In case you missed it on social media, let me introduce you to the newest member of our family, Theodore "Teddy" Starr Vaneria (more pics at the bottom of this post)!

He was born on Friday, July 12th at 3:17am, weighing 8 lbs 10.3 oz. and measuring 21" tall. We brought him home on Sunday, July 14th and are all [obviously] COMPLETELY in love with him--especially his big sister, who cannot stop hugging and kissing him every chance she gets. 

As promised--and because I love reading other people's birth stories--I wanted to share Teddy's birth story before I start to forget all of the important details. As a quick summary for those who don't want to read the novel that follows, I'll just say that this birth was the exact opposite of Charlie Mae's traumatic birth (which you can read about here). I left this birth experience feeling strong, empowered, and healed, for which I am so grateful.

You can read all of the nitty gritty details below: 

On the week of Teddy's birth, starting on Monday night, I started having period-like cramps. In fact, the cramping that I felt on Monday night was intense enough that I started to wonder if it was the beginning of labor; when I went into labor with Charlie Mae it started as cramps just like these, so I thought the same thing might be happening again with Teddy. But as the week wore on, the cramps continued with no sign of real labor, so I stopped reading into them.

Then on Thursday, July 11th, Charlie Mae and I were out on our usual morning walk when I started to feel the cramps more intensely. We got home from our walk and went to the grocery store. As we walked around Whole Foods, I found myself slowing down and holding my belly with each cramp, and thought that perhaps I should start timing them when I got home, just to see if they were somewhat regular. 

When we got home around 11:30am, I used the app on my phone to time the cramps and sure enough, they were somewhat regular, each between about 5-10 mins apart. I kept paying attention to them throughout the next few hours and when Ben got home around 1:30, I told him that I might be in the beginning stages of labor. At these words he got bug-eyed and crazy looking (haha!), and I told him not to freak out (LOL) but to start preparing as if I was going to go into labor that night, just in case. 

Over the next few hours as Charlie Mae napped, we slowly packed up, cleared the beach stuff out of the trunk of my car, called Ben's mom to ask her to come sleep over, and prepared ourselves for a nighttime labor, just in case. The contractions continued to intensify and become more and more regular slowly throughout the day, and around 5pm we went for a family walk during which I started to feel them even more and had to start walking much slower than usual. 

We had dinner as a family (I ate a big meal in case it would be my last for a while), I put Charlie Mae to bed--bending over her crib to have a few intense contractions while I did so--and then Ben and I came to the conclusion that this was the real deal, so we should try and go to bed early in an attempt to get some rest before things got serious. I called my midwives and alerted my doula that I was in the beginning stages of labor and would probably be coming in sometime in the next 12-ish hours, and then we climbed into bed. 

But silly me! To think I could sleep through these contractions! By 9pm they were intense enough that with each contraction I had to jump out of bed, lean over the bed, move my hips, and moan. I was having back labor again (which happened during my entire labor with Charlie Mae) and the contractions were STRONG. I eventually moved into the nursery so Ben could sleep and labored on my own, each contraction more and more sensational than the last (and stronger than I thought they should be at this time). 

Around midnight I called the midwife again and asked her what she thought I should do about coming in. I was set on laboring at home as long as possible, but also had a 25-min drive to the hospital so was worried about having these intense contractions in the car and about making it in time. 

I should also pause to mention that I was positive for Group B Strep this time around. For those who don't know, GBS is a bacteria that can live in the vagina of 25% of healthy women and doesn't affect the woman, but can be transmitted to the baby during labor and if it is transmitted, can be dangerous. It's really not an issue if the mom gets intravenous antibiotics every 4 hours during labor, but it is important to get these antibiotics to protect your baby, so that made it important that I get to the hospital in time to get those antibiotics in me before I had the babe. 

SO...when I called my midwife and she could hear how intense things had gotten, she told me I should come in--especially because I needed to get the antibiotics. I woke Ben up, said let's hit the road, and we did. 

<OH MAN THAT DRIVE TO THE HOSPITAL!!!!>

On the 25-minute drive, I had about 6 or 7 contractions. Taking them sitting down was miserable; we had all of the windows down and I was just throwing back my head and moaning like a wild animal. In fact, if there's one theme to Teddy's labor and birth, it's that I turned into the most raw, primal, animalistic version of a person that could ever exist--I was only tapped into the sensations in my body and didn't care AT ALL about anything else happening around me. 

We got to the hospital around 12:45 or 1am, walked to the maternity unit (I was offered a wheelchair but DID NOT want to sit again), and were immediately escorted into the tub room, which is the room I had requested when we called. My midwife came in and checked me and said I was at 5 or 6 cm dilated, so she was glad I came in. They hooked me up to a fetal monitoring device in order to get a "20 minute strip" on the baby's activity and started getting me set up for IV antibiotics while I continued to labor leaning over the bed. 

The next little while was spent trying my best to get through my crazy contractions while they did the intake basics and got what they needed from me. All I wanted to do was get in the tub and get some relief, but they had to fill it (which takes FOREVER) and get the stats on the babe in my belly, which was hard because I kept moving to get through the contractions, which would knock the monitor out of place, which would then lead to the nurse having to move it again to get a read and thus, made it take a lot longer. 

As I labored on the bed (now on hands and knees) waiting for the tub to fill and the fetal monitoring to be over, my water broke and things started to get even more intense. A little after this I was checked again and pronounced to be around 9cm (so those last 3-4 cm happened in just an hour or so), but I was not fully effaced yet (there was just one tiny part of my cervix left) so I was told we had a little more to go before I could start to push.

This same thing happened when I was in labor with Charlie Mae and I was told to push too early, which is thought to be one of the main reasons that things started to go in the wrong direction, so I was very nervous about pushing too early again and took their advice. 

At some point around this same time the tub was finally ready and I was allowed to get in, which was a GAME-CHANGER. Getting in the tub gave me the tiny bit of relief that I needed in order to get through the last 30 minutes or so of contractions before I had to get out and push.

While I was in the tub I had my "bloody show" (ugh I hate that term!) and everyone told me not to worry, that this meant things were about to happen. Right after this, I started getting the urge to push with each contraction. I had just been checked and had been told that I wasn't totally effaced yet, so everyone told me to hold off on pushing. This was SO crazy hard because I felt like I no longer had any control over my body, but I didn't actively push any harder than my body was doing on it's own with each contraction.

My time spent laboring in the tub was marked by loud noises (I kept having to be reminded to keep them low and deep, and tried to do this by saying "opppeeeennn" in a low, loud voice, encouraging my body to open), but the sensations were so intense that this was very hard.

While I was in the tub my amazing doula arrived (things had gone so fast that although she left home as soon as we got to the hospital, she didn't get there until the very end of my labor) and she started helping me with the back labor by taking over for Ben, who was applying counter-pressure on my back with each contraction and saying very encouraging things to me. Her presence had an immediate calming effect and definitely made me feel even more confident in my ability to get through this. 

As my urges to push got stronger and stronger and I started yelling "I'm pushing!" with each contraction, they told me to get out of the tub so I could be checked once more and so that I could push if it was time (we had decided before labor that I would push on either hands and knees or on my side so that my risk of tearing would be lower, considering I had an episiotomy and 4th degree tear when I had Charlie Mae).

Thus, I got out of the tub (INTENSE!), got up onto the bed (INTENSE!), and my midwife checked me again (INTENSE!). The good news? I was ready to push! The bad news? Teddy's heart rate was dropping with each contraction so they wanted me to try and push him out quickly. 

And that's just what we did! I got on my side holding a leg up and my birth team guided me through how to push with each contraction. They were extremely encouraging and somehow--although it felt impossible at the time--I pushed him out in about 5-7 pushes (not sure exactly how many). At one point they even had me reach down and feel his head, which was both encouraging ("he's coming!") and discouraging ("he's nowhere near out yet!)". 

When Teddy came into the world, I felt an immediate flood of relief. Physically, it was a high like no other because the pain was finally gone. They put him on my belly--his cord was short so he didn't reach all the way up onto my chest--and then for a few seconds, things got scary: he was floppy and purple and wasn't crying. I started screaming "Why isn't he crying?" and the nurses quickly cut the cord and whisked him across the room. They sucked some fluid out of his nose and mouth and gave him some pats and he started crying and all was well, but in those 5-10 seconds when he wasn't moving or making any noises, I was completely panicked. Ben had to leave and go into the bathroom because he thought he was going to faint. But as soon as Teddy was aware and crying, they brought him back over to me and laid him on my chest. Once I knew he was okay, I felt complete. 

We were later told that because I had pushed him out so quickly, he may have just been stunned (or his lungs might not have been compressed for as long as usual) and just needed second to get acclimated to the world outside. But whatever the case, that one scary moment did not cloud the experience as a whole because otherwise, it was all pretty incredible. 

Once Teddy was on my chest and we started introducing him to breastfeeding for the first time, I was able to push out the placenta and was then given a bit of pitocin to help with the bleeding. I was then stitched up (I had a 2nd degree tear--WAY better than last time!) and we were done except for the excruciating contractions that came with breastfeeding and the uterus massages that I was given every once in a while to help my uterus return to it's normal size. 

Within an hour, everyone was gone, the lights were low, my birth playlist was still playing softly, Ben was asleep in a rocking chair next to my bed, and Teddy was nursing on my chest. It was just me and my doula, Lindsay, who hung around for a little longer and then left so we could rest and have some time as a family. Of course I couldn't sleep until way later in the day because I was so hyped up on adrenaline and oxytocin and pure LOVE.

For the next few days as we recovered, I just couldn't believe what had happened: how quickly Teddy came into the world, how raw + unfiltered the experience was, how strong I felt after doing what I had hoped to do. It was the hardest thing I'd ever done and yet I had done it and now I had a beautiful baby in my arms. It felt like a miracle (and still does, 10 days later). 

So there you go. I think I'll close this novel here and talk more about the postpartum experience (thus far) in a future post, but I just want to say thank you AGAIN to all of you who encouraged me to try for the birth I wanted this second time around. It was so helpful to hear all of your positive second birth experiences and recommendations on resources, tools, etc. I am so thankful for your support and so thankful for this experience. 

Here are a few more pics of Teddy/the fam for those who missed them on Instagram!

Well, here we are: my last day of daycare this week and thus, my last full "work day" before our new baby comes. Sure, technically he could come a week or so after my due date, which would mean I'd have a few more daycare days before he arrives, but I'm pretty much closing things down this week so I'm calling today my last real work day (plus I taught my last yoga class on Saturday!). 

As my due date draws nearer, I've been getting lots of questions about preparing for birth this time around: how I feel going into it again, what I'm doing differently to try and avoid the traumatic experience that I had last time, etc., so I thought that for my final post before baby (which is what I've decided this is...), I'd share my hopes + dreams for this labor--obviously something I have ABSOLUTELY no control over, which I'm even more aware of now...

Just like when I was preparing for Charlie Mae's birth, I hope to have an unmedicated birth experience this time; I want to be able to feel and remember everything that happens in my body, both good and bad.

So in order to set myself up for this experience as much as possible, I (or we) hired an amazing doula (shout-out Lindsay!). I am confident that having her with us during labor will make us much more comfortable throughout the entire experience, no matter what happens. And I'm hopeful that all of the tools she has in her toolbox will allow for more mid-labor troubleshooting that could help us avoid what happened last time around. 

I also really want to labor in the water. I spent 3/4 of my 36-ish hour labor with Charlie Mae in the shower, as it was one of the only things that provided me any sort of relief from my back labor, so I've changed hospitals to a hospital that, while further away, has a birthing tub.

My hope is to labor in this tub as long as possible and then get out only to push. While I would LOVE to have a water birth, I've been advised that this might not be best for me since I had an episiotomy last time (considered a 4th degree tear and makes me more susceptible to tearing again).

Another aspect of changing hospitals is that it feels like a clean slate and a fresh start. Although I don't blame anyone or anything about the hospital where I had Charlie Mae for how traumatic her birth was, it was traumatic for me nonetheless, and I think going back there might be a little triggering. Going somewhere that looks different and has a completely different staff feels like a chance for a re-do, which is mentally something I needed to feel before jumping back into this big physical journey. 

I've also been listening to only positive birth stories similar to the birth I would like (on The Birth Hour) to help with my confidence and get me back into the birthing mindset. I've been doing my Spinning Babies exercises multiple times per day to get my currently-posterior [AGAIN] baby to turn around inside the womb. I've got my hospital bag mostly packed and my checklists read to go. I'm starting to feel ready! 

At this point, I'm getting really excited about meeting our little guy and once again, trusting that my body can do this--especially now that I've done it before, birth trauma or not. Positive thinking is what I've got to hold onto now and I'm holding on with all my might. 

Thank you SO much for all of your love + encouragement throughout this pregnancy (and as I mourned the loss before it). I can't wait to share our new baby with you once he's here!!!

​Stay tuned on social media for updates and I promise to share here on the blog ASAP after he's born :) 

​As of today, my due date is just 25 days away. With this in mind, I figured it was about time to fill you all in {current clients + students, potential clients, blog readers, audio class takers, etc.} on what's going to be happening in Starr Struck-land while I'm out on maternity leave.

If it isn't obvious, I should mention that when you work for yourself, you don't get paid leave of any kind. When I stop working for any period of time, I stop making money. That's just the way it is. But luckily, I have a husband who gets amazing paid paternity leave (he's taking 12 weeks off!) and we've known that this time of no income was ahead of us (clearly), so we were able to save so that I can take this time off without us being super stressed about finances the whole time. 

But of course it's weird to step away when you run your own business (or when you are the business). It's hard for me to hand off client projects, to get subs for my classes, to stop consulting, blogging, and teaching workshops on the regular. It's necessary and it's what I want to do to be totally present with my family, but it's really hard. 

Also, I learned some valuable lessons last time around, so I'm applying them to my plan for leave with this babe: last time I went back too early {because Charlie Mae was such a good sleeper from 6-10 weeks...HAHAHAHHAHAHA}, I tried to take on too much too quickly when I did go back, and I didn't have the right child care situation figured out (but of course I didn't know that until it was too late and I was completely overwhelmed). 

So, this time I'm giving myself 12 full weeks off of almost everything. I'll be handling emails twice per week (on Mondays and Thursdays) and dealing with any urgent needs as applicable. But otherwise, were's what my maternity leave will look like in the various branches of my business:

• Design Clients:  This is the one part of my business that will continue while I'm out because this is also the one part of my business in which I am not a solopreneur. My good friend + fellow designer Sara has been working for Starr Struck Design Studio for almost 4 years now and thankfully, will be handling all client needs while I'm out. It feels SO good to be able to continue serving our current clients and when possible, help new clients with their needs [through Sara] while I'm out. 
  
  
• Consulting: I will not be doing any consulting while I'm out on maternity leave. If a current consulting client needs advice on something super quickly via email, I'll be responding [quickly] during my designated email times each week, but otherwise, these services will be on hiatus for at least 12 weeks. 
  
  
• Custom Art: Done-zo for now! I'm happy to give referrals to other artists who might be able to meet peoples' needs while I'm out, but I'm not taking on any commissions until the end of October or later. 
  
  
• Etsy Shop: My Etsy shop will stay open! I'll be removing all of my custom order options, but prints, greeting cards, and apparel will still be available, since I can easily pop something in the mail on a day when Charlie Mae is at daycare and Ben is with the babe ;) 
  
  
• Teaching Yoga Classes: I've got "on-call" subs set up to takeover whenever I need them and then continue covering my classes for at least 12 weeks, or from early July to mid-October. I'm only teaching 3 classes per week right now as it is (all at Centerville Yoga), but will wait to resume those classes until I'm really ready.
  
  
• Teaching Yoga Workshops: I taught my last workshop in May and am thinking I probably won't teach another workshop until November or December at the earliest (and January at the latest). I love teaching workshops but they take a lot more prep, time away, and energy than a regular class, so right now I'm thinking I'll probably need a longer break from them. Sigh. 
  
  
• Blogging: As soon as I go into labor, this blog {and my email newsletter} will be on hiatus until further notice. Of course I'll pop-in here + there to share the birth story, baby pics, and give you quick updates, but my regularly-scheduled blog programming won't return for a while and when it does return, I think it will be different (as in less frequent/less regular). TBD, I guess...

And that's about it for now! I obviously have no idea when I'll go into labor so I'll keep blogging until I do, but if you see me go quiet here and on Instagram (my main social media community these days), just stay tuned and hopefully I'll be sharing a happy, healthy baby update ASAP ;) 

Thanks for your understanding as I take some time away from my business to be with my family! And fellow solopreneurs: I hope this shows  you that while it is a bit more complicated and takes more planning, it is doable to go on maternity leave when you work for yourself. 

In November 2017, I wrote a blog post about the difficulty of giving up yoga classes as my life situation has changed over the years. In the post I talked about how the way in which I defined myself (as a "yoga teacher") had changed, and how unexpectedly challenging and emotional it was to undergo these changes. I talked about my slow decrease in weekly classes from 15-20 per week, to 12 per week, to 10, then 8, and at the time of that post, down to just 4 classes per week after having Charlie Mae. 

Well, here I am today, just over two years later, and once again, I'm grappling with similar emotions. I recently gave up yet another class (at the beginning of April) and am still getting used to being home on Thursday nights after so many years away. I'm now down to teaching just 3 yoga classes per week (!!!!!), which is simply mind-boggling to me. And do you know what's even crazier? That 3 classes still feels like a lot of classes! I have no idea how I ever taught 12 classes per week [for so many years]. 

I'm also dealing with the reality of taking maternity leave again; it's hard for me to take time off from teaching and working because these are the two things that give my weeks shape, a bigger sense of purpose, and contact with adults in the outside world (LOL). 

Every decision that we make in life--especially those that we make to create time for something new--involve giving something up, either temporarily or permanently. Giving up a job, a location, a community, a role, an opportunity, a known quantity, a home, a relationship, an identity. 

In a way, since I became a parent, the past 3 years have been a series of lessons in letting go. I've given up being as creative, as productive, as available, and as active as I was before becoming a mother. I've had to scale back my teaching and my business. I've had way less time to myself, time for continuing education, time for my relationship, and time for travel (because who wants to travel with a baby or toddler? Thanksbutnothanks).

And all of this letting go isn't easy. It can be really unsettling and sad. But is it worth it? I definitely think so. Which is why I've signed up to do it again and why I'm gearing up to let go of EVEN MORE, YET AGAIN with the arrival of Babe #2. 

In my opinion (and in my experience), no matter what you're giving up, at the end of the day, it's the letting go that creates space for the new, the exciting, the challenging, the growth. And the good news is that in many cases, the letting go is either temporary or potentially reversible, if you want it to be (and I mean small scale here, ie. the having of the second child is not reversible, but the giving up of the yoga class is...).

So what do you have to lose? What do you need to let go of  in order to create space for something better, different, or more challenging?!?!

​In the picture on the right, taken almost three years ago, I didn't yet know what it meant to be bone tired. I didn't yet know what it meant to be in love--in all-encompassing love--with a tiny human being who can't even say your name [yet]. I didn't know what it meant to have your life as you know it upended + destroyed in the blink of an eye. I didn't know what it meant to put someone else's needs in front of my own every single time, every single day, forever + ever.

I didn't yet know what it meant to care for someone else without even thinking about it. I didn't know what it meant to feel blinding rage towards my husband as I got up to console our crying baby [yet again] and he continued to sleep. I also didn't know what it meant to explode internally due the emotional intensity of watching my husband and my child love one another and spend time together. I didn't know what it meant to really "play." I didn't know what it meant to sleep with one ear + one eye open, always ready to come to the rescue.

But I was excited! And I thought I had everything planned out. Because I didn't know what I didn't know. 

In the picture on the left, I know all of these things and they're engrained in my being now. I'm bigger, I'm sicker (literally: I'm on steroids + antibiotics in this picture!), my body is much more sore, I'm saggier, I'm exhausted, and I'm fully aware of what I'm getting into--while also knowing that I actually have no idea what I'm getting into. I'm savvy enough now to be scared of what's to come because it's simply such a known unknown.

But again, despite all of this, I'm also really, really excited. 

I can't wait to feel my heart expand again--beyond what I think is possible for one heart to feel and beyond what I think is possible for one person to experience. Every time that this second child, my son, moves inside my body, every time that my daughter kisses my belly on her way to bed, every time that she says "I'm a big sister!" I become more and more sure that this is the right thing for our family.

​Even if it leaves us more tired, more frazzled, and yes, sometimes more angry, I know it will all be worth it. And I can't wait. 

Dear Second Child of Mine,

I started writing this letter to you in my head last night, during a fever dream of sorts (I'm getting over the flu and therefore, so are you, I guess...). I felt you kicking in my belly and was reminded that while I've been super distracted by my sickness and taking care of a toddler and all of the work that's piling up around me as I rest in bed recovering, what matters most right now is keeping you safe and healthy amidst all of the chaos that surrounds us. 

What I want you to know is that while it appears from the outside that we're not ready for you at all, that we haven't thought about your impending arrival and are unprepared, this is not the case. We've been waiting for you all of our lives. 

Sure, at this point in my pregnancy with your big sister all of her clothes had been procured, washed, folded, placed in labeled drawers in her newly-painted dresser in her newly-decorated nursery--and all I've done for you is hastily go through her old clothes and pull out the unisex items, throwing them into paper grocery sacks--but you'll be a July baby and will be wearing only your diaper for the majority of the first few months anyway, so it doesn't really matter.

What I didn't know the first time around, I made up for by obsessing and perfecting all of the small, controllable details; but with you, I know how little these details actually matter once you're holding a new baby in your arms. Your sister taught me that all of the planning and painting and buying and folding will not make it easier to adjust to a new baby's presence in our lives, but will just add to my to-do list before you arrive, which is long enough and overwhelming enough already. [Although I do promise to wash and fold the clothes that are currently sitting in the grocery sacks--pinky swear.]

In many ways, you're lucky, because you won't have the pressure of 10 months of planning and waiting rush in on you the second you enter the world. You'll have the love and the excitement, but not the same amount of figure-it-outs-as-you-gos and nervous unknowns (although everything about you is an unknown, from your eye color to your personality to your sleep habits; oh please be the laid-back baby I've only heard about in Parenting Fairy Tales!). 

Your sister likes to press her ear against my belly and tell me about the noises that she hears "you" making. She fed you popcorn and milk from her sippy cup onto my belly the other night and she's already started planning the games that you'll play together and which toys she'll share with you.

​I know your experience of our family will be so different than hers has been thus far; you'll have her as your guide, your companion, your distraction, and in many ways, your competition, but she's just as excited as we are to meet you, and you're as wanted and as loved as a baby ever could be--despite our lack of preparation due to the curveballs that life has thrown our way in the 6.5 months since finding out that you were growing in my belly. 

You should also know, Dear Babe, that there was another baby between you and your sister, but that he or she didn't make it this far. I have to think that this is because you were the baby that we were supposed to have, supposed to meet, and supposed to love, and for that reason I'm even more confident that we're ready for you to be a part of our little family unit (in another 14-ish weeks, of course!). 

We're not perfect; we've all got a lot of growing to do, but we're your family and we feel so lucky that you're going to be ours.

Thanks for dealing with all of the loud coughing, fevers, and sniffles over the past week or so. Thanks for picking us. And thanks in advance for your understanding about your lack of exciting new clothing and hand-me-down everything... 

See you in July!

Love, 
Your Mama

​
Baby "Brudder"!!!! As you can see from the video above (that we posted to social media last night), we're having a boy and we're over the moon ;)

Ben has been saying all along that he'd love another girl, buuuuttt if we were having another girl, he'd want to try for *one more* (eek! Hard to imagine right now!), so it's nice to know that if we feel done after this child, we'll have one of each and won't ever have to wonder what it would be like to have a boy. 

We have a front-runner for a name but will definitely be keeping that info to ourselves until he's born ;) Thanks for all of your excitement for us! So many of you have messaged me saying you're done having kids but are living vicariously through other pregnant people (I get it!), so it's been really fun seeing all of your guesses at what we're having and your joy for us. 

And from what all of you are saying about boys, it sounds like we're in for quite the wild ride! I'm just holding out hope that this will be our "go with the flow," sleep-anywhere child, because as you know by now, Charlie Mae is NOT (haha!). 

I've been pretty nervous about sharing this news with all of you; I'm obviously over the moon to be pregnant again (and out of the First Trimester!), but after my recent pregnancy loss, telling "the world" about this pregnancy felt really scary.

Every time I imagined "announcing" that I was pregnant again, I then imagined suffering another loss right afterward and having to face the sadness of that loss "publicly" when I wasn't yet ready to do so. 

I also thought about all of the incredibly strong women who reached out to me to share their pregnancy loss stories when I shared mine. I thought of the women who are still trying to get pregnant again and I couldn't help but worry that my sharing this news wouldn't help, but instead, would hurt, or re-open old (or still very fresh) wounds. 

If you're one of those women and you're reading this, I sincerely hope that this post doesn't make you feel worse, but that it gives you hope instead. After losing our baby I wanted to jump back into the saddle (haha) and try again as soon as possible because I knew that getting pregnant would help me heal--and it has. But I know that not everyone feels this same way and that it can also take a while to get pregnant again, so it's not always such a simple decision.

I feel very grateful that we were able to get pregnant again quickly and am sending SO much love to those of you who are currently trying or who've had to wait longer than you'd hoped. It's a very intense process to re-enter no matter how much time has passed since your loss and can obviously be way more intense if it's harder for you to conceive. 

There are no words, really. I just hope this post doesn't do more harm than good. 

And despite all of my worries about putting this news out into the world, the fact is that we're really excited about growing our family and want to share this joy with others. I'm trying to move past all of my anxieties about something going wrong and instead of dwelling on my fears about all of the the worst case scenarios, live in the moment and experience the excitement of being pregnant again. Especially after such a devastating loss. 

So, all of that being said, YES, I'm pregnant again!!! I'm a little over 14 weeks and I finally felt ready to share this news for a few reasons:

1. Ben is HORRIBLE at secrets and asks me every. single. day. if we can "announce" yet. He finally wore me down (haha).
   
   
2. Charlie Mae has been telling people that she has a baby in her belly so it's getting awkward not being able to explain where that came from...
   
   
3. This being my second (well, third) pregnancy, I'm showing much earlier than I did the first time and by the end of the day (read: when I'm teaching yoga at night) my core muscles have relaxed, my belly is full, my uterus is relaxed, and I look like I either ate WAYYY too many Christmas cookies (which I did) or I'm pregnant, and I'm starting to feel self-conscious about it. I only have so many baggy yoga tops, ya know!?!?

Thus, here we are. I'm due July 14th and we can't wait (but actually we can because we have a lot to do before then + two kids = OMG!). 

We *are* going to find out what we're having and should know around 18-19 weeks. We haven't decided if we're going to share that publicly yet or not, but if Ben and Charlie Mae have anything to do with it, we probably will ;) 

Thanks for all of your support over the past 6 months of loss and now, excitement.

On two separate occasions at the end of 2018 I saw big, bold, gorgeous double-rainbows that made me feel very hopeful about this pregnancy and this year. Let's hope that those rainbows were signs that 2019 is going to be full of rainbow babies for all of us who suffered a loss in 2018. 

[Oh, and a note about the pic above: I'm *sure* you know this by now but in case you don't, Ben is OBSESSED with basketball. He has a bball training side-hustle and basically eats, sleeps, + dreams basketball. He's had a "vision" for this picture since the day we found out I was pregnant again and although I am not as into basketball as he is (understatement of the year, haha), I couldn't take that vision away from him. So yay for you, Ben!]

If there's one lesson in parenting that life continues to hit me over the head with, it's this: your expectations are always wrong (yes, I have written about this subject before). Nothing big will ever go as planned--at least not when your child is involved.

You think an event is going to be hard for your kid? You're wrong, it ends up being easy! You think something's going to be a piece of cake? Surprise, IT'S GOING TO BE THE WORST THING YOU'VE EVER DONE. You're not sure what will happen but are hoping for the best? Life will throw you a curveball that you never saw coming and you'll get hit right in the noggin.

And here's the other thing: even when you know that nothing will ever go as planned or as hoped, you, the parent, are still royally disappointed when they don't because--despite the odds--you held onto the hope that maybe, just maybe, they would work out as imagined in your dreams *just this once.* 

Take my brother Patrick's wedding this past weekend as an example:

Months ago, Patrick and his now-wife Caitlin asked Charlie Mae to be their flower girl. We all had adorable visions of her walking nervously down the aisle in her little white dress, dropping flowers as she went. We all know that she hates strangers, crowds, and people looking at her, but we thought that if we got her amped up enough and she understood the logistics--that her dad would be walking her down the aisle and I would be at the end of the aisle (where I would be serving as a "groomswoman") to greet her--she could do it. 

So, in the months leading up to their wedding we [read: I] searched for and bought her the perfect flower girl dress for the wedding, pink shoes with bows on them, pink tights, and a little floral crown for her head. She got her first haircut so that it would look a little cleaner for the wedding, and we talked up her job and "practiced" walking around the house in her outfit. She was pumped and excited. So was I. 

On the day before the wedding, we opted to skip her afternoon nap so that she could go to the venue for the rehearsal and practice her role. We wanted her to be as comfortable as possible with the space and the people in the wedding party. She had fun at the venue and afterward, kept asking when we would go to the wedding. She was ready. 

On the big day, I left Ben, Charlie Mae, and Ben's mom (who we brought along as our "babysitter" so that we could enjoy the wedding weekend--game changer!) around 11am to go join the bridesmaids for hair, makeup, pictures, etc. I wouldn't see Charlie Mae again until she showed up for pictures, all dressed up. That made me anxious but I did my best to let go. 

I got news via text that she didn't sleep during her usual nap time, so was prepared for a tired toddler at the 5:30pm wedding. But when she arrived for pictures she was in good spirits and seemed excited, so I got my hopes up again. She was ADORABLE in her outfit and besides being totally against taking any pictures with me (argh...see pic above), I felt like she was going to do a good job as flower girl. 

After pictures, I separated from them again to go be a part of the bridesmaid crew and prepare for the ceremony. As we were touching-up our make-up I got a text from Ben: "We need you down here NOW. Charlie Mae is having a meltdown." I ran to the elevator and made my way down. When I got to the lobby, I was greeted by a red-faced, snot-covered toddler who was wailing at the top of her lungs. The breakdown was happening and the ceremony was 10 mins from starting. 

Charlie Mae--ever sensitive to men and people she doesn't know--had been scared by a couple of people getting too close to her and saying 'hello' right in her face. They didn't mean any harm, but the harm was done nonetheless. I wasn't there to protect her from people who made her "nervous" like I usually do and because of this, she was horrified. 

I took her in my arms as she wailed that she was "scared" and wanted to go home. I tried to comfort her. I took her to a corner where there was no one around and tried to get her to calm down but it wasn't happening. She was overtired and past the point of return. There was no recovering. As I tried once more to give her a pep talk and get her ready for the ceremony, I was called away because I had to walk down the aisle. I handed her, screaming, to Ben, and ran to my place in line. It was horrible. 

A few minutes later, I had taken my place at the altar with the rest of the wedding party and was waiting to see what would happen when it was Charlie Mae's turn to come out. 

When it was, Ben emerged from the back of the room, carrying a snotty (but for the moment, quiet) Charlie Mae on his chest, clinging to him tightly with a sad look on her face. He walked down the aisle with her in his arms and when she saw me, she reached for me. Not knowing what else to do and wanting to keep her quiet, I took her, while standing at the front of the room in front of all of the wedding attendees. 

But as soon as she was in my arms, she started whimpering loudly. I had to leave my spot and rush back over to Ben, who had just taken his seat, and hand her to him [crying, of course] while he rushed her out of the room and the bride walked down the aisle. 

I was crushed. I wanted to be present but I could hear her wailing far away. I hated that she [we] had been a distraction from the main event. I had to force myself to turn my attention back to the ceremony and stop obsessing over what had just happened--while knowing that my child was sobbing in a back room wanting me because she was scared. It was SO sad. 

In the end, Ben and his mom were able to calm her down (thanks, Elmo videos on YouTube!) and I was able to refocus on the BEAUTIFUL ceremony and be present for the special moment. I soaked it in and cried tears of joy as they recited their personalized vows. Ben drove his mom and Charlie Mae home and returned to the wedding. Everything was fine and obviously everyone understood, but I was left reeling. 

How could this have happened? How could I have prevented it? How could I have failed to get a SINGLE picture of her standing in her adorable outfit before the meltdown? Whyyyyyy??

But really, I know the reason: because when you're a parent (and really, when you're a human being in general), things don't go as planned. Because you expect one thing and then another thing happens. Because being a parent and a person and a sister and a bridesmaid/groomswoman all at once is probably going to lead to a little bit of craziness.

And I guess I'm at the point as a mother where I'm realizing that this is one of my biggest lessons to learn. I HAVE to learn to let go of my expectations. I HAVE to learn to go with the flow and let go. I have been working on these things all of my life but it's coming to the point where I have no choice but to learn these lessons or continue to feel confused, disappointed, and distracted when things go wrong. Which they will. Often. 

Fellow parents, are you with me? Please tell me I'm not the only one... 

I've always struggled with anxiety, but now that I'm a mom, I've become intimately acquainted with a new brand of anxiety--one that was programmed into my being when our ancestors were living in a dangerous world surrounded by predators, the elements, and poisonous plants--MamAnxiety. 

This kind of anxiety is a turbo anxiety; it's anxiety on steroids. It causes a mother's brain to imagine the worst case scenario in every possible situation, even the most mundane.

For instance, the other night I was walking out the door to teach my Wednesday night yoga class. I didn't lock the door behind me as I usually do, because Ben and Charlie Mae were playing a few feet from the front door in the room I had just exited.

But as I walked to the car, I started to imagine what would happen now that I didn't lock the door. Ben wouldn't think to lock it before taking Charlie Mae up to bed, and while they were reading together, someone would sneak into our house, tip-toe up the stairs, and kill them both.

So I went back and locked the front door.  

Here's another example: 

Our washing machine is broken (every mom's dream) and the repair person can't come for a few days. Last night, we had a load of wet laundry (that had been only half washed before our washer gave out) soaking in the bathtub. As soon as Charlie Mae got home and walked past the bathroom door, I saw what would occur if I didn't drain the water stat: she would head into the bathroom and uncharacteristically try to climb into the bathtub to see what was happening with those clothes. Of course while climbing, she would immediately fall and drown in the dirty laundry and sitting water. It was a nightmare waiting to happen. 

If you're a mother, I know these inner dialogues and scenarios are familiar to you. I know you've seen these visions, too, whether you see them as frequently as I do or not. They're necessary for our species' survival over time and we're programmed for them, but they definitely aren't fun. 

Every new mom that I've spoken to has had the vision of dropping her newborn down the stairs as she trudges, sleep-deprived, up and down them. I'm sure many mothers have imagined dropping a knife and accidentally stabbing a child, or tripping and flinging a child into a sharp object that immediately impales said child. 

It's pretty gruesome, but this is what happens in a mama's brain. Or, at least, in this anxious mama's brain. 

At times, I'm thankful for this MamAnxiety. I think it really does help me keep my daughter safe and think about what could happen before it happens [and thus, prevent it]. 

But at other times, I'm resentful that I have to go about life imagining so many horrible disasters around every turn. That my husband isn't plagued by these same visions, that he isn't always looking two steps ahead and trying to prevent something bad from taking place. 

Then I look at my daughter and am reminded that she is the most important thing in my life, and as humans, when we have something that we really love and value, it's only natural to do what we can to protect it.

So I hug her, and I repeatedly move her away from pointy corners of furniture, tighten her seatbelt straps, and wrap my hands around her waist when she stands up in the bathtub. And then I thank my lucky stars that I was given this role to play in life, even if it is one that has caused me more anxiety than ever before.  

PS. Obviously this pic was taken over a year ago (look at how short and wonderfully chubby CM was!!!), but I feel like it accurately represents what I'm talking about here. 

The image above was taken on August 12th, just over 2 months ago. I was 10 weeks along and felt like my belly had just started to pop; this being my 2nd pregnancy, my uterus knew what was up and had started to expand immediately. I was over the moon, feeling great, and excited to hear my baby's heartbeat at my 10 week appointment in just a few days.

Needless to say, I didn't ever hear my baby's heartbeat. What I didn't know when this picture was [excitedly] taken was that my baby's heart had already stopped beating. Our baby had stopped growing at 8 weeks, but was still nestled inside of my uterus while I--oblivious to this fact--snapped pictures meant to capture what I thought was my growing belly. 

Within a few days of this picture being taken, after the appointment where my midwife couldn't find the heartbeat with the doppler, after the excruciating 24 hours in which I waited for the ultrasound that would tell us what was happening inside my body, after the heartbreaking 10 minutes lying on a table in the dark, watching the ultrasound tech move her wand around my belly without saying a word--and knowing what her silence meant--we'd scheduled a D&C, a surgical procedure that would remove our deceased baby from my belly. 

It was horrible. It felt like a nightmare. I couldn't stop crying and I felt like it was my fault. All of the cliches about the emotions associated with pregnancy loss are cliches for a reason: I felt all of those things. 

While some women say that it wasn't helpful for them to hear how common pregnancy loss is, I found it very helpful. I took comfort in the statistics that 1 in 4 pregnancies end in loss. Not because I wanted this for other people, but because if it was extremely common, then maybe that didn't make it my fault. Maybe my baby really wasn't going to be able to survive in this world and that's why it stopped growing, not because I took an ibuprofen long before I knew I was pregnant, or demonstrated a deep twist in one of my classes when I was just a few weeks along.

And I took comfort in all of the female family members who called to tell me that this had happened to them in the past, too, in between child 1 and 2, or child 2 and 3. It gave me hope that I would be able to go on and have another healthy baby someday, too. 

The thing about pregnancy loss is that you're not just mourning the loss of this child that you were growing in your belly and are no longer going to get to meet, but you're also mourning the life plans that you had set up around this baby's impending arrival.

Ben and I had started planning what our maternity and paternity leaves would look like. We knew what the rough age difference between our two kids would be and imagined Charlie Mae having a playmate sooner rather than later. We had a hazy outline of how the beginning of 2019 would go; after all, if we were having a baby in March, that would change the year in a big way. 

But then in just 24 hours, we'd lost all of that "stability." We knew our plans weren't really stable in the first place, but we'd hoped that they could be and had talked things out because that's what you do. We'd done this before and it had gone smoothly (the pregnancy part, not the child birth or child raising part, ha!) so we had just gone ahead with our life, planning around this big event as if it would happen for us again. 

And then out of nowhere, it ended. And we had to deal with that. 

I will say that in my personal experience, I felt that our loss was made easier because we already have Charlie Mae. I was able to look at her and hug her and not only feel enormous gratitude that I already had a healthy, wonderful child, but also be reminded that my body had done this before and that hopefully, that means it can do it again. 

I was also acutely aware, during all of this, of just how difficult it must be to suffer multiple losses, one after another, while hoping for a child. Or to be someone who can't get pregnant at all and wants to. It's all so devastating and complicated and just plain sad. So much sadness.

But then you have to wake up and go on with your day: you get up early and get your child ready, you take her to the park, you respond to emails, you eat lunch, you teach a yoga class, you scroll through your phone, you go to the grocery store.

No one knows that you've just been dealt a big blow and you don't tell them because you don't want to talk about it, but you carry it around, feeling empty inside when you felt so full only one week ago. 

And then you keep waking up and going through your days and dealing with life and the sadness starts to fade. At one point you think, 'I won't be able to talk about this publicly for a long time' and then only a little while later, you realize that it's National Pregnancy + Infant Loss Awareness Month, and you see everyone else sharing their stories of loss and you're surprised to find that you're ready to talk about your loss, too. If nothing else than to tell that woman who is scrolling through her phone while in bed, recovering from a miscarriage or another loss, that she is not alone, that you understand, and that you're sorry. 

You're so, so sorry. 

We've all heard the saying "the days are long but the years are short," and while I get the sentiment (I really do!), I have to disagree. I think the days are short and the years are short--it's all so short and fast and it's just such a wild ride!

As we celebrated Charlie Mae's 2nd birthday this past weekend, I was floating somewhere between total amazement at my little kid (because she really seems like a little kid now!) and wondering where the heck my baby went. I don't want to spend Charlie Mae's childhood posting pictures of her looking grown up with the crying emoji (x10) beneath them, but I see why we do this because it is all so emotional and it feels so fleeting.

So, moving forward, I'm going to try my best to celebrate Charlie Mae's growth and who she is becoming as she gets older, instead of mourning the precious days that are already in the past. 

Thus, today's post is a celebration of the the celebration that we had for 2-year old Charlie Mae this past weekend. We loved setting aside some time to acknowledge who she is at this point in time: a fun, adorable, strong-willed, sweet, opinionated, sensitive, and funny little soul.

We kept her sheep-themed party small with just family this year (probably the last year we can get away with having just family!) and I tried my best to keep my decorating/themed-party urges in check so I wouldn't lose my mind getting ready for the simple get-together. Here are a few fun snapshots from the party!

(Oh, and I know the food tables look pretty lame in these pics, but I never got a chance to take pics once the feast was laid out ;) 

This girl = 100% down with the birthday hype now. She gets it. She was ALL IN on the presents, cake, ice cream, singing, and attention. She's already excited about the next family birthday party and the presents she's going to get on our trip to GA this week!

Which brings me to my next note: there will be no #SJOTW this Friday because we'll be in GA to celebrate my grandmother's 90th birthday (!!!!). We'll be back in town next week and I'll get back to it then.

Have a great week + a great Labor Day! 

Today is Charlie Mae's 2nd birthday! Our little nugget has been around the sun twice now. I can hardly believe it.

Obviously, this means that I had to interrupt my regular SJOTW programming to share some pics of our girlie + turn this week's edition of this column into a Charlie Mae-focused extravaganza ;)

So, here are some [mostly] Charlie Mae-centric simple, sensory joys from the past week + summer...

HEAR: Charlie Mae's singing voice + wide range of songs
Charlie Mae can sing, y'all. She knows so many songs that they're not worth listing here at this point, but suffice it to say that she can sing the the entire ABCs and has been singing happy birthday to herself, to Sayde, to her blanket, and to all of her stuffed animals for weeks now. I love how high, loud, and off-tune her voice can be when she sings and how much she enjoys singing everything from show tunes to Elmo songs. We have fun.

[PS. I have a great video of her singing her ABCs that I'll share in my Instagram story today if you want to see it!]

SEE: Charlie Mae wearing the two *adorable* handmade dresses that she was given as birthday gifts
Do you see the precious dress that Charlie Mae is wearing in her 2-year pic above? That dress was HANDMADE by Starr Struck's very own Sara! She sent her two handmade dresses that arrived last week and they are both the sweetest things ever. Thanks SO much, Sara!  

TASTE: Family ice cream outings
This summer has been a really busy one for us as a family (work-wise + schedule-wise, not necessarily social engagement-wise) and we haven't spent as much time together as a family unit as I would have liked. But, we have made the time to go out to ice cream as a family at least once per week, and it's been a definite highlight. Charlie Mae can eat some serious ice cream and so can her parents, so we've all enjoyed it. We went this week and as usual, it was delicious and fun. 

SMELL: Charlie Mae's scent
I know I'm not the only crazy person who smells my child's clothes, blankets, and pajamas after I take them off of her, right!!?!? It's a pretty wild thing how biologically, we are so drawn towards the scents of our loved ones. Even if I had no other senses, if I smelled Charlie Mae, I would recognize her anywhere; it's my favorite scent in the whole wide world. The biology of motherhood is pretty awesome. 

TOUCH: Wrestling with Charlie Mae on the bed
Yesterday, despite having plans to go to a playground and then storytime, Charlie Mae and I ended up spending the entire morning at home, instead. The reason for this? We were just having too much fun. And when I asked her if she wanted to go, she said, "No, stay home and wrestle and snuggle with mommy." So that's what we did (after I picked myself up off of the floor where I had become a puddle of love). Snuggling and wrestling in "the big bed" with Charlie Mae is one of my favorite activities. 

And there you have it! Just like that, it's been 2 years since I gave birth to Charlie Mae; and what a wild, beautiful, exhausting, and love-filled 2 years it's been! 

If you missed the first year or so of her life as it was captured here on the blog, you can check out the posts below to get caught up:

• Charlie Mae's Birth Story
• Charlie Mae's Newborn Shoot
• Charlie Mae's First Birthday Party
• Charlie Mae's First Birthday Shoot
  
  

Thanks for being a part of this motherhood journey with me! 

{Images above: the adorable little reason for the following...}
​
Last week, I did laundry on Monday. I carried the basket of clean clothes upstairs in between things and dumped it out on the bed so I could fold it later. At bedtime, I went upstairs and found our bed covered with clean clothes. So I scooped them up and put them all back in the basket, put the basket on the floor, and got into bed.

The next day after hastily pulling the comforter over the bed to make a "clean" flat surface, I dumped all of the clothes back on the bed to be folded. That night, when I went to get into bed, I once again scooped up the unfolded clothes and shoved them back into the basket.

You would think I would learn, but this happened on Wednesday, too. 

I finally folded the clothes on Thursday. 

--

In late December, I ran out of contact lenses. The first appointment I could get that would be covered by my insurance was in early March, so I decided I would go without contacts until March and then get new ones.

When the day of my March appointment rolled around, we had a huge snowstorm and the Eye Doctor's office called to tell me that they were closed and would call me back to reschedule after the storm. I missed their follow-up call the next week and still haven't called them back to reschedule.

I've been without contacts for over 7 months.

The other day I looked out the window at the fuzzy leaves on the tree across the street and remembered my missed appointment and the fact that I used to wear contacts.

Then I thought, hmmmm...maybe I don't need contacts, after all!?

--

A few months ago, Charlie Mae was having a blast sitting in the driver's seat of my car, pushing all of the buttons on the dashboard (as you do). The next time that I turned my car on, I found that the radio settings had somehow been changed so that sound only comes out of the back speakers.

I have no idea how to fix this and no time to look up how to fix it so for weeks now, when driving around, I have to decide if I want to listen to music that is just a tiny buzzing from the backseat or drive in silence.

I mostly drive in silence [for longer rides I put on my headphones and listen to a podcast. Duh.] 

--

The debris in our garage--the Elephant Graveyard of our household for the past two years--has been building and building. This past weekend I finally couldn't take it anymore so I started cleaning it out with about 15 minutes until the lunchtime/naptime routine and while in charge of Charlie Mae (not my most productive time of the day).

We don't really drink beer around here, so every time we've hosted a cookout and had leftover beer, we've stowed the unused cans in the garage, leaving us with a garage floor littered with little clusters of half-used 12-packs (again, #ElephantGraveyard).

As a part of my quick cleaning job, I decided to start rounding up the beers, stacking them all up on a shelf. When Charlie Mae saw what I was doing she was overjoyed to see a job she could help me with.

One by one she would bring me a dirty, spiderweb and who-know-what-else-covered beer can and say, "'Nother seltzer mommy???"

--

During a snowstorm in February or March, the rubber padding on my back windshield wiper came off, rendering my back windshield wiper unusable. I've been without a back windshield wiper ever since. 

--

It's really easy to let the burden of all of these little things (and there are OH SO MANY more where these come from) get me down. But every time that my mind starts to go down the "undone" rabbithole (which I've talked about here before), I just have to remind myself that I am raising a special little human being right now; that every unfixed windshield wiper, dusty garage floor "seltzer," and silent car ride is worth it.

Charlie Mae won't remember whether or not the clothes went unfolded for a week or whether or not I could see with my eyes (HAHAHA), but she will remember the quality time we spent together dancing to Hokey Pokey in the kitchen (actually, she probably won't remember that because she's so young but you understand the sentiment). 

And as annoying as all of these undone tasks are, in a weird way, they're also a reminder that my priorities are in the right place right now. And that we're not "failing at life," as Ben keeps saying when he remembers something we've let fall through the cracks (Ben...), but that we're doing our very best and that's all we can do.

At least that's what I keep telling myself. Over and over again. 

But I should probably get my eyes checked and contacts reordered, huh? 

I was listening to an episode of the On Being podcast yesterday (this one--it's definitely worth a listen!) and the host, Krista Tippett, said, "Children teach us that love in it's purest form is a kind of service." When I heard her say this, I immediately pressed pause to jot it down.

Let me repeat it for you: Children teach us that love in it's purest form is a kind of service.

In one quick sentence, this quote distilled motherhood for me in a way that I had never heard it distilled before--love as service, love that is so strong that you would do (and do do) everything for that person. And not necessarily in a sacrificial or selfless way (although it can be in that way, too), but because you want to. 

This kind of service-based love is new for me. Maybe because before becoming a mother, I was never a super service-oriented person (or should I just say, because I was very selfish with my time and energy?). I've never had to be the primary caretaker of a sick or disabled family member or friend, I've never volunteered long-term in one particular area of service, I've never had a job as a caretaker, and besides Sayde, I'd never had another being rely on me for survival. 

But now that I'm a mom, I really do see that pure love is a kind of service.

​I want to give Charlie Mae everything she could ever need. I don't because I can't (and because I know that ultimately, that wouldn't be good for her), but I am "at her service" and I actually enjoy it (not all the time, of course, but most of the time). It feels good to think about someone else, to be pulled out of my brain and out of the endless loops of my monkey mind, and instead, be forced into the present moment by a toddler who needs me and needs me NOW.

It also feels good to love someone SO much that I want to do things for her that I don't particularly enjoy. It's nice to love someone so much that when I find a booger on her leg, I pick it off without even thinking about it--and then it gets stuck on my finger in public and I can't get it off and there are no tissues in sight but I'm still not grossed out (ha!). It's a relief to take care of her and know that I'm doing something important even if it only looks like I'm sitting in the grass in the back yard playing with weeds. 

After I heard this quote about having children I called Ben and read it to him. I said to him, "We need to remember this--that love in it's purest form is a kind of service--and do more for each other. Because it's true, when someone does things for you it makes you feel more loved and doing someone for someone else is a tangible act of love." 

I think this is the part of love that I often forget about. I know love is a feeling and an emotion and that it's really powerful. I know that when it's the healthy kind of love, love motivates and dictates and inspires. But I often forget that love is a kind of service.

It's a choice to take care of someone else and to be there for them even when you don't necessarily want to be. That's what makes true, long-term love so hard but also makes it so special. And that's what motherhood has taught me without my even realizing it until now: in it's purest form, love is a kind of service. 

I am so grateful that I get to serve Charlie Mae as her mother.