Summer brought us you

You and your perfectly round head with peach fuzz hair

You and your ten tiny fingers and ten tiny toes

You and your sweet sweet smiles and conversations in coos

You and your bright blue eyes and perfect button nose

You and your cozy cuddles and curious gaze

I wish we could live forever in those perfect summer days

What to expect from mothermade.

Motherhood is already a beautiful, messy, wild adventure. So when you add pregnancy and birth trauma on top of it, there’s a lot to process. My hope for mothermade is to talk openly and honestly about not just the beautiful parts of motherhood, but the messy ones, too. I’ll talk healing, health, hardships, and navigating mothering and family planning after trauma.

Subscribe now

Share

• Outdoor rug.

• Green marble paper towel holder.

• Baublebar custom tote.

Read more

I can’t believe I get to write this—that we are bringing another little life into the world this summer. After all of the complications and trauma with Adeline and our miscarriage last year, I didn’t know if this post would be in our future.

But we are here. And I am so, so grateful. 🤎

I’ll share more about our journey to get here soon, but for now, I just want to celebrate this new little life, our rainbow GIRL. 🌈 🌸

We’re almost halfway and, because of our prior miscarriage, it was really hard to connect with this pregnancy until we made it past 12 weeks. And even then, I have felt very cautious. Hence, not sharing publicly until now!

We found out in late October, and I obsessively tested for those first few weeks. My doctor ordered early HCG tests, an early ultrasound, and immediately put me on progesterone (side note: I love her!).

Everything up to this point has looked great. Baby is growing well. I’m not rapidly gaining weight as I did with Adeline. I’m taking baby aspirin to hopefully prevent a recurrence of preeclampsia, and we’re managing my hypothyroidism and diabetes well (let’s not add anything else to the list, mmkay?!).

We found out it’s a girl on Christmas Day. 🥹 Nothing special; we just opened the envelope they gave us. We weren’t sure if we wanted to find out since we didn’t with Adeline, but we thought it could be fun to have a different experience this time. And I truly think knowing helped me connect earlier with this post-miscarriage pregnancy.

It’s so fun thinking about adding another girl to our crew. It totally made me rethink the nursery setup—my sister said her kiddos always want to have sleepovers in each other’s rooms, so I’m planning to have Adeline and baby girl #2 share a room. Sisters are the best. 💗

Tim is the best girl dad, and I love having a little girl. We both can’t wait to bring this newest little love into the world. Adeline knows what a baby is and knows how to say “baby sister,” otherwise I’m not sure she totally knows what’s coming 😂

My hope is this pregnancy continues to go smoothly, and we get to do all the things we missed out on last time: nesting, meal prepping, baby showering, nursery building, golden hour… taking our baby home with us.

We love this little girl so much already and can’t wait to meet her. 🤎

What to expect from Mothermade.

Motherhood is already a beautiful, messy, wild adventure. So when you add pregnancy and birth trauma on top of it, there’s a lot to process. My hope for Mothermade is to talk openly and honestly about not just the beautiful parts of motherhood, but the messy ones, too. I’ll talk healing, health, hardships, and navigating mothering and family planning after trauma.

Subscribe now

Share

I think this might sound crazy: sometimes I miss the NICU.

Don’t get me wrong; NICU days were long, tiring, and emotionally draining. My daily routine for 52 days looked something like this:

• Wake at 6 a.m. and almost definitely take a shower because of postpartum night sweats (no one told me?!)

• Pump

• Quickly eat a pre-made breakfast and run out the door to be at the hospital for her first morning care time

• Pump

• Kangaroo care (aka skin-to-skin cuddles) for as long as possible

• Grab lunch from the hospital cafeteria while she napped

• Pump and maybe try breastfeeding if it was a good day

• Kangaroo care for a few more hours

• Pump

• Wash pump parts

• Switch “shifts” with my husband, who would come after work and stay as late as he possibly could with her for his own kangaroo care

• Come home around 7pm and crash on the couch with the TV, eat dinner, pump, and take another shower to wash off the day

• Pump all throughout the night… and repeat the next morning

While this was a typical day, not all days were like this. Of course, we had scares, we tested sleeping in the NICU with her, we had to make hard decisions and hear hard updates. But maybe worst of all was getting non-update updates. The “I don’t knows” and “we’ll just have to wait and see” updates. Those were torture.

I cried countless times and grieved what I thought my postpartum would look like. I panicked over every single phone call and obsessed over her MyChart notes after every nurse shift change.

I sobbed in her room at night when I would pump, knowing she should have been there with me. I was inconsolable at times, feeling overwhelmed by the weight of it all—and the unknown to come.

And yet, it’s true, sometimes I miss the NICU.

With the NICU came a fight and fierceness I didn’t know I had. And, most of all, it brought clarity. You don’t second-guess your priorities for the day. You don’t make plans you won’t keep. You know that all of your energy and emotional capacity needs to go toward fighting for your baby, day in and day out.

Because when you experience pregnancy and birth trauma, you enter fight or flight mode. And boy was I ready to fight.

Nothing else mattered. I wouldn’t respond to texts and calls right away. I didn’t do anything except stay with my baby and come home to rest. I didn’t give anything my attention that wasn’t deserving. And I didn’t feel guilty.

But the problem with fight or flight mode is we’re not meant to be in it forever. We eventually got to take our warrior girl home, after 7 long weeks, and I thought I would be forever changed.

I thought I would approach life with more intention and zest. I thought I wouldn’t be afraid of small things anymore. That I wouldn’t work long hours, doom scroll, or prioritize things that don’t matter.

But here we are, 23 months since she’s been home with us, and I’ve seen how I’ve slipped back into my regular, mind-numbing routine. Yes, I’ve grown and I’ve learned how to prioritize and take more and better care of my own health, but I still haven’t figured out how to get back that feeling of freedom.

How to not give my attention to things that don’t matter.

How to not get sucked back into the grind each week.

How to not strive for perfection.

And most of all, how to be present.

The saying goes that the days are long, but the years are short. I’m not sure I agree with that—our days go by in the blink of an eye. I grieve how quickly they go.

And I think that’s because I’m giving away all of my attention to things that don’t serve me. I’m not filling my cup with enough quality time with my gal, with enough reading and writing time, with enough aimless outdoor strolls.

I’m not sure how to get back to that fierce fighter version of me from our NICU days, but I’m so glad to be back on the journey to finding her.

What to expect from Mothermade.

Motherhood is already a beautiful, messy, wild adventure. So when you add pregnancy and birth trauma on top of it, there’s a lot to process. My hope for Mothermade is to talk openly and honestly about not just the beautiful parts of motherhood, but the messy ones, too. I’ll talk healing, health, hardships, and navigating mothering and family planning after trauma.

Subscribe now

Share

We often hear the phrase “you made me a mother.” Today, on Mother’s Day, I said it to our sweet Adeline: “Did you know you made me a mama, sweet girl?”

It’s true. But I also made me a mama.

You stretched my body as you grew in my belly.

I stretched my heart to hold you.

You fought to survive, coming way too soon.

I fought to survive before you arrived.

You drank donor milk before mine came in.

I pumped all day and all night to catch up to you.

You cried on sleepless nights.

I cried on sleepless nights.

You laugh and giggle at silly things.

I laugh and giggle because of the joy you bring.

You look at the world with so much wonder.

I look at you and feel brand new.

You grow as we water you.

I grow and stretch with each new you.

Yes, sweet Adeline, you’ve made me a mama.

But I’ve made me one, too.

What to expect from Mothermade.

Motherhood is already a beautiful, messy, wild adventure. So when you add pregnancy and birth trauma on top of it, there’s a lot to process. My hope for Mothermade is to talk openly and honestly about not just the beautiful parts of motherhood, but the messy ones, too. I’ll talk healing, health, hardships, and navigating mothering and family planning after trauma.

Subscribe now

Share

As I sit here in our dining room writing this first post, I look at our gallery wall of wedding photos and think to myself, “That happy young couple has no idea the beautiful storm that’s coming.”

The things that made me a mother weren’t typical. My journey wasn’t the usual nesting, showering, and celebrating. In fact, I only got about halfway through my pregnancy before I was hospitalized. Only far enough along to really start thinking about getting the nursery in order.

I didn’t expect the words “resilience,” “uncertainty,” “life or death,” and “trauma” to be a part of my story.

No, the things that made me a mother weren’t putting the final touches on our daughter’s nursery setup—or folding all of her little clothes into neat rows in her dresser—or meal prepping for those first exhausting weeks and months.

Instead, it was being admitted to the hospital at 25 weeks gestation and spending days and nights just trying to stay pregnant and stable.

It was having a midline IV in my upper right arm in case of emergency—where I still have a scar.

It was trying to keep myself busy and distracted from the trauma and “what ifs” of it all.

It was binge-watching home decor and interior design TV shows because the quietness of the hospital room mixed with the machine beeps and constant blood pressure and blood sugar checks felt too overwhelming.

It was taking our own “maternity photos” on hospital grounds, trying to cover up my intense swelling, midline IV, and hospital bracelet.

It was forming relationships with nurses and other mamas on the floor who would flow in and out depending on their shifts and health status.

It was looking forward to my husband’s and dog’s visits every other day—and trying to keep myself busy and distracted on off days.

It was an emergent c-section at just 30 weeks gestation.

It was not seeing our daughter until 5-6 hours after birth, once both her and I were stable enough.

It was living in fight or flight mode each of the 52 days we spent with our daughter in the NICU.

It was watching her fight to breathe and eat on her own.

It was spending my birthday and Mother’s Day in the NICU.

It was finally bringing her home at 7 weeks old (but just 37 weeks gestation).

It was trying to make sense of everything that happened.

It was broken.

It was beautiful.

It was mine.

What to expect from Mothermade.

Motherhood is already a beautiful, messy, wild adventure. So when you add pregnancy and birth trauma on top of it, there’s a lot to process. My hope for Mothermade is to talk openly and honestly about not just the beautiful parts of motherhood, but the messy ones, too. I’ll talk healing, health, hardships, and navigating mothering and family planning after trauma.

Subscribe now

Share