…just kidding.

We paid our last daycare bill in the beginning of August.

I’m up early writing this essay at the end of the month because I’m stressed this morning and need to get this out. It’s my youngest child’s last day in their Pre-K classroom and therefore our last day in daycare…forever. He starts Kindergarten in public school on Monday, and I am surprised by my own emotions surrounding this.

In my article about cherishing the “lasts” of parenting, I wrote about how some finish milestones are happy ones, like paying the last daycare bill (which has risen over the years to now being half our mortgage payment, just for one kid!). That part IS a huge relief, However, anticipating this perceived boost in funds blinded me to the unexpected emotions that would be popping up as we close the chapter on what has been a massive part of our lives for nine and a half years.

I (reluctantly) sent each of my babies off to daycare at twelve weeks old. It was tough to do that, but my job was only protected by FMLA for 90 days and I was fully UNPAID for my entire leave each time. I knew I wanted to go back to work, and I knew we needed the money. It was too soon for my comfort level. Alas, we did it anyway, three times over.

Daycare was wonderful. These teachers showed my kids love like they were our family. They snuggled them before naps, took care of their boo-boos, and cleaned their messes and scrapes and butts. Helped us potty train them. Helped us make the decision of whether to hold them back or send them on to K, and taught them in ways that prepared them to leave the nest for public school.

I cried last night writing thank you notes to the Pre-K teachers and director/owner. How do I put into words my gratitude for over nine years of loving care to my precious babies? These people were our coparents, our confidants at times, and some even became our private babysitters so we could get a night out here and there.

On my very first day back to work after my first maternity leave came to an end, I was nervous and teary-eyed. I got to my desk, only to receive flowers and a box of (delicious) Hope’s Cookies. I burst into tears, wondering who would be so thoughtful as to think to comfort me on this tough day of transition. It was the daycare owner, Melissa, reassuring me that they’d keep my baby safe and sound.

We ended up moving two years later, about forty minutes away, and enrolled in the same school company, though the franchise owners were different. That was a sad transition as well. To our delight, a few years later Melissa and her husband took over our branch as well, with her husband Vinnie as the director. We were reunited!

It happened to be another tough time for me, coincidentally, because I was having a prophylactic double mastectomy that fall that would require ten weeks of leave and would restrict me from picking up my three-year-old for at least three months. Newly back in our lives, Melissa sent a package during my recovery. Because of course she did.

Leaving daycare means leaving Melissa, Vinnie, Miss Carrie (our favorite babysitter), and Mr. Ryan, the pre-K teacher who prepped each of my kids to succeed in Kindergarten. It means leaving behind a good portion of the trusted adults in my son’s life. It’s separating my son from the buddies he’s been with since the infant room. He’s been nervous for the transition and basically cried himself to sleep last night, saying he doesn’t want to leave.

Overall, we stand by our choice to send him on (though he’ll be somewhat young for his grade). We are happy to eliminate a large monthly bill and this will all be for the best.

I just am having a harder time with this change than I expected, this is what we do here—write/vent/share about it.

I’ll be dropping off some goodies for the staff as a “thank you,” but it feels measly. Inadequate. How can some Wawa gift cards and cases of drinks to stock the staff room possibly do this justice?

Time to get ready. Time to brace myself for teary-eyed hugs with the office staff. Time for “where did the time go?” and “it’s the end of an era” and “keep in touch, will ya?”

Anyone who loves and nurtures and protects our kids like this deserves a karmic reward. They will always, always hold a special place in our hearts.

Wish me luck,

xo, Amy

It has well-researched information regarding dietary recommendations, nutrient needs, and countless other tips that I haven’t found collected together anywhere else.

Most importantly, for me, it explains WHY all these recommendations are being made, and WHY we need certain nutrients during this time. This method of presentation improves my motivation to actually make and maintain dietary changes, because I now understand how important they are for fetal growth and maternal health. I can read rules or best practices all day long, but if you aren’t giving me the reasoning behind them, I am far less likely to follow them. I imagine many prospective moms out there feel the same. Even if I can’t recall the exact scientific fact I learned about a nutrient or the specific benefits of a food later on, I remember it was important enough for me to think, “Hey, I should listen to this.”

This book also has a very helpful section on postpartum recovery, and the dietary tips all apply to maximizing fertility as well, so it’s really an all-encompassing resource regarding the many phases of childbearing. If you want to dive deeper into fertility nutrition, she has a whole book for that called Real Food for Fertility. For our friends with gestational diabetes, there’s one for you, too!

The author, Lily Nichols, is a registered dietician who focuses on women’s health, particularly during pregnancy and postpartum. She is a realist, she is not dogmatic, and she recognizes that research and evidence shift over time as we learn more. She gives the straight facts—backed by evidence—but delivers them in a way that is digestible and non-judgmental. I appreciate her writing and her approach so much.

Buying this book will undoubtedly change your pregnancy and improve the health of your baby (and your own as well)! I should add that I do not know Lily personally, and this is #notsponsored (though technically the link at the top is my amazon affiliate link, to be transparent).

I truly enjoyed reading this book and have benefited enough from it that I want to elevate it, even years after my initial reading! It feels poignant at this time, seeing as how I have my own book coming out soon on postpartum healing. It feels like it could be a continuation of sorts to the comprehensive info she shares on pregnancy.

Here are some of my biggest takeaways from this book (in my own words). For the “why” behind each of these tidbits, you’ll have to grab the book and let Lily tell you herself!

In Pregnancy:

• Fetal programming is the theory that we have some control over the physiological health and well-being of our fetus. There are likely things that we can control, such as our nutrition, habits, stress management, and more— and those things can enforce more healthy gene expressions in our babies.

• Stress impacts pregnancy in a physiological way. It can even lead to increased cortisol in amniotic fluid, which isn’t good for baby. Taking care of yourself and your mental health in pregnancy isn’t just for your own sake!

• If you aren’t feeling sick during pregnancy, your thyroid could be underperforming or you could be lacking iodine. Also get your thyroid checked if you’ve experienced miscarriage.

• There are misconceptions about high blood pressure in pregnancy and what that means regarding dietary changes (including salt recs).

• Those famous pregnancy cravings can actually be linked to nutritional deficiencies! Listen to them!

• There are supplements, dietary changes, and even aromatherapy scents we can implement that may help with pregnancy nausea.

• Glycine is an amino acid that is not talked about much. It is conditionally essential during pregnancy, due to its vital function in healthy fetal growth. The sources of glycine are animal based (bone broth and slow cooked cuts are best). There is a significant amount of glycine in collagen, which may help reduce the incidence of stretch marks.

• Vitamin B12 ( which is important for baby’s brain development and the formation of red blood cells) can only be sourced from animal products.

• A prenatal vitamin is not a replacement for a healthy prenatal diet, but it does help scaffold the nutrients we and baby need.

In Postpartum:

• Focusing on your health and the health of your baby now will pay dividends down the line, and allowing yourself to heal slowly and completely will prevent issues for years to come.

• Doing too much, too soon after birth (exercise-wise) is a recipe for pelvic floor dysfunction.

• Probiotic supplementation can have a positive effect on skin health (e.g. eczema) of your baby via breastfeeding.

• Focusing on adding in healthy foods in postpartum for healing is so much more important than seeking to cut unhealthy foods out.

• If breastfeeding, supplementation of vitamin D is a must (can be taken by either mom or baby).

General Info:

• Seafood, meat, and vegetables are much more nutrient-dense than grains, which are not doing as much for us as people think.

• Fat is satiating, providing slow-burning energy and keeping us fuller, longer. Let’s not be afraid of this macronutrient!

• Symptoms like depleted energy, blood sugar issues, sugar cravings, and headaches could mean you need more protein.

• Simple ingredients often provide the most nutrient density; processing can deplete or remove nutrients.

These takeaways only scratch the surface of what you will learn by actually reading this book. You don’t have to be a nutrition expert to have a healthy and nourished pregnancy. The great news is, you can rely on well-studied information combined with ancestral wisdom to maximize your success. Lily already did the work for you. Listen to her!

Foods to include in pregnancy meal plans:

Eggs

Liver (via supplement if not in whole food form)

Dark, leafy greens

Coconut water (for potassium, which helps prevent swelling)

A combo of raw and cooked veggies

Slow cooked meats, tougher cuts for the glycine and collagen

Fatty fish (selenium binds to mercury to remove it and prevent its absorption); salmon, herring, and sardines are good examples.

Full fat and fermented dairy (Greek yogurt)

Butter/lard

Thanks for reading, and let me know if you end up reading this book or any of the ones pictured here. I’ll have more info on my own book on postpartum recovery in the coming weeks- it’s SO close to being ready for you!

xo, Amy

P.S. If you liked this article, consider checking out these as well!

Congratulations! You have just or are about to enter the wonderful world of getting to care for and raise another human! It’s magical and tough and rewarding and challenging and so many other conflicting things. And it’s all worth it.

Those who perform the birthing portion of the parental assignments will come to realize that caring for a newborn can be tough while also trying to heal from a semi-major medical event (depending on how it all went down).

This is why we need some postpartum real talk.

We spend a lot of mental energy worrying about what to do with a tiny lady or gent once we get them home, and that’s valid. But it is critically important to our postpartum healing that we not forget about OURSELVES in the midst of caring for our newborns. I know, it’s often all about the baby and their needs, and of course their needs are usually more pressing and emergent on any given day. Its just… we matter, too.

Gathering support for our fourth trimester is a good place to start. In order to be our best selves and give the best care possible to our babies, we need to prioritize our own healing. In order to do that, we need HELP. Someone to physically help us with newborn care as well as to help keep us fed and rested between baby feedings.

I realize this is not easy for everyone, given our country’s general lack of parental leave for partners (and moms, even) and the distance we may be from other relatives (not to mention single parents)! Most areas have local moms groups to join for moral support and get-togethers, and you can have a friend or relative (from near or far) organize a postpartum meal train for you. For those with the financial means to hire help, postpartum doulas, night nurses, or nannies can be an option, too. Whatever your situation is, I highly encourage seeking out some form of support and not trying to do it ALL yourself. Building a network of trusted people you can count on takes effort and time, but it is so well worth it.

In addition to gathering whatever village you can around you, postpartum prep also includes prepping your home for a successful transition. This may mean stocking the pantry, gathering recovery supplies, and making sure you have what you need for the earliest days with baby (hint: having the nursery prepped is actually NOT the most pressing issue)!

Healing after childbirth (physical as well as mental and hormonal) is not just necessary in the short term. The hormonal recovery (or lack thereof) can set you up for either success or problems down the road, all the way to menopause. Prolapses, irregular cycles, secondary infertility, thyroid issues, weight gain/retention, and anxiety/depression are all reasons to take healing seriously.

The risks and potential consequences of being unprepared for these life changes are not being talked about enough, and that’s why educating ourselves is the third vital recommendation I have for postpartum prep (behind rallying a support system and prepping the home). Following those three tenets saved me from feeling alone and unequipped to handle what was coming after having a baby, which is why I’m so passionate about passing them along.

It’s the reason why I have written a manual for postpartum moms to learn how to care for themselves in the fourth trimester and beyond.

After I read everything I could get my eyeballs on and listened to hundreds of hours of podcasts about birth and postpartum, I felt somewhat ready to be a mom. Honestly, you can never be fully ready beforehand, but you can definitely get informed, which helps immensely. The thing is, not many people have time for all that—I probably went a bit overboard. So after doing all the research I did and then going through birth and postpartum three times myself, I wrote about it.

I was the mom bringing my laptop to my daughter’s dance class so I could write while I waited for her. I was studying for my pre- and postnatal coaching certification while in car line at summer camp. I was squeezing in research and editing and content creation during nap times or in the space between my kids’ bedtimes and my own. In the little nooks and crannies of time among all the work and parenting tasks throughout the days. There I was, diligent. Devoted.

I know I’m not alone in this.

I know MANY moms are just like me. Trying to build something for themselves that has a greater meaning. I just wanted to acknowledge it because the sum of all those seemingly tiny moments became a book for me.

A real life, hold-in-your-hands, published work that reflects years of hard work, which hopefully will mean something to many new moms out there just trying to survive after having a baby.

This book is five years of formulating and writing and ten of research and experience. It’s long because it’s comprehensive. I have done the research for you. I have waded through years of unfounded recommendations and questionable advice to find the gems that just might bring you ease and peace during an otherwise hectic time of transition.

I want you to feel supported in your postpartum era, and my perspective is that you will feel that support more deeply if you know where to find it and how to access it. I’m here to show you. You’ll feel more confident in your own parenting decisions if you’ve been given the chance to weigh your options and land on what feels best for you. I will help you do that. You will feel stronger in your physical recovery if you’ve nourished yourself and taken measures to maximize the efficiency of your healing. I’ve got the answers (or at least the guidance to help you find them on your own).

I am a firm believer that advice cannot be universal, and blanket statements help almost no one. That’s why this book is so unique and valuable. It has nuance, and it encourages new parents to come to their own conclusions while providing all the available pertinent information. I can’t tell you what to do, nor how to handle your own baby or recovery. But I can give you the information and the tools to handle these things yourself and come out the other side of postpartum feeling strong, both physically and mentally.

I am so excited for each new and prospective parent to read my book, and I think they should. And believe me, it took me a while to have the confidence in my own skills to promote myself like this. What ultimately helped me do so was having such a strong conviction that this information is vital to getting through the fourth trimester without feeling burnt out, scared, unsure, weak, and struggling.

I want every new parent to feel held and free. Held as in supported, and free as in making autonomous choices for one’s family and blocking out the noisy opinions of others.

If I achieve that for one family, I will be extremely proud.

I absolutely cannot wait to hold my very own book in my hands and then share it with whoever needs it. I may need your help on that front, as pregnant folks out there may not know how much they actually could benefit from work like this! So if you’re reading this as a mom, please consider buying it as a baby shower gift or sending this article to your favorite prospective parent! It’s hard to know what we need until we don’t get it and are in the throes of postpartum, struggling. I want to prevent that struggle as much as I can.

Thank you so much to my supporters and cheerleaders out there. I am doing this to help the next generation of moms have an easier time than mine did.

xo, Amy

P.S. Book release date isn’t set in stone yet, but we are hoping for mid-September 2026! I will keep you all posted- the best way to not miss it is to subscribe!

I talk a lot about finding identity after becoming a mom. I struggled with the idea, personally, because I was afraid of losing myself. I didn’t want motherhood alone to define me once I had my baby. When I first entered parenthood I was determined to just incorporate her into our lives. I’d be a cool mom, ya know? Bringing her with us wherever we went.

For a while, it worked well. She enjoyed the din of a restaurant, so she slept in her carrier while we continued with date nights and social outings. As she got older, though, and once we had more than one child, all bets were off. Things got much harder to coordinate and soon enough it didn’t feel worth it to go out nearly as much. When our second-born was around nine months old, Covid hit and we stopped taking them anywhere at all.

We were tired, and for better or worse we were stuck at home.

I don’t regret those early times, because that’s how I managed the transition from pre-baby life to parenthood. I think it was good for my psyche at the time to know I still had it. That I didn’t have to immediately change everything about myself just because I was a parent. I needed that, I think. I was a very social person (still am) and it meant a lot to me to maintain friendships and to keep a semblance of that identity. I wasn’t willing to put something on hold that fuels my happiness for the duration of my birthing years. So much was changing already, I wanted to hold onto whatever I could. From what I remember, there wasn’t as much talk about exposure to germs or judgment for bringing babies out in public back then.

Over time, the urge to be as much of a social butterfly dimmed a bit. I’m sure sheer fatigue played a role in that, as well as a general shift in priorities. Once those shifts happened, it wasn’t such a crushing blow to not be out and about as much, because I simply had different social needs (and social battery). Then, for literally two years, we chose not to bring our babies to restaurants or grocery stores. (In talking about the evolution of our social lives as parents to babies and toddlers, I simply cannot leave out the pandemic of it all).

Now, three kids and almost ten years later, I’m finding the balance again with what I can manage and what I am actually motivated to do.

I still find that my social life is a big part of my identity as an extrovert. Being with people gives me energy, even though it takes effort to make and keep plans. Sharing, being vulnerable, getting caught up on my friends’ life-updates, and retelling old stories makes me feel warm inside.

Doing some of the old things we used to love before we had kids reignites something in me. Karaoke, cocktails, playing games, and getting some kid-free beach time (in a chair!) fills my cup and rejuvenates me. I feel like myself after these types of get-togethers. And not just my OLD self, but my ongoing, ever-evolving, current self. The self I want my kids to see and get to know as they grow up. We may be in the thick of it these days, but I want my children to know who I am outside of being a mom so that they will know we are all multi-faceted humans and not just the familial roles we play.

If you’ve never scream-sung an early 2000s country banger on a boat with friends of twenty+ years, I highly recommend it. If you’re into that sort of thing.

Realizing you can recall every lyric to a song you haven’t heard since college is not only a fantastic memory exercise for our perimenopausal brains, but it’s also fun as hell. Laughing about prior boyfriends from the before times, getting updates on how all our mutual friends are doing, dissecting reality TV shows, and motivating each other in our career goals are all part of the magic. And we eat really good food, too.

I’ll never not want this. I’ll never not crave this.

It makes me in awe of how far we’ve all come. Grateful to have had them through all our respective tough times, and so lucky to have the solidarity of other moms for all that is to come.

Friendships will fade over time and people will grow apart without putting in consistent effort. You have to care about how others are doing. You have to keep in touch, do the updates, schedule the trips. For most people, this a very busy and overwhelming time. Everyone is raising kids and holding their households together while also working or taking care of family members, among the many other duties of adult life that are not unique but are exhausting nonetheless.

Often there are one or two friends who are the glue who keep a group together. These are the ones who push to pick a date for brunch, a weekend away, or a happy hour. These are the friendship angels who have the mental bandwidth to peer pressure the group to finally set a date. Ideally, group members will share this burden, but people have their gifts and that’s okay. The groups without at least one of these, though? They fade away. So be nice to “the bossy one.”

No matter how it happens, it’s important that it happens. That you get something on the books. Because I wouldn’t trade this level of connection for anything. I’ve been referencing the weekend that just occurred, but the general sentiment here is not exclusive to a single group of friends.

I am beyond blessed to have kept in touch with multiple small group over the years and I’ll never stop. This social butterfly gives and receives something slightly different to and from each group, and each serves to fuel my spirit and contribute to my overall contentedness in various ways. My happiness depends in part on the sum of these relationships, which might seem weird to say when I have my very own nuclear family to come home to. It’s not that they’re not enough; it’s just that our closest people shouldn’t shoulder the burden of providing all that we require to feel fulfilled. No one should be expected to coddle my mental well-being, which is exactly why I make it a point to maintain and protect the things I need to feel whole.

I believe it’s the small things that improve daily happiness. But these bigger things are something to look forward to, they keep us talking throughout the year, and they end up building up a part of my life that feels so worthy and valuable- the connections with people I love. Folks who help me to grow and reflect and be a better mom and friend and person. Who believe in me and help me believe in myself.

When my kids are off to college or go live on their own, I know I will have people to turn to. If I were to neglect my friendships during my child-rearing years, I fear I’d be a lonely empty-nester wishing I had cultivated them when I had the chance.

So, thank you! Thank you to the beautiful people in my life that validate my feelings and tolerate my singing and enjoy my impressions and pay attention to my goals and tell me I married a good one and throw their head back laughing at my clever and hilarious jokes and enjoy the dark humor associated with postpartum recovery and not having nipples anymore (that’s a mastectomy reference- story for another time).

We deserve this. We deserve to soak in the benefits of long time friendship because we were there through the miscarriages and the loss of parents and the family dynamic drama and the serious diagnoses and the surgeries and the job struggles and the tough parenting moments. We deserve to not have to hide or over-explain ourselves, which is something that only comes from years of truly knowing a person, and therefore knowing the hows and whys of their fears and decisions and triumphs.

Bringing levity and laughter and genuine fun in concentrated doses serves as medicine for the tough in-betweens and the grueling schedules and the routines of everyday life. It helps bring gratitude for what we have and lets us miss our little respective families for a few days so we can return to them with full cups (figuratively, of course, as we emptied all the actual cups this weekend).

It puts things in perspective and helps us be more mindful and present in our everyday lives knowing we are kind of all going through things together.

It’s lasting and it’s fleeting.
And I already can’t wait until the next one.

Pull up your calendars, bitches.
We’re going on a trip.

xo, Amy

p.s. If you liked this, you might also like:

If you are interested in planning a tropical resort vacation with children, this post is for you. Of course, you can go to this resort without children, but this chain has the best offerings for little ones that I’ve seen!

For context, at the time of this vacation I had three children, aged five years, three years, and eleven months. We traveled with other family as well, so there were twelve of us total, five of whom were ten and under.

I am going to go through the notes I have on the features of this resort and elaborate as much as I can on each one to give the full picture of our experience, in the hope that it helps you make a decision! If you have been to this resort and have feedback for me, that is welcome- feel free to comment below. Questions on things I didn’t cover are welcome as well, and I can update this post as needed to include things I left out.

Let’s start here:

Why we chose this resort

Once we discovered that the Beaches chain had daycare/babysitting options that didn’t require the children to be potty trained, we had to decide on which one looked the best to us. There are options in Jamaica, and they are less expensive than Turks & Caicos. However, in Jamaica you have to travel much further to get to the resort from the airport. Also, the reviews of T&C location were better at the time that we looked. The T&C airport is also less than fifteen minutes from the resort.

Room Accommodations

I did not book the resort for us, so I am not sure of all of the options. We had a room with two queen beds, and there was a twin-sized foldout chair in the room as well. That worked out well, because our girls (three & five) didn’t have to share a bed. They provided us with a crib for the baby upon request. It wasn’t full-sized, but it was fine. If you have the means and if there is availability, I’d suggest a suite where you could put the kids to bed and be in another space, but honestly we were so tired, we just went to bed at nine p.m. most nights anyway. There were two sinks, a bathtub/shower combo, a closet, a big TV, a mini-fridge, and a safe. We were on ground-level, so we had a walk-out sliding glass door with two chairs and a table outside, where we hung bathing suits mostly. There were a few resort cats (who they tell you not to touch as they are feral) that liked to cozy up on those chairs, FYI.

Included Childcare

This resort has babysitting built into the cost, and if you’ve looked into pricing it is not inexpensive (IMHO)! If you have no intention of using the services, you could save your money by going somewhere else that doesn’t include it.

My advice? Use it. Don’t hesitate. Sign up Day One. They didn’t advertise it well once we were there; we had to go looking for the info. Even the pamphlets given to us in our room about activities didn’t include anything about Camp Sesame, which I thought was strange. Because the information on how to sign up wasn’t readily available to us, we waited two days before looking into it (regretfully). It’s so worth it, though, and the sooner you sign up, the better, because then the ladies there get to know your kids and you feel more comfortable bringing them.

The main kids camp area is in the center of the resort. You will need their passports or a copy of them to sign them up, and then different age groups meet in different locations on site. You will get pamphlets on each age group and their itineraries for the whole week, and you can choose when to send them and when not to based on your own needs or on your kids’ interest in the activities.

The main Camp Sesame location is for three to four-year-olds. The five to seven and eight to ten-year-old groups meet close by, but at a different location, and babies who can’t walk yet are actually further away in another part of the resort. That’s annoying if you have multiple kids, but still worth it. They allowed our five and three-year-olds to stay together at the main camp which was nice, because I wasn’t sure our three-year-old would stay otherwise. When you drop them off, you leave your phone number as well as where you will be within the resort so they can find you if they need to. You will also create a password, and no one will be able to pick up your kids without the password. This was enforced.

Hours of camp are eight a.m. to five p.m., and they’ll feed them lunch if you want. If not, you can pick them up from twelve to two p.m. Then, from six to nine p.m., camp is also included at no extra charge! The baby center is closed after six p.m., so the babies get to be at the main camp with three/four year-olds, and since they let our five--year-old stay with them, we only had one drop off point at night. They put the baby to sleep when he got tired, and we’d pick them all up at nine p.m. and head back to the room. The girls would be amped, and it was past bedtime, but it was worth it. The baby slept terribly all week regardless of if we sent him to camp, so that was just bad luck I think (and teething).

You might be wondering, “Why would I go on a family vacation only to send my kids off to camp the whole time?!”

That’s a fair question! You certainly don’t have to do that. What’s great about the camps is that you’ll see a list of activities and you can choose which to participate in. We ended up only sending our older two during the day when there was something that interested them; otherwise, they were with us. It was helpful to send the baby for naps (see below) and to protect him from the sun because it was SO hot when we went. We utilized the services the most in the evenings so we could enjoy adult dinners. That was the biggest perk by far.

We love our kids. And it’s our vacation, too. All things can be true!

Kids Who Nap- taking your babies to camp for naps can allow them to get better rest without being nap trapped in the room! It’s not like the room is a familiar environment for them anyway. In fact, the only good daytime naps our eleven-month-old got were at camp, and it didn’t require us to be nap-trapped! Our three-year-old napped by the pool or beach every day, which was also lucky for us. I am not sure if there was a place for her to nap during the day at camp, but we didn’t ask. There are lots of umbrellas at the pools and beaches if your child can nap in a crowd!

Private Babysitting

If you would rather your kids not be stuck outside of the room until nine pm, or if you want to stay out later than that, the kids camp will provide you with a private babysitter for an extra fee. They can take your kids to a restaurant to eat, back to your room, or wherever you want. The only thing they won’t do is take them night-swimming. They need two hours notice before you need them, so you don’t even need much planning time! In 2022 the cost was $50 per hour for the first two hours, and then $10 per hour after that. Additional children are $10 more each per hour. A private sitter will cover three children, so additional children will require another sitter at the same rates. We did not utilize this service, but we would have if we planned to stay out late.

Kid-friendly Activities on Resort

There is a water park at the resort, with two large splash pad areas, a pirate ship with small slides, a large lazy river loop and several large water slides (with height requirements). There are some smaller water slides as well. Each village in the resort has its own pool or multiple pools, and many have shallow areas for small children. You are welcome at any and all of the pools! We brought our kids’ pool floaties, which I highly recommend because they do not have them available there. There is a playground, a game room, and a video game room. Of course, there are also the activities run by Camp Sesame. All of the pool bars will make virgin drinks for the kids, too!

Beach activities

Sailing and snorkeling are included at no extra charge. Glass-bottom boat tours also available (you must sign up early morning because they fill up fast). Parasailing companies not affiliated with the resort are present if you are interested. They had tubing as well for a charge.

Navigating the Resort

The maps of the resort show that it is quite large, now encompassing five different villages (Treasure Beach was added in 2026). It is vast, but to me the scale of the maps made it seem more difficult to walk among the villages than it was in reality. They have golf carts that staff can use to drive you among the villages if you need it. When we got there, we realized everything is very walkable, and things were closer than they seemed. There are so many winding paths, that if you’re directionally challenged it will take you multiple days to find your way around. If you’re pretty good with that, you’ll be fine. There are tours daily, and I probably should have taken one! You’ll want to venture all around because each pool and restaurant have different vibes/activities and it’s fun to see it all. I only got a golf cart ride when I was going from one end of the resort to the other with the baby, and they were happy to accommodate me.

Restaurants

There are roughly twenty-six places to eat, including full restaurants, smaller takeaway places, and food trucks. There are only three restaurants where young children aren’t allowed (they’re 12+), but if you utilize the evening daycare then you can go there too! Those three are the only ones where men need to wear nice closed shoes (no sneakers) and pants (jeans are okay). All other places are “resort casual,” which means shorts and sandals are allowed but they want you to have a shirt on or bathing suit covered if female.

There are a few places with buffets and they usually have the same food at each one (with different food themes for different days). You can get takeaway boxes from there if you want to grab food and eat by the pool or beach. The service at many restaurants was slow. We were on “island time,” but still had to be consciously patient sometimes. You can only make reservations for restaurants if your party is ten people or more, or for the hibachi place where reservations are required for everyone (pick a night and make a reservation for hibachi ASAP! It’s amazing)!

On the nights that we left the kids at camp, we didn’t have enough people to make a reservation and we only waited a few minutes. Just for reference, we went in June. I cannot speak for high volume times like Spring Break.

Nutrition and dietary restrictions

There are so many options for meals, that you can most definitely have your needs met. For actual food allergies and intolerances, the resort will work with you and provide you with options if you are unsure about what is in some of the prepared foods. I was in no way restricting what I ate on this vacation, but there were certainly healthy options available nearly everywhere (except maybe for the pastry cafe!) I knew I would feel better if I made sure to have protein and veggies when possible, and those were almost always available.

There is also fresh fruit available all over the resort! As a mom who barely gets any fruit because the kids eat it all, I took full advantage of this. My advice to those who DON’T have medical food restrictions is to just eat what you want on this vacation. This is not a time to bring counting to the dinner table. This is not a time to place guilt or pressure on yourself to eat a certain way. Enjoy the cuisine, savor the island flavors and ENJOY yourself!

I will list the restaurants they have and any input I have. Please note that six dining options have been added since I was there, so those are absent from this list.

• Schooners- fresh seafood, nautical theme. Enjoyed the meal overall, fish was overcooked though.

• Bella Napoli- takeaway pizza by the pool! Takes a while, order before you want it.

• Sapodillas (16+, resort evening attire)- traditional gourmet fare. We had a delicious, kid free meal here.

• Reflections- Buffet style, family friendly. Can get takeaway boxes and go eat by the pool or beach, or you can dine inside or outside. Daily theme for the menu, food ranged from excellent to meh. There is a kid’s food section in here.

• Arizonas- Southwestern, right by the beach. Delicious buffet that includes burgers, hot dogs, nachos, fries, variety of proteins, taco bar. We LOVED this place for lunch. Dinner had an a la carte menu but we never ate there for dinner, sadly!

• The Jerk Shack- Right on the beach, at the far end of the resort. They had a beach party here with a huge buffet while we were there and it was pretty decent! Had some conch curry and goat curry that was spicy but delish.

• Cafe de Paris- Cute little coffee shop with lattes, iced coffee, hot coffee, tea and a variety of pastries and muffins that changed daily. I went here every single morning for a caramel latte and a pastry, and it was the best way to start the day. Perfect to take little kids as well, because they get up early and you can give them something before heading to a bigger breakfast. My only complaint is the cups are kind of flimsy paper, though they do have lids.

  

• Guiseppe’s- Italian restaurant- we never went for lunch or dinner, only the breakfast buffet which was delicious and had something for adults and kids. You can get a mimosa there as well.

• Mr. Mac- Mac and cheese truck! It’s right by a few of the pools and the water park, and there are several varieties, plus fried mac and cheese balls. We loved it if we needed a quick meal or to feed the kids before evening camp.

• Curls & Swirls- Milkshake and frozen yogurt truck. Located at the water park, delicious. Only complaint is you cannot suck a milkshake through a paper straw.

• Bobby Dee’s- diner food plus ice cream, popcorn, and cotton candy! Can get takeout or eat there. Lots of kid-pleasing food.

• Le Petit Chateau (12+, resort evening attire)- French cuisine. Sadly, we never made it here for dinner, but the menu looked good! The Sesame Street Character breakfast was located here, which was a standard breakfast buffet.

• Kimonos- Hibachi! Must make a reservation, because the hibachi tables seat twelve or so, so you may be sharing with another group. This meal was DELICIOUS, they can make it kid friendly and they accommodate for allergies. This is a must!

• Soy- Sushi! The appetizer and sushi roll portions are somewhat small, so order plenty! Appetizers aren’t really share-size, so each get your own, and I’d say a full meal for me was an app and three rolls. They don’t love to make substitutions, but they did for my niece. As a side anecdote, they only had one song that they played on repeat for the entire night and there were multiple resort cats roaming around.

  

• Barefoot by the Sea- Seafood fare, by the beach, where the floor is all sand and it’s mostly picnic tables. Nice atmosphere, slow service. We came for breakfast which was good, but didn’t go back because we didn’t want breakfast to take so long every day.

• The Cricketers Pub- traditional English fare! Fish and chips were delish, and they have British beers and cocktails like Pimm’s Cup. 18+ years old after ten p.m. Karaoke at ten most nights.

• Mario’s- Italian restaurant with an adorable Medieval-themed kids section with small, fancy tables and Sesame Street Statues. We never ate dinner here, regretfully.

• Bombay Club- They call it “exotic fare-” the menu had Chicken Tikka and Lamb Samosas. We never made it here but it sounded good!

• Dino’s Pizzeria- dine in or take out, wood-fired brick oven pizza, salads, burgers, and paninis. Never ate here.

• Bayside- Buffet restaurant, with the same theme as the other buffets, but the atmosphere is amazing. Views of the ocean are just gorgeous, we ate breakfast here several times, complete with mimosas. It’s great for breakfast especially if you’re coming to Key West village to drop your baby off at daycare for the morning!

• Sky- (16+, resort evening attire). Sadly, again, we never made it here. It is directly above Bayside and must have amazing ocean views. It’s open for breakfast and dinner, but it’s adults only so we didn’t make it.

• Neptune’s- Seaside seafood restaurant right next to Bayside and Sky. We had a delicious, leisurely dinner here where we each ordered our own appetizer, entree and dessert. Highly recommend.

• Turtles- adults only bar, nice and cold in there. We popped in for a drink before one of our adult dinners and it was good, the staff was nice. No food.

• Le Bar de Musique- tons of good quality spirits, good atmosphere. Connected to the French restaurant.

Alcohol

Bars are listed above, plus each pool area has a swim-up bar as well. Alcohol is included in the cost of the resort, and all shelf levels of liquor are included at no additional charge. If you want a drink made with something high-shelf, though, you have to mention it. All liquors aren’t available at the pool bars. When we were there (June 2022), there was definitely a supply issue. They only had two to three types of beer, and sometimes had limited amounts of different items at the pool bars especially (for example, sometimes they had champagne and sometimes they didn’t). They ask when you check in what kind of wine you want stocked in your room, and they will stock beer in your room fridge as well. Mixed drinks were made relatively “weak,” but you can ask for doubles.

Butler Service

You can pay extra to have cabanas and chairs reserved for you. They will stock a big Yeti cooler for you. We never did this and didn’t find it necessary. We even claimed a cabana a few times when no name was on it, though no cooler was stocked of course. But it is definitely a cool service!

Reserving Pool/Beach Chairs

Many people, not with butler service, will put towels or just shoes on chairs to reserve them, and then not show up for hours. Unless there is a sign on the chairs with “Butler Service” and a name, you can use your discretion! We reclaimed chairs sometimes if no one came for over an hour. It’s so silly to claim chairs and prevent others from using them. It’s so hot, most people are in the water anyway! Your group likely only needs two chairs to put your stuff on. Don’t be a chair hoarder!

Tipping

Gratuity is included in the cost of the resort. You are not supposed to tip the staff, so you don’t need to carry cash. American dollars is the currency on resort, so if you go to the shops you can use it. You can also use credit cards or charge things to your room, even at the stores. Drivers to and from the airport are not resort staff, so they may be tipped. The only thing I used cash for was tipping the drivers and buying coconuts on the beach (a guy came by selling them to drink fresh coconut water from, which was a huge hit with the kids). It was also the only plastic straw I saw all week!

Straws

I am all for saving the environment, but all they had were paper straws. In the heat, with cold drinks, they disintegrated and got soggy fast. Some people had brought their own Yeti cups or insulated wine cups, but I would have even been happy bringing a reusable straw everywhere to use.

Packing Tips:

• Evening Attire: I wasn’t sure if it was going to be necessary to pack a different dress for each night, but I’m so glad I did. Since drop-off for evening care was six p.m., we made sure to go shower by four to five p.m. each day, when we normally might have lingered longer on the beach or at the pool. I was happy to have an evening outfit for each night! Of course, you could always go drop the kiddos without getting ready yourself, but we found that a leisurely adult dinner could take nearly the full time from drop-off to pick-up, so you don’t want to waste time! Our group was big, so that did make meals take longer.

  • A note for Men: Even if you don’t need the nice shirt and long pants for meals, it is nice to have some clothes packed so you can get nice photos before dinner! It seemed to be “Golden Hour” each time we showed up to dinner, and we got some great photos during those times. There are three restaurants that require long pants and closed-toed (non-sneaker) shoes for dinner.

• Cup/Straws: Insulated cup for drinks, reusable or plastic straws. The cups are somewhat small there and the straws are paper. The takeaway coffee cups at the cafe are flimsy.

• Meds to bring: Tylenol, ibuprofen, cortisone, diaper cream, bug spray and bug bite aid, cranberry pills (if you have a tendency toward UTI), aloe, band aids, chewable pepto, antacids, baby powder/Gold Bond. There is a nurse’s office on site as well and a store with meds if you need them. Our baby was teething and another kid had a fever one day, so we were glad to have meds for them.

• Outlets: hair dryers are provided in the rooms. Plugs are standard American outlets, so feel to bring all your appliances and chargers from home without adaptors.

• Footwear: the resort is large, so I would bring at least two shoe options for yourself in case one becomes uncomfortable (I brought five and felt like I needed four in hindsight). There is a lot of walking to be done. I did not bring running shoes and did not need them. I had a pair of Sperry boat shoes, two pairs of flip flops (one rubber, one leather), a nice pair of thong sandals and a nice pair of slide sandals (the slides, thongs, and leather flops were for evenings). That was all I needed, personally. My nice thong sandals hurt me the first night, though, so I never wore them again and was extremely grateful for my Reef slides and Rainbow leather flops.

• Towels: we contemplated bringing our SandCloud towels as they are compact, but we didn’t, and we didn’t miss them. There are towel stations all over the resort that were consistently stocked.

For Kids:

• Stroller: we got by with an umbrella stroller for the eleven-month-old. On resort, it was a little flimsy and the wheels weren’t the best, but it was better than having to bring a bigger stroller on the plane. I read that you can rent strollers there, so I recommend looking into that once you’re there in case theirs are better.

• Pool Floaties: they don’t have them there. If your child is not independent with swimming, bring them! They were the MVP of vacation.

• Sunscreen: the sun is strong in the islands, and sunscreen is expensive on vacation. Bring enough!

• Rash Guards/Hats: These were helpful to reduce the amount of sunscreen we had to use on them, and for days when they really needed a sun break.

• Beach/pool toys: If you have space in your luggage, some beach toys could be useful! I saw some pool floats out and about, but they seemed to belong to people. They sell some at the store there.

• Sound Machine: honestly, we didn’t really need it. We used the nightlight part, but the air conditioner was loud enough for us. It depends on if you want to drown that out or if your kids need a certain sound.

• Baby Carrier: We chose not to bring our Ergo360 babywearing carrier, because our babe was pretty big and it was really hot there. However, if that’s easier for you than wheeling a stroller everywhere, definitely consider it!

• Water Cups: We brought our kids’ reusable water bottles from home and were glad we did, though they do have bottled water at the resort and they will stock some in the room fridge for you.

• Small backpack: If you send your kids to Camp Sesame, it could be helpful to have their stuff in a bag. We mostly only sent their water cups, but if there were water activities we did sent their pool floaties. For the baby, we sent snacks (puffs and also fruit in a container), diapers, and wipes, so a bag could have been helpful.

• Small, airtight plastic container: we were so happy we brought this! We did it purposely, so that at the meals we could take some food away with us and then send it with the baby to daycare. We would mostly just cut up fruit from the breakfast buffet and send that with puffs that we brought or Cheerios from the buffet.

• Baby snacks: Puffs, pouches, spoon. Do this if your baby will need something at daycare. Of course, this will depend on their age.

• Pump/Haakaa/Breastfeeding covers: I was still breastfeeding on this vacation and my supply was just what he needed at the time. He needed to BF every three to four hours or so with meals mixed in. This is obviously very person-specific regarding supply and schedule, but I did not bring a pump. I did bring a haakaa and a bottle in case I pumped milk, but I never used either. I also did not use or even bring a nursing cover. That’s just me, though. There was always something around to use if I felt like I needed it. No one said anything or seemed to care.

• Sesame Street stuff: See below!

  

• Themes- this is a Sesame Street themed resort, so if your kiddos have any apparel it would be great to bring it! You can also look ahead on their website for theme nights (like a white party, for example) and pack accordingly if you want to attend! A real varsity move would be to buy Sesame Street plush characters your kid may beg for while you’re there, because an 11” Abby Cadaby doll is $52 on site, but was $26 on Amazon once we got home. A few times throughout the week, there is a character breakfast that all of the Sesame Street characters attend and they each interact with the kids. It was wonderful, I highly recommend this. You can go to the office or call to schedule once you’re on site- it has a cost and you must be signed up to go.

Family Photo Shoots

the shoots themselves are complimentary, with no obligation to purchase, so pack outfits accordingly! Photographers walk around advertising them throughout your stay, but you can just phone the photo office and schedule one. They do them on the beach and will do however many poses you want. The price (as of 2022) is $22 per digital copy. You just go to one of their offices afterwards on site and can look through all of your photos to select the ones you want to purchase (no obligation). I paid for seven photos so it was $154 which isn’t bad for a nice photo shoot! If you have little kids, let the office know, because they have photographers that are really good with them!

Sun protection

Bring your own sunscreen, and pack at least one with zinc as a physical barrier. The sun is strong in T&C, and by the end of the week you’re going to be glad you protected yourself from burns. You’ll likely want at least one long-sleeved coverup or rash guard, good sunglasses, and a hat. Bring hats and/or sunnies for the kids, too, even if you think they won’t wear them. We had to buy a $22 unicorn hat while we were there bc our fairer skinned child really needed it.

Airport transport

Shuttles are provided and you can set them up ahead of time; they hold ten people (we fit twelve in with two lap children). We tipped the driver bc they’re not resort staff so it was allowed. The airport is less than fifteen minutes from the resort, and we chose not to bring a car seat. We just held the littles and it was fine. Of course, use your own discretion for this.

Covid precautions

Due to Covid, there had previously been an indoor mask mandate at the resort, but it was lifted by the time we went in June 2022. No masks required anywhere on resort. No testing required to enter the resort or return to the U.S. by the time we went, either.

Amenities we did not explore

On the resort, there is a spa with well-qualified staff. I got a free ten-minute massage by the pool and it was excellent. There are scuba lessons if you want to be certified. There is golfing with caddies available at a cost. There are laundry services on site you may use. There are staff on site certified to work with children with Autism and other neurodivergent needs.

Overall Impression

This was a great vacation. I loved all of the family time we got with each other and our extended family, and the kids had a blast with their cousins. The food was great overall, and the drinks were flowing. I didn’t feel guilty about sending the kids to some of the camp activities, because they had fun AND it gave us little breaks here and there.

I know they say that a vacation with kids is a TRIP, not a true vacation. That is true. You are always ON, always watching, always vigilant. A resort that allows you some moments for adult time, dinners without scolding constantly to stay in chairs or not make a mess, and uninterrupted conversation was such a blessing. Those leisurely dinners without the kids really did make me feel like I was on vacation! As did dropping the baby off at daycare in the mornings after breakfast so we could enjoy the beach with our girls, and the sporadic times we dropped the girls off at camp during the day so we could enjoy the swim up bars even more!

We would go here again, and a huge benefit of that would be already knowing the resort well and not having to learn a new place. The likelihood we actually will return, though, seems slim. With so many places in the world to go, and with the high cost of this resort, it just may not be in the cards for us. But we sure did enjoy it!

The resort website has FAQs not discussed here, so check it out for more info and insight!

PLEASE let me know if this post was helpful for you, and if you decide to go to this resort! I have no affiliation with Beaches whatsoever. They have no idea who I am and are not paying me! I kind of wish they would!

xo, Amy

p.s. See Also:

A big part of parenting seems to be waiting for the ‘firsts’ to happen. First smile, laugh, wave, jump, steps, and the list goes on. We record them, we write down the dates, and we post about them on social media. It only makes sense that we’d want to commemorate these milestones; they grow up too fast, after all.

Cherishing these moments help us soak in the magical parts of parenting. The things that make all the hard parts worth it. But what happens when ‘baby life’ comes to an end? When you’re on your way down the other side of that hill, you start to notice the lasts, and I’m here to tell you that it’s bittersweet.

Conflicting emotions

The last time you put your baby down in a crib because they’re ready for a toddler bed. Their last night with a pacifier. Their last bottle, breastfeeding session, contact nap. Some of these lasts feel like a punch to the gut while others have felt like a long time coming. That last diaper and last day paying for childcare feel like freedom; a chance to high-five your parenting partner and breathe a sigh of relief.

But then I start thinking about the last time they’ll let me hold their hand walking into school. They’ll need that comfort up until a point, and then without warning, they won’t. One day I will pick them up to carry them for the last time, and I won’t even know it. That’s the thing about lasts—they can be sneaky. We don’t always plan for them or see them coming, and we often don’t have the influence over them that we’d like. The last time they say “Mommy” in favor of “Mom” is largely out of our control.

Identity shifts

We build our identities around what we are experiencing at any given moment, and “parent-of-babies” to “parent-of-small-kids” to “parent-of-teens” to “empty-nesters” are a series of labels that require us to shapeshift fairly frequently. When you think about it, parenting requires almost constant adaptation and pivoting of self, and we likely don’t give ourselves enough credit for that.

This brings up many questions for which I do not have answers. At what point does the revolving door of change slow down? When they’ve moved out and we are “parents-of-adults?” When that time comes, can we settle into the idea that the biggest part of our role as parents is complete? Should that make us feel better, like we’ve done what we came to do?

What is the last identity we will hold, and how do we find ourselves when the last of our parenting lasts is behind us?

Moving on

For better or worse, we cannot stop time. The best thing we can do is soak in the moments when we can and document the lasts when it feels like it could help us process the changes that are happening. We all know it’s not about missing the actual onesies after we pack the last one away for good. It’s about watching our babies grow up before our eyes and wondering where the time is going. It’s remembering stocking their drawers for the first time with crisp and clean clothes and then fast-forwarding to unloading those same clothes into diaper boxes for donations—sometimes three kids later—stained and loved. It’s knowing we won’t be checking a baby monitor anymore, reminding us that we no longer have a baby to check on.

Even some of their firsts are tainted with a hint of grief because they mark the end of something else. Their first haircut may mean the last of their curls, and the first time they pronounce something correctly means you’ll never hear it the adorable way again. There is grief in sending them off to school where we won’t be able to supervise interactions or protect them from every harm.

It’s letting go, and it’s not for the weak.

Silver linings

Even with little bits of grief pulling at us as we experience their lasts, it is an enormous privilege to be able to watch our children grow up. I look forward to the day when I can have an adult conversation or a legal beer with my kids. And logically, I won’t miss the potty training and the complete absence of reason. But while I am still somewhat in the realm of their firsts, I am constantly anticipating their lasts. I am vigilant about these finish milestones because I don’t want to miss them. I want to hold onto the various stages of childhood because letting them go means my identity changes along with it. No matter how positive and freeing the next stage feels (like leaving diapers behind), it requires processing that overwhelms my already overloaded brain.

I look at new parents who are brimming with anticipation for all of the firsts they are about to witness, and I envy them. At the same time, cherishing the lasts brings along excitement for the next set of new beginnings. Parenting so far has been a cycle of anticipation, peak, and recovery and I am not sure that ever ends. What I am working on now is allowing the lasts to come and welcoming whatever feelings come with them.

It feels truer than ever a time to say, “good grief.”

xo, Amy

But I believe there are many ways to communicate that sentiment without involving fists and threats. You don’t have to “get your knuckles bloody for me,” as Taylor Swift muses in ‘exile’ (which is a great song btw).

Machismo is not my jam. If it came to it and there wasn’t another choice, my husband is strong and I’m sure could hold his own in most circumstances. That’s not the issue. It’s that I don’t want or need that, and I don’t want anyone getting hurt unnecessarily. And a bruised ego is not an adequate reason to go to blows in my book. Pissing contests like that have the opposite effect on me, actually. They’re childish and icky.

You wanna protect me? Diffuse the situation with words. Witty banter, even. Endear the person to you so much that they end up backing down or apologizing without even being prompted. Or put them in their place verbally, if they’re out of line. I know that can be done without overt aggression, because I’ve seen it done by the men I surround myself with. Regardless, you often have options.

Bullies are everywhere, as are men trying to wield any level of power over others. Don’t give them the kind of attention they want (by either cowering to them or matching their energy). Make them realize in an impressively disarming way that aggression is entirely unnecessary in the scenario. Stifle that urge they feel to cause a problem. Bring their nervous system down and pacify their adrenaline. Introduce the thought that physical altercation does not have to be the only response to someone getting rejected or getting their feelings hurt. Show them what a real man does when conflict arises.

Sometimes, the strongest thing a person can do is show restraint.

Being able to keep a potentially tense and high-stakes situation light is a skill that requires innate confidence and self-assurance, and certainly intelligence. If those qualities are present, there is no need to prove oneself. In order to feel pulled to stake claim or assert dominance, you must feel threatened that you’ll lose something valuable to you, like your woman (as if she’s property) or your sense of manhood. If you’re secure in your relationship, your self worth, and your identity, the opinion of someone you don’t respect (or even know) should bear no weight.

Knowing yourself like that is sexy.

The fact that my husband would never intentionally start a physical conflict despite his ability to do so is attractive to me. If conflict were to arise, it’s his temperament and discernment that allow us to continue our night without dealing with first aid kits and police. Without getting kicked out of bars.

If you want to protect me, then protect my nervous system. Protect my peace.

That’s how I know you’ve put me above your ego. Because you can’t protect those things that matter to me by starting or engaging in a physical fight.

If you had a partner who would rather “defend your honor” by engaging in a physical altercation than by diffusing or resolving the situation, how would that sit with you? Would it impress you, or would you roll your eyes, thinking “not again.” Would you feel protected or would you get the ick?

I know we are all different, and I’m sure there are takes on this that don’t align with mine. I’d be interested to hear them, because from where I’m sitting, brawn versus brains is just surface level toughness versus actual strength.

The guys who talk about being “real men” in reference to resorting to violence, driving a big truck, and rejecting all signs of vulnerability do not evoke healthy masculinity. I see big babies who avoid saying “I love you” in public or hugging their besties for fear of appearing “soft” or (gasp!) gay. That’s a topic for another day and another article, like this one I wrote in December.

In any case, that’s my take on performative versus true masculinity. They may think we see strength and protection, but all I see is an immature, fragile ego wearing a tough guy mask. And it’s one of those oldschool Halloween plastic ones.

I can still see you.

Let me know in the comments what you think, but to be honest, if this article attracts the wrong crowd and things get disrespectful in the comments section, I will have to shut them down. Thankfully, I don’t think we will be seeing Andrew Tate’s content on here anymore (lol), but his followers may still be lurking.

Grateful to sleep next to a real man who doesn’t give one iota of a shit about what the peacocks think of him. I hope that kind of man finds each of you who feel the same as me.

xo, Amy

p.s. See Also:

It wasn’t exactly what I expected, and it took me some time to process it.

I initially sought out insight from a team of psychologists because I was accumulating symptoms that concerned me. I noticed anxiety during my second and third pregnancies, but after my third was born, I couldn’t shake the intrusive thoughts—to the point where I thought they might be pathologic.

I also started noticing issues with concentration, mental clarity, and thought organization, and I started to put together a puzzle in my head of what this confluence of symptoms could mean.

I am always trying to figure things out. Things can never just “be hard.” They can’t just BE anything. They have to have a cause and a solution. This might be my toxic trait.

So, I came up with the theory that I possibly had ADHD. After all, I was evaluated for it as a kid, per my teacher’s recommendation. I ended up NOT being diagnosed with it at the time, and to this day my Mom denies any signs of it. Since it can manifest somewhat differently in adults, and I seemed to tick off a LOT of the symptoms (see my previous post on this), I decided to seek a differential diagnosis.

I wanted to know: Was this Postpartum Anxiety, or ADHD? Anxiety is often included within adult ADHD symptoms, so I just wanted to know so I could have the best strategy to treat it. I was tired of feeling unlike myself. I figured if the doctors felt it was severe enough (whatever it was), they’d even prescribe medication.

After several hours of testing, it turns out I did not meet the threshold of criteria for ADHD. They validated my symptoms that could have suggested that dx (I’m going to use this abbreviation for diagnosis here), but determined that those symptoms likely were influenced by other factors. While I suspected ADHD, I was not tied to that dx and there was a sense of relief in ruling it out.

They also chose to not diagnose me with GAD (Generalized Anxiety Disorder) or PPA (Postpartum Anxiety). This is because, by their determination, my symptoms were still acute vs. chronic, and also didn’t seem isolated to postpartum. They explained that, with contributing factors changing as time goes on (less sleep deprivation, for example) and use of coping strategies, I had high potential to improve my symptoms and come out of this, essentially.

For context, at the time of assessment my youngest was fourteen months and had not slept through the night yet. Meaning, added to the second half of my pregnancy, I had not had a full night’s sleep in a year and a half.

They spent over an hour with me, explaining each assessment that had been conducted, reviewing my scores, asking if I had questions, and allowing me to reflect on their feedback. I felt seen and understood. After all was said and done, they gave their overall opinions and recommendations. They diagnosed me with Adjustment Disorder.

Johns Hopkins (this is not where I was assessed) describes an adjustment disorder as “an emotional or behavioral reaction to a stressful event or change in a person’s life.” In my case, the ‘event’ being the general life changes of parenting vs. a single incident. They felt that I likely did have PPA initially, but it had since improved somewhat, and in conjunction with my other symptoms they felt adjustment disorder was most appropriate. I got the impression that they were hesitant to diagnose me with PPA when I was already fourteen months postpartum.

My take on their feedback was this: Essentially, I am an intelligent perfectionist who has such high expectations that I have pathologized myself for not being able to meet those expectations, and thus came seeking a dx to explain such shortcomings. It couldn’t possibly just be ME and how I am handling a tough period in my life. It had to be caused by something outside of my control. In a way, I’m shaking my head at myself, while I also don’t regret going through with this assessment. I don’t think its bad to be a problem solver, of course. I can’t help but want to get to the bottom of things that impact my health. I just might have gotten carried away with trying to diagnose myself.

Here’s the part that stung.

To have my complaint turned back on me as a diagnosis felt somewhat confusing if not embarrassing. This dx was both a revelation and a “No shit, Sherlock” kind of moment. It’s like the answers were right in front of me, and I was so blinded by my theories that I couldn’t see I’m not unique in this. I am just another mom who is struggling during this small-kids phase, and seemingly I am not handling it very well.

It is common to have intrusive thoughts and have difficulty managing on little sleep in postpartum. I could have done a better job of adjusting my expectations during a difficult and overwhelming season of life. If I had done that, I likely would have given myself more grace. I think the fact that I had waited so long for things to improve on their own—only for them to linger—contributed to the problem.

The psychologists told me, “You’re not sleeping, you’re working full time, you have three kids, you are trying to start a business, you have a very active social and family life, and you have extremely high expectations for your performance in all areas. Of course you have anxiety, but if you participate in talk therapy and can learn to use coping strategies, you have high potential to overcome it.”

They also suggested making improvements in sleep hygiene, joining parent support groups, reading self-help and parenting books, and committing to adequate self care practices. I was doing all of those things prior, with the exception of talk therapy (which I believe they called ‘psychotherapy,’ but that sounds scarier). I count my bestie text threads as my mom support groups, as they are a valued lifeline for me, as well as my one safe-space mom FB group (most are full of judgment).

They did not recommend medication at this time. They explained that anxiety in my situation is often very amenable to therapy and coping strategies, and they predict that medication will not be needed to achieve significant improvement in my case. They left the door open to meds, though, in the event that I feel my anxiety is unmanageable or needs to be brought down in order to participate in the coping strategies and therapy. I very much appreciate their compassion and the agency I felt I had over my own care and treatment.

The professionals I had the privilege of working with in my pursuit of a diagnosis were caring, thorough, and thoughtful in their evaluation of me. I worked with a Clinical Psychologist as well as a doctoral resident. They administered all the testing they felt was warranted, they reviewed my case like I am a whole person and not just the sum of my symptoms, and they delivered their report to me over the course of an hour and thirty minutes, taking the time to explain each test, what it signified, and what that meant for my big picture. I trust their judgment, and I came away from this experience very grateful for the opportunity to understand myself better.

I apologized for wasting their time, and they said that was my perfectionism talking. I actually don’t think it was a waste of time. The process itself was enlightening. Leaving the hospital after my assessments, I already suspected the results would indicate that I did not have ADHD, despite that being my initial suspicion. Seeing and participating in all of the questionnaires and assessments, I gained some clarity. Despite having difficulty concentrating on some of the tasks and knowing I didn’t perform perfectly at times, I didn’t think I crossed a threshold into dx for attention deficits because I didn’t feel I struggled enough.

What surprised me more was that I didn’t come away with an anxiety diagnosis, especially since they confirmed I clearly have symptoms of heightened anxiety. I so appreciate their insight into the nuances of my specific case, though, and overall I feel a great sense of relief and gratitude.

In the end, I was somewhat borderline for both diagnoses, and I still benefit from the use of strategies for managing both.

Shortly after all this testing, I began weaning my son from breastfeeding. We ended up completely weaning by the time he was fifteen months old, at which time I went on a weeklong vacation with my husband for our tenth wedding anniversary. Within a month of receiving my diagnosis of adjustment disorder, I was sleeping through the night, and I could feel the fog lifting. Shortly after, my nervous system got the kind of reset one can only achieve from sleeping in and enjoying cocktails on the beach in Mexico.

Almost four years after this whole ordeal took place, I am in a much better place. I no longer have overwhelming intrusive thoughts. I have self-care practices in place, and I make time for friends and date nights. I still have three kids and a full-time job, and I wrote a book this past year (coming soon), so I’m certainly busy. There are days when it’s too much, but I’m better at zooming out and seeing the big picture. I’m better at asking for help and making sure I get what I need. I communicate well with my husband (I think), and we are there for each other. I’d say I’m doing okay—well, even!

And I still don’t regret the testing, because I would probably always wonder. I use ADHD strategies all the time, and I call myself “borderline” because of my many quirks and my inner monologue that never (ever) stops. I still appreciate the folks who helped me interpret what was going on with me, even if the transient diagnosis of adjustment disorder felt like a bit of a let down at the time. In any case, there is gratitude for a short term dx vs. a chronic one.

Please share in the comments if this article spoke to you or if you’d like to tell me about your own experience!

xo, Amy

Details of the testing process for those interested are listed below:

• Initial interview: background, explanation of complaint and symptoms

• Questionnaires focused on my symptoms, my perceptions of myself, my relationships

• Attention tests: number and letter recall, number identification with distractions, pattern matching

• Intelligence tests: (WAIS standardized test) which included vocabulary definitions, explanation of abstract concepts

• Games: (which I realize are tests, but I am not sure exactly what they were targeting)- Pattern completion, ring tower designs, block designs

• Followup appointment to discuss results, test scores, interpretations and outcomes, as well as recommendations for treatment

  ---

4/27/22

I am a grown woman person. I think of myself as generally capable and responsible, but I do get help with the REAL scary stuff like taxes and bills and dishes (thank you, husband).

In my adulthood, I have noticed that I may have tendencies towards deficits in attention. I can flit among several tasks within an hour, noticing that if I force myself to continue something until it’s done, I end up staring off into space and nothing gets finished. But then there are other times when I become hyper-focused on a task, even if it’s a really inconvenient time (like trying to get out the door with three kids on time). I have trouble pulling myself away when that happens (sorry, husband).

Even in college, I would set fifteen minute timers and switch tasks each time the buzzer rang to make sure I stayed productive, even if it meant five things got partly done. That worked for me. I still do it when I am cleaning at home, which I occasionally do (quiet, husband).

It turns out, adult women with Attention-Deficit/Hyperactivity Disorder (ADHD) don’t necessarily present how we were all taught to identify these tendencies in children. We can hold down demanding jobs, have self control, and generally function while still struggling with ADHD.

Some known symptoms of ADHD in adult females include overwhelm, zoning out, thoughts jumping around, worrying/anxiety, being a disaster under the surface, procrastinating and then hyper-focusing, having a hard time with criticism, and feeling disorganized.

I relate to every one of these. I often feel utterly stuck—not like writer’s block, because I have plenty to say—but it’s like I’m standing at the starting line and I need someone to push me over it because I simply cannot do it myself.

After looking up this exact phenomenon, it turns out it’s a common ADHD symptom, even in kids. It is related to executive functioning, a skillset for which I literally provide therapy to adults in my day job. Oh, the irony. Executive function involves active cognitive planning, problem solving, attention, and working memory. As a Speech-Language Pathologist working with the adult geriatric population, this is a major facet of my job. A job at which I am quite okay, I must say.

In my personal life, though, it’s a different story. If I know a task is difficult or will require research or organized thinking, sometimes I avoid it. Even if it’s a task I know that I WANT to do, have CHOSEN to take on and know I would enjoy in the end. It can stall me for WEEKS. And then I beat myself up for not starting, and I think about all the wasted time and progress I could have made in that time. I busy myself with other less important things, just to prove to myself I am, in fact, busy and productive. Just not with the thing that’s hanging over my head.

As a child in elementary school, I was referred by a teacher for an ADD evaluation because I was inattentive, a “chatty Cathy,” and I would get up from my desk and wander around the room during class. The evaluation came back without a diagnosis; I didn’t meet the criteria. My parents encouraged my teachers to provide more structure and discipline (namely, “Tell her to sit back down)!” I was and am grateful to my parents for pushing back on the pressure to medicate me as a child, but it is somehow validating that someone else noticed tendencies in me “way back when” that I can see now as well.

In grad school, when I would get an assignment, I would force myself to come home immediately and open the Word document for it. I’d give it a title and the required header, and maybe jot a few ideas down- but then I’d close it. I came to realize it was MUCH easier to come back to the assignment after that, because it was started. The things that we realize in retrospect were strategies never cease to amaze me.

I am sure there are tons of undiagnosed cases of ADHD and other learning differences that people don’t realize they have because they are intelligent and have learned compensatory strategies over the years that mask the symptoms. I don’t remember ever turning in an assignment late, and I never pulled an all-nighter to get work done (just late-nighters). I just learned to open the document as soon as I got the assignment.

To touch on the “having a hard time with criticism” symptom, this is apparently a thing, too. I am an Enneagram type 2, meaning I am someone with a core motivation for being useful and helpful to others. Before you think I am altruistic (which is actually the goal attribute of this type 2), it can manifest in less-than-ideal ways. This means I can be needy for praise, I can insert myself into situations in which my help/input may not be welcome, and I spiral into despair if someone dares to communicate that they don’t need me desperately for something. Okay, that last part was hyperbolic, but you get the gist.

So I thought my aversion to criticism was just about my need to feel needed, and maybe that’s a huge part of it. But I have also learned that persons with ADHD may tend to have overblown reactions to outside stimuli, especially if that stimuli is rejection (perceived or intended). It sends a surge of stress hormones raging that can result in sharp-tongued responses out of defensiveness. As I have gotten older and (hopefully) more mature, I have dulled my sharpness a bit, but I still remain sensitive. One trolling comment online will SEND me. What on earth will I do if I actually become popular? It’s yet to be seen.

All this to say, I have still not gotten myself evaluated for this diagnosis and therefore I am not sure I really fall into this category. However, doing some research on it myself has helped me organize my symptoms and has helped me understand myself better, even though I don’t have a distinct answer yet. I don’t think I am seeking medication for my symptoms, but I do think I would like to keep an open mind and listen to the clinical opinion of a professional. I have given consideration to the possibility that I have postpartum anxiety as well, but some of my symptoms seem to lie outside that diagnosis.

I will update as I get more answers. As one might expect, I am having a hard time initiating the task of calling a professional.

9/19/22

**UPDATE!**

I have made steps toward finding out if I have a diagnosis, but the final verdict isn’t in yet. I participated in a full battery of tests today and I have a followup scheduled in about two weeks to discuss results. Initially, I went to see my PCP after an initial inquiry regarding my symptoms. They referred me to the Behavioral Health department of a local hospital, where there is a group specializing in differential diagnoses of ADHD, meaning figuring out whether it’s that or something else entirely. I had an initial interview there, where they determined I qualified for additional testing. Today, I underwent a full psychological panel in addition to the attention testing, as my other suspicion was that I have postpartum anxiety. Will update when results come in!

10/6/22

**UPDATE!**

I DO NOT HAVE ADHD. I wasn’t sure whether to put an exclamation point there or not, because I am neither completely relieved nor disappointed. It just is. I didn’t necessarily WANT to have a diagnosis of an issue that would have to be managed chronically. At the same time, I was looking for answers, and what I got was somewhat of a non-diagnosis diagnosis.

I have been diagnosed with Adjustment Disorder, which in essence is when you are having an outsized emotional response to a stressful life change or event. Basically, I am having a hard time coping with the big responsibilities and life changes that have accompanied parenting multiple children, it seems. I agree with it, but say that with my eyes squinted like I am still unsure. I am still processing, and I am writing a full post on my experience and the findings they reported to me.

Thanks for joining me on this journey of self-discovery, and stay tuned!

xo, Amy

But enough about me. This got me thinking about how ego is already destroying newly minted men, and how humility and secure masculinity are seemingly hard to come by these days. Thankfully, the men I surround myself with don’t seem to lean on an inflated sense of self-importance. Otherwise, we could have had a very different ending to the night.

First, we had a fabulous dinner out at one of the hottest restaurants in Philly, making the six of us elder millennials feel quite trendy. With our collective seven kids safe at home with sitters, it was a special thing to get away for an evening together. Dinner was phenomenal. Drinks, food, ambiance. Southern Thai food leans heavily towards intense flavor and spice, and it was so, so good. The frozen daquiri came in handy ;)

Afterwards, four of us decided to walk around Fishtown and find a drink before heading home. We settled on a place with open air picnic tables and nostalgia for our younger days; we were just happy to enjoy the mild summer night for a bit longer.

While our husbands were grabbing drinks, my female friend and I were sitting and people-watching, trying to guess the ages of the guests around us (naturally). Two tables over was a large group of “kids” we figured were in their early twenties. Maybe we stared too long, because a guy stood up, looked right at me, and did half of a Gen Z heart hands gesture.

I took it as a pop culture test and returned the other half of the heart, kinda stoked that I even knew what this hook-looking half heart even was. In the moment, I just kind of thought he was saying “Hi,” or “I see you looking at our table.” I didn’t think the interaction would continue whatsoever.

He took this as an invite to come over to us (oops). He brought a friend and they plopped themselves down (without asking) at our table, clearly drunk. Okay, fine.
Didn’t introduce themselves, just asked where we were from. They were from North Jersey; they insisted where my friend lives “isn’t Philly,” like they would even have the authority to know (it is). Perhaps I should have seen the signs of arrogance early on and shut down the interaction, but I didn’t. It was mildly entertaining.

We talked about location for a bit and then the friend, noticing my wedding ring, says, “You’re married?”
Me: “Yep”
Him: “Does that matter?” As he caressed my ring finger (ew).
Me: “Yes it does.” This is when I realized why they came over (oops).
I told him, “My husband is here, he’s just getting drinks.”

The boys asked if the husbands are going to care that they’re here at the table, and we said no, which is true. Our husbands would not feel threatened by drunk kids sitting with us. They might wonder why, of course, but they’d be able to tell we didn’t invite them to join us.

Husbands get back and the younger guy asks, “You’re her baby daddy?” Hubby says, “Three times!” very friendly. Not threatened whatsoever, as expected.

The kids start mentioning how no one is fighting anyone, which… no one suggested. My husband shakes his hand and agrees. The older kid I’ll refer to as Tough Guy says “Yeah, we aren’t fighting… because you would lose.”

It was very important to Tough Guy to make it clear he could beat up my husband IF a fight were to occur. He needed my husband to know he was doing him a favor by choosing not to kick his ass (for absolutely no fathomable reason, by the way).

Okay, buddy. No one is fighting.

We come to find out Tough Guy is twenty-three and kid who hit on me (I’ll call him Lover Boy) is twenty. My husband is so disarming that he ends up spinning Tough Guy’s claimed fighting prowess into recruiting him to be on my husbands side if he runs into any trouble at this bar (lol).

“Man, I’m gonna need you on my side if things go south here, can I count on you?”

It was truly hilarious to watch, because Tough Guy had backed himself into a corner by insisting he could basically beat up anyone there, so when propositioned to back up my husband should he need hypothetical assistance, he had to maintain his persona. As the kids say, it was cinema.

I tell Lover Boy I’ve been with my husband as long as he’s been alive. He had no concept of this. Did not compute. Honestly, I was just as surprised hearing it myself. I think I only said it because I was looking at this bearded fellow thinking, whoa, my relationship is as old as this adult man! (however immature he may be).

Of course, Lover Boy implied my marriage wouldn’t last because we “didn’t get to be single in college.” Again, with the arrogance and the assuming. What is it with these kids? I corrected him, as he was wrong. I got plenty of time to be single in college before we got together. Not that it’s anyone’s beeswax.

We talked about our respective colleges. I said I went to Penn State, and they took that to mean I dated the whole football team for some reason. Harped on that. Weird, misogynistic shit with a voyeuristic tinge. Super odd to have to deny hooking up with former PSU QB Michael Robinson and his teammates, but okay. 

They asked what sports the husbands played, which is funny in hindsight because it definitely felt pissing-contest-adjacent. Mine played rugby for Temple, and our friend played football for Middlebury. They surprisingly showed some respect for both of those things, then proceeded to say how we needed to raise our son to be tough. My husband let him know we wake up our four-year-old daily by repeatedly punching him in the sides to make sure we raise a real man. I love how my husband can be such a smartass while also maintaining an air of friendliness. (For anyone unsure, we do NOT punch our son).

You’re probably wondering why this convo went on so long. It was actually longer, and my only explanation is that they wouldn’t take a hint and leave. It did afford us many examples of these so-called men showing qualities that I would be embarrassed for my son to possess as he gets older. Lack of respect for women, bragging about being tough guys, making sexist jokes and assumptions, misogyny on full display. Not to mention the stupid ass trucker hat resting on top of Tough Guy’s head the whole time. Like not fit to his head, I mean literally sitting on top.

The guys finally did leave (and without throwing a punch)! When we went to catch our Uber home, they happened to be outside. They were still eyeing up my husband, trying to assert dominance? Or maybe it was really him they were after the whole time! Plot twist! I just waved goodbye real friendly-like, held my husband’s hand, and never looked back.

I’m telling it as a funny story, and we certainly will be laughing about this for a long time. But the whole thing was also disappointing in many ways. I know for a fact that not all Gen Z men are like this. They can be great! Emotionally intelligent, in touch with their feelings, respectful, inclusive, savvy, and funny as hell.

Not these ones. They gave me the ick on behalf of the girls they were with. They didn’t believe we were forty, which felt kinda good, not gonna lie. But they were sub-par in so many ways, I can’t really count that as a win. They thought they were going to come over and snag a couple of twenty-nine-year-olds (their guess), and that that was the way to behave in order to accomplish their goal. Baffling.

What’s really funny to me is that I posted this saga on Threads, and a bunch of people mentioned that this area of Philly has become known as the “Bromuda Triangle,” which I found to be an extremely clever moniker as well as an unfortunate discovery. One guy made some interesting points, shown here, and others communicated a similar sentiment.

Am I just getting too old to be out with the young people? Or is it that this particular area (and others like it) happen to attract the worst kind of men to interact with if you expect respect? Either way, it doesn’t feel worth it to spend what precious time we get to be out these days in the presence of people like this. I know all of us were kind of annoyed afterwards that these bros used up some of that sacred time, while leaving us with a negative impression of their generation.

(Again, shout out to the cool Gen Z-ers. I know you’re out there).

I’m proud of my husband for maturely diffusing the situation and not even remotely taking the bait from dumb, drunk kids. In reality, I don’t think things were even close to coming to blows, but that hasn’t stopped me from puzzling over the whole thing. Not just about the immature behavior we witnessed. I get it, to an extent, even if I disagree with it.

It’s that I know how differently things could have ended if the men we were with shared any of Tough Guy and Lover Boy’s qualities. If they had a shred of the inflated ego these boys possessed, would they have challenged them more? Would a punch have been thrown, or a territorial shove, or even some strong words and an invitation to leave our table?

One might wonder whether my husband and friend matured out of that type of behavior and ego over time, realizing the error of their previous ways with the benefit of age and experience. It might seem fair to assume that all guys get sucked into those ways of thinking before “growing up.”

Since I know the (real) men in question, though, I happen to know they were never successfully red-pilled. Somehow, the men who I have chosen to surround myself with never spoke to women like this in bars. I know this because I got shitfaced with them twenty years ago on the regular. Even with the shroud of drunken impulsivity as a defense, they never once provoked someone to violence in my presence, and were never rude to women. They never questioned a woman’s sexual history while trying to disguise it as flirting (I actually did meet guys like this in college, and got the ick immediately from them).

I know these boys/men existed in the early 2000s- I’m not implying that everyone was a gentleman, because NO. What I am saying is that it’s not inevitable, we just have to shut it down when we see it and not reward the bad behavior with attention. We need to be more discerning about who we choose to spend our time with. I filtered those types of guys out of my circle long ago, and I’m not interested in including any now.

I regret not asking whether they voted in the 2024 election. Could have been enlightening, though it could also have led to having to listen to ill-informed political takes, so maybe it was best to leave it. I’d also like to know their names, because Tough Guy and Lover Boy sound too complimentary. More realistically, they were Jacob and Ethan or Michael and Ryan, as boy names were still pretty classic in the early aughts.

ANYWAY, I have this running hypothesis that the male ego is the apex of what is wrong with our society and our country at the moment. Not one of the problems the U.S. is facing right now would have happened without the effects of inflated egos and the men to whom they belong. Power, money, dominance, masculinity. The pillars of their value systems. No room for anything that doesn’t ultimately serve their own self importance. If Gen Z men like this grow up to be our next wave of politicians, I fear we may never get out from under regimes like the one in office today.

But I find solace in my witty husband who somehow does not feel the need to center himself in situations like this. He is comfortable in his masculinity, in his intelligence, in the things he values, and he could not give one tiny shit about whether others agree. He is the epitome of being unbothered, and tbh it’s inspiring. Our friend who was with us is similar. He might get bothered, but he’s mature enough to gauge whether a situation warrants his attention, and he keeps his cool.

And let me just say, that if things went south, they could have held their own in my opinion. Thankfully, we didn’t have to find out.

I am so grateful that my son has many strong, steady, and empathetic male influences in his life, including a Gen Z uncle who is nothing like the guys in this story.

Please tell me about your amazing experiences with Gen Z men, because I need to hope for better than the Bromuda Triangle has to offer.

xo, Amy

If you liked this, consider checking out these other articles of mine!

A fellow mom asked herself this question in a recent article called Things I Do Regularly as a Bad Mom - by Marina Mofford, and I couldn’t help but stew on the question for myself.

The Nap Trap

Things I Do Regularly as a Bad Mom

“Ugh, I’m sorry, baby! Mommy’s a bad mommy!” This is the crappy thing I say out loud too regularly and I’m starting to catch myself. It used to be that my daughter couldn’t understand what I was saying so I’d say whatever I wanted. I’d pass a cyclist blocking a crosswalk and audibly say, “See, some people suck at sidewalk etiquette!” to my daughter in t…

Read more

3 months ago · 56 likes · 40 comments · Marina Mofford

The question immediately struck me because not being a good enough mother is constantly whispering at me from the back of my mind, and yet I’m not sure I ever have actually defined what it is I am not doing well enough. So I decided to give it a try. What do I perceive to be #momgoals?

Being someone available and willing to answer their every whim. Want to play, mommy? Sure! Will you braid my hair? Yes, Sweetie! Do I play with them and do their hair? Yes. But do they sometimes ask me these things when Mom and Dad are getting ready for a wedding or when we are on our way out the door for school? Also yes.

So yeah, I don’t respond in the affirmative nearly as much as a perfect mom would. And I beat myself up, thinking If only I’d have left us more time, I’d be able to do their hair the way they want it, or I’d be able to afford ten minutes to race some monster trucks across the floor.

I often see the failures in the moment, half longing for the days where they are independently occupied and half lamenting that thought because once they’re grown, we can’t come back to this.

Okay, back to the fantasy of perfection. Here are some things I do really strive for on a regular basis.

Endless patience. Teaching lessons in a calm way. Not overreacting in the moment.

Always keeping in mind that “they’re a good kid having a hard time,”—Thanks, Dr. Becky—and that whatever offense they’re committing isn’t a reflection of me nor an attack on my character.

Having the time to prepare healthy snacks so when they get home, they’re not reaching for a Poptart and a Capri Sun, but rather the plate of raw veggies I’ve laid out for them (which they would actually enjoy in a non-hypothetical situation, adding to the guilt I feel for not doing it).

Coming up with creative ways to get them involved in the shopping and cooking process for meals. Forget that they’re in a bit of a nightmare phase regarding bringing them to the grocery store. Forget that the store is a chance for refuge from the craziness and to get the trip done quickly without extra treats and snacks purchased. We are focused on perfection here, remember?

Perfection would be doing some day camps this summer because they want to, not because I need childcare. And then on the other weeks, I’d have fun things planned along with relaxing days at home (free of sibling fighting, of course). This would mean I’d be a stay at home mom, though, at least for the summer. And I don’t actually think I want that. I never have.

When I became an SLP, I used to think that when I had kids, I’d switch from geriatrics to peds, working at schools so I could have summers off with my family. Sounds perfect, right?

But what if speech therapy for kids isn’t what lights me up? What if I love stroke rehab, getting people off PEG tubes by helping them retrain their swallowing muscles, and running fun group therapy sessions to work on memory strategies? I’m supposed to put that aside—my earned expertise, my skillsets catered to this population, my interests—to be on the same schedule as my kids? A perfect parent would sacrifice, though, right? I could technically go PRN at my current job, which means working only as needed, and just say “No” for most of the summer. I could work the weeks that I send my kids off to day camp for a change of scenery. That sounds like a win-win if you don’t consider that I need a steady (full-time) income to afford the house we chose to buy and still be able to go on vacations to the Outer Banks or Jersey Shore or (gasp!) Disney. Hmm. That wouldn’t feel perfect to have to give those things up.

If I were perfect, I’d maybe never take trips with my friends or husband so I could be with my precious children 24/7. Why would I want to have a moment without them if my aim is to be a perfect mom? Proximity = good parenting, no?

I really didn’t set out to be sarcastic or snarky with this, I promise. But as I went down my subconscious perfection checklist, I came to realize just how ridiculous it is to assume there’s one way to be a “perfect” mom- or even a good one. I will still aim for the more realistic aspects of my mental vision board for mothering, but this exercise woke me up to some things I was holding on to unnecessarily, as well as to the mental gymnastics we put ourselves through to gain one more speck of perfection.

I do think I am a good mom, or at least a good enough one. I think in order to be as good as I am, I need to work. I need to have time away occasionally. I need to be able to set firm boundaries with them. I need them to get their own shoes from the basement and to remember to close the door and to brush their own hair sometimes and to play independently. All of those things in which I am not directly involved are teaching them lessons of independence and self reliance, while Mom is still there for all of the important things, and to occasionally grab their shoes from the basement so we can get out the door.

We are not perfect, we are human. So we shouldn’t be expected to be doing everything flawlessly, and our kids should see that we aren’t invincible, we aren’t without flaws, and we mess up sometimes. How are they supposed to learn to apologize sincerely for their mistakes if they never have a parent mess up and apologize to them? How are they supposed to learn to care for themselves and their belongings if they don’t have to learn these lessons, sometimes the hard way?

Perfect, I’m realizing, does not have that myopic definition I initially thought it did. The portrait of the inexplicably patient, doting mother is actually not my idea of perfect.

I want my kids adaptable, self-reliant, responsible, caring, tactful, inquisitive, problem-solving, and kind. Modeling each of those things requires a level of imperfection that they deserve to see if we expect them to move through the world productively.

Thank you, Marina, for prompting me unintentionally with this question, because it has given me a new sense of confidence in my parenting journey that I may not have otherwise explored at this time. I think the kids are alright (and by kids I mean we forty-year-old moms who don’t feel forty because forty sounds like an age where we would surely have it together).

To anyone who read along, I appreciate you being here so much. I have sincerely enjoyed reading the musings of other moms on this platform, and I feel like doing so has already made me a more curious and creative writer.

Please feel free to share the “perfect mom” expectations your brain tried to trick you into having, and be sure to check out Marina’s article linked above.

xo, Amy

I get it; I do it, too. Filling little gaps of time—often with use of our phones—makes sense. But I suspect there are times when we could just be.

For example, when we are…

• waiting in line

• waiting anywhere (doctor, etc.)

• sitting on the toilet

• driving/commuting

• running

• walking

• exercising

• showering

• eating

I am certainly guilty of trying to squeeze something into every single one of these scenarios with social media, podcasts, digital chores, or other distractions. There’s nothing inherently wrong with this, especially if time is being filled with something productive or educational. Even entertainment shouldn’t be considered wrong, but I do think we could benefit from examining why we are so averse to down time.

During these moments, I often find myself thinking, someone make me STOP scrolling!

It’s like a pull I don’t even always feel control over, like a true compulsion. I don’t want to delete my social media apps because they do bring me joy and help me feel connected to others, and I use them professionally as well. But I could definitely improve on my time management with them and be more judicious with where I put my energy.

This idea occurred to me (as most great ideas do) in the shower. Ah, the shower: the last place of refuge from my phone. I started to think, Why is the shower where so many people talk about having their best ideas? And I think the answer is simple: we are alone, it is quiet, outside sounds are drowned out, and we are completing a rote task that allows our minds to wander. It’s the perfect recipe for problem solving, idea generation, and uninhibited creative thinking.

What is stopping us from creating this environment of mental creativity outside of our ten minutes of shower solace? We just don’t think to, I guess? Or we don’t realize how beneficial it can be? Or maybe we just don’t get any time alone anymore. Maybe all of the above. Life can be so busy and buzzy that getting through the days doesn’t leave mental bandwidth for centering ourselves (which, ironically, could be how we get back to feeling in control again).

For many (parents especially), it is quite possible that they have not gotten a moment fully alone in months. Years, even.

I remember my drive into work on my first day back after being quarantined with Covid in 2020. For me, quarantine included my baby, toddler, and husband since we were all exposed or infected. On that drive, I remember feeling so relieved to be alone. To sing in the car if I wanted. To listen to podcasts again. To just sit in silence. It was so nice, and for all those parents out there who take care of the family full-time, I understand that you might be feeling the opposite of lonely (and not in the good way). This longing for alone time is normal. Reconnecting with ourselves is important, and without a moment to ourselves, how are we supposed to do that?

I have actually gotten mad at myself for forgetting my phone if I get stuck waiting in a line, or in any other scenario where I could have used the time better. Let’s be honest, though. Unless you’ve made the active decision to delete emails any time you’re waiting for something (good idea, btw) then you’re probably mindlessly scrolling. Consider, just for a minute, just being. Allowing your mind to organize the rest of your day, reflect on how things could go better, or just simply allowing a brain break.

We tend to think of “staring off” as an unproductive waste of time. But mental fatigue is very real, and providing these mini-downtimes could actually be mini-recharges. We could even decide to actively take several deep breaths during these windows, and we might be surprised at how much better we feel afterwards. Maybe these breaks will trigger a reminder to stop and drink water, send that birthday text, or schedule a get together with friends (the latter two being much better uses of our phones)!

When we are constantly on the go, we don’t get a chance to zoom out, and those little forgotten items are what keep us up at night when we are trying to fall asleep.

Oh, shoot! It’s so-and-so’s birthday.

Bah, I meant to text about this weekend’s plans.

I forgot to pack that book my coworker asked to borrow.

What if mental breaks throughout your day allowed you the clarity to handle those things in a timely manner? That way, you could actually be ready to turn your brain OFF and drift off to thoughts of the beach or to something fun instead of a mental to-do list.

The thought of that is relaxing me already.

Of course, the benefits I’m describing are also associated with actual meditation, which has lots of positive research around it and is constantly recommended by those who practice it. I support daily mediation for anyone who can do it, and I would encourage everyone to give it a fair try. I also believe that meditation can come in many forms, and whatever works for you is what you should incorporate into practice.

The truth is, many of us feel like we don’t have the time to set aside for a mediation session, it feels “too woo-woo,” or else we just forget. What we do have, though, are little moments throughout our day that we could reframe as opportunities for a little mental rest. Below are some opportunities for meditation in the nontraditional sense (in addition to the ideas listed above).

• driving in silence (I HIGHLY recommend this)

• morning routine in silence

• food prep in silence

• coloring

• painting nails (which is now a much longer process for me since I have a dip nail kit and do my own manicures at home)

• walking/running

• yoga/stretching

• eating in silence (alone)

If you cannot set aside time for an actual meditation practice (which may be more of a mental barrier than literally not having five minutes to do it if we are being honest), it could be a great start to incorporate some mindful moments within other tasks throughout the day.

It’s like a checking-in with yourself. You good? We good? Anything I should be alarmed about? You need a minute? I am laughing at myself as I type this but I do believe that simply validating our own feelings and energy levels throughout the day could considerably impact at least our satisfaction with the day if not our overall happiness.

I once heard this little guided mediation/reflection for the end of the day:

1. What went well today?

2. What could have gone better?

3. What can I do to make tomorrow better? (or what could I do differently next time?)

I still do this exercise on occasion, and it’s so simple that I feel like it’s actually really helpful. You can do it while climbing into bed or trying to fall asleep, even.

When I began meditating, I found it easiest to do early in the morning, first thing. I don’t have a special place or a pillow or anything, I just sit in the middle of the floor of my bedroom with my eyes closed. I am mindful of my posture so I can breathe deeply. I make sure to do at least five rotations of this breathing pattern: four seconds in, hold for seven seconds, eight-second exhale. Then I continue breathing regularly, and I ask myself what I am grateful for that day. Since it’s a daily thing it doesn’t need to be heavy or take too long.

One day I was thankful for the ability to do my own manicures at home because they make me happy. Other days I pick a specific person in my life, or any of the other thousands of reasons out there to be thankful. Honestly, this five minutes has made a difference in the way I start my day with my attitude and my vibe. Since it’s first thing, sometimes a little stretching feels great, too. And I haven’t felt that it’s slowed down my morning routine; it almost improves it because I have centered myself and already made decisions about how I’m going to approach the day. I know it’s hard for me to stick with things like this in the long run, but if I can continue it a few times per week, I will consider it a win!

The purpose of this article is to shed light on our tendency to be so busy that we often miss the big picture. We get stuck in stress, in rigid routines, and in keeping our heads above water that it’s hard to break the cycle. What if those people we all know who seem to “have it together” are just naturally better at taking short breaks to organize their thoughts? They might not even realize they’re using mindfulness strategies to keep their head on straight! I am hopeful that if I can continue some kind of mindfulness/meditation/reflection routine, I will be happier, healthier and naturally more productive without having to try so hard.

Here’s hoping! Let me know in the comments if you have a meditation practice you love, and I also want to know where you are when you get your best ideas!

xo, Amy

Seeing both sides of a situation is kinda my thing. I love nuance, and I live in the gray area of many issues.

This doesn’t mean I don’t have convictions—but admittedly my ambivalence makes me overthink things frequently.

I just really like to get to the root of an issue, and that often involves getting into the brains of the people whose opinions I don’t understand or agree with (yet). Even if I absolutely know I will never side with a person because our values are too different, I still want to understand how they arrived at their logic. Which is how I once pondered reading an Ann Coulter book (LOL. I didn’t go through with it).

I feel like it’s normal to be curious and generally nonjudgmental.

So it REALLY grinds my gears when I encounter someone so smug in their thinking that they feel the need to correct a complete stranger’s benign take or personal experience in a rude way. Especially when they take to slinging insults for the egregious offense of having a different opinion.

Where does the vitriol originate, and what makes people feel entitled to claim moral or factual correctness on issues that are so obviously individual or variable? These comments are often accompanied by phrases that have become popularized in the know-it-all space (and are actually quite cliche in my opinion) such as “Hope this helps!” and “So loud yet so wrong.” They’re meant to be snarky, cutting, and demeaning. They certainly don’t communicate a let’s understand each other vibe.

Note: I’m not talking about views on human rights or treating people with basic dignity—I will not budge on inclusivity or the rights to identity and bodily autonomy. Any bigoted remarks deserve immediate pushback. Same goes for calling out disinformation.

Just this week I had a strange interaction on Threads. I believe that the person who started an argument with me actually shares a very similar view to mine on the topic of the post, but she took one thing she disagreed with, made a bunch of assumptions, and ran with them. She twisted my words in every reply, turning the snark level up high. I know, I should not have even engaged with her, but like I said, I knew we actually agreed on this topic! I thought maybe it could come around, but it never did. She was unable to let it go- all from a comment where I shared an experience that she insisted never happened (what?). And for the record, I know she was wrong the whole time (*wink) but the interaction still left a feeling of ick behind.

My point is, that interaction turning negative was completely unnecessary. If she had led with curiosity instead of accusations and dismissal, it could have been a quick back and forth that ended in us realizing our alignment on the topic.

I mention it because SO many interactions go this route, and it’s a damn shame. Some people admit they start fights and argue to stir the pot on purpose, because it’s fun for them. This person may be one of those, as she has “over opinionated” in her bio. But I cannot relate less. Opening the app when I’ve had a recent confrontation like that brings a noticeable cortisol spike. I abhor it. It’s a big reason why I like to “block and bless” most of the time (even preemptively if I observe rude comments aimed at others), because then I know I will never have to see a notification with that person’s handle. My nervous system thanks me every time.

Now onto addressing the title of this article.

Unlike some of the other social media apps, Substack has been a safe haven for me. Like I said above, I don’t post click-bait, rage-bait, or unpopular opinions. I just share my experiences and offer bits of wisdom where I can, and occasionally the contrarians still find me. It happens, I know. But as someone who hates being misunderstood more than anything, online is a risky place to be. And on Substack, I just don’t have to worry as much.

I say “Never change, Substack” like I’m writing a nostalgic note in a yearbook.

Of course, I understand that actual app features will adapt and evolve as time goes on- that’s not what I mean. It’s just that I don’t want to lose this feeling of community, this freedom to say what I want how I want to without overediting and overexplaining myself. This notion that sharing opinions can be met with curiosity and a “to each their own” mindset, and that people can go on their merry way feeling like they learned something from someone else’s perspective is really special.

This feels like a place where people come to learn and grow and share genuinely.

I’m a little scared to lose that.

So my plea is to the Substack community moreso than the app itself. Can we collectively agree to just be cool? To not normalize vitriol, rude comments, name-calling, and trolling like the other apps seem to spiral into after they get uber-popular?

I want it to be a space where there are universally understood rules that people follow because they value and respect the community at large. If you can’t have basic decorum, you can’t sit with us. You’re getting blocked (can we do that here?) if you can’t have a decent conversation and show respect to other writers. That sounds reasonable, yeah?

Let me know in the comments if you agree with this unofficial code of conduct and if you have anything to add. I’m looking forward to reading many of your articles, as I am an avid consumer of content on this app and I love engaging productively and respectfully in comment sections.

xo, Amy

If you liked this one, please consider checking out some other articles of mine <3

I counted calories for a few years. I honestly cannot believe I did that to myself for so long (not to mention how annoying it must have been for my husband and other table mates).

What made me finally stop?

The short answers:

1. It didn’t work.

2. It made me miserable.

The slightly longer, more scientific answers:

1. It is not sustainable in the long-term if you want to live a “normal” life.

2. It oversimplifies the science of weight loss, to the detriment of the individual.

“Calories in, calories out,” am I right?!?

No. Not right. This “scientific” explanation of balancing the sheer number of calories we take in and those which we expend is reductionist and ignores many important factors that impact weight.

First, it is fairly impossible to know the exact number of calories we expend. Exercise equipment can guess what we burn during a workout, and our basal metabolic rate can estimate what we burn at rest, but these numbers aren’t calibrated to OUR specific metabolisms and how WE respond to foods. So we obsess over how many calories we burn (I was quite guilty of this for some time) when it’s not even that accurate!

Internet searches can tell us how many calories are in foods, and apps like MyFitnessPal can help us track them, but again- the counts might not be all that precise given the different size and actual nutrient content of food items along with human error in inputting portion sizes. In the end, it’s SO much effort for a sense of balancing a faulty equation.

Bottom line: 100 calories of broccoli DOES NOT EQUAL 100 calories of brownie.

The way our bodies process the fiber and nutrients in non-starchy vegetables is vastly different from foods with high fat and sugar content. After our tastebuds communicate to our brain while chewing, the enzymes that get triggered to break down the food in our stomachs are different. The speeds with which the various nutrients get absorbed into our bloodstream vary. The water content and therefore hydration we get from produce is higher than that of dry foods.

What our large intestine separates out for waste from these very different foods is, you guessed it, DIFFERENT. How fast they are expelled from the body is different. How we feel afterwards is different regarding satiety, energy, and digestive symptoms. Our cravings for certain foods will change depending on what we have already taken in that day. If we know these things—and I think a lot of us do—how can we possibly think that a calorie is a calorie is a calorie?

That’s the sciencey part. Now for more of the practical application of calorie counting, and breaking down how it doesn’t make sense for a normal lifestyle.

It is not reasonable or sensible to cut back significantly on more than one of the three macronutrients at once. For satiety, sustainability, and health, we need to consider this point. So why, then, would people think they can sustain cutting carbs AND fat in order to lose weight? (This is rhetorical, as we are well aware that people are TOLD to do this!) If you have ever gone on a diet, you probably cut out doughnuts and the like. But you also were likely counting calories, right? Since fat has nine calories per gram and protein and carbs each have four, fat inevitably becomes the “enemy” when calories are counted. We miss out on those nutrients, and our health suffers instead of improving.

This is why diets based on standard advice don’t work long-term.

People are leaving themselves on a low-fat, low-calorie diet with not enough to keep them going. If you cut (unhealthy) carbs and therefore regulate your blood sugar, your body adapts to burn fat for fuel. But if you’re not taking in any fat, your body has to work even harder to convert other nutrients into that fuel. You end up starving, and this is when most people give up (it’s also dangerous to go into starvation mode and it can mess up your metabolism for years to come if you do it long enough).

If you’re counting calories, please consider what it’s doing to you.

Is it ever okay to count?

Okay, I’m willing to play devil’s advocate, just for fun (and because we love nuance around here). I understand that food tracking can be helpful, especially in the beginning of lifestyle changes, because it informs you of what you’re putting in your body. It can be especially helpful to do this if you’re also tracking symptoms of a suspected food sensitivity. I actually recommend keeping a food journal if you are trying to figure out which foods make you feel certain ways. You can do this while leaving calories out of it, or you can count them for short periods out of curiosity without restricting. Some people count to make sure they are getting enough.

However, calorie counting in the name of “health,” with the underlying goals of restriction and weight loss is not sustainable, is not fun, and it often doesn’t work. When it does work, that’s when it gets confusing. Restriction CAN be successful short term, but there are costs, and not many humans are willing to live that way long-term. FYI, for those in weightlifting or other fitness competitions, I’m not talking to you. This is for us normies. I would encourage anyone, however, to keep tabs on your habits around food diligence and to be aware of signs of unhealthy behaviors.

Orthorexia, an unhealthy obsession with “clean” eating, can end up doing lasting damage both physically and mentally. It encourages hypervigilance with counting, “earning” foods/drinks, and contributes to an unhealthy relationship with food that is hard to come back from. It took me literal YEARS, and I am here to help others break the cycle.

So here’s my quick story for some context.

I counted calories for about three years straight (from roughly 2011-2014), diligently tracking my intake on the MyFitnessPal app. I’m talking every Skittle and ounce of wine. I would do cardio workouts mostly because they “burned the most calories,” and I would stay on machines longer just to “earn” a glass of wine later, making sure I could remain in a calorie deficit. It felt like a game I could win.

I consumed around 1200-1500 calories per day throughout much of this time, working out frequently. I lost some weight, except for the periods of time where I was running a lot. The increase in exercise made me hungrier and I suspect was also building up some muscle in my legs. The fact that the stagnant scale number was frustrating to me back then feels sad now. I’m sad for that girl who could run ten miles and had visible calves for the first time ever but still attributed success to the number on the scale.

What snapped me out of it?

What got me to finally stop counting was being SO exhausted from doing it for so long without much to show for it, as well as taking the time to learn about nutrition and how different foods impact the body. My lightbulb moment, back in 2014, was reading this new (at the time) book called The Calorie Myth, by Jonathan Bailor. I don’t agree 100% with him on everything, but his main point is that the foods you eat matter more than the mere calories they contain.

I realize in 2026 this idea may seem obvious, but at that time I was in my late twenties, had grown up with millennial diet culture, and was in dire need of a perspective shift. Old diet advice was finally being challenged, and the new technology of podcasting was helping holistic nutritionists and traditional dietitians alike spread more accurate nutrition information to the masses.

Realizing the science wasn’t even there to support this calorie-counting habit of mine was both humbling and empowering. I’d wasted a LOT of time and energy on it, but that book was a jumping off point for me to understand my body better. It spurred me to take a deep dive into reading and listening to everything I could get my hands and ears on about the topic of nutrition, and eventually led me to getting my own nutrition cert.

“Okay, okay, so calorie counting is BAD. Now what?”

If we want to improve our diet (and potentially our body composition) we have to consider which foods are serving us health-wise, and eat more of those. I prefer a mindset of adding versus subtracting, which is a refreshing concept for anyone who has restricted before. Eating more veggies, proteins, and fruit will inevitably crowd out some of the less-optimal packaged foods, and the more we eat that way, the less we will crave the stuff that doesn’t serve us.

People like calorie counting because it’s straight-forward. The rules are clear. Eat less, exercise more, get the calorie deficit, and you’ll get smaller. What I suggest is more nuanced, more balanced, and more sustainable. Crowd out less healthy foods with foods from the outer perimeter of the grocery store that provide the fuel your body needs to thrive. That fuel contains all the macronutrients, in whatever proportions work best for your body (which could be similar to the graph above).

You’re not restricting, because these foods don’t require it. If you eat with nourishment in mind a good portion of the time, you will still have plenty of room for your favorite indulgences.

What I suggest you do instead of calorie-counting should excite you!

• Eat as much as you want of the foods that you know are nutrient-dense.

• Maximize your intake of foods that don’t come in a package.

• Increase your servings of vegetables per day.

• Embrace healthy fats, as they play a major role in keeping us full between meals and help us absorb more nutrients from the other macronutrients we eat.

• Drink 1/2 your body weight in ounces of water daily (more if you work out or drink alcohol/coffee). For example, 150 lbs = ~75 oz of water per day.

• Consider the quality of your food sources. Eating local and avoiding factory farms for your animal products can help, as how an animal was treated can influence the nutrients its products contain. (i.e. grass-fed beef, free-range or pastured eggs and dairy, wild-caught fish).

If you do these things, your body will adjust to it naturally. Your taste for things may even change, impacting future food choices. I discovered that I had been mindlessly snacking on things that I didn’t even like that much, and that I was eating treats just because they were free (especially at work).

I do not feel restricted my diet now whatsoever. I do, however, know which foods feel better for me. I know I need protein in the morning or I won’t last until lunch without feeling miserable. I love vegetables, and I enjoy experimenting with different ways of cooking them. I stopped being afraid of fat. That one was hard to decondition from my brain, but I’m convinced it was a key to my turnaround. Once I did that, I was full between meals, and that in itself cut the food noise. When I was hungry all the time, I was constantly thinking about my next snack, worrying how much it would detract from my efforts, and how few calories I could get away with to hold me over.

Now, I literally eat when I am hungry and stop when I am full. It’s not as easy as just deciding to live this way; I admit it takes time to feel free like this. But nourishing my body was the best thing I could possibly do for myself, and it turned out to be better for my waistline after all.

It’s almost comical to me now how much of a scam it all was. It turned out that my lowest weight while counting was higher than my weight after I started eating more intuitively. At the time, I was shocked that focusing on nutrient density (and not at all on weight loss) worked to improve my health to the point where my body did not want to hold on to the extra weight. I do not typically track my weight now, but curiosity gets the best of me sometimes and I no longer feel triggered by a higher number.

The number doesn’t hold the mental burden it once did. It lost its power.

They even weighed me with my sneakers on at my physical last month—which feels wrong for accuracy’s sake—but I didn’t sweat it. Before, I would have insisted on taking as much off as they’d allow. If you’re not where I am mentally with this yet, that is completely fine, I get it. But I do wish for all of you reading this freedom around food. I wish for the food noise to quiet, and for you to be able to focus on living in the body you have and not pining for the one you want.

Yes, what we eat impacts our health. We know this. But it doesn’t mean math belongs at the dinner table.

We can find balance if we follow more accurate nutrition advice, and realize that what works for our own personal metabolism will not be universal. We do not just take blanket advice long-term without first evaluating if it is working for our needs. We have a neutral approach to our appearance and size in particular, because our weight is the least interesting thing about us. It’s not why our family loves us, it’s not what should govern what we consume on a girl’s night out with our besties, and it should not occupy more brain space than things that bring us joy.

This article started out as a cautionary tale of “please don’t make the same mistakes I made and waste all the time I did,” but it kind of turned into addressing the root issue which is having a better relationship with food. When we do that, it fosters self-acceptance and a focus on what truly matters in life (like improved longevity and living in a nourished body).

Thanks for sticking with me this long if you did. You rock. Let’s go eat something delicious.

xo, Amy

Three days before my due date, my water broke at 2:35 am, while I was sleeping. I thought I was peeing myself, but I had just gone to the bathroom forty-five minutes prior so I quickly realized what was happening and I jumped up to get to the bathroom. It wasn’t a huge gush, but I was pretty sure it was my water. I told Chaz, but contractions didn’t seem to be starting so I put a towel down on my bed and got back in to rest and wait.

Painless contractions started and were about ten minutes apart. I was tracking them on my phone. I decided to call my mom around 3 am to come over (the girls were asleep so we needed someone here); I was worried things would progress quickly like they did last time. We began to prep to leave for the hospital. Bags were packed, but last minute items needed to be added, and we each took quick showers.

I believe I had fourteen contractions over the course of the next two and a half hours, continuing as Mom arrived and Chaz drove us to the hospital. The last few contractions I had were getting crampy—to the point where I was breathing through them with eyes closed—but they weren’t severe.

Once we got to the hospital, I was able to walk to my room without needing wheelchair transport (what a difference!). But after arriving to my room (and skipping triage for the third time), contractions seemed to stop. I was checked and found to be between four and five cm dilated. They said I was in “early labor” and that they’d probably need to give me Pitocin (synthetic oxytocin) to get things going again. I was a little nervous because I had never had Pitocin before, and I know it causes strong contractions.

They did my blood work, gave me a Covid test, and started IV fluids. They swabbed my vagina to confirm that my water really broke (checking for amniotic fluid). When the nurse did the swab, it hurt like hell. I knew where the swab was supposed to go, but it felt like she was stabbing my urethra and I called out in pain.

She had warned me that it would hurt and I knew I’ve been swollen so I didn’t think anything was wrong, per se. However, I started to feel dizzy and lightheaded. I asked for juice, and felt better after a few minutes. A little while later, I needed to use the bathroom, so they unhooked me and let me walk there with Chaz. It hurt SO bad to pee—I’m talking excruciating—which was alarming, and there was also blood. Right after I peed with that horrible pain, I felt a vasovagal response again and got really lightheaded. But this time I was upright on the toilet with nowhere to go, and I felt so dizzy that I was sure I was about to pass out.

Chaz came in to hold me so I wouldn’t fall off the toilet, and the nurses came back in and were concerned (she said I was green). It was the most awful, gross feeling, but I came back from it and was able to get back into bed and drink more juice. I felt weak, but okay. I told them about the pain and bleeding, but they didn’t seem concerned and figured the blood was from being in labor (and maybe it was). Still, I feel like I know where she poked me.

Blood work came back okay, though my platelets had gone down to 114,000 (per microliter) which I was disappointed about because they had previously been improving. Platelets help your blood clot, and if they’re under a certain number, it’s too risky to get an epidural. I believe they said mine had to be 80,000 or lower for them to deny me, but it may depend on individual hospital policy. Ideal platelet count is between 150-450k.

The anesthesiologist was available, thankfully, and we got that done right as they were starting the Pitocin, which was a huge relief. I began contractions again but only progressed to six cm or so (I wish I could give a time frame here, but my experience of labor is that the passage of time is distorted).

They put me on my side with a huge peanut shaped yoga-looking ball between my knees which was actually quite comfy, despite my legs being numb and tingly. I was able to rest and may have even slept a bit, which was great (again, no clue how much time passed). Then I think they pumped up my Pitocin and I really started to notice when I was contracting. Still, no pain for a while.

Almost suddenly, at around 11 am, I had a contraction that was quite painful on my left side (the side that was down) that required me to vocalize through it, and Chaz called for the nurse to come check me. It felt like my vagina was opening or stretching, while the actual discomfort was in my left side, and I guessed that I could be in transition or even further. It’s interesting, because despite being very numb, I had these instincts that said “It’s time,” and to get onto my back.

The nurses must have been busy, because they didn’t come for eight-ish minutes and the nurse who came wasn’t mine. I said, “Something’s happening; I think I need to be checked,” and she sent someone right in. I was ten centimeters dilated!! They got me on my back (which I could not do on my own) and I didn’t have another bad contraction after that; the change in positioning resolved the pain on my left side.

The doc came in, suggested we put music on (”We got tunes?”), and they got me right into stirrups. My legs were completely numb—definitely a thorough epidural—so I couldn’t help at all. Once another contraction started, I was instructed to pull myself forward by grabbing my legs, then to hold my breath and push. I ignored the breath holding at first, because I preferred to breathe the baby down by exhaling through pursed lips, and my first two sets of pushes were still productive. But then they were all repeating for me to hold my breath, so I complied.

The second two pushes were even more productive, and he was born! I couldn’t believe how fast and pretty effortless it was to get him out, but I think my body did ninety percent of the work and they didn’t force me to push before he was ready to be born (like they had in the other hospital with my first)! His face, hands, and feet were purple, and he started crying right away.

The doc placed him on my chest as he did the most millennial-coded thing. He quoted the song that was playing—Satellite, by Dave Matthews Band—saying “He looked up, looked down, and all around.” The baby had actually opened his eyes for a few seconds, which made it all the more perfect. Was it corny as hell? Yes. Does it delight me to this day? Also yes. The nurse put a hat on him and gave me a blanket to keep him warm.

I had a second degree tear again, but only needed a few stitches. It didn’t bleed too much because the doc said I probably tore along the scar from before and scar tissue has little to no blood flow. I didn’t feel a thing as the placenta was born, nor when he stitched me up.

Delayed cord clamping is standard procedure in the hospital, usually, a few minutes is their policy. I noticed the doc asking my husband to cut the cord pretty quickly after birth and I didn’t say anything because I was just so overwhelmed with happy tears at the moment, and figured I just didn’t even have a concept of how much time had actually passed. But later, Chaz told me that the doc noticed there was “nothing in the cord.” In hindsight, I saw him cut it and it was pretty white, so it seems like the cord drained quickly.

It took FOREVER for the numbness to wear off completely, which was annoying! It was hours and hours it seemed, and well after I had been moved to my postpartum room. In order to transfer to the new room, they had to help me into the wheelchair and then into the new bed.

It’s still crazy to me that about nine hours passed from my water breaking until birth, but it didn’t seem that long at all.

Immediately postpartum, I felt so weak. Once I had feeling in my lower half, the pain wasn’t terrible but I was sore in my epidural area. I had soreness and cramps in my perineum and I just felt physically exhausted. My bleeding improved throughout the next day, but was still fairly heavy four days in (as was expected). I would say that bleeding subsided within two weeks or so, but I still had some here and there, especially on days when I had more activity.

I would say that this was probably my most pleasant birth experience, though my second was exhilarating and I don’t regret being unmedicated for that one. It was nice not feeling panicked getting to the hospital, being able to walk to my room, being able to relax, getting an epidural before severe pain set in, and delivering with just a few pushes. No ring of fire, no complications. How could I ask for more?!

I am forever grateful for my health and the health of my babies. I have put a lot of work and dedication towards my health over the years, but I also acknowledge the luck and the privilege involved in all of it. I knew this would be my last birth and my last child, so I really tried to soak it all in.

Please feel free to reach out to me with questions! I have so much to say on this topic and am never short on opinions, but my mind is wide open and I know everyone’s experience and preferences are different.

xo, Amy

I think it is so important to tell my birth stories so I can process, learn from, and heal from them. Spoiler alert: everything was “fine” in the sense that everyone was healthy and our lives were never in danger, a circumstance for which I am so grateful. However, I believe there is emotional recovery after any birth, especially when it doesn’t go as expected (as in this case).

I had an unmedicated birth—as in NO epidural—and I am floored. That was not my plan. Au naturale in my mind was reserved for the strong. The warrior women, those that had the amazing ability to rise above the pain and perceive it as purposeful. Women who believed they could do anything. I couldn’t hold a candle to those goddesses. I had wished I could be like that with my first birth, but after experiencing intense contractions without breaks between and quickly asking for an epidural, it wasn’t on my radar to try to go without.

Now I realize I’m capable of more than I thought.

I had labeled myself as someone with a “low pain tolerance,” and a big fear leading up to labor was that I would be irreparably traumatized by the pain of contractions if unmedicated. After listening to dozens of birth and postpartum stories on podcasts and experiencing labor with my first child, I really thought it was best (for me) to get the drugs. I knew that traumatic birth experiences could contribute to postpartum mood disorders, and I wanted to mitigate that if possible. I had a plan.

On to my story.

My contractions started at home at 1 am on Thursday, 6/6/19 (one day past my due date). They began at about fifteen minutes apart and over the next two hours they quickened to ten minutes apart, but I was able to breathe through them in bed as I timed them. At 3 am I took a shower and by the time I got out they were five minutes apart. I called my mom to come over and stay with our two-year-old so we could head to the hospital. About forty-five minutes later, we left. The contractions were three to four minutes apart. Yikes!! Guess I should have called sooner, I thought, but it all started at 1 am and I didn’t want to wake anyone if it could wait.

The car ride SUCKED (again). I had these calming essential oils with me and I was trying to inhale them when I could, hoping the aromatherapy would help keep me from freaking out. I did get little breaks between contractions but it was kind of a bumpy ride and my moaning sounds turned gutteral. My poor husband just drove on, cursing at red lights with no one else waiting at the cross streets, not being able to help me from the front seat. The AC in the car was broken so we had the windows down, and now we laugh that the people of West Chester, PA got to experience my contractions with me on that warm June morning.

I was in between contractions when we pulled up to the hospital, so I got out quickly. I walked in on my own but quickly got on all fours in the lobby to have another contraction. The security guard spoke to the nurse that was there, who then said something into a radio. When the contraction was over, there was a wheelchair waiting for me.

I looked up and three labor and delivery nurses were scurrying towards me; they introduced themselves and whisked me to the elevator. I was able to transfer to the bed before another contraction began. Then they checked me and I was dilated NINE CENTIMETERS.

I was completely shocked. I actually yelled out “WHAT!?” I knew I felt bad but not that much worse than my first time, which is when I arrived at 4.5 cm and was disappointed at the low number. (I found out later it was likely because my water broke with my first, so contractions felt more intense sooner).

I immediately asked, “Will I be able to get an epidural!?!” And the nurse said “We will do everything in our power.” But her facial expression said “it doesn’t look good.” They started to put an IV in, but I knew they needed to get a liter of fluid in me before the anesthesiologist would even come.

Of course, this set off kind of a panic in me.

There’s no way I can do this! I didn’t plan for this! I’m not cut out for this! I should have left home sooner!

My contractions were intensifying and I was vocalizing loudly through them. There was the voice of a nurse saying “just take it one contraction at a time,” and “that’s it, you’re doing great, don’t forget to breathe deep.” I tried to take the advice. I asked for an epidural again. Nurse Maggie replied lovingly (like she was letting me down easy), “let’s have a baby instead.” At some point during these painful contractions my water broke.

The intensity rose after that.

Before I knew it, my body was pushing. I was bearing down involuntarily. Someone said “you’re pushing, you either need to try to NOT push or get on your back because we can’t catch a baby with you on your side like that.” Getting from my side to my back (especially with the death grip I had on the bedrail) seemed like an impossible feat, but they helped me do it.

This is the point when the deeper groans and yells became higher pitched and desperate-sounding. She was in the birth canal, and I could feel everything. I tried to control it back down. I said, “I can’t do this!!” And they informed me that I already was. They said, “we can see the head, the head’s right there, we’re having a baby so soon.”

My body convulsed again and I ROARED this baby out in about three pushes. I had no idea how fast she was coming, but once I could feel the head come out I knew the more I pushed the faster it would all be over. The only way out of this was THROUGH. My body did most of the work, but I was able to help it along, and it felt better to bear down versus fighting the impulse. The doctor arrived with mere seconds to get his gloves on, letting out an audible “Whoa” because she came out so fast. He held her upright while a nurse did a sternal rub until she started crying. They laid her on my lower belly because they said the cord wasn’t very long. She was here. My labor was four hours long from the first contraction, and the baby came four minutes after my water broke.

This was the most physically difficult thing I have ever done. It was the craziest day— well, four hours—of my life. She was born fifteen to twenty minutes after arriving at the hospital. After they laid her on my belly I was just in shock. What on earth just happened!? She’s here!? Already!? My bewilderment was apparent to the staff and they really seemed to get a kick out of it (mainly because I kept saying “What the f*ck just happened?” aloud as I kept looking at her on the outside of my body when she was just in there seconds ago).

The mood in the room was like finishing a marathon, lots of relieved sighs and congratulations. I’ve heard of a “birth high,” and I don’t know if this was it. But there was an overwhelming sense of relief accompanying the initial shock; I was definitely happy it was over. I looked over at my husband, who throughout the process was standing next to my bed and encouraging me. He was crying tears of awe and joy and relief. I will never forget this moment as it is the first time in my recollection that I have ever seen him cry. I’ve seen glossy eyes (like when he proposed), and I’ve seen him wipe potential tears from his eyes (like at my Dad’s funeral), but never active, unabashed tears. It was uncensored and genuine and my favorite moment I think we’ve ever shared together. About an hour later it sunk in for me, and that’s when I started crying.

She is here and perfect and we are so grateful.

I want to mention that this is neither as an endorsement nor a critique of unmedicated birth. Sometimes, you don’t get to choose. Next time I plan to get there sooner so I have more options.

I encourage anyone to keep an open mind about how your birth story will unfold. Birth preferences are great to have, and knowing your options and how to advocate for yourself is priceless. But things don’t always go as planned. I have two daughters now with two totally different birth stories, and they are both just right for them. I am so fortunate to have had healthy births in environments where I felt safe. If something like this happens to anyone reading this, don’t be so afraid like I was! You’ll get through it. You’ll do it because you have to. You’ll learn and grow from it because you choose to.

And when you’re in the throes of labor and think, “I can’t do this,” remember that you already are.

xo, Amy

I want to share my three birth stories.

For posterity, for solidarity, to pass down gained wisdom, and to connect with other moms. I do not share with an agenda in mind regarding pain relief methods or birth interventions. I simply will share what happened to me, what worked for me, and what my personal choices were. I think hearing stories from others is a great way to self-reflect on our own priorities and preferences. That is, if something I chose to do strikes you, it might be because you relate and resonate with it, or it might signal that it’s not what you’d choose at all. That’s fine- great even! It’s information that can help you form your own future choices and views on the topic at hand.

All that being said, here we go with my first birth story!

Our Firstborn

We knew our firstborn was going to be a girl.

I couldn’t handle all the changes that were about to happen without knowing. It sounds silly in hindsight, but something about knowing the sex of the baby made me feel like I could prepare better, mentally and physically. We had decided on her name before she was conceived. We felt ready (LOL).

My due date came and went, so they scheduled me for an induction at 41 weeks per my hospital’s policy. Ideally, I did not want to be induced; I preferred to go into labor naturally. I was scared of the induction process, and I preferred to not have surgery (c-section), which I knew could result from having a larger baby that could potentially get stuck. I wanted her out as soon as possible! (C-section moms: please don’t take this as criticism of your method of birth. I was simply scared of C recovery. I am in awe of all the ways babies safely enter the world).

After two different membrane sweeps at my final OB appointments, I got my wish.

At 12:38 pm on Saturday, January 28, 2017, my water broke. We went out to breakfast that morning, and when we got home I cleaned the toilets. We were ready for things to start moving! It’s funny to think back on because when you’re overdue, you typically haven’t made any plans and it’s kind of nice. For the first (and last) time in years, I was bored. I was laying on the couch, literally just waiting. I put on the “Feel Good Labor” playlist on Spotify that I had created, willing labor to start.

I felt this gush, not forceful, more like a release. I could feel fluid coming out and I jumped up off the couch, faster than I’d moved in months. I ran to the bathroom, managing miraculously to not get the couch wet. I knew this was it, though I realize now that labor doesn’t start immediately for everyone whose water breaks. My husband Chaz was right there and we talked about our plan. I texted my mom, brother, and sister, “Don’t freak out, but I think my water just broke.”

My plan was to try to labor at home as long as possible. I went upstairs and took a shower, Chaz standing right outside the door, timing my contractions using an app. It was hard for me to tell when a contraction was beginning and when it was really over, but I was trying. By the time I got out of the shower, Chaz said “they’re five minutes apart; the app says to go to the hospital.”

We called and they told us to come on in. I was trying to dry off and get dressed but I was taking forever because I kept stopping to have a contraction. I was managing them okay by getting on all fours, but Chaz was getting nervous and encouraging me to get to the car. The car ride SUCKED. I don’t think I opened my eyes the whole way there. I was in pain but the contractions were not easy to define because I wasn’t getting a break between them. I had heard you are supposed to get time to catch your breath between each one, and I was still experiencing constant, extreme cramping that wasn’t letting up (and I had never done this before so I had no point of reference). I was breathing hard and trying to practice the mindfulness and breathing tips from the books I had read.

When we pulled up to the hospital I thought it would be impossible for me to use my muscles to get out of the car. Chaz went and got a wheelchair from the lobby and brought it right to the car, and I managed to get into it. Inside, there were nurses who tried to ask me questions but I really couldn’t open my eyes or speak besides short responses. They decided to let me skip triage and admit me just by how I was acting.

They helped me transfer to the bed so they could check me, and to my dismay I was only 4.5 centimeters dilated. I was expecting more. I had wanted to hold off on an epidural for as long as I could, but after hearing my lack of progress I started to panic a little. I wanted to be laying on my side—where the pain was more bearable—but they wouldn’t let me. They said the monitor they strapped to my belly wasn’t going to work correctly if I was on my side and that I had to stay on my back. To this day I resent them for this, because I don’t believe it had to be this way, and it led to quicker interventions in my opinion.

They started to place an IV for fluids and said I would need a liter of fluid in me before the anesthesiologist could do the epidural. My sweet husband started to tell them my preference to forego the medication, but I stopped him saying, “I don’t think I can do it. I’m not getting a break at all.” I wanted relief. My contractions were two minutes apart with continued severe cramping in between. It felt like the intensity of labor should have meant more progress, and that scared me because I didn’t know how much worse it would get or how long I’d have to endure it.

It seemed lightning fast that the anesthesiologist arrived, if you can believe it. My incredibly sweet nurse Nicole held me from the front so I would stay still as they did the procedure. Everyone says they’re afraid of the big needle they use, but I hardly noticed it with the contractions. I could feel the little tube going into my spinal column, though. It didn’t hurt, but I will never forget that weird feeling. Once it was over and I sat back in bed, it was instant relief. This epidural worked like magic. I opened my eyes and introduced myself to everyone in the room for the first time, suddenly a completely different person.

From that point on I was relaxed. I was free of pain, but could still feel my feet and move my legs a little, so I wasn’t too freaked out by it. My mom arrived shortly after and we just hung out for hours, listening to my labor playlist and sneaking jolly ranchers. My mom was amazed because she had never had an epidural with her three kids, so she didn’t know labor could be so calm and social. My contractions stayed two minutes apart, but I imagine they dampened in intensity with the epidural. I think it was about seven hours from the time I got the epidural to when they said I was 9.5-10 cm dilated, but it seemed like the time flew. By that time, my brother and his girlfriend (now my SIL) had arrived and we were all just hanging out. I started to feel increasing pressure downward, like I had to poop. It was unpleasant, but not too painful. That’s when they said I should start the pushing phase, so everyone but Chaz left the room. This was around 9 p.m.

At 9:15 p.m. I started pushing. I remember because I asked the time and the nurse thought it was a very strange question. I didn’t like her. My sweet nurse from before had left at 7 p.m. and I was left with this bossy lady. She tried to instruct me how to push, but with the epidural I wasn’t getting the hang of it very quickly. Honestly, I feel like they should have waited longer for the baby to move down further on its own before having me push. So for the first forty-five minutes of pushing, nothing much was happening and the nurse kept telling me I was doing it wrong. In hindsight, the baby wasn’t ready and I was exerting all this energy unnecessarily, and not without harm done in the form of lasting hemorrhoids.

I was told to hold my breath and push for ten straight seconds at a time when a contraction was starting. She’d tell me when to start since I wasn’t sure when they were happening. It felt unproductive for a long time. After that, I started to get better at it (I guess) and the pushes were more productive. The nurse would walk away at times and leave Chaz to coach me, which was really nice. The lights were dim, the music was on, and it was just the two—well, three—of us. The nurse actually said I pushed better when Chaz was coaching and counting for me versus when she was. Probably because her negative energy was making me tense!

Finally, the baby’s head made its appearance. Baby would start to crown during a push and then go back in a little when the contraction was over. They tried to tell me to keep pushing so that wouldn’t happen, but it was exhausting. The epidural was still working but I could feel the “ring of fire,” which feels just like what it is: skin stretching past its capacity. They had me reach down so I could feel her head. After a total of an hour and forty-five minutes of pushing, her head came out which felt like a huge relief. The body came out easily after that, and I barely pushed for the placenta a few minutes later. What really hurt was when they pushed on my belly to get as much of the lochia out as they could.

They wiped her off just a bit and laid her on my chest. She seemed enormous, and later she weighed in at 9 lbs, 5 oz (4.224 kg). She had jet black hair and full cheeks. She cried but only for a minute. She was here.

I am a firm believer in writing down your birth story, including all the minute details you can remember. There is so much that blurs over time, and retelling it while it’s fresh can be a wonderful moment of nostalgia or a medium for processing through a tough experience if things didn’t go as planned.

It’s nice to recall that I didn’t try to romanticize birth too much. It is a rite of passage for women, of course. But it’s not something so exclusive that the average person can’t “achieve” it. There isn’t a secret password to be discovered. It happens. And then you’re in the club. Congrats! The dues are high. But the perks are worth it.

Let me know if something from my first birth story stuck out to you or resonated with you!

Stay tuned for scenes from my next birth: THE WILD ONE.

xo, Amy

It’s a lot.

I want to address some of the more imminent concerns held by many brand new moms. I hope it can ease the anxiety often associated with the unknown, and provide some perspective on how to navigate this new experience.

The First Few Days

Some people tear during birth, some people don’t. Some have scheduled cesareans and some have emergency ones. Some have precipitous births (very quick) and some are in labor for days.

So many of these factors are unpredictable, and even in the most standard of situations, there is still so much left to chance and circumstance.

Once baby is here, it feels like the hard part is over… at first. I found it comforting to be in a hospital for the mere fact that there were people present who knew what to do. They knew when baby should be changed, bathed, and fed, and they knew when to check on me and tell me what I was cleared to do. There were supplies at the ready and I took solace in knowing that we were safe and cared for.

Once our time at the hospital was up, though, I loaded my tiny baby into her carrier and nervously waved goodbye to the competent nurses, wondering how I was allowed to leave without a manual of instructions for what to do next.

Each person going through postpartum will have different variations of the same general experience. In all cases, maternal healing needs to be done and baby has needs to be met.

I want to share some things about the earliest days of postpartum that I wish someone had told me my first time around.

These tips are not medical advice and cannot possibly apply universally. However, if we are aware of some healing strategies before we go through it, we may be better able to pivot as needed and get our needs met more efficiently.

Please add any strategies that worked for you in the comments so we can normalize helping each other get through these little-talked-about hard things.

Once you’re home

Use up the hospital supplies, then assess what more you need based on your bleeding and comfort level. Keep a peri bottle in each bathroom, which is used to rinse after using the toilet instead of wiping with toilet paper. Consider a squatty potty for easier bowel elimination.

You will be bleeding for a number of weeks, the length of which varies by person. It happens regardless of birthing method, so it’s a good idea to stock the bathrooms with supplies ahead of time if you can.

Perineal Healing

A sitz bath is like a soak for your nether region, cleansing and soothing it. Ice packs (if you need them) can be store bought or homemade from pads. Pain spray and witch hazel pads are typically provided by the hospital, along with mesh underwear, regular pads, gigantic pads, and disposable bed protectors. Bring them home with you, along with all the baby supplies you can (they throw away the diapers you don’t take). Place witch hazel pads on top of a maxi pad inside your disposable underwear for soothing. Spray the whole area with pain spray each bathroom visit.

C-section healing:

Resist the urge to scratch the incision. Once scabs are gone, you can massage the incision and use bio oil, scar balms, or silicone scar tape to aid in further healing and reduce scarring. Wearing high-waisted underwear can avoid irritation at the incision site and protect the area. See a doctor if you have redness, increased bleeding, increased pain, or discharge at incision site and/or fever of 100.4 or above.

No lifting anything heavier than your baby (super realistic, I know).

Belly Bands

Ancestrally, belly binding has been used to help internal organs and musculature go back to where they were pre-pregnancy, accelerating healing. It’s important not to wear a band too tight, as excess intra-abdominal pressure isn’t good for healing and can cause further issues. This is not a waist trainer and isn’t for getting smaller; it’s for efficiency of healing. For c-section moms, wait until incision is healed.

Adjusting to caring for a newborn:

In addition to caring for yourself postpartum (which is extremely important), you also have a brand new family member with a lot of needs. It can get overwhelming fast, so I’m here to (hopefully) ease your mind a bit.

There isn’t some huge revelation that happens when you bring a new baby home, magically instilling in you parental skills and confidence. It’s more like little adjustments and adaptations made over time as you learn each other, and it comes together through sheer necessity.

The following passage is an early postpartum entry from my journal, and it sums it up nicely:

“Tuesday, 3/7/17 *5 weeks old

It’s hard to believe I haven’t written since before little O was born. I had so many questions and concerns then about the birth, and now that it’s over I need to focus on how to be a parent and get through this initial period sane and with a child who is healthy (and alive).
Chaz and I still look at her with wonder, like how did we create a being so complete and perfect, who has all the right body parts in the right places, whose body functions like it’s supposed to and who is already showing signs of a personality? How did we get so fortunate to be her parents, to live this miracle? It truly is miraculous what has happened. I used to wonder, “How does a woman get through childbirth?” and “How do people know how to care for a newborn?” And the most basic of answers has revealed itself to me: They don’t have a choice.*

Giving birth isn’t something that’s achieved, it just happens and you can’t stop it. That’s how I “got through” it. I went into labor, Chaz drove me to the hospital, I got medication for the pain, and ten hours later I pushed like they told me to and she finally came out.

Now, people react to and handle the situation in different ways of course, but you do it because time ticks on and the baby must come out, simple as that. And once she’s born, they tell you what to do in the hospital, and you change the diaper when the line turns blue. You use a wipe to clean up the poop and before you know it you’re a diaper pro, wiping in the right direction and everything. You wipe their mouth when they drool or spit up. You keep burp cloths everywhere. You wash their neck folds in the bath once you realize their neck smells like baby puke. You get bodily fluids on you and your clothes but you realize you don’t care like you once thought you would.

You just accept that laundry will be done frequently in your house from now on. You get used to interrupted sleep and, if you have a supportive partner and family, you try to sneak naps when you can. And it’s not so bad. You call your baby a monster in the middle of the night to your spouse when she wakes up and it’s “not time yet.” And you let her cry for a few seconds to see if she really means it or if it was just a fleeting whimper. And then you get up and you say “Aw, sweetie, Mama’s here” and you feed her and love that she needs you. And you wait patiently for those intentional smiles to come. And you watch her cry and think she’s so damn cute at first, and then you try to figure out what calms her the best, like a riddle. And you feel so good when you successfully calm her, like you’ve figured her out- for now. We are getting through it and I think we are off to a great start.”

It’s emotional for me to relive this. It’s nice to reflect on a time when we were just so grateful to have her here that we didn’t mind the crying or the interrupted sleep. I viewed early postpartum as a surrender. Adherence to circadian rhythms and schedules of any kind were not my priorities, and I think that served me well. Of course, as time went on, building a routine was helpful and necessary for us, but it’s encouraging to know that when you’re in the thick of the early days, you take things as they come and before you know it, you (kind of) know what you’re doing.

There’s no certification for parenting, no final exam to pass. People enter into this role at all readiness levels. While it does not require a certain amount of preparedness, being prepared will have an impact on how well one adjusts to the changes that ensue. Those willing to learn, adapt, go with their baby’s flow, and snag moments of rest when they can will fare just fine over time. Before you know it, you won’t feel like a fraud calling yourself “mom.”

There is so much more to delve into regarding postpartum preparedness. I’m glad you’re here because talking about postpartum is kind of my thing. But for now, I just wanted to give a little insight into the first few days and weeks, and how you don’t have to be as scared as I was going into it.

Get some recovery supplies, understand that things won’t be predictable at first, and know that you can and you will figure this out.

Please share if you found this helpful and if you have anything to add to help a new parent adjust in the early days!

xo, Amy

Karoline Leavitt said at an event with TPUSA in early April that a predecessor told her to “always be the most well-read person in the room.” She said she always tries to follow it, but President Trump always has her beat (insert gigantic eye roll). Newsflash: watching Fox News and other far-right wing entertainment channels doesn’t make you well-read or well-informed; quite the opposite.

Watch what she says here.

“Well-read” implies that someone has read a lot of books, articles, and maybe even (gasp!) research from qualified professionals in order to gain a plethora of knowledge on different topics. It’s reasonable that someone well-read would understand different perspectives, lessons from historical events, and have a finger on the pulse of important topics in current events.

I’d say that someone who is well-read is, in fact, quite intelligent. It feels reasonable to advise people to bring a diverse range of knowledge—backed by reliable sources—into conversations. Being well-read is certainly an honorable thing to strive towards; that’s not my issue here.

What gets me is the part about being the BEST at it.

Why does one have to aim to be ahead of others? Why not just BE WELL-READ?

And herein lies one of the biggest problems with this whole administration: ego.

That’s their hook. Be the best. They have to measure their success by comparing against others. They can’t just recommend that people read multiple news sources to make sure facts are checked (which she does mention later in the interview, laughably, considering the blatant lies and dismissal of journalists that she regularly spews to the American public). But she felt the need to include that being AHEAD of others in the room is important, and it makes me sick.

In prioritizing superiority over others, the goal of being knowledgeable for the sake of integrity is lost. So as long as you’re “better” than the people you’re with, you’re set? It’s not for the sake of truth, honesty, and doing what’s right based on facts that are real?

This is a common theme with them. It can’t possibly just be, “We had a great crowd.” It has to be the biggest crowd ever seen, and certainly bigger than Obama or MLK Jr. They can’t simply promote their perceived successes, they have to describe Trump as the greatest president who ever lived, every single time. Give me a fucking break.

They waste so many words on self-congratulation. Even after allegedly catching the potential shooter who killed Charlie Kirk last September, FBI Director Kash Patel spent six sentences praising Trump and the FBI before getting to the actual findings in the case. I remember watching it live, hearing “ This is what happens when you let good cops be cops.” OMG SHUT UP!

Trump’s hubris has literally started wars. We are at the mercy of an egomaniac, and the people he has carefully chosen to surround himself with are no better. They continue to pump him up, thus showing their complicity in our nation’s downfall.

When you acknowledge that he stocked his cabinet with yes-men and women, it makes sense that hardly anyone is qualified for their positions. Ego explains why Trump adores the uneducated. It explains why they diminish universities and the credentials of medical and scientific professionals to serve their agenda. Expertise in their minds is more about who has the biggest compliments for Trump, the biggest bank account, the most connections, and who can exert the most confidence in the face of genuine scrutiny. It’s certainly not who spent years learning about the actual subject matter for which they’re employed (what a concept).

Why would one want to intentionally surround themselves with those they have deemed “inferior,” if not only for ego? It’s the only explanation for such horrifically childish and narcissistic advice. I guess it would be appealing to someone who wants to manipulate others and assert their superiority and control over them.

Personally, I want to be around people who are smarter than me.

I want to be able to learn from people and be inspired by them. It doesn’t mean that I’m striving to be the least intelligent in the room; rather, it means that I’m not keeping score at all. I’m focusing on building off of other people’s strengths, offering my own to others, hoping that in the end we’re all better off for it. It’s eliminating competition from the equation, because many of us understand that everyone who is authentic has something to offer.

I’ve been in situations where I am the smartest, or at least the most prepared and perceptive person in the room, and it is actually so frustrating. To sit in a meeting with clients and coworkers and have your coworkers completely misinterpret the clients’ questions (because they’ve inserted their own assumptions instead of really listening), then go on long rants answering the question that has not been asked, only for the client to have to re-ask the question afterwards—when I knew what they were trying to say the entire time—is frustrating to say the least.

True intelligence means wanting to be around people from whom you can learn and grow. It means listening and not just waiting for your turn to speak. I never, ever want to be the smartest person in the room, partly because I do not want to ever be calculating intellectual superiority rankings for the sake of my own hubris.

We know that Trump thinks he is always the smartest person in the room, which is precisely what makes him a terrible leader, a weak, fragile baby, and a person who lashes out at entire countries or groups of marginalized people to make himself feel better.

Karoline’s advice may have sounded profound to her listeners in the moment. Be one step ahead of everyone around you, so you can be a winner. But to me, it just sounds like climbing to the highest rock in the park to shout you’re the king of the world; it feels good in the moment, but it doesn’t actually mean anything.

She’s not the most well-read in the room; she just acts like she is. She prepares for what others will say so she can counter it, for the surface-level perception that she has “won” the interaction. Her podium affords her the last word if she wants it, and boy does she want it. She probably thinks “bully pulpit” means she should bully others from her pulpit.

No.

Teddy Roosevelt coined that phrase to mean using the privilege of a platform to share ideas and inspire people. “Bully” was slang during his time, meaning “excellent” or “wonderful.” Not just the bullying we know today. I digress, but I have to brag about slogging through TR’s biography whenever I can, because it was a full-time job.

Karoline Leavitt being an actual bully may mean she is skilled in debate (which is debatable), but it doesn’t mean she actually follows her own advice to be well-read. She may know what people are criticizing the current admin for at any given time, because that’s her job, but we are not changing the definition of well-read to mean you’ve read the latest gossip. This lady is out here butchering half-decent advice to serve her agenda. Same with Trump and all his cronies who are cosplaying as important figures in our government while destroying it from the inside. They’re all just faking it and they are not making it, lemme tell ya.

All this to say, let’s actually be well-read, in its true meaning.

Let’s be knowledgeable and nuanced in our thinking, and not just live to be in competition with others. Let’s respect our peers and their ability to offer us new perspectives. Let’s be humble, and agree we each have a lot to learn from each other.

Let’s maybe not be… assholes… k?

xo, Amy

Sisterhood. Adventure. Trying new things. Meeting new people. Gaining independence.

These are some of the benefits my husband and I see in sending our nine-year-old daughter (and hopefully her siblings someday) to sleepaway camp. We introduced the idea quite early on in her life, but let her make the decision, as we had no intention of forcing it. She has always been intrinsically stoked to go.

The first time she attended overnight camp without us was the summer after kindergarten, for two nights, and now she is old enough to go for two weeks. She gets a ton of time outdoors, tries things she can’t do at home like archery and waterskiing, and fully enjoys the independence of traversing campus with the new friends she has made. The campers idolize their counselors (usually aged eighteen to early twenties) and enjoy meeting all kinds of people from many different backgrounds.

What’s it like there?

Our camp is comfy rustic; the campers sleep in cabins, with electricity for lights but no air conditioning, in bunks with mattresses. Most of the cabins don’t have indoor plumbing; instead, campers and staff walk to wash houses close by that have individual toilet and shower stalls. Everyone eats together in a big dining hall, and they walk around the vast campus on foot. Kids get to sign up for activities that structure the days, which also ensures they’re accounted for. In addition to many land and water sports offered, there are opportunities for the arts, cabin bonding activities, s’mores on the beach, beautiful sunsets across the bay, and campfire skits.

No cell phone reception, no devices allowed. Plenty of time for making up lip sync dances, practicing cartwheels, tie-dyeing t-shirts, and watching the stars on the clearest summer nights you’ve ever experienced. It delights me to no end that my daughter’s most anticipated two weeks of the entire year are the weeks free of screens and the cushy comforts of her suburban life.

There is magic in the absence of light pollution, in the chaos of the dining hall chatter, in the camp cheers reverberating in their heads all year ‘round, and in the joy of the counselors who are forming bonds of their own. It is truly a special place, and I feel fortunate to get to provide my own kids with an experience I loved so much as a child that it has impacted my life to this day in more ways than I can count.

Camp is the reason I love thunderstorms, actually. While many children may run into their parents’ rooms in fear at the booms of thunder and bright flashes of lightning, I revel in them to this day. My memories of being at camp during summer storms are fond ones because counselors made us feel so safe that the storms were reframed as fun. They were special, even. Meanwhile, behind the scenes, staff were making plans to ensure our safety. Any time there was a bad storm, we were ushered back to our cabins or to a collective space on camp that was a sturdy building. The counselors organized impromptu games, and it became an unplanned party. I grew to look forward to “cabin thunder” and the fun that would ensue, and I loved watching the lightning from the safety of shelter.

Risks to consider

Despite my romanticizing the storms, things can turn dangerous, and scary stuff can happen at summer camps, too. Storm damage, fallen trees, boating mishaps, scrapes, and spider bites, among other things. No one wants to think of the worst-case scenarios, but the camp directors do, consulting insurance companies and putting safety measures in place. They host staff training sessions at the start of summer and review policies and protocols in case of emergencies. They spend the off-season repairing any damages and improving the camp grounds. They do so much more than I even know about, I’m sure, and every night when each camper is accounted for in their cabins, they breathe a collective sigh of relief.

If you’re interested in a camp, you should be able to find out their safety protocols and get info about how they educate their staff. Ask how they train their lifeguards, whether the staff knows CPR, and how they vet their employees before hiring. Many camps have rules about staff being alone one on one with campers (meaning it’s not allowed), as the comfort and safety of the children is paramount.

It’s important to the admin staff that you feel comfortable entrusting them with your child’s care. Sometimes kids aren’t ready for this, and sometimes parents aren’t either. And that’s okay; it’s not for everyone.

The elephant in the room

I’d be remiss in speaking about the joys and risks of sending my kids to camp without mentioning how tragically, last summer, one sleepaway camp for girls in Texas experienced the unthinkable. The story reverberated across the nation as we held our collective breath for the safe return of those still missing. Sadly, the community was left devastated.

Ever since the tragedy of the Texas flood at Camp Mystic on July 4th, 2025, I have felt a deep empathy and sadness for the whole Mystic community, especially the families of the twenty-seven campers and staff members lost, some of whom are still unaccounted for.

By sheer coincidence, my eight-year-old daughter and my niece happened to be away together at sleepaway camp at the same time this devastation was unfolding across the country. While no one wants to imagine themselves in this situation, many of us simply cannot help it; for us, the fear hit so close to home. As a summer camp parent and former staff member, those girls are my daughters. Those staff members are my friends.

When you work at a sleepaway camp, the safety and well-being of the campers is your utmost priority. You anticipate problems and hazards so that you can prevent them, and you make sure the kids are safe to have an amazing time.

“So you’re still sending her?!”

Despite the absolutely heartbreaking tragedy that occurred at Camp Mystic, we have not changed our minds about sending our daughter back to her camp. It’s our favorite place on Earth, and it’s quickly becoming hers, too. Of course, I have a pang of worry sending her off for two weeks without us, but I know she is in good hands. Thankfully, our camp’s cabins are on high ground, far above the body of water on which they enjoy water sports. That brings me peace of mind. I also know that the camp directors are committed to the safety of campers and staff, full stop. I trust them whole-heartedly.

If you are a parent of a prospective camper and have been on the fence about sending them, listen to your gut. There are many things to consider, including child readiness and your own comfort level with the staff and facilities. Many camps invite families for tours and have extensive information and reviews available online.

It’s amazing to hear from campers and parents alike how attending a sleepaway camp impacts campers for the better. Whether it’s through exposing them to activities they don’t have the opportunity to try at home, to the intensely quick friendship-bonding time the environment affords, to feeling safe enough to get out of their comfort zone, it’s an experience that few others can emulate.

I remember being in middle school and thinking that the most important thing was to fit in, to morph into what the other kids would find acceptable. I remember the pressure to climb the social ladder at home, and I noticed how at camp, the ladder became a bridge. Everyone on the same level, connected by this unifying place. At camp, differences were an asset instead of something to be masked. People you either would never have gotten to meet, or with whom you may not have engaged due to different interests or social status, are suddenly your bunk mates with whom you’re sharing your true self and trying new things.

Anyone who knows a “camp person” thinks they’re kinda nutty. I don’t blame them, honestly; they talk about camp nonstop when they’re together, and tell hyperbolic stories from the past that include people who seem made up. It’s probably why I ended up marrying my summer camp sweetheart; we just get each other.

We can’t help it! Camp culture is infused into our being. Open-mindedness to different perspectives comes naturally, because different is cool. Different is interesting. Being brave about who you are is badass. Inherently, our camp is hub of inclusivity, accepting everyone as they come. Bigoted, homophobic, and racist words or behavior are not tolerated. It is a safe place for all to feel welcome.

How could we not want to be a part of that? How could we not want our kids to experience an environment so full of life and love and lessons? Of besties-for-life and bugs and BUG JUICE? Late night heart-to-hearts that turn into bridesmaids and vacation buddies and lifelong friends. That might not be what all camps are about (they’re certainly not all created equal), but if you look, you can find one like mine.

You can take the girl out of summer camp, but you can’t take the summer camp out of the girl. I’m proof of that. And actually, they can’t really age me out of going, since they host a few family weekends every year ; )

Are you a camp person?

PLEASE tell me about it!

xo, Amy