I Gave Birth in 2023, But Became a Mother in 2024

Brief reflections on and gratitude for this most tender, transformative year

Welcome, I’m Lindsay. The Slow Studio is a space I’ve created to write about my approach to slow(er) living as a design studio owner, multifaceted creative, first-time mother and more. Keep up with me on Instagram, Pinterest and TikTok.

The final day of the year always feels like it holds space for stillness and reflection, and this terminal Tuesday is no exception.

It’s one of the dreariest days we’ve experienced yet in the midst of this Midwestern winter, Margot is soundly napping in her nursery (am I allowed to still call it that for an almost-15-month-old?) and I’m mulling over a thought that entered my consciousness this morning and hasn’t yet evaporated:

It was in 2023 that I gave birth, but it was truly this year – 2024 – that I became a mother. And for that, I’m grateful.

When I think back to the opening months of this year, I see two completely different people:

When I think of Margot, I see a newborn who spends her days nodding off between bottles, naps only while being held, and needs my undivided care and attention incessantly and around the clock. I see a newborn who isn’t yet fully awake to the world, who values her comfort over curiosity.

When I think of myself, I see a fragile, healing woman coming up for air after a terrifying, life-threatening experience with postpartum preeclampsia. I see a woman who had never even changed a diaper until she had a baby of her own. I see a woman who spends most of her days at home – and not just because of the brutal winter cold, but because she is too anxious and overwhelmed to drive with a baby in the car. Even outings to get a coffee feel like too much, and a good day is when we simply make it outside for a walk.

But then, ever so slowly over the course of this year, I shed the irrational fear that my postpartum preeclampsia would return (it isn’t biologically possible, however, my mind wasn’t convinced), we fell into a rhythm that afforded me slivers of time to return to creativity, and like pure magic, Margot continued to grow and grow.

As everyone had for fervently promised, our beautiful “new normal” had arrived.

And for the first time, I truly stepped into and embraced motherhood – and it’s a fun, fulfilling place to be.

When I reflect on the final weeks of this year, I yet again see two completely different people:

I see Margot, who has grown into a creative and curious toddler, who prefers running to stillness and is carving out her unique path to independence. I see a toddler who hasn’t taken a bottle in months and has developed a seasoned palate for pasta dishes, coconut curry and her father’s sourdough. I see a toddler who needs me a touch less and less each day – and while that is heartbreaking at times, it’s exciting and affirming.

I see myself, a mother who has fully embraced this season of life and loves it more than I ever believed I would or could. I see a mother who can change a diaper in three seconds flat, whip up a coursed meal with a toddler on her hip and provide instant comfort when tears and tantrums bubble up. I see a mother who rarely stays at home, who is always out and about with Margot at the library, the park or the coffee shop and has made a few incredible new friends, too. I see a mother who has found the deepest joy in caring for her child and has maintained her own joys found in writing, running a business, thrifting, food and cultivating community, too.

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This year has taught me that we’re always in the process of giving birth to new versions of ourselves, so long as we relinquish control and allow the alchemy to take effect.

If you’ve met a new version of yourself this year, too, I’d love to hear about it. As we step into a new year, I hope you know how grateful I am that you’re here reading these words exactly as I’ve shared them in this moment.

Thank you, 2024, and here’s to 2025.