There’s no doubt that motherhood has changed me. I’m more patient now, softer, kinder. But these changes didn’t happen overnight—and they didn’t come easily. They were forged in the long hours of using my entire body to care for my daughter, from pregnancy through birth and into the early days, weeks, months, and now, her first year.
If fire can forge steel into instruments of power and precision, then motherhood can shape a person into a vessel of profound capacity. (And, yes, diminished capacity too—but that’s a blog post for another day.)
There’s plenty of conversation around what is lost in motherhood—what must be grieved, what must be let go of, and even what is downright hard. That’s all true. I have those tearful, tender conversations in therapy, in my partnership, and with fellow mothers.
But as I reflect on this first year—with all its intensity and beauty—I feel it would be a disservice to focus only on the hard parts. Things are easier now. My daughter sleeps through the night (for now, knock on wood!). Her personality is blooming. Her joy is contagious, and I’m more in love with her than ever. Her days are more predictable, her needs easier to understand.
And in this new rhythm, I can see more clearly how much healing has taken place in me—healing that was long overdue after years of infertility and the grief and uncertainty that came with it.
So, in celebration of a year of transformation—both big and small—here are eleven lessons I’ve learned from my first year of motherhood that I now carry into every part of my life, including how I run my business:
1. Give yourself more time than you think you need.
2. Slow down. Then slow down even more. Do one thing at a time.
3. Regulate your own nervous system first. Only move from that grounded space if you can—and if you can’t? Take things off your plate and honor the dysregulation.
4. Be willing to pivot. Try new things. Don’t accept defeat if something doesn’t work right away.
5. Keep it simple. Prioritize rest, nutrition, and hydration (especially rest). You don’t need a shiny new thing, a quick fix, or a vacation.
6. Move your body and use your voice to keep your creative energy flowing—sing, hum, dance.
7. Listen to and trust your intuition.
8. You can’t pour from an empty cup. Don’t make decisions or take action when you’re depleted. Honor your limits and capacity.
9. Be honest. When it’s hard, let it be hard. Seek support when you can.
10. Nothing lasts forever. Embrace impermanence—it helps you savor the good and survive the hard.
11. Embrace the chaos and imperfection—it leads to more joy. Crumbs on the floor, toys everywhere, stains on my shirt? It’s all part of it. When I stress over it, it takes me out of the moment—and my daughter picks up on that stress. This feels true for this moment in time collectively, too. Life is chaos. Enjoy the ride.
This first year has been a rite of passage. It stretched me in ways I couldn’t have prepared for and softened parts of me I didn’t know needed softening. These lessons weren’t learned in one moment—they were etched into me slowly, through the daily mundane rituals of care, surrender, exhaustion, pain, joy, and love. I know there’s still so much more ahead, but if I’ve learned anything, it’s that I can trust the process. I can trust myself. And that, maybe more than anything, is the gift my daughter has given me.