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Wide Awake with Gratitude
It’s late. The kind of late where the world feels quiet, where even the hum of the fridge sounds louder than usual. I can hear the dog snoring under the bed – his favourite place to sleep. Sleep just isn’t coming tonight, and instead of tossing and turning, I find myself sitting with gratitude. My kids are sleeping peacefully, each one such a miracle in their own unique way. They push me, stretch me, challenge me, and teach me more about love than I ever thought I could hold. Sometimes, in these quiet moments, I just feel overwhelmed with how lucky I am to be their mom. Then there’s my…
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Becoming Me Again: A Memoir of Motherhood, Healing, and Holding On
There’s a moment I come back to often. I’m standing in the middle of my kitchen – unshowered, in pajamas, a baby on my hip, a toddler pulling at my leg, and another wailing somewhere nearby. Crumbs are everywhere. The laundry pile is overflowing. The noise is loud, but somehow, inside me, it’s quiet. Almost numb. In that moment, I feel like I’m unraveling. But underneath the exhaustion, something else is happening too. A remembering. A reckoning. A kind of becoming. Becoming a mother cracked me open in ways I never expected – and in ways that forced me to face the things I thought I had long buried. I…
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Postpartum, Pinot, and the Pandemic: A Love Story (Sort Of)
Let’s set the scene: It’s 2020. The world is shut down, I just gave birth to my first baby, and I haven’t slept in what feels like 35 years. I’m leaking from places I didn’t know could leak, the baby won’t latch, and the laundry pile has developed sentience. My body feels like it’s been through a war (because…it has), and my hormones are doing the cha-cha with my sanity. Enter: wine. At first, it was a cute little evening ritual. Just a glass – okay, sometimes two – of Pinot Grigio to “take the edge off” after a long day of diaper blowouts, cluster feeding, and existential dread. You…