Honoring My First Year of Motherhood: A (Vulnerable) Year In Review
Reflections shared straight from my journal that illustrate this most transformative, nourishing and challenging year
As I write this my freshly-turned one-year-old is napping away the early afternoon upstairs, while I sit on the back porch breathing in the first day of this autumn that feels like real autumn.
So much of today feels just like the day my daughter, Margot, entered the world at 7:10 a.m. exactly one year ago: sunny, rejuvenating, crisp and full of promise.
This last year has reminded me that our lives are built to contain multitudes, and many things can be true all at once –
Beauty can live in harmony with deep anguish; a zest for life and yearning for rest can both intermingle and blend.
Motherhood can feel enriching, fulfilling and all-encompassing; but a quiet, inner pressing for “more” when it comes to creativity and work deserves space, too.
I nearly talked myself out of sharing these words –
It feels tender and vulnerable to share writings directly from my journal – but it also feels right in the most candid, honest way that I know. I want to share openly in the spirit of celebrating both Margot and my full arrival into this new version of self.
So, thank you for being here and for reading.
Today is a day of celebration, of sharing, of tenderness and vulnerability – it’s been quite the beautiful year.
October 2023 – Month One
The thing about motherhood is it forces you to face and examine the parts of life you rushed through before. Slowing down is no longer optional, but required, often for the very first time. We slow and are awakened to the magic found in the fluttering of little eyelashes, gentle finger grasps, the softness of a cheek. For so long I was obsessed with how much I could effort and produce in a day – now I focus on how much I can feel. For that, I’m grateful.
November 2023 – Month Two
This last month has reminded me of the deeper things inside that are usually suppressed – the resilience, tenderness, grit, capacity to love deeply. I look at her and I see such innocence and love, and want to preserve that for as long as possible.
December 2023 – Month Three
Days full of “doing nothing” are beginning to pile on top of me, but I have to remember not to rush and savor this sacred season of life. I just met a human I created; I’m in the process of meeting a new version of myself, too. One that isn’t defined by my familiar measuring stick of “success.” Let me fight against every frantic, anxious tendency to truly enjoy this beautiful, nourishing time with my daughter.
January 2024 – Month Four
We’re starting to understand each other’s rhythms and routines. It feels good. I’m timidly approaching returning to work in my business with an open heart and mind, as well as my approach to setting expectations. Here’s to more full breaths, full days, full hearts.
February 2024 – Month Five
I was so terrified to become a mother– and it still terrifies me at times, the weight of it all – but I’m seeing more of the beautiful, big picture of those phase of life more every day.
March 2024 – Month Six
As someone who yearns for a life enriched by slower living, I’ve been living out the opposite lately. Rushing around, trying to meet self-imposed deadlines, feeling my own pressure to curate a “schedule” for Margot. But what would our days look like if I gave myself permission to take my time, to take it all in? That’s what I want to explore.
April 2024 – Month Seven
Yesterday was the eclipse – it reminded me that there are so many elements of Earth to experience awe through, although we often overlook them. I’ve been deeply trapped in my own mind lately and want to find a way out – to be truly present to this gorgeous, warm season that we’re heading into, and to soak up Margot’s babyhood before it stealthily slips away.
May 2024 – Month Eight
I’m realizing that I’ve been holding onto two versions of myself since bringing her into the world, and now it’s time to unabashedly embrace the new one: the mother one, the soulful one, the feeling one. My previous life and work feels clunky and ill-fitting – and what a privilege to have the opportunity to embark on a new path. Here’s to drumming up the courage to take it.
June 2024 – Month Nine
I’m sitting out back in the cool, creeping humidity of a Missouri June and wondering how time continues to slip by so quickly, wondering how I have an 8-month-old when just yesterday she slipped into the world. I continue to seek and meet new versions of myself just as quickly as Margot unfurls new versions of herself, too.
July 2024 – Month Ten
It’s almost overwhelming trying to keep up with her changes lately. The pendulum has swung now, forever in the direction of toddlerhood and beyond – I’ll never have a baby again. It’s a stark reality to accept, but I’m so eager to continue to get to know who she’s becoming.
August 2024 – Month Eleven
My mind feels foggy and stretched thin, and it’s hard to grasp that we’ve reached the end of another summer. I think of how summer used to signal endless pool days, lounging and reading. Savoring patio wine with friends, biking home in the heady dusk. I’ve done none of these things, and it scares me to wonder how long it will be until I do them again. The chasm between who I am and who I’ve been continues to widen, and it’s all so very startling.
September – Month Twelve
In two weeks I’ll have a one-year-old. This year defies all descriptors, but if I had to choose one, it would be transformative. I’m grateful for it all, every experience, even the terrifying ones – because to feel means to be alive.
Today – October 2, 2024
Today feels ripe with meaning, knowing I’ve danced this parenthood routine for a whole 365 days now. I told myself that I would keep my palms open in year one, grasping every fleeting moment oh-so lightly. Now, let this next year signal shedding fear and self-doubt, meeting a confident, assured self in the process.
Beautiful and so tender. Makes me wish I’d journaled in the early days of motherhood. I’ve journaled the last year but funny enough it’s never about motherhood because that is the part of me that feels the most familiar and ordinary. But I want to remember who they are at these stages. Thanks for the reminder to journal about my babies more…they’re 9 and 6 now and will never be this young again.
This is so beautifully written and captured, Lindsay. This is very much a celebration of your life, as much as it is Margot's, forever changed!