Dear Tracy, 

I feel a little (okay, A LOT) exposed writing this, but like we’ve said from the beginning: we can’t be the only ones feeling x,y, or z. It’s one of the reasons we started this adventure of Maternity Fraternity. 

So here goes: I have anxiety. 

For most of my life it’s been a low hum in the background and after the birth of my son I was diagnosed with Post Partum Depression…but it turns out as time goes by and hindsight is 20/20 it was definitely Post Partum Anxiety. 

I have coping skills for the day to day low hum that is just a part of my life. 

Growing up military meant any mental health issues were not openly discussed and either quietly dealt with or compartmentalized to deal with another day. I’m really good at both. 

But, like a tide that rises, it becomes too much for periods throughout my life. When these things happen, I cannot insist enough that you should seek professional help. 

Dear Tracy,

Today is January 6th and it’s been four years since my father passed away. The tiny human was born January 9th and celebrates his fourth birthday in just three days. 

Which means, four years ago, a few days after my son was born, my brand new little family drove five and a half hours north to attend my father’s services. I chose not to travel for his civilian memorial and instead chose to honor his life dedicated to our country and attend his military honors. 

I do not recommend road tripping with a newborn, but life happens and you need to choose what is best for you and your family. 

Dear Tracy,

Tonight while tidying up the kitchen as my kid asked for dinner (finally) at 8 pm, I was struck by this thought: I should have asked if she was okay. 

Let me back up…

Monday, I was talking to a mom and relaying a story about a friend’s travels and how I’m a bit envious and gosh wouldn’t it be nice to get away by myself for a week or two to a remote location. And overheard by another mother, she proceeded (with some palpable disdain) to comment on how she gave up her chance to live that life for her husband and children. She said, “I gave up a life, FOR YOU…?!?” and at the moment I felt awkward.

I felt we all make sacrifices, but aren’t they worth it? It’s a different path in life, but it’s worth it when your kid runs up to you and gives you a kiss whispering how happy they are you came back to pick them up from school before running off to play on the playground for just one more minute (or hour in his case).

And instead of responding, I just let her vent with minimal interaction on my part. 

And this was a mistake. 

Dear Jess, 

Ever since we started this blog, we’ve been posting about self-care, self-love, self-compassion, whatever you want to call it. I just wanted to take a moment to explain why taking time for ourselves as moms so important in my eyes. 

My Run in with Post Postpartum Depression

I had my first son in 2014. We were stationed in Fort Stewart when I gave birth. I had just found out I was pregnant when the movers came and we were whisked away to Georgia. By the time we were settled in, I had started to feel the effects of what would be a miserable pregnancy. Let’s just say I was not a fan of the nausea, PUPPS, sciatica, and hauling around a very large baby for my small 5’0″ frame. 

How I feel about pregnancy

When he was born, I was so grateful that my parents came down for almost a month to help me get back on my feet. Even with warnings from friends and research I did, nothing prepared me for the recovery period of a C-section. It never clicked to me that while I would have trouble getting out of bed for a few weeks, I would also be taking care of this tiny human that completely relied on me to survive. Chalk it up to mommy brain, denial, or just plain lapse of judgement– having a baby completely blindsided me. 

Dear Tracy,

Do you remember growing up amidst the “perfection is the key” to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness? Perfect grades, perfect behavior, and perfect everything? 

What if it’s not? 

I know, it sounds crazy when measured up to the internal dialogue of “Perfect”, but hear me out:

Today, while cleaning the kitchen, I didn’t have time to do a perfect job. I didn’t have the time to scrub my sink clean or scour the stove top.

But, are my clean dishes put away and dirty dishes loaded into the dishwasher? Is dinner in the crockpot? Is the counter clean? Are the floors swept? Are there pots drying from being hand washed? Yes. And it’s enough, for now, to make the kitchen clean and functional for other’s to use, but it’s not perfect. I could scrub the sink, the stove top, apply some furniture polish to the cabinets, tidy up some art projects drying on the counter top, and tackle the microwave; but right now it’s good enough. Why can’t Good Enough actually be Enough?