There’s no easy answer, but I think it would benefit us all to take fewer cues from societal shoulds, social media, or marketing campaigns, and instead strive to observe the changing seasons of our lives in the way we watch summer blaze into fall, or spring blossom from winter– without judgment or rush to action, with acceptance, with a celebration of the uniqueness, the worth, of each new stage over fruitless yearning for some other time. After all: there’s beauty and value in even the hardest seasons of our lives, if we can accept that suffering is as much a part of life as any positive emotion, if we can accept change as the only constant, if we can accept that all things– both good and bad– eventually pass, if we can try to appreciate rather than resist.

I realized that there is strength in asking for help, and that interdependence, community, and trust is the true mark of self-reliance.

Thankfully, I can recognize when plans need to change. I don't often push through to complete things at the expense of health, sanity, and pleasure. But I often mourn my original plans much longer than necessary. I think "If only.... If only.... If only…," and it's really not very helpful. I linger on the things I miss out on instead of seeing what’s next. When I was frustrated with my fretting on that too-hot day, I looked at my kids, and my jaw nearly dropped out how swiftly and easily they adapted to the new situation. How did they do that? What's the difference between them and me?

Here’s a non-exhaustive list of how you can show up for a friend who has experienced

pregnancy loss (or how to ask your friends to show up for you):

Perhaps the new normal even changes frequently. Life is different. It’s terrifying; it's anxiety-provoking. But it’s also beautiful. Precious moments and memories await you. It will be wonderful, it will be hard, but it will also be rewarding.

I’ve been writing this letter to my birth mom in bits and pieces throughout the years—words trailing when inspiration flows like a staggering stream. I’ll admit, the words feel like mismatched puzzle pieces without a reference picture. How do I convey the assurance I ache to give a woman I’ll probably never meet?

For me, it is easier to think in terms of small indulgences, where the stakes are low, but when I’m honest with myself, indulging daily is much grander than office supplies and pizza nights. It’s about being present and grateful and joyful in the moments when you can be, because sometimes you can’t. It’s about living in abundance, even if that abundance is something as simple as having a slice of hot blackberry pie for dinner.

From the earliest days of my motherhood, the days of butterfly kicks in my uterus and aches in my back, I’ve had the overwhelming desire to teach my sons this one life skill.

It is not surprising that postpartum body acceptance is a major narrative in mental health following delivery. Here you’ll find the letter I wish someone had written to me after laboring my first, second, and third babies into the world.

Firstly and most importantly, you are doing just fine. Honestly, you are doing better than fine. You are crushing it.

If we let it, motherhood can unlock a secret door to the humans we were meant to be. You will never find me claiming to be an expert in the field of motherhood. (It would be foolish to do so when each day presents a new opportunity for growth.) But, if you feel that a part of you has been lost in motherhood, take some time to consider just a few ways into the path of finding!