Writing Portfolio
“What did you end up doing last night?” I ask my friend as we turn the corner on the sidewalk. Her hands are tucked deep into her coat pockets but mine struggle to push a stroller, which feels much heavier now that two children fill its seats.
“I unloaded on my husband,” she replies, the cold air brushing everyone’s cheeks.
Katie was one of the first people to say hello when we started attending our home church. She invited me to a community group, and we became friends quickly. We bonded over the fact that we live ten streets apart and that we fall on opposite ends of the motherhood timeline. She became an empty nester a few years ago, as her kids began college, and at the same time, my house started filling with tiny humans. Each of us trying to navigate life, children coming and going.
Every Little Seed
I was the type of mom that was overly prepared during my pregnancy. I read every book I could get my hands on. I knew what size the baby was each week, and even took a long and very detailed birth class in the hopes that I would be prepared.
A few weeks before my due date, it hit me. I was so focused on being prepared for that big, special day, that I didn’t really think about what came afterwards. An actual baby was on the way — one that I was going to be completely responsible for.
MomCo
Friday: I stand in the kitchen, flipping crepes on the stove when contractions begin. We finish watching Tangled and I soak up every last snuggle with my toddler. I push it off as long as possible but finally head down the road to the hospital to have a healthy baby boy.
Saturday: Our friends visit us in the hospital and hold our baby, only twelve hours old, while I stuff my face with chipotle. They offer to set up a meal train for our family.
Sunday: The sign-up emails start flooding my husbands inbox. “Who are half these people?” He asks with an abundance of curiosity. This is the power of MOPS. This is the gracious gift of community.
Substack