u s e y o u r h a n d s

When I worked at a downtown Chicago ad agency, I had big, important things to do. Clients sent me overseas and across the country. I went to award shows and had gallons of drinks. I was snarky and political.

And now, wow. I’m not where I’d like to be, certainly, and aspects of that old me still come out. But I’m so different. I fight for things worth fighting for, like a new playground for Gus, a better school, a more connected community. I find joy in small, simple things, like watching the same tree change color, warm, clean cloth diapers, and the feel of Gus’s fingers touch my face.

I never would have thought this would be my lovely life.

I think the storm is finally over.

I’ve been depressed before, had trying times before. But nothing of what I’ve read, experienced or observed, prepared me for the crushing, suffocating disaster that was the first three months of being a mother.

Nothing of what I’ve hoped for, longed for prepared me for the unmitigated joy of that next three months. I’m ecstatic and it’s both energizing and calming. I am so surprised.

And I am home.