On the car ride home from the hospital after giving birth, I told Alex that I finally felt at ease in the world….finally. I never have—I’ve always been awkward and uncomfortable and confused. But, as my child grew within me during pregnancy, those feelings began to shrink. And once I held her in my arms, I felt relieved, like it was the beginning of my life. Being a mother is the most natural role I’ve ever taken on. And though that role is central in my life right now, I’ve also found more clarity and comfort in all the other areas of my life since my little one has been around.

Because this mothering thing is so important and feels like it is a huge slice of the what-I-was-meant-to-do-on-this-earth pie, how I perceive my abilities and talent in this area is pretty crucial. So, that is why this next thought was so difficult for me to bear: my first week as a stay-at-home mother was horrible—it was stressful, frustrating, exhausting and left me questioning myself as a mother. It was my first full week of being at home with the baby without my husband here to help (we’ve been so lucky in that he’s been home for the majority of Em’s first four months). Instead of going easy on myself, I decided to also tackle working on a nap routine—regular daily times, extending the nap time longer than 45 minute cat naps, and teaching my baby to sleep somewhere other than on my body in the Ergo. I took all of this on rather than just learning how to cope with my new role. While I did make a lot of progress with all the how’s and where’s and when’s of nap time, I still found myself frustrated, emotionally depleted and not enjoying being a mother. By the end of the week I was in tears and picking fights with my husband. The progress I made wasn’t satisfying and didn’t make me feel hopeful for the future, it made me feel like a failure, because I hadn’t miraculously “cured” my baby overnight (or within a week) like so many books/parenting strategies/relatives/doctors/random strangers claim should be possible. Moreover, I felt like a failure because it was so damn hard on both Em and I. Something felt off.

And then. A voice spoke to me in the middle of complaining to my husband. I shushed Alex to listen to it (and then he asked me how many voices I was hearing, because I was seriously going bananas). The voice said, “listen to your gut.” That simple message—one I’ve lived my life by, and have repeated as my mantra throughout pregnancy and now motherhood yet somehow temporarily forgot—suddenly seemed new. I told Alex I had a revelation, which he thought sounded pretty dramatic, but really, it was a revelation. I went from crying and panicking to being filled with peace, just like that, after a week of a sucky suckfest in Suck Central.

As difficult and without solution some situations seem to be for me, one fact never changes: somewhere, inside myself, I always know what to do. I may resist the answer, but, in the end, I will have to come back to it, because it’s the only right solution (for me). This applies to my life in its entirety, but it is so incredibly pertinent to basically every minute of every day now that I am a mama. No friend, relative, doctor, book, media outlet, or fellow mama knows what I should do with my baby. As long as I remember that, I might keep my sanity on this journey through motherhood. My revelation (remembering to listen to my gut) completely transformed my experience from challenging to joyful. My second week as a stay-at-home mama was utterly pleasant, and I found myself more in love with my child than ever. We’ve enjoyed each other’s company tremendously, because there are only two people I’ve listened to and trusted in regards to how to parent my child: me, and Emerson. We know. We know.

Part of my joy, and what my gut was telling me, was that I needed to accept my circumstances, and more importantly, my child (yet another topic, but here we go….). I think we are drawn to read about, talk about, and search for answers concerning our children because IT. IS. HARD. Raising a child. Understanding a baby. Surviving. And we need help. So, it makes sense that we’d want to find some magic cure for every difficult phase, and perhaps find a philosophy (e.g. a book) to latch on to. I am no different—I’m pretty obsessed with reading about child development, child psychology, child-rearing and the like. But, I also think we have to temper our expectations when looking for help outside of ourselves, because all of our babies are individuals and nobody knows those individuals like their mamas. And while I know that that fact won’t stop me (personally) from hunting the internet every time Emerson has a problem I don’t know how to fix or hitting up the index of the good old Dr. Sears Baby Book when I want advice or calling a friend to vent when I’m struggling or going to my new mama’s group to gather up useful tips, it does help to remember that my baby is the one and only Emerson Winter.

What I know (for myself) is that when I accept Emerson as Emerson, this little operation we’ve got going on over here runs a whole lot more smoothly. Case in point, when I slowed down the nap routine train, Emerson mysteriously began napping for over two hours every day AND she took several naps in her swing (read: NOT ON MY BODY, wohoo!). I don’t expect those habits to stick permanently just yet, but I know that I won’t always be typing these posts with Em breathing heavily and sucking her fingers on my chest (as she is right now, le sigh). She and I are figuring it all out, together, every day. The end.

Alex goes back to work full-time next week, sadly signaling the end of summer. This time of year always comes with conflicted emotions, especially this year given we now have Emerson at home. It’s going to be a huge adjustment for all of us, after spending the first three months of Em’s life in a baby bubble—growing close as a family, slowly figuring out how to manage the new dynamics, and enjoying the comfort of constant support during the challenging times. It’s been amazing to witness the bond between my husband and our baby grow. My heart feels giddy knowing that my daughter was blessed with having both of her parents around, totally engrossed in her every movement and sound, throughout her newborn period. And now, I’m nervous. Nervous to become the primary caregiver without any help, and nervous that Em and Alex will miss their daily rituals together. Sigh.

I cannot believe how much my baby has grown in one season.

And now, some random photos from this summer….

Emerson turned 3 months on Sunday—yes, our little one is no longer a newborn, though she hasn’t felt like one for quite some time. I am in complete awe watching her develop. It’s miraculous that I pushed her into this world just three months ago, and now she’s laughing, babbling, blowing raspberries, grabbing both her feet in happy baby pose, and growing out of clothes and diapers at warp speed. She’s also lost all of her hair, except for one patch at the crown of her head that makes her look like girl is rockin’ a yarmulke. I find myself anxiously awaiting the beauty that will emerge along with her new hairs. I see the very beginning of soft, platinum blonde hair beginning to poke its way through her scalp and imagine her running around the backyard as a 5-year old, long, wavy locks streaming behind her.

My days start sometime between four and five a.m. these days. I’m awakened by Emerson squirming around beside me, intermittently emitting a shout to let me know she’s ready to be picked up. I prop her up to a standing position and she immediately begins to roister around the bed, stomping her feet, giggling, and loudly blowing raspberries as she lunges for my face to say “good morning, mama.” This sort of thing carries on for a while until I resign myself to the fact that my day is beginning at five a.m. Again.

It’s not long before Em will be begging me for her first nap of the day, though, so I’ll soon find myself bouncing on a big, blue birthing ball (the only way she will nod off to sleep). I sit and I bounce with not much to do but watch the day awaken outside my screen door. I stare at the house across the street—I’ve come to know the front of that house quite well in all my hours spent bouncing in the living room. The house is yellow with red trim, a color combination that truly irks me. But, there’s also the black and white photo of Alex and I on the wall next to the door, and I spend a lot of time staring at that, too. It’s one of the photos from our engagement session—Alex is holding me in his arms while we are locked in a kiss, standing on the beach down the street from our old apartment. That photo speaks of our passion, of the days when we were so obsessed with one another that we could’t keep our hands off of each other. And now, our hands are busy changing diapers, patting burps out of our baby’s belly, carrying the child who will not be put down. But, Emerson carries the torch for us, she is proof of our love—our genetics dancing together across her face, our nurturing kind of love hiding in the warmth of her skin.

And there will be passion again someday.

It’s crazy to realize that this time last year I had just conceived Em (eight days, and three hours ago, to be exact). And now she’s here, she’s three months old, and I am a mama. All of that is still a lot to process (I probably say this every month). I catch glimpses of myself holding my baby in the glass cabinet door in the kitchen, or the bathroom mirror as I wash poop off of my hands after a diaper change, and the image is confusing. Beautiful, but confusing. Who is this woman, and who is this baby she’s holding?

My own face has become almost foreign given all the time I spend staring at Em’s. So, I put a little bit of makeup on the other day to reclaim the existence of my face. It’s been four months since I’ve worn any—wow—and boy did I feel like a different person. It’s amazing what a little bit of mascara, under eye concealer and blush can do for a gal (bye, bye signs of sleep deprivation!). Of course, I hadn’t washed my hairs in days, but that’s neither here nor there.

Three months, and we are slowly piecing this life together as parents. It doesn’t look the same, but it’s starting to feel normal. Of course, everything is about to change as Alex goes back to work in a few weeks after being home since Em’s birth, and I will become a full-time mama (the same as now, minus the help) and a part-time aspiring artist.