't have time for meditation," I hear you. And I'm not going to tell you to wake up earlier or sacrifice sleep or add one more thing to your impossible to-do list.

Instead, try this:

Pick one thing you're already doing every day. Nursing. Washing your hands. Walking to the mailbox. Buckling your kid into the car seat. Tomorrow, do that thing with full attention. Just once. Notice what you see, hear, feel. When your mind wanders (it will), bring it back.

That's it. That's meditation.

No special space. No perfect conditions. No 20 minutes. Just one moment of intentional presence in your already existing life. And if traditional meditation advice has made you feel like you're failing at this too…please know, you're not failing. The advice is failing you.

You deserve practices that work for your real life, not some idealized version of it. You deserve tools that meet you where you are because you are doing the absolute best you can.

And those tools exist. They're simpler than you think. And you're already capable of using them.

Starting right now. Starting with this breath.

Ready for meditation practices designed for real motherhood? The messy, chaotic, beautiful, overwhelming reality of it? I've created realistic, flexible tools specifically for moms who need mindfulness practices that actually fit into the margins of their lives. No perfection required. No extra time needed. Just presence, exactly where you are.

5 Meditation Myths That Kept Me From Starting

For years, I told myself I wasn't the meditation type. I was too anxious, too busy, too... something. And then I became a mother, got sober, and realized I desperately needed tools to handle the overwhelm that was swallowing me whole. But even then, I almost didn't start. Because I had already decided these ‘facts’ that kept meditation feeling impossible.

"You Need to Clear Your Mind Completely"

This is the big one. I thought meditation meant achieving some zen state where thoughts just... stopped. So every time a thought popped up (which was every three seconds), I figured I was failing.

Here's what nobody told me: thoughts are supposed to happen. Your brain literally produces thousands of thoughts per day. Meditation isn't about stopping them. It's about noticing them without getting swept away by them.

When I finally understood this, everything changed. I stopped fighting my busy mind and started gently redirecting my attention. That's the practice. That's literally it.

"You Need at Least 20-30 Minutes"

As a new mom, I barely had time to shower. The idea of carving out half an hour for meditation felt laughable. So I didn't even try. But here's the truth: even two minutes counts. Seriously. Two minutes of intentional breathing while your baby naps is meditation. One minute of mindful presence while holding your child is meditation. So I started with literally 60 seconds. Just sitting still and breathing. Some days that's still all I can manage, and it's enough. The consistency matters more than the duration.

"You Have to Sit Cross-Legged on a Cushion"

I had this whole image in my head of what a "real" meditator looked like. Definitely not me in my pjs, sitting on my couch at 3pm trying not to lose it.

You can meditate anywhere, in any position. I've meditated:

• Lying in bed (not sleeping, just being present)

• Standing at the kitchen counter

• In the shower

• While pushing a stroller

Your body doesn't need to look a certain way. Your space doesn't need to be Instagram-worthy. You just need to show up exactly as you are.

"Meditation Is About Feeling Calm and Peaceful"

This myth almost broke me. Because in early motherhood and early sobriety, I rarely felt calm. I felt anxious, overwhelmed, angry, sad, terrified…so many things, but rarely peaceful.

I thought meditation wasn't "working" because I wasn't achieving some blissed-out state.

But meditation isn't about manufacturing good feelings. It's about being present with whatever feelings are actually there. Sometimes my meditation practice is just acknowledging "wow, I'm really struggling right now" and breathing through it. The peace comes not from feeling calm, but from being willing to sit with yourself no matter what's showing up.

"If You're Not Good at It, It's Not Worth Doing"

This is the perfectionist trap I fell into hard. If I couldn't meditate "correctly" (whatever that meant), why bother? But meditation isn't a performance. There's no good or bad at it. Some days your attention wanders constantly. Some days you feel fidgety and uncomfortable. Some days you fall asleep. All of that is completely normal and still valuable. In fact a side effect of developing my imperfect meditation practice was letting go of so much of the perfectionist stuff going on with me with, well… everything.

Every single time you notice your mind has wandered and gently bring it back, you're strengthening your awareness. That's the workout. The wandering isn't the failure. It's actually the opportunity to practice.

What Finally Got Me Started

Once I released these stories I was holding on to, I gave myself permission to start small and messy. I got on Spotify. Put my headphones in. Listened to a guided meditation. Sat on my couch and breathed. Was it perfect? No. Did my mind wander? Constantly. Did it change my life? Gradually, yes.

Because here's what I discovered: meditation didn't make my problems disappear. It didn't make motherhood easier or sobriety simple. But it gave me a way to be with myself through all of it. It created tiny pockets of space between stimulus and reaction. It helped me find my center when everything felt chaotic.

And it can do the same for you. No special cushion required, no empty mind expected, no perfect circumstances demanded.

Ready to start your own practice but not sure where to begin? I've created simple, realistic meditation guides specifically for exhausted moms and people in recovery who need tools that actually fit into real life.

The Power of Practice: Why Change Lives in Ritual, Not in One-Offs

We live in a culture that craves quick fixes. It’s not your fault it’s the conditioning of the times.
You see a post online and wonder for a quick minute, could it work?
One workout for abs.
One weekend retreat for enlightenment.
One hard conversation to “fix” a relationship.

But here’s the truth: you don’t get strong abs from one set of sit-ups. And you don’t get lasting peace from a single meditation. If only! Real change isn’t, honestly, can’t be a one-off. It’s in the ritual. It’s in the repeat.

Every time you return to your mat, your journal, your breath; you’re building something. You’re reminding yourself: I am divine. I am worth showing up for. Even if it’s five minutes. Even if it’s messy. Especially when it’s messy.

The power isn’t in perfection. The power is in rhythm. In whispering to yourself, I’ll try again today. My lived experience promises you this one thing: that’s how you grow a meditation practice. That’s how you deepen a relationship with yourself. That’s how you live more mindfully. Not by waiting for one big breakthrough, but by weaving small reminders of the sacred into your everyday life. We need to remember to come back to the breath. To come back to our true selves. The chaos of our reality breaks in and tricks us, makes us forget. You have to keep coming back.

The ritual (if you don’t like that word try routine, consistency, habit) is how the ordinary becomes extraordinary. It’s how transformation actually happens. Not in a single lightning-bolt moment, but in the slow, steady practice of returning, again and again. And we’ll say it again, it’s so easy to fall back into old patterns. We’re householders. We live in real lives, with families, dishes, deadlines, distractions. We’re not practicing in a vacuum.

That’s exactly why ritual matters most. It gives you a tether back to yourself, no matter what life throws your way.

Because change doesn’t happen in one act. Change happens in the daily act of showing up.

The Hardest Step in Change Isn’t Starting. It’s Asking for Support.

Something I have been thinking about all year: change. I have been so many versions of myself. I have a partner now that watches it unfold and supports the journey. That was not always the case. When you consider a life change, what do you think stands in your way? We often think the hardest part of change is the thing itself: rolling out the yoga mat, meditating for ten minutes, or choosing sparkling water over wine. But the real first step is often quieter and much more vulnerable:

It’s saying to your partner, your friend, or your community: “I want to try something new. Can you support me?”

That’s where so many people get stuck. Because when you’re changing, you’re not just breaking your own patterns. You’re disrupting the shared patterns you have with others. The Friday-night drinks crew, the partner who loves a late-night binge, the coworker who counts on you for the 3pm coffee splurge. You want to end a bad habit, but you might not have willpower to overcome the routine that has been set for you and evolve into the new you, the one that drops that bad behavior and clears space for a new, better option.

If someone meets you with an eye roll or a dismissive “That won’t last,” it plants doubt.

But if someone says, “Yes. How can I help?”suddenly the step feels possible.

How to Be That Friend/Partner

Supporting someone doesn’t mean doing it with them (though that’s a bonus). It means:

• Listening without judgment when they share what they’re trying.

• Asking what support looks like instead of assuming.

• Not pressuring them back into old habits. (“Come on, just one drink” might feel harmless, but it undermines trust.)

• Cheering for small wins. Even a few minutes of meditation, even one night without alcohol, these are seeds worth noticing.

How to Find Those Friends

Sometimes the harder truth is that not everyone can meet you there. And that’s okay.

• Notice who respects your boundaries.

• Seek out communities where your new habit is normal (a meditation group, a wellness class, even online spaces).

• Remember: change is fragile at the beginning. Protect it by surrounding yourself with people who don’t just tolerate your growth, but encourage it.

The first step isn’t a solo act. It’s a conversation. It can be so scary. Becoming a mom and finding your people. Quitting the vape or the shopping or whatever is in your way. It is a blockage that needs to be removed. The pressure might already feel insurmountable, so you have got to cultivate relationships that rise to meet you. It is one of the greatest supports you’ll ever have on the path of change. I hope if you know someone working towards a goal, you can be kind. Reach out, support, applaud.

How Sobriety Made Me Realize I'd Been Meditating 'Wrong' All Along

I tried meditation for years before getting sober. I'd download apps, set intentions, maybe stick with it for a week before life got busy and I'd drift away. I thought the problem was me. That I wasn't disciplined enough, wasn't spiritual enough, wasn't calm enough for meditation to "work." Then I got sober. And suddenly, everything about meditation made sense in a way it never had before.

What I Was Actually Doing Before

Looking back now, I can see what was really happening: I was using meditation as another form of escape. I wanted it to make me feel peaceful so I wouldn't have to feel anxious. I wanted it to quiet my mind so I wouldn't have to hear my own thoughts. I wanted it to fix me so I wouldn't have to actually change anything about my life. I tried to make my yoga and meditation the thing that made me me, found me a way out of discomfort like drinking had been.

When it didn't work that way (because that's not how meditation works), I'd get frustrated and quit. Then I'd pour a glass of wine from the bottle I’d eventually finish, and tell myself I'd try again.

The Brutal Truth Sobriety Taught Me

In early sobriety, you can't run anymore. You can't numb out. You can't escape yourself. You have to sit with the anxiety, the boredom, the grief, the rage, the fear. all of it. Raw and unfiltered. And that's when meditation finally clicked for me. Because I realized: meditation isn't about feeling better. It's about feeling, period.

It's not a tool to escape discomfort. It's a practice of being present with whatever's actually here, comfortable or not. When I approached it that way, everything changed.

The Meditation Practice Sobriety Demanded

In those early months of sobriety, my meditation practice looked nothing like the peaceful, blissed-out vision I'd had before. Some days I'd sit down to meditate and immediately start crying. Other days I'd be so restless I could barely make it through five minutes. Sometimes I'd feel anger bubbling up, or shame, or terror about facing life without my coping mechanism.

But here's what was different: I stayed. I didn't try to fix those feelings or breathe them away or transcend them. I just acknowledged them. "Oh, there's anxiety." "There's sadness." "There's the urge to run." And then I'd breathe. Not to make the feelings go away, but to be present with them.

That was the meditation practice sobriety taught me. Not escaping, but witnessing.

Why This Changed Everything

Before, when difficult emotions came up in meditation (or in life), my pattern was: feel uncomfortable → judge myself for feeling uncomfortable → try to fix it → get frustrated → give up. Drink.

In sobriety, I learned a different pattern: feel uncomfortable → notice I'm uncomfortable → breathe → stay.

It sounds simple, but it was revolutionary.

Because for the first time, I was building trust with myself. I was proving to myself that I could sit with hard things and survive them. That I didn't need to numb or escape or avoid. That the feelings wouldn't destroy me. Every time I sat in meditation with discomfort and didn't run, I got stronger. Not in a "power through it" way, but in a "I can be with myself no matter what" way.

The Practice That Saved Me

Here's the meditation that became my anchor in early sobriety:

I'd sit down and place my hand on my heart. Then I'd ask myself: "What's here right now?" Sometimes the answer was: anxiety, exhaustion, craving, fear, loneliness.

Instead of trying to change it, I'd just name it. "This is what anxiety feels like in my body." "This is grief." "This is the urge to escape."

I'd notice where I felt it. The tightness in my chest, the churning in my stomach, the tension in my shoulders. And then I'd breathe with it. Not to fix it, but to be with it. Like sitting with a friend who's hurting. You don't try to solve their problems, you just show up.

That became my practice: showing up for myself, exactly as I was, without trying to be different.

What Meditation Taught Me About Sobriety (And Vice Versa)

The parallels between meditation and sobriety became impossible to ignore:

Both require you to be present with discomfort. You can't meditate your way out of difficult feelings, and you can't stay sober by avoiding them. You have to be willing to feel.

Both are about coming back, not being perfect. In meditation, your mind wanders and you bring it back. In sobriety, you have hard days and you recommit. The practice is in the returning.

Both teach you that you are not your thoughts. You can watch cravings arise in meditation the same way you watch anxious thoughts arise - with curiosity instead of identification. You don't have to act on every thought that crosses your mind. (Life changing a ha moment for me right there in a nutshell!).

Both are a daily practice, not a destination. You don't "finish" meditation or "complete" sobriety. You just keep showing up.

Honestly, I don't know if I could have stayed sober without meditation. And I don't think I would have understood meditation without sobriety.

For Anyone Struggling With Both

If you're newly sober and trying to meditate, please know: it's supposed to feel hard right now.

You don't need to achieve some zen state. You don't need to feel peaceful or calm or blissed out. You don't need to do it "right." You just need to show up. Sit down. Notice what's here. Breathe.

Some days that will feel manageable. Other days it will feel impossible. Both are okay. The practice isn't about feeling better, it's about being willing to feel, period. And that willingness is everything. It's how you stay sober. It's how you heal. It's how you rebuild trust with yourself.

One breath at a time. One moment at a time. One day at a time.

That's the practice. That's the path. That's enough.

If you're navigating sobriety and looking for meditation practices that actually address the real, messy, hard parts of recovery, I've created resources specifically for this journey: no spiritual bypassing, no toxic positivity, just honest tools for staying present when everything in you wants to escape.

Postpartum Anxiety vs. New Mom Worries: How Mindfulness Can Help You Tell the Difference

For months after my daughter was born, I kept asking myself: Am I just a worried new mom, or is this something more? I'd lie awake at night checking her breathing. I'd spiral into worst-case scenarios about every little thing. I'd feel my heart racing for no apparent reason. I'd catastrophize about her health, my ability to keep her safe, whether I was ruining her already.

Everyone will say this was normal. "All new moms worry!" "You'll relax eventually!" "This is just what motherhood feels like!" But it didn't feel normal. It felt like drowning.

It took me months to understand the difference between typical new parent concerns and actual postpartum anxiety. And mindfulness became the tool that helped me recognize what was really going on.

What "Normal" New Mom Worry Looks Like

Here's what I've learned: it's absolutely normal to worry about your baby. To check on them while they sleep. To have concerns about their development, their health, whether you're doing things right.

Normal worry:

• Comes and goes throughout the day

• Is connected to specific concerns

• Responds to reassurance (temporarily, at least)

• Allows you to eventually relax or focus on something else

• Doesn't completely consume you

I had moments like this too. I'd worry about whether she was eating enough, call the pediatrician, get reassurance, and be able to move on. Doesn’t it feel so good to lie some worry to rest? The lactation counselor can measure intake and give you so much information! I had no idea!

Those concerns are regular parenting anxiety. Uncomfortable, but manageable.

What Postpartum Anxiety Actually Felt Like

But I knew for me, there was this other layer. This constant hum of dread that nothing could touch. My postpartum anxiety also included:

• Intrusive thoughts that wouldn't stop (What if I drop her? What if she stops breathing? What if something terrible happens?) Maybe a few more too absurd to even write here.

• Physical symptoms: racing heart, shallow breathing, tightness in my chest…even when nothing was wrong

• Inability to sleep even when the baby was sleeping because my mind was spinning

• Catastrophic thinking that escalated immediately (She coughed → She has a cold → What if it's pneumonia → What if she ends up in the hospital?)

• Feeling like I had to be hypervigilant every single second or something bad would happen and no one but me would know, not even my partner

• The worry felt bottomless and reassurance didn't help for more than a few minutes

The key difference: this wasn't connected to reality. It was constant, consuming, and immune to logic or reassurance.

How Mindfulness Helped Me See It

I started practicing mindfulness not because I thought I had postpartum anxiety, but because I was desperate for any tool to manage the overwhelm. Something unexpected happened: mindfulness gave me enough space to actually observe what was happening in my mind and body. And that's when I started to see the patterns.

I Noticed the Physical Symptoms

When I'd pause and check in with my body, I realized: I was anxious in my body even when nothing stressful was happening. My shoulders were permanently tense. My jaw was clenched. My breathing was always shallow. I was grinding my teeth. This wasn't situational worry. This was my nervous system stuck in overdrive.

I Noticed the Thought Loops

When I started watching my thoughts (instead of being completely swept up in them), I saw how repetitive they were. The same catastrophic scenarios playing on repeat, regardless of what was actually happening. A mindful person might think: "Oh, there's that worry again. I've had this thought 47 times today. Maybe this isn't actually about reality."

I Noticed the Disconnect

Mindfulness taught me to ask: "What's actually happening right now in this moment?" Usually, the answer was: My baby is fine. She's breathing. She's healthy. We're okay right now. But my brain was telling me: EVERYTHING IS WRONG AND TERRIBLE THINGS ARE ABOUT TO HAPPEN.

That gap between reality and my panic showed me this was more than typical new mom worry. This was my brain lying to me.

The Practice That Helped

I started using a simple mindfulness check-in whenever I felt the anxiety ramping up:

Step 1: Pause and Notice "I'm feeling anxious right now." Not judging it, not trying to fix it. Just naming it.

Step 2: Check the Facts "What's actually happening right now?" Is my baby in immediate danger? Usually, no. She's sleeping peacefully or playing or nursing just fine.

Step 3: Feel the Feelings in My Body "Where do I feel this anxiety?" Chest. Throat. Stomach. Shoulders.

Step 4: Breathe With It Not to make it go away, but to stay present with it instead of spiraling.

This didn't cure my anxiety. But it gave me crucial information: my mind was generating fear that didn't match reality. I was able to bring my concerns to my partner, friends and family. I was able to overcome this anxiety and these super unhelpful thought patterns.

It’s important to note, once you can observe your thoughts instead of being consumed by them, you may realize: these aren't normal new mom worries. This is a mental health issue, not a character flaw. You may need to talk to your doctor and start therapy. For some women, medication is part of the picture too (and there's zero shame in that). Even with professional help, the mindfulness practices remains essential. They can give you a way to ride out the anxiety waves without being completely swept away.

What I Wish Someone Had Told Me

If you're wondering whether what you're experiencing is "normal," here's what I wish someone had said to me:

Trust yourself. If it feels like too much, it probably is. You're not being dramatic. You're not overreacting.

Postpartum anxiety is incredibly common. Up to 15-20% of new mothers experience it. You're not alone, and you're not broken.

It's not your fault. This isn't about not being strong enough or grateful enough or calm enough. It's a medical condition with biological roots.

You can get better. With the right support: therapy, mindfulness practices, possibly medication, community, you can feel like yourself again.

You don't have to suffer through it. There's this toxic narrative that motherhood is supposed to be overwhelming and miserable. But constant, consuming anxiety isn't a required part of the experience.

How Mindfulness Fits Into Everyday Life

Mindfulness remained a crucial part of my healing. Not as a cure, but as a tool.

It taught me:

• To notice when anxiety was building before it became overwhelming

• To sit with uncomfortable feelings without immediately spiraling

• To come back to the present moment instead of living in catastrophic future scenarios

• To be gentle with myself on hard days

• To recognize the difference between a thought and reality

Mindfulness didn't eliminate my anxiety. But it gave me a way to relate to it differently. Instead of being swallowed by it, I could observe it. "Oh, there's anxiety. It's uncomfortable, but it's not an emergency. I can breathe through this."

If You're Not Sure

If you're reading this and thinking "but how do I know if what I'm experiencing requires help?" here are some questions to ask yourself:

• Is the worry constant and consuming, or does it come and go?

• Does reassurance help, or does the anxiety return immediately?

• Are you able to sleep when you have the opportunity?

• Are you experiencing physical symptoms (racing heart, shortness of breath, dizziness) even when things are calm?

• Are intrusive thoughts interfering with your ability to function or bond with your baby?

• Does this feel different from your baseline anxiety?

If you're answering yes to several of these, please talk to your doctor or a therapist. You deserve support. And in the meantime, mindfulness can help. Not as a replacement for professional care, but as a companion to it. You don't have to figure this out alone. You don't have to suffer through it. Help is available, and healing is possible. You're not failing at motherhood. You're experiencing a medical condition that responds to treatment.

And you're going to be okay.

Looking for mindfulness practices specifically designed to support maternal mental health? I've created resources that address the real challenges of postpartum anxiety, with practical tools that work even when you're exhausted and overwhelmed.

A 3-Minute Meditation For Sanity in Early Motherhood

We’ve all been there, say it’s 4:47am. The newborn you wished and prayed for waking up every hour and a half or so. Body aching from feedings. Mind spinning with anxiety about whether baby is getting enough milk, whether you’re doing everything wrong, whether you’'ll ever feel like yourself again.

Yoga (not the asana, or physical practice, but the deep study of the other limbs of the practice) teaches you a few things that can be incredible tools and resources for motherhood. There are practices meditators have utilized for lifetimes before us that can help you exactly in these hardest of moments.

The Practice (It's Almost Too Simple)

Here's the whole thing:

Minute One: Notice Your Body Just as you are. If you can, even if you’re holding baby, place hands nearest your chest and belly. Don’t try to change your breathing, just notice it. Arrive in real time, not the worry in your mind. Say it to yourself. I’m in the room. I’m in the rocking chair. My feet are on the floor in warm socks. My baby is safe. I am ok. Just noticing. Not judging. Not trying to fix.

Minute Two: Follow Your Breath Counting in: one. Out: two. In: three. Out: four. Up to ten, then starting over. Your fear and stress will creep back in. You will want to wake your partner or move or remember something from your to-do list. Allow it, let it go. Count again. One. Two. Three.

Minute Three: Expand Your Awareness Stop counting and just sit there. Remain aware of your breathing. Aware of the quiet house. Aware of my small body you hold. Aware of the ache in your chest that is part physical exhaustion, part overwhelming love, part grief for your old life.

Let it all be there without trying to change it.

Why This Works

Maybe pre-pregnancy you’d tried meditation apps before. I'd tried guided meditations that were 10, 15, 20 minutes long. But in the fog of new motherhood, I couldn't focus that long. My mind was too scattered. My body was too uncomfortable. I'd get frustrated and quit.

Three minutes was doable. Even on the worst days, I could find three minutes.

But more than that, this time isn’t asking you to feel better. It doesn’t promise to make my anxiety disappear or your exhaustion vanish. It just gives you three minutes to be present with yourself exactly as you are.

And somehow, that can be everything.

What It Actually Changed For Me

I'm not going to tell you this practice made motherhood easy. It didn't. I still had hard days (hard weeks, honestly). I still felt overwhelmed and under-qualified for this whole parenting thing. But this practice gave me something crucial: a pause button.

Before, when my baby cried, I spiraled immediately. What's wrong? Why can't I fix it? I'm failing at this. Everyone else is better at this than me.

After incorporating these three-minute check-ins, I could catch myself. I could breathe. I could create a tiny space between what was happening and my panic response. It didn't eliminate the stress. But it kept me from drowning in it.

When I Actually Did It

The beauty of three minutes is you can fit it anywhere:

• During the first morning feeding, before anyone else was awake

• In the car before going into the grocery store

• While my baby did tummy time (she didn't need me hovering)

• Right after I put her down for a nap (instead of immediately rushing to do dishes)

• At night when I woke up anxious and couldn't fall back asleep

I didn't do it perfectly. Some days I forgot entirely. Some days I tried and couldn't focus at all. But I kept coming back to it because it was the only tool that felt manageable.

The Sobriety Connection

I got sober around the same time I became a mother (talk about doing life on hard mode). And this practice became even more essential. Because in sobriety, you lose your primary coping mechanism. You can't numb out anymore. You have to feel everything. And in early motherhood, there's a LOT to feel.

These three minutes became my anchor. When I wanted to escape, to check out, to reach for something to make the discomfort stop, I'd sit. Three minutes. Just breathing. Just being present with the hard stuff.

It sounds too simple to matter. But it taught me something crucial: I could survive discomfort. I didn't have to run from it or fix it or numb it. I could just... be with it.

How to Try It Yourself

You don't need anything special. No app, no cushion, no perfect environment.

1. Set a timer for three minutes

2. Put one hand on your chest, one on your belly

3. Notice your breath for one minute

4. Count your breaths for one minute

5. Just sit and be aware for one minute

That's it.

Your mind will wander. You'll think about your to-do list. You'll wonder if you're doing it right. You might feel uncomfortable or restless or emotional. All of that is completely normal. The practice isn't about having a perfect three minutes. It's about showing up for three minutes exactly as you are.

The Unexpected Gift

Here's what I didn't expect: this practice didn't just help me survive the hard moments. It helped me actually experience the good ones too. Because when you practice being present with discomfort, you also get better at being present with joy. With the weight of your baby on your chest. With the miracle of their tiny fingers. With the fierce love that sometimes feels too big for your body.

Three minutes taught me how to be here. Not in my anxiety about the future or my regrets about the past. Just here. And on the hardest days of early motherhood and early sobriety, being here was the only way through.

Want more simple, realistic practices for the chaos of new motherhood? I've created meditation guides specifically designed for exhausted, overwhelmed moms who need tools that actually fit into real life—no perfection required.

What Is Meditation? A Beginner’s Guide to Finding Stillness

Meditation has been practiced for thousands of years, but for many of us, it still feels like a mystery. Is it about emptying your mind? Sitting cross-legged for hours? Chanting mantras in a quiet cave?

The truth is much simpler: meditation is the practice of bringing your attention into the present moment. It’s training your mind, in the same way exercise trains your body. And just like exercise, it comes with incredible benefits. And just like exercise, one crunch doesn’t yield a six pack, so…

What Meditation Really Means

At its core (did I just make an ab joke), meditation is about awareness. It’s noticing your thoughts, feelings, and body but the key difference is: without judgment. Instead of getting swept away by stress, worry, or distractions, meditation gives you the ability to pause, breathe, and respond with clarity. When you sit in stillness and either listen to a guide, or read one, or try a specific method (more on those below) you are finding a way to work on that inner, ever-present monologue that can be your super power or your biggest pain point.

It took me a while to realize that this isn’t about “shutting off” your thoughts. Rather, it’s about changing your relationship with them. And while the outline or exploration of the process might seem simple, it can take time to have breakthroughs, time for a ha moments, time for realizations. But like we say in yoga, “practice and all is coming”.

The Benefits of Meditation

Science now backs up what ancient traditions have always known: meditation is powerful. Studies show it can:

• Reduce stress and anxiety

• Improve focus and memory

• Boost emotional resilience

• Lower blood pressure and support physical health

• Increase feelings of calm, connection, and self-compassion

So if you keep thinking of it as mental strength training, the more you practice, the more benefits you’ll see in everyday life. We spoke about change before, about wanting a new result and preparing yourself and your community for your transformation. It’s hard not to come out on the other side of a continued practice miles away from where you started.

How to Begin A Meditation Practice

Ok so you’re curious. Sweet. If you’re new to meditation, you have to believe it’s ok to start simple. You don’t need fancy cushions, incense, or an hour of silence. I always felt like the barrier was too high, but this is for anyone. I suggest you:

1. Find a quiet space. It doesn’t have to be silent, just somewhere you feel comfortable. Mine is a couch corner in my dining room (no judging).

2. Set a timer. Start with 3 - 5 minutes. Even one minute is better than none.

3. Focus on your breath. Notice the inhale, notice the exhale.

4. When your mind wanders, just let it. You didn’t do something wrong. The wandering is the practice: every return strengthens your focus.

5. Close with gratitude. Acknowledge the time you gave yourself.

And that’s really what I did, for maybe a week or two. Not every day that was impossible. But if I forgot or couldn’t make space, I would try again. Watch timer didn’t work. But leaving my notebook in a place it was kinda in the way did. So you might have to try a few ways to get to the thing that gets you consistent.

Different Types of Meditation

Not every practice looks the same. The more you explore, you WILL find what works for you. Personally I was no good at visualizations, because I didn’t have a happy place. Until I literally found a beach in Stari Grad Croatia that was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen... now I visualize that. Water might annoy you or be triggering. So maybe you picture a mountain hike. Or a pinball arcade - legit not sure if you can find calm but it might for sure be your happy place. If you need a focus while you are meditating look up which one of these you think might suit you:

Mindfulness Meditation – focusing on the breath or body sensations
Mantra Meditation – repeating a word, sound, or phrase
Guided Meditation – listening to an audio or teacher’s voice
Movement Meditation – yoga, walking, or tai chi with awareness
Loving-Kindness Meditation – cultivating compassion for yourself and others

Why Meditation Is About Practice, Not Perfection

Many beginners quit because they think they’re “bad at meditation.” The secret is: there’s no way to fail. Every moment you sit down and return to your breath, you’re practicing. Growth comes through repetition, not perfection. Meditation is less about doing it right and more about showing up again and again.

Next Step: Try It for Yourself

If you’re ready to begin, I created a free Beginner’s Meditation Guide with a super simple practice you can try today.

👉 [Download Your Free Guide Here]

And if you’d like to go deeper, check out all of my Guided Meditation Downloads, a collection of audios designed to help you build calm, focus, and inner balance, one practice at a time.

The Fourth Trimester

Bringing our girl home was surreal just like all moms say. I got on my couch. I took deep breaths. I waited for the overwhelming flood of pure joy. It came. But it also came with something else: a strangeness I wasn't prepared to name. Who is this lady in my home now caring for a child? Husband is now a dad what will that be like? Who does what? Where do we start?

We did so many things right. Our baby was healthy. Our family showed up. We had plans, we had fun. And yet, there was this peculiar feeling like we were living in someone else's life, watching ourselves move through the motions while something fundamental had shifted beneath us. That's the fourth trimester. I personally think it’s impossible to prepare for it.

The Fourth Trimester Isn't What You Think It Is

First, let's name what we're talking about: the fourth trimester per ‘most of the internet’ is roughly the first three months after birth. It's that in-between time when your baby is here but you're still recovering. You just has a 40 week medical event (my brother called it this best term ever so accurate) and smooth or traumatic, it happened. At this time, you're likely not sure if what you're feeling is joy or dissociation. You love your baby more than you've ever loved anything …and also kind of want to disappear.

Doctors call it postpartum adjustment. Therapists call it a critical mental health period. But I call it the strangest, most contradictory, most tender time I've ever lived through.

And I wish someone had told me: all of it is normal. The joy AND the tension AND the strange blurry moments are not signs you're failing. They're signs you're human.

The Peace Moments (These Are Real)

There were moments in those early weeks that felt sacred. Day or night, baby sleeping on my chest, cat at my feet, everyone else in the house silent. The house breathing around us. No one needing anything. No expectations. Just me and this tiny human I created, existing together in the dark. Exquisite.

There's a kind of peace that only comes after you've been through something intense. You've survived birth. Your baby is here and healthy. You're alive. For a few seconds at a time, that's enough. That's everything. I'd be feeding my baby and suddenly feel this wave of gratitude so big it almost knocked me over. I'd look at my partner holding our baby and think: we made this. we're doing this. this is real. We prayed and waited and wished and now it’s real.

The peace wasn't constant, but when it came, it was profound.

The Tension (This Is Also Normal)

But here's the part nobody wants to talk about: there was tension. Between my partner and me. Between who I used to be and who I felt myself becoming. Between my body and my mind. Between my expectations and reality. Eventually some nights were hard. Someone always needed something. Everyone was tired. Small disagreements became big ones. "Why didn't you do X?" "I thought you were handling Y?" We were still in a tremendous love upswing but operating from a place of scarcity: scarcity of sleep, of space, of patience.

There was tension in my own skin. My body didn't feel like mine. I was healing from birth while simultaneously being needed constantly. My breasts hurt. My emotions were all over the place. One minute I was fine, the next I was crying at a commercial. The tensions ran between love and resentment. Between gratitude and rage. Between "this is the most important thing I've ever done" and "I want to run away, will I never have a break again."

Nobody tells you that you can feel both things at the same time. That you can be the most devoted mother and also be angry. That you can love your baby fiercely and also feel trapped by the demands of newborn care. The tension doesn't mean something is wrong. It means you're experiencing something real and complicated.

The Strange Times (Dissociation Is More Common Than You Think)

There were moments that felt out of body: I'd go through the motions, feed, change, soothe, repeat…and feel like I was floating above myself. Is this what's happening? Is this real? When did I become a mother? Who am I now?

I'd read something about postpartum anxiety or depression and think: Is this me? Am I okay? But I wasn't sad exactly. I wasn't anxious exactly (well a bit of OCD style anxiety was real). I was mostly just feeling... strange. Untethered.

Turns out, this dissociation, this sense of observing your own life from the outside, is incredibly common in the postpartum period. Your hormones are in free fall. You're severely sleep-deprived. Your entire identity has shifted overnight. Of course you feel strange. The strange moments weren't signs I was broken. They were signs my nervous system was adjusting to the most dramatic change of my life.

The Joy (Yes, It's Real)

And then there was the joy. Not the Instagram-worthy joy. The messy, complicated, caught-me-off-guard joy. Beanie baby smiled. The joy of my baby's hand wrapped around my finger. The joy of my partner stepping in to hold the baby so I could take a shower, knowing I was going to cry in that shower and it was okay. The joy of my mom sitting in my living room, not judging, just being while I figured out how to be a mother. The joy of surviving a really hard night and making it to morning. The joy of realizing I'm actually doing this. I'm actually a mother. And I'm not completely falling apart.

The joy was there, woven through the difficulty. Not as a consolation prize. Not as a way to make the hard parts worth it. Just... there. Real. Enough.

The Blurry Moments (And That's Okay)

Most of the fourth trimester is blurry. I have photos from those first weeks and I can barely remember them being taken. I look at my baby in those photos and think: Did that actually happen? Was I really there?

The blurriness comes from sleep deprivation, hormones, and just the sheer intensity of adjusting to a new reality. Your brain is protecting you by making some of it fuzzy. It's a kindness, actually. Those blurry moments aren't moments you're wasting or missing out on. They're moments your nervous system is processing at a different pace than your consciousness. You're actually there, even if you can't remember being there.

The blurriness passes. One day you wake up and realize you can remember what day it is. You're sleeping more than 2-hour stretches. Your baby isn't brand new anymore. The blurriness lifts. And you realize: I did it. We did it. A milestone and a groove. We are in this and it’s working.

The Contradiction That Holds It All

The fourth trimester is the hardest, most beautiful, most confusing time. You're exhausted and exhilarated. You're deeply bonded and also touched out. You're grateful and resentful. You're present and dissociated. You're doing everything right and everything feels wrong. All of it is true at the same time.

If someone had told me in the hospital: "You're going to feel all of this. The peace and the tension. The joy and the strangeness. The blurriness and the crystal clear moments. You're going to feel it all, sometimes in the same afternoon, and that means you're exactly where you need to be"…I think it would have helped.

Because I spent a lot of that time thinking something was wrong with me. That I should feel one way or the other. That good mothers feel good all the time. That if I was struggling, I must be failing. But that's not how the fourth trimester works.

What I Wish I'd Known

1. The fourth trimester is a real transition, not just a recovery period. Your body is healing, yes. But you're also becoming someone new. That's huge. That's worthy of respect and gentleness.

2. The weird feelings don't mean something is wrong. Dissociation, tension, blurriness, these are normal nervous system responses to an abnormal situation (you just birthed a human and now they're here and you're responsible forever).

3. You don't have to feel grateful to justify the difficulty. Yes, your baby is a blessing. That doesn't mean the fourth trimester isn't hard. Both things are true.

4. The blurriness is temporary. Around week 12, something shifts. Your baby starts smiling more. You start sleeping slightly more. The fog lifts. You realize you survived.

5. You need support, even if you "did it right." Having a healthy baby and a good partner doesn't mean you don't need help. You do. Ask for it. Let people bring you meals and hold your baby so you can shower.

6. Your relationship will survive the tension. My partner and I were speaking in grunts by day 5. By week 8, we were holding hands again. The tension doesn't mean you're broken as a couple. It means you're both exhausted and adjusting.

7. This time is fleeting. I know it doesn't feel that way at 3 AM when you've been up for 4 hours. But one day your baby will sleep through the night. And you'll miss some of it (not the exhaustion, but the closeness, the quiet, the intensity).

If You're In The Fourth Trimester Right Now

You're not failing. You're not broken. You're not weak for struggling. You're not ungrateful for finding it hard. You're in one of the most transformative, disorienting, beautiful, difficult times of your life. And you're doing it. You're showing up. You're holding your baby. You're surviving the nights and the tension and the strangeness.

That's everything.

The peace will come in small moments and you'll be surprised by how much it heals you. The tension will ease, even if it doesn't disappear. The strange blurriness will lift and you'll remember your own name again. The joy will surprise you with its intensity. And one day, you'll realize: I'm not in the fourth trimester anymore. I'm on the other side. I made it through.

You will too. Take it from me years later, feeling fully you again might take you more time. We’re all on different paths. Don’t rush.

What Helped Me Through

• Letting go of expectations about what I "should" be feeling

• Talking about it with my partner, my mom, my friends

• Grounding practices when dissociation felt too intense (more on that in another post)

• Sleep (whenever I could get it) and support (asking for and accepting help)

• Remembering that this phase is temporary, that my nervous system would recalibrate, that it gets easier

And yes, meditation and mindfulness. Not as a cure-all, but as a way to come home to my body when it felt like I was floating away. Even five minutes of breath awareness helped me feel like myself again.

The fourth trimester taught me something I needed to learn: transformation is messy. New beginnings have tension and strangeness alongside the joy. And the most powerful thing I can do is witness all of it without trying to fix it or prettify it.

You're Not Alone In This

If you're in the fourth trimester and you're feeling any of this - the tension, the strangeness, the blurriness - you're not alone. Thousands of mothers are feeling it right now. Sitting in the darkness. Questioning themselves. Surviving on no sleep and pure love.

You're doing it. And you're doing it better than you think.

Have you been through the fourth trimester? What surprised you? What helped you most? Let's normalize the messy, beautiful, complicated truth of bringing a baby home.

If you're struggling with postpartum depression, anxiety, or intrusive thoughts, please reach out to a mental health professional. Postpartum Support International has resources at PSI.org.

The Third Trimester

The notes get fuzzy here. Even with time, the journaling got pushed aside. It’ll happen to the best of us.

While I was dialing work back and nesting, I was still moving at a pretty good clip for most of the time leading up to baby’s due date.

We didn’t talk about birth plans with others, and it was a challenging path to walk, but we trusted our doctor implicitly. As I understand it, with my age and the baby looking great, we were to set a date for induction for many reasons that made sense. Not because it was ‘convenient’ or better for the hospital. I think there’s a general misunderstanding between many moms-to-be and their providers that could be overcome with good communication. I had a great team that wanted to position my delivery and the baby for our best chance at success and I believe that. I could advocate for myself, ask questions, and gain clarity on the logic and process.

Funny enough from my home yoga studio I knew a doula, but she couldn’t go forward with me timing-wise. She referred me out to someone that ‘turned me down’. For real. An email that was like, we’re not a fit. At the time it felt like being dumped or worse, I was so hurt. After the fact (hindsight being what it is) thank goodness. We had our own angels with us.

For the rest of my pregnancy we:

• nested so hard. Built furniture. Arranged and rearranged.

• I threw a baby shower in Austin where I spoke to a room full of women and thanked them for their part in my life, and charged them with having a part in the baby’s. I was proud of that. Oh and we did that while hubby had covid. Thumbs-down emoji on that.

• Took my mom and mom-in-law to a bonus ultrasound and scan. Since I’m old, the moms didn’t have our fancy tech when they had babies. Very cool to show them their future grandbaby. Highly recommend.

• I worked. I ate pizza. I did yoga. I napped hard. I did my face and hair and took a million bump photos. I went out to the lake in a bikini. It kind of felt like doing both the most and the least possible to maximize these last new moments of time on my terms.

• We had company. We did a maternity shoot. I flew to a client’s work conference. Flying pregnant was a delight. I flew to MI again too, and it’s just somehow so nice to be pregnant in very public places and see kindness all around you. People love life and the hope of new life don’t let them fool you.

• I sat out in the sun. A ton. Walked barefoot to practice grounding.

• We went on lots of dates as a couple.

• We started a countdown. Loved updating the chalkboard every day. SO funny counting down to something you can’t imagine. Or understand. Soon a thing will happen. We do not know what it will be like, not at all. Yay!

• A couple of our best friends welcomed their baby right before us. <3

• More bump pics. Can’t stress this enough. You’d think I was an influencer. Or that I was going to post them, ever. I didn’t, not really.

I think it was about 3 days before, my bestie whom I’ve known since I was 17 flew in to help. Gave the cats love. Fed us, and helped around the house. Got us all packed up. Took the photos for us. The day before, walked me a full mile around the mall while my feet started PLUMPING up. And then it was time.

The Second Trimester

Every step along the way in a pregnancy after loss is a milestone. Another big one for me was crossing the threshold into my forties. My second trimester included my 40th birthday and so many little moments that changed what I thought my entire life was going to look like. While my husband and I have a love we felt confident would endure a childless future, we sat now in a new contemplation and planning for completely different circumstances. We bought some books. We sat and imagined. We worked hard. And all in all the day I turned 40 was one of profound peace.

This is in spite of the fact that the age was the major concern of the pregnancy. They used to call it “geriatric” (ouch) but now refer to this as “advanced maternal age” (still ouch).

During my second trimester we:

• Got to feel and see baby kick and move and wiggle in my belly. To say my husband might have gotten exhausted of me saying “come feel this” is the understatement of the year.

• Went wild with the nesting; shopping for new furniture, barstools, the baby dresser. Cleaning closets, reorganizing spaces, donating tons of things. Landscaped our backyard to add pavers, patio seating and lounge space.

• I found local “buy nothing” groups and started gifting everything we didn’t need to get us a little more minimalistic lifestyle.

• Got to say goodbye to the Erwin Center and see a UT men’s basketball game.

• Went to a ton of local hockey games.

• Leaned into the sweet tooth…and treated ourselves to ice cream, donuts, whatever the baby wanted 😆

• Went with a little wild gut feeling and allowed hubby to completely transition into a new job.

• Started shopping even more aggressively for baby girl after her scans kept coming back perfect.

• Went to see an Austin FC match.

• If you can believe it, crushed SXSW.

Here’s the thing. If I felt good in my first trimester, I somehow felt even better in my second. The reassurance of every passing week added to my stability, joy, energy. I got out in the sun more and more days and felt strong and happy to venture out. I didn’t really turn down any invites the first three months but I sure did sleep and rest a lot. January/February/March I felt like I was jet setting around town and venturing out tons.

I was so proud to go out pregnant. I wanted everyone to see me the way I’d always dreamt I’d be. I loved the kind excitement and well wishes so many shared. And ok, I just did day parties and ran away from downtown when the sun went down during SX. But I did the dang thing. Got the steps in every day. Saw shows. Even before she was here, I knew it was so important to me that baby girl always knew what kind of human I am. What kind of mom. And that’s someone that’s gonna say yes. Gonna get while the getting is good. I hope if there’s anything good I can pass down “find what feeds your soul and pursue that relentlessly” is up there.

The First Trimester

One of my favorite things about my pregnancy was absolutely the timing. Finding out that I was pregnant and getting to share that with my husband on his birthday was a sweet treasure. Celebrating things like Thanksgiving and Christmas and then getting to tell all of our friends and family during holidays and my birthday was spectacular.

I was extremely fortunate to have a fantastic first trimester. I remember some headaches and being tired, but nothing out of the norm. I kept waiting for something really bad to happen, or for me to be nonstop sick or unable to do certain things, but if anything, I felt very clearheaded, serene, alive, very calm, peaceful and collected. It was kind of a welcome change from my usual, and I understand why some women absolutely love being pregnant.

I do remember actually, it was mildly hilarious, that I could not see, or touch raw meat at all. I was essentially a vegetarian for the first trimester. I finally woke up craving protein and caved and was able to eat a hamburger or go out for a steak.

During my first trimester we:

• Traveled to San Antonio and I finally was able to meet my niece for the first time post Covid

• Got to attend a family friend’s wedding and personally tell everyone that we were pregnant right before Christmas - we bought these Amazon scratchers, as we have a long-standing tradition of doing a lot of tickets over the holidays.

• Celebrated an early Christmas with family and revealed our baby news, found out the results of our early testing that the baby appeared happy healthy and that it was going to be a girl!

• Bought a few clothing items and some of the first actual baby things that we were going to need

• I discovered a love for decaf (quit caffeine completely)

• I took a lot more time than I expected it to enjoy self-care manicures, pedicures, yoga…tried to chill in the bathtub but that never was and is still not my favorite

• I began my prenatal yoga teacher training

Every day that went by I felt better. I craved greens, smoothies, sure some sugar and junk food too but a lot of good things. I obviously wasn’t drinking or really hitting my bandwidth limit like I usually do, so I was less burnt out. Overall the baby was helping me be my best and I felt my best. I absolutely felt weird waiting to feel worse and just realizing after waiting so long it didn’t have to be a torturous pregnancy to be a viable one.

Photos: our announcement, the trip to San Antonio, the bow on the bump, sharing the news with family via the Christmas photo

Can you Keep a Secret?

I think I’ve narrowed down my points to experience per trimester, but I bet they’ll be some interesting random tidbits in between as well. From day one the first thing that changes about your life is time. Period. Time stops having a meaning when minute to minute hour to hour day to day, all you can think about is growing a little baby inside of you and hoping that everything is going OK. I was obsessed with what I ate (and yes I was starving from day 1) how I was feeling, and what was going on. I guess I was one of the lucky ones that didn’t have a lot of symptoms other than being super tired and having a little bit of a light headache that seemed pretty constant. Although that in itself can be cause for concern. If I’m not puking is the baby growing?

Around week eight I started spotting. As it got heavier, I started to panic and we ended up in the ER that night. I was diagnosed with SCH, which I learned was a subchorionic hematoma. The first few minutes of being in the ER were terrifying and I of course went back-and-forth between trying to be positive and trying not to assume the worst and absolutely being devastated and feeling that familiar feeling of loss. I got into the ultrasound and was able to see my baby‘s heartbeat - something I’ve never seen before. The waves of emotion…I’d never felt so much at once. They measured the SCH - a larger one is cause for greater concern, but mine was small(ish) and so all I could do was go home, wait and rest. No lifting heavy things, be careful. I was sent home. While this wasn’t on the one hand how I wanted to see my baby for the first time, it was remarkable that we went home with an image and a confirmed pregnancy, albeit a high risk one.

I think about secrets here because this was traumatic. This was during the week, this was during work, in sort of still a pandemic. This was while I had meetings and life and I had only told my mom and mother-in-law about this pregnancy. I had to like, keep doing the things you just “do”, without letting my trauma and fear seep into my day to day.

Overall as a human being, I like to think that I’m a good friend and good keeper of secrets. Actually looking back at it I don’t know if anyone’s ever told me a very big secret, or that I’ve ever had to keep a secret for someone else. In this case, I was keeping a secret for myself and it was very very hard if I got a rude email or if someone asked me why I wasn’t doing something. It was so hard not to say well I just got back from the ER, I haven’t slept and I’m afraid of losing the baby that you didn’t know that I was pregnant with.

I didn’t just need the empathy but the context is always helpful as the popular saying goes ‘you never know with someone else is dealing with’, so you should always be kind. I definitely gained a lot of empathy after going through this and I was reminded that it’s so true that someone can be dealing with something you have no idea about when you send that rude email or are snappy in the cashier check out line. Big life lesson to add to my stressed-out plate and pregnant brain.

So there we were, keeping our tough secret. Definitely scaling back activities, and I would just try to sit and rest and manifest positive thoughts. I did look online for affirmations, and positive pregnancy mantras. I sat and meditated, and I spent a lot of time doing research that would help me try to be positive instead of negative about the situation that I was in. However, a lot of times you just have to log off the Internet.

After a while, I realized that all of the positive affirmations were actually making me spiral in the other direction. I found this in yoga to be true as well - sometimes going as extreme as possible pushes me too far and as a human, I need to dial it back to be rational and to manifest just the right amount and not overdo it. I was lucky to have a strong partner that would listen to me/let me bitch/hear me out, and as soon as I vented, I often felt better. So we sat. We watched. We waited. We prayed. I kept working and kept the minutes, hours, days added together without further incident. I was manifesting the little baby that could.

We made it to our 10-week appointment, and we had another scare. Another trip to the ER. More blood, more incredibly scary times again during work, during the day, during a pressing time of year, during when life is just happening to you and all you can do is drive yourself to the hospital and pray, again.

Once again, we were able to confirm the pregnancy was viable. The baby was OK and the spotting was a side effect. Not a sign of anything bad! At that point, we started to believe that our little baby was going to make it.

Photos: my first picture of our little miracle, my first bump photo, the milestone I hit while nine weeks pregnant, a memory of the funny celebration.

Before

I’m a little out of sorts already as I try to get my bearings and plan out my course of storytelling. What’s been so fun for me about this process is that I actually kept a small journal (better at the beginning of my pregnancy and it definitely trailed off but nonetheless) recording the process. I’m basically doing this as a year in review looking back on the days exactly as I remember them and based on pictures and journal notes to remind myself of what I went through.

Because I’m never one to take things slow I also did a prenatal yoga teacher training during my pregnancy. I’ve just wrapped it up and I’ve learned so much about the postpartum process and the emotional healing that needs to take place. So many women don’t get the time or space to make this happen. I luckily am using this space and my time with my newborn to make sure that my mental health is in a good place.

I keep thinking about Covid and the moms that came before me. My sister-in-law and brother had their baby two years before me and Covid affected our ability to visit and spend quality family time together. I saw numerous other women post on social media about their pregnancies and then about their experiences and either the lack of family time or just the toll that Covid took on all facets of their life when there was still so much unknown.

We somehow managed to hunker down; we actually bought and closed on our house the day that everyone really noticed the impact of Covid - we vividly remember all sports shutting down. The first few months of quarantine fast-forwarded our marriage a bit in a positive direction; where we got to spend so much time together doing what we love: playing Jeopardy and making meals, nesting a bit in our new home, and just spending quality time - I think that’s his love language. A year into it and after some vaccines (I’ll never forget driving through COTA for the unreal pandemic mass vaccination site experience)… we made the careful decision to re-quarantine for the summer in Michigan with my in-laws.

Well you might not think that that’s the ideal place to be TTC and to some degree you would be right! But we were doing it anyway; I was monitoring and tracking with apps every day, every week, every temperature change, every ovulation test strip and when it was time to go we did our best. The nuts and bolts of this process are all too obvious to anyone that has been through it before and pretty self-explanatory even if you haven’t. The cycle that you may not realize that you end up on however is the ups and downs of fingers crossed, highs and lows, and waiting for a result that continually doesn’t come. The what if, the not drinking, the casual feeling that maybe you’re sore or tired or swollen or cranky because it happened! But it didn’t. I don’t have the exact count anymore but I would guess that it was maybe two full years of month after month on that roller coaster before we decided that it wasn’t going to happen. Possibly impossible.

One Covid quarantine night back home we had the discussion where I made sure that we were enough for each other. We talked about alternatives. We talked about adoption, about going any further, getting looked at etc. and what our options were. We did both end up getting “checked” so to speak ( I think funnier on the guy side) and both of us had no concerning results, there was no answer to the mystery.

But at the time, we decided we could maybe look into fostering. We would throw away the ovulation kits, delete the tracking app, and live life together, doing our best.

I can only share my lived experience but I did feel a shift pretty quickly. The cliché that things happen when you least expect them is not quite right but it’s more like giving up the stress of being disappointed, giving up the negative tests and giving up the attachment to the idea of being a failure by not being able to become a mom or to keep her pregnancy… letting all of that go let me finally feel free. That weight was lifted. I threw myself into my other hobbies and passions. I got in great shape, joining the gym once they re-opened, I went almost every single day. Together we worked on our health and well-being, ate very clean, gave up a lot of alcohol, all things that sound so easy but can be tumultuous when you’re pressuring yourself into trying for a pregnancy.

When it was safe to travel again we went to Croatia. It was and still is the most amazing trip I’ve ever been on. We came home thinking if it was just going to be the two of us forever it wasn’t going to be so bad.

Photos: Me, date night 100% the day we conceived haha, us on Graeme’s birthday after I told him, us in Croatia at a park and on a hike.

Surprised by Joy, Birthday Style

A year ago today it was probably one of the most exciting nerve-racking days of my life.

There’s nothing that prepares you for the excitement of seeing the very thing you expected to never ever see. I went a little crazy with the multiple tests that I took watching the two lines get darker and darker, in total shock.

Some of the classic warning signs were there, in hindsight I was so surprised I’d missed them. When I finally had an inkling, I’d gone out to dinner with a girlfriend and had a glass of wine and thought maybe something was wrong with it because I couldn’t even finish it. I had a sip and it just tasted so off. It made me immediately extremely tired and uninterested in my meal. I didn’t finish the wine and I even apologized and said “I need to go home” kind of abruptly. I went home and slept for maybe a 10 or 12 hour stretch which is super unlike me.

I think the sleeping was probably the main symptom but ironically because of Covid I assumed that’s what was going on at first and definitely was watching out for other signs of sickness, testing my taste buds and my sense of smell and other things that I’d heard to be Covid symptoms but I didn’t have any of those… Eventually I figured there’s only one thing that it might be and I took a pregnancy test. During my TTC journey I had bought many test strips, they sell in huge quantities on Amazon, something you’d maybe only be familiar with if you’ve been on a similar path. I still had a few of those and I thought I saw a double line the first time I took it and then I eventually end up taking five or six more to be sure. They tell you to test first thing in the morning but I was testing every single time that I had a full bladder and I was convincing myself at first but then yes, there was no mistaking the faint lines were getting darker.

My husband was actually in San Antonio visiting his grandmother and as much as I tried to hide my excitement all I could end up mustering was a “you need to come home ASAP” message so that he didn’t spend any time on his way back making any extra stops. There’s not much you can do that doesn’t give it away so of course he kind of knew what was going on and he showed up pretty quickly afterwards with a smile on his face and a iPhone note sheet of potential baby names, laughing with an ecstatic, hopeful grin about this breaking news.

Being able to share this post on his birthday and the fact that I told him on his birthday last year is extra special to me because one of the things I really love about being married is experiencing this with him. Obviously something that neither of us have done before: the highs and lows of the journey but also the excitement and the thrill that we felt for this day and probably 2 to 3 months into the future when everything started going smoothly and we could trust and believe that the baby was here to stay and that this was a thing that was happening. I love being married and love the partnership we have. We stepped warily into the unknown and I have loved every minute since especially with him as my partner through it all. I’ll never forget the first few minutes, hours, and days where it was only he and I that knew our incredible secret.

Photos: The cat knew before I did, my first selfie pregnant, our last photo together before we knew we were pregnant (on vacation in the UP), all the tests the first few days.

A Refreshing Start to the Story

From 2006-2016 I blogged. It wasn’t good. In fact I feel bad that I actually had subscribers. As it turns out, I didn’t really have much to say.

Looking back there was some fun stuff. Travel tales, house remodel updates and stories from time spent with friends that I’m glad I documented for myself to reread. But it was just more noise and distracting in some ways from the real writing that I wanted to be doing. The blog started from me joining NaNoWriMo, National Novel Writing Month. Over the course of two Novembers I did actually manage to get two manuscripts completed. I have never done anything with them.

Since then my life has completely changed. I went from housewife to single in a new city and starting over, to finding the love of my life, traveling, deepening my yoga journey and so, so much more. Along that path what I came to hate most about social media is how it gives everyone a platform. That’s supposed to be the beauty of it but unfortunately, as we’ve seen over the recent years it spreads misinformation and negativity. I dropped off more or less completely to protect my mental health and time. But, ironically I was still consuming, just not posting. It has become in many ways the only way to know what is going on with people that you might not talk to you all the time but you still care about. But no more blogs and not a lot of sharing or insight into my life coming from my end.

Then there was Covid and we all were shooketh, in varied ways. Hubby the cats and I hunkered down pretty seriously and started out drinking and zooming like so many, but then switched gears into crazy cooking and exercising. As a reward this time last year I was in a wonderful place. My marriage thrived, my work was going great, and I was in probably the best shape of my life when not skiing 100+ days a year. We were in some aspects newlyweds through all this but also making up time by always being together in quarantine.

I did miss the writing and thought that I would pick it back up but there’s always something else to take up all of that extra time I thought that we had. It was easy to get burnt out staring at the computer after being on the computer all day. My 300 hour yoga training happened online and was a blessing. The world slowly emerged and began to reopen, we were able to venture back out again.

Amidst all this, my husband and I were “TTC”, trying to conceive. An acronym you are blessed if you have never heard or if you are all too familiar with, hugs to you. There were apps and tests and all of the work that you can imagine (giggle) goes in to the endeavor. But no baby.

Of course you can guess/you already know what happens next, but that’s for the next update. I’m dusting off a platform and space for myself to document this journey because there’s no question about it, it was miraculous.

Photos: Covid yoga, Covid golf, Covid margarita run, cats that loved moving into a big beautiful new home.

Joya no Kane

After graduating from 200 hour Registered Yoga Teacher Training, there was no better way to celebrate than to ring in the New Year in Japan.

Whichever side of the decade debate you fall on (is it now or 2021), there’s no fault in enjoying 2020 as a reset, a time for new beginnings. New year, new you may be cliché, but it’s all what you make it and any day is a good day to set an intention.

I was never that ‘into’ numbers or signs, and found a lot of it to be a bit hokey, until of course, learning more about it and seeing it work in real life examples. Proof can make a non believer change their mind easily.

108 is a sacred number across many fields and religions, our friends at WHY did 108 Sun Salutations to welcome the New Year. Mala beads have 108 beads. (More 108 meanings here). I was curious why the number mattered and learned from our tour guide Michikio in Japan:

Your six senses (smell, touch, taste, sight, hearing and consciousness) can receive pleasant painful or neutral feelings. They can be externally or internally generated, and they can be past present or future. 36*3 = 108.

I found the Buddhist and even more so the Shinto culture in Japan to be fascinating. So on New Year we learned in Japan most shrines will ring their bells and the 108 tolls ring out the old sensory issues and clear your path into a new year as a reset. We visited maybe a dozen different places across our trip and both a Shinto and Buddhist temple on New Year’s Eve around midnight.

We learned the cleansing ritual to enter the shrines.

We were welcome warmly and gave our saisen donations (with the proper coinage).

We were in awe of the beauty of all the gates, festivities, people and beauty at each place we visited.

It was a truly magical experience to kick off 2020. Warmest wishes, prayers and good things to all of you reading!

Photos: us in market, Shinto temple, donation entry, large temple.

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