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For the past decade, we have built a career with Maine the Way sharing our life — where we go, what we eat, etc. The relationship we have with our community has been amazing and we’ve found those who follow along with our adventures to be kind and supportive. When we meet folks from our audience in real life, we tend to have meaningful conversations and are more often than not in cool places — mountaintops, far out islands, chairlifts. But this relationship, both online and off, is one that we opted into. As sentient adults, we understood what comes with putting ourselves out there. A kid doesn’t get that same choice. And the thought of people knowing her without her ever knowing them doesn’t sit right with me.

Thinking about when Kiwi entered our life, folding her into our adventures and the content we shared felt natural. She’s sweet, cute, fun, and part of our family. Over the past two years, there have been a handful of times where she too has been recognized — and the thing about Kiwi is that intros are not her strength. She’s shy, doesn’t like being pet by strangers, and honestly just prefers to be ignored. We do our best to help her navigate and succeed in these interactions, but more than once, someone’s been surprised when they don’t get the same warmth and affection they’ve seen her exude on the internet. This has been a small but real revelation, as we think about this dynamic, a stranger’s parasocial idea of who she is, and would it look like with our daughter instead of our dog.

In anticipation of my daughter’s arrival, I ruthlessly purged my personal Instagram, removing almost a thousand followers — people I hadn’t talked to in years, people who followed back in college, a friend of a friend, someone from some phase where my account was just public. There’s no bad blood in any of it, I just wanted the digital circle around her to be made up of people who are actually in it. I wanted to share pictures of my daughter with the people who are actively in my life — my friends, my family — not people passively watching, forming their own opinions and their own version of a relationship with a kid they’ve never met.

I’m curious to hear your thoughts here — and welcome meaningful discussion on this topic as we navigate whatever comes next.

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Everyone who’s heard this story says the same thing — “this would make a great movie.” And honestly, I actually don’t actually think it would. A good movie has pacing, a nice arc. This was just boom, boom, boom, boom, boom. No room to breathe, just five enormous curveballs thrown at me back to back. Thankfully, my emotional foundation was solid at this point after having just gone through a chapter of depression, my parents’ divorce, and a few deaths in my family — amidst the global pandemic. So with more tools in my shed and a few years since it all happened, here are The Big Five.

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1. I HAD A MISCARRIAGE

While I recognize this is a sensitive topic, I also feel like it’s not talked about enough — how common miscarriages actually are. So be mindful if you’re up for reading this section or skip ahead to the rest. I had a handful of friends who’d shared their own hurdles on the road to parenthood. It made a real difference having people in my life who talked openly about their experiences. My hope in sharing mine is that you don’t feel alone, should this ever be your reality.

Our pregnancy came as a surprise. We knew we wanted a family, but hadn’t settled on timing. Late for my period, I took a test and was shocked to see two lines. I plugged in the details to figure out a due date and immediately started getting so excited for when and what and how our family would grow. We started to share the news — first with family, then close friends, extending outward as the weeks passed.

We went in for an ultrasound at ten weeks, where we learned there was no heartbeat. “Can’t they find one?” I thought, unfamiliar with any of this. The answer was no and my options were narrowing. I was approaching eleven weeks, the cutoff for many D&C procedures. “It may pass naturally,” the ultrasound tech offered, which might be the least helpful thing imaginable. There was no way I was letting a dead fetus linger in my body — not emotionally and not with the risk of sepsis hanging over me.

Thankfully, Cam suggested we go to Planned Parenthood, which met every need we had. They made space for all our questions, fears, and uncertainties. They walked me through what I’d be going through physically and reminded me that this wasn’t an indicator of future pregnancies. They were a godsend to us in that moment, as they are to many who come through their doors. It’s hard to overstate how paramount the services they provide women and families across this country really are.

We were sad — not just for ourselves, but knowing we now had to circle back to our village and share devastating news so soon after the exciting one. That felt like a real bummer of timing at first, but it ended up opening real connection.

Our people showed up for us with tenderness and gentleness. One thing a friend said to me that I’ll keep forever, “At some point, you’ll know what your family looks like. You won’t be able to imagine it any other way — any other children, on any other timeline.” I look at my daughter now and understand exactly what she meant. I can’t imagine it any other way either. Everyone’s journey to parenthood looks different. That was true before this happened and it’s even more true to me now.

And for the record — abortion is healthcare. This is not up for debate. It saved my life. I’m grateful I had the ability to make that decision for myself. Thank you, Planned Parenthood.

2. MY DAD DIED

Our culture doesn’t do grief well — we sidestep it, soften it, rush past it. What helped me most was leaning directly into it. My dad passed away close to two years ago. In his final chapter, he lived half an hour away. This meant I could show up mid-week, sometimes just to reheat dinner and sit with him for ten minutes before going home. Other times, the visits were longer. My sister, who lives out of state, processed it completely differently — spending long stretches there, overnights, full days. There is no right or wrong way, but knowing our capacities honoring that without judgment was everything.

What I’m most proud of is that I went into that chapter knowing I wanted to walk out without resentment. My relationship with my dad was complicated. I didn’t know if I’d be able to let go. But I gave myself the time to process, release, and focus on what mattered to me. Because how you show up in someone’s final chapter is something you carry for the rest of your life — and so is how you carry their memory after.

Grief is not linear. Addressing it is not convenient. Our culture does a terrible job creating space to sit with it. But I think the more you lean into what you’re actually feeling — even the irrational parts, especially the irrational parts — the more it moves through you instead of compounding. The hard things are still there — they just don’t define it. Love you, dad.

I wrote more on this grief journey here, should you be interested.

3. I LEARNED I HAVE ANOTHER SISTER

This is genuinely the craziest thing I think could ever happen to a person.

It was a Sunday evening. My dad was being transitioned to hospice, where he lived for a few more days. The care team was in the living room getting him ready to transport. My mom, my sister, my husband, and I were in the bedroom. I pulled a random piece of paper out from his files, unfolded it, and in the middle of a handwritten letter, it said: you might be my father.

I’m sorry — WHAT. I cannot describe what it was like reading that sentence out loud. I had no idea what I was about to read, but certainly not that. We were all stunned, but now was not the time to address it with anyone, especially dad. With the hospice team getting ready to go, I put the letter in my pocket to read on the drive to my father’s final place of rest.

Following the van on the highway, I read the letter aloud. What we found was the most disarmingly sweet letter. A woman’s earnest introduction to my dad, her dad, the man her mom had always told her was her biological father. She had seen on Facebook that he had a family and hadn’t wanted to disrupt that, but once it appeared he was no longer married, she tried to connect. The letter was warm, open, and wonderfully quirky. She mentioned she was a beekeeper. She loves craft beer. She’s a translator. She lives in Japan.

We looked her up on Facebook immediately. The resemblance was uncanny. My sister and I looked at each other in the car and were like: holy shit, we might actually have another sister. The timeline checked out — she’s from Upstate New York, where dad lived in his 20s, long before meeting my mom and starting our family. There was no drama, no overlap, no reason why it might not be real.

My dad only lived for four more days. We didn’t bring it up with him — it didn’t feel necessary as he spoke only a few more words. We realized that this new relationship was ours to navigate. A sisterhood to build on our own terms. That actually felt really cool.

After dad passed and the dust settled a bit, we reached out to her. We pinged back and forth slowly over the following year. Life was busy, but eventually last fall, about a year after we found the letter, we did an Ancestry DNA test. (I wouldn’t normally want my DNA floating around in a database, but confirming whether I have another sister felt like an extremely valid reason to make an exception.) The results came back: 27% match. Half-sibling. She’s my sister. My husband and I looked at each other the second we found out and said, simultaneously: we’re going to Japan.

I don’t know how much my dad understood about her existence, whether he ever really thought about her over the years. Without email or social media, there weren’t easy ways to keep in touch. He was from a different generation and I don’t think he had the emotional tools to navigate a relationship like this one. In some ways, I think it might have been for the best that he didn’t try.

We hopped on a video call after the DNA results came in. It felt completely natural, like meeting someone I’ve always known. It’s been fascinating thinking about nature versus nurture through our story. But there’s a lot more to come on this front, because we went to Japan in June to meet her — stay tuned!

4. THERE WAS A MURDER NEXT DOOR

I’m going to be careful with the details here, mostly for privacy and safety reasons, but this is such an unbelievable story I have to include it.

It was a Thursday evening in November. I had just gone to bed and Cam was still winding down when he noticed lights flashing outside — blue, red. Looking out the window, he saw police cars from our town, then neighboring towns, showing up. Ambulances, fire trucks, but no real commotion. He woke me up wondering what could be going on. With no leads, we went to sleep, then headed into work the next day as usual. Midday, we got a text from a neighbor: “Are y’all home? Are you following what’s going on next door?” We weren’t, but she kept us updated with the play by play until I got home that evening.

Pulling into my driveway, I found a state police officer standing in front of my house. I asked him what was going on. All he’d say was: “You’re safe.” Which is sort of alarming, because on the one hand there were a few dozen law enforcement folks strolling around, but on the other hand — okay, sure, safe, great, what’s happening? He wouldn’t tell me. Through the window, I watched them photographing the house next door — interior, exterior, the driveway. Evidence bags going into a forensic trailer. All of it painstakingly slow, meticulous.

Over the following days, the whole neighborhood grew increasingly on edge. Coincidentally, many neighbors decided to take their dogs for a walk around the same time, and we’d congregate on the street, murmuring our suspicions to no conclusion. At one point we saw the man who lived there just going about his day, walking his dog, and figured whatever had happened, it must not have involved him directly.

Sunday morning, we hosted some friends for brunch that we hadn’t seen in a while. We decided not to bring up whatever was going on next door — we had lots to catch up on, namely their new baby, and didn’t want to freak them out. After eating, we moved into the living room to chat, when our friend noticed folks going door to door. Out of nowhere, I said, “That could be Jehovah’s Witnesses or it could be related to the murder next door.” Immediately they clued in, we briefed them on all we knew and waited for the detectives to reach our home.

We invited the two state homicide detectives inside as they questioned us. Without giving us any details, they made clear their curiosity was centered on one particular neighbor and his relationship. We had encountered him in fits and spurts over the past few years, but had one tumultuous incident that we shared with the officers, which resulted in him trying to fight with Cam and the cops being called. They weren’t surprised by this story — they said many others had shared similar accounts.

A small rotation of police presence hung around our street. We went away for Thanksgiving with no major updates. Almost two weeks later, a news truck appeared outside. The reporter said any information they had would be released at noon, so we refreshed the local news site until the press release confirmed our neighbor had been arrested for killing his roommate with his bare hands.

The details are devastating for many reasons, but especially knowing about Cam’s close encounter with him years back. There’s a lot more to this story, but I’ll spare you the sadness. The silver lining: the man is no longer our neighbor and we now know and love so many more of the people on our street.

5. CAM HIKES KILIMANJARO WITH COVID

This story requires a bit of context. A few years before The Big Five, Cam got invited by a fellow photographer on a winter expedition into Baxter State Park. He didn’t know anyone else in the group, but without meaning to, he ended up being looked to as something of a guide on the Katahdin summit attempt. After briefing the crew, they hit the trail well before sunrise.

Cam led, breaking through the fresh snow with his snowshoes as the others trudged behind him. It wasn’t until they reached the ridge and regrouped in the dawn light that one of the guys admitted he was bonking. He’d hit a wall — completely soaked through his clothing from wearing all his warmest layers and out of both water and food. Cam realized the guy was in a precarious position and, after assessing the situation, said, “Take my dry layers, have my water, eat my snacks — we’re getting to that summit together.” And they did.

They caught a magnificent sunrise on Katahdin, overlooking a widespread wintery landscape. The return to camp was smooth and the group dispersed after the trip, staying loosely in touch. A few years later, that guy reached out to Cam, sharing how the incident had changed his life — inspired him to get into mountaineering, even compelled him to hire a mountaineering life coach. That interest eventually culminated in an invitation to climb Kilimanjaro, not just for himself, but for Cam too.

On the call, the friend told Cam there was no one else he trusted more on a mountain and he was willing to cover expenses to get him there. Who would say no to that? This was an opportunity of a lifetime that I certainly would not pass up.

And there lies the final event of The Big Five: Kilimanjaro. Cam flew to Africa, set out to climb 19,341 feet, and contracted Covid somewhere along the way. The irony of catching a respiratory illness while attempting one of the highest peaks in the world — where the air is already thin and the breathing already hard — is lost on no one. He was feverish. Nauseous. Couldn’t keep food down. Things were bleak.

Thankfully, by summit day, he was turning a corner. The local guide looked at him and said, “I wouldn’t tell you to push it if I didn’t think you could make it.” One of our closest friends from Portland was also on the trip, which is a whole other story, and the two of them summited together. Slowly, one foot in front of the other, at whatever pace the altitude demanded. The friend who’d invited Cam didn’t reach the summit this time, but even getting there was a feat in itself. Cam has a lot more stories from this expedition and I’m hoping he shares them someday.

What a whirlwind to navigate within the span of two months. Cam’s December Kilimanjaro trip coincided with a run of holiday gatherings and I remember feeling pathologic. Friends would ask me, “What’s new?” Where do I even begin? A miscarriage. My dad. A whole new sister. A murder next door. Meanwhile, Cam’s on Kilimanjaro as we speak. Phew!

While on the one hand, this stretch was wild, it also surprisingly didn’t destabilize me the way it certainly could have. Having already built a healthy, loving relationship with myself got me through not only this particularly insane stretch, but the many other mundane, maddening, and marvelous moments since. For that, I am so grateful.

And here I am, on the other side of it. My dad lives in my memory with so much lightness. My daughter is everything I dreamed she would be and more. And, this past June, we finally went to Japan to meet my long-lost sister. Hope you enjoyed The Big Five. Much love.

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DOONA This remains our most highly recommended product. I’ve genuinely never had to carry a car seat. For that I am endlessly grateful. I actually cannot imagine what it would be like to lug that thing on my wrist, whacking my hip. Whether we’re traveling internationally or just running around town, popping the wheels down and turning the car seat into a stroller is effortless. It may not be the smoothest ride, but our girl slept straight through the subways of Tokyo in the Doona, which made toting her around the city an absolute breeze. We have the version that comes with the essentials bag, too — it hooks right onto the handle, comes with a changing pad, and saves you from lugging a bag over your shoulder on top of everything else. Something to consider!

THE STROLLER FLEET Speaking of strollers — we kind of sent it in this department on our registry. I remain forever grateful to the family and friends who contributed and I want you to know we use all three regularly and equally. Besides the Doona, we have the Thule Urban Glide and the Thule Chariot. In my 0-3 month writeup, I raved about the Urban Glide’s bassinet attachment, but once our girl started sitting up on her own, she took to the upright seat instead. The Chariot has been our adventure mobile — it’s made countless ski and bike trips possible, especially paired with the infant sling we still use for extra safety and comfort. Getting outside and moving is a core value for us, so this whole setup has been worth every penny and every bit of trunk space it takes up. Could it be pared down? Sure. Do we get real use out of all three? Absolutely.

THE PURPLE MONKEY PLAY MAT As we moved into more tummy time, the Fisher-Price purple monkey play mat became our MVP. It doesn’t have the soft, natural aesthetic of the Lovevery play gym. I’ll admit I initially side-eyed at its vibrance, but she is obsessed with the bright colors and the little keyboard. Since her actually engaging with it was the whole point, who cares what it looks like. A friend gifted it to us after admitting she’d wrestled with the exact same aesthetics-versus-engagement conundrum herself. Get the thing your baby actually loves, not the one that photographs best — for now. I may change my tune on that later.

THE MAGIC MERLIN SLEEP SUIT Unswaddling was, hands down, one of the hardest transitions we’ve navigated yet. I think we waited too long. Our girl was so cozy in her little cocoon that even easing out one arm at a time — during naps first, then overnight — did nothing, but leave her inconsolable. In a bit of a Hail Mary, we ordered the Magic Merlin Sleep Suit and it worked like actual magic. I’m sure there’s real sleep science behind why it works, but honestly, all I cared about was that it did. She felt safe and secure while she learned to sleep with her arms free and started experimenting with rolling. We only needed it for a week or two before she’d perfected her roll, but it got us over a hurdle that had genuinely started to feel insurmountable. Phew!

WOOLINO SLEEP SACK Once she’d graduated fully out of the swaddle, we moved her into the Woolino sleep sack my mom gifted us. Our whole family swears by merino wool — warm, breathable, and so good at regulating body temperature. We tuck her in with either footie pajamas or just a diaper underneath, depending on the season. We have a few other Woolino pieces already and I have a feeling our collection is only going to grow as she does. Can’t recommend their sleep sacks enough.

THE IKEA PLAY MAT As she started rolling, shimmying, and eventually pulling up to sit, we grabbed this mat from IKEA. It’s wonderful to bring outside and lay down on the driveway, softening any rogue rolls. I have a feeling it’ll keep earning its keep as she grows — forts, somersaults, all of it. There’s something so simple and reassuring about giving her a soft place to land, literally and otherwise.

NOSE FRIDA And finally, the least glamorous item on this list: the Nose Frida, which travels with us everywhere. Surprisingly, the whole concept of suctioning snot out of my daughter’s nose doesn’t gross me out at all — though I know there’s an electric version if that appeals to you more. Between traveling and socializing, we’re bound to pick up bugs along the way to building her immune system and being able to clear her congestion on the go has been a small mercy. Short-term pains, long-term gain. If that ain’t parenthood!

Even writing this, I feel how heightened my awareness of my own bandwidth has become. Some days it’s like I can’t get anything done, like my efforts are never quite enough. That thought sits on one shoulder. But on the other, there’s a steadier voice reminding me that perfection was never the goal — showing up is. So here I am, pressing send anyway, hoping some of this resonates with you. And if this took me three months longer than planned, well — extend yourself, and me, a little grace. Whatever your relationship to a 3-6 month old looks like, thank you so much for being here and reading along.

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BIRTHDAY

Cam and I were born just two days apart, so sharing celebrations is one of my favorite things. We cast a wide net, invited a gaggle of friends, and landed at Bissel Brothers for beer and burgers — the perfect spot for mingling and giggling. So grateful for the people in our life, near and far. Your presence really is the best present. I also wrote up some reflections from my 33rd year and goals for the one ahead — check it out if you’re curious!

HOME OPENER

Going to the home opener with my high school friends felt like homecoming. Fort Fitzy was alive with the best energy. Despite Wada's tragic injury, it was so good to be back among so many familiar faces chanting Up The Hearts. To think this is only the club's second year is genuinely wild. It already feels like something this city has always had. Another highlight was meeting Graham Platner and telling him the story of going into labor at his rally. So for Elliot’s future, let's make him our next senator!

WRITING RETREAT

Our friends Emily and Matt have a darling Airbnb called the Dala House. They had extended an open invitation whenever we needed a getaway, so when Cam and I started scheming about a writing retreat, we reached out. The space they’ve created is bright, inspiring, and cozy all at once — we cooked every meal, used the sauna, and soaked in their gorgeous big tub. Elliot and I even took a bath together, which was one of the sweeter moments of the month. We did some big-picture planning and chipped away at personal projects. Not the most productive retreat with a baby and dog in tow, but getting away was still great. Thanks for having us, Emily and Matt.

PASTRIES

Pastries are always good — that’s just a fact. But this month I hit four standout bakeries, so I wanted to give them a proper shoutout. On the way back from the Dala House, we stopped at Waxwing in Windham, where the croissant lamination was genuinely out of this world. We each had a potato cheese pastry and an almond croissant. Excited to pop back up there! While exploring the coast with Elliot and Kiwi, I ducked into Solo Pane in Bath: their ham and cheese features prosciutto and I saved the Nutella croissant as a post-hike reward. That hit. A coffee meeting at Coveside introduced me to my first cardamom bun. The Scandinavian staple paired perfectly with my cappuccino. And then to Finest Kind, which deserves its own moment:

FINEST KIND

We biked down to Saco with Elliot in the chariot with our friends whose baby is just a few weeks younger than ours. It was the perfect outing. The Eastern Trail is mostly flat and blissfully off-road, making the ~10 miles feel easy. We arrived absolutely ravenous, started with a cinnamon roll and a caramelized onion tart, then moved on to mains. The ride home was slower, but worth every pedal.

SQUIRREL POINT

Elliot’s first lighthouse! Cam had a board meeting, so the girls loaded up the car for a classic day trip — Solo Pane pastries in hand, naturally. We turned down the Georgetown peninsula toward Squirrel Point, where the winds were ripping up the Kennebec River. We didn’t linger at the light, but continued through the coastal forest down to Bald Head — perched on granite overlooking the Back River, throwing sticks for Kiwi, sun on our faces. One of those afternoons that reminds you how good ordinary life can be.

PLAY MAT

With snow melting and spring rains rolling in, I wanted a way to hang outside without everything getting soggy. This IKEA mat has been a total winner — Elliot lounges on it in the driveway while we tackle the basement, it works just as well inside when friends come over, and it’s portable enough to toss in the car. Simple, but it’s quietly become essential.

BOOKS, ETC.

We watched James Acaster’s special Cold Lasagna and I’m convinced he might be my favorite comedian — silly, sharp, and gloriously tangent-prone. Not for everyone, but if he’s for you, you’ll know within minutes. I followed that up with Bell Burton’s memoir Strangers, which is currently having a very well-deserved moment. Brutally honest and deeply compelling — an important read for anyone learning to step into their own power. From there I moved straight into Emma Grede’s Start With Yourself, tracing her path building a business and an honorable life simultaneously. On the surface these two books couldn’t feel more different, but the throughline is impossible to miss: honor, truth, and integrity are always worth it. You can’t rush the hard chapters, you can’t take shortcuts on the journey of building a meaningful life.

I so appreciate the chance to reflect on the month behind me. What I thought was a slow, dreary April turned out to be full of really special moments. And while these were the big hitters, the quieter ones — making fresh pasta with friends, going to a Sea Dogs game, meeting other new parents — brought just as much joy. I’m finding this space here on Substack to be more grounding and eye-opening than I expected. So thank you for indulging these ruminations as much as I’m savoring them myself.

May looks like more greenery outside, a basement overhaul, and quality time with the people we love. A canoe camping trip is in the works and Japan is finally back on the horizon. A lot to be grateful for. A lot to look forward to.

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Cam and I both pride ourselves on having an eye for design. But it’s one thing to know what you like and another to bring it to life. Over the years we made some earnest attempts at building our own brand visuals. Try as we might, we could never seem to translate the vision into anything. After ten years of growth — and a lot of conversations about where we want Maine the Way to go next — it felt like the right moment to invest in this properly. We’re so glad we did.

Hiring Helm felt like a natural fit from the start. They’ve built beautiful, thoughtful visual identities for so many local businesses we genuinely admire. Their finished work was what first caught our attention, but it was their process that really made this collaboration something special. Rather than jumping straight into concepts, Helm started with the bigger picture — who we are, what we value, where we’re headed, and crucially who we’re talking to. Not just the people already in our corner — folks who are already out kayaking in Merchant’s Row, swimming in Tumbledown Pond, or grabbing a beer and pizza at Oxbow after a good adventure. But the audience we’re growing toward — those who want to go deeper and learn more about this place that they love.

Putting a name and a personality to that person changed everything. Suddenly design decisions weren’t just subjective preferences. They were grounded in something real, in someone we knew. From there, the process flowed in a way that honestly surprised us. We’d throw half-baked ideas on the table — a vibe, a feeling, a reference photo — and Helm would translate all of it into something cohesive and beautiful. At each meeting, they would present us with three distinct directions with clear reasoning behind each one, then gave us a reflection questionnaire to help us sort through what was resonating and what wasn’t. It was collaborative and iterative without ever feeling chaotic. A genuine dream to work with.

What we landed on is something we’re really, truly proud of. The new visual identity strikes that balance we were after — clean and contemporary, but rooted in the timeless, heritage-forward quality that Maine has always carried. There are quiet details woven throughout that feel like little love letters to this place: a two-tone topographic coastline, a toile built from quintessential Maine graphics. The palette moves through sky blues, ocean blues, deep forest greens, and soft verdant tones that feel, to us, like every season here rolled into one. It’s a system that’s flexible enough to grow with us — simple when it needs to be, layered when the story calls for it. Most importantly, it still feels unmistakably like us.

When Helm landed on our new tagline — Make Maine Yours — we both felt it immediately. Because here’s the thing: when we run into you out in the world, you’re already doing it. You’re already on the island. Already skinning up the mountain. Already sitting at the table at some delicious restaurant. You don’t need us to hand you a checklist.

What we want to do is go deeper with you. Share the history and the human stories. Inspire new kinds of adventure. Shine a light on the corners of Maine that don’t always make the highlight reel. And for those of you who are dreaming about coming here for the first time, or planning your next visit from away — we have so much for you too. Just tell us what would be helpful.

Huge, heartfelt thanks to the team at Helm for helping us finally find the visual language we’d been searching for all along. And as always — thank you for being here. Let’s Make Maine Yours.

If I’m honest, I think a lot of that has to do with the groundwork I laid beforehand. I often draw parallels between building a house and building a life. I remember journaling for years — dreaming up a structure to welcome loved ones into. A table lit with candles, a thoughtfully designed space, a room filled with warmth and ease. A roof over our heads, a soft place to land at the end of the day. Yes, in the literal sense — but more so in the way a life feels.

I knew it would take time. I wanted it to be sturdy. Something that could hold us, long-term. Something worth doing slowly and doing well. And like any house project, it took longer than expected. It was messier than expected. There were seasons where I felt like I was just staring at a pile of rocks, unsure where to begin. Digging, clearing, trying to trust that the foundation I was pouring would eventually hold something meaningful. At the time, I didn’t have much perspective. I didn’t know if it would all come together the way I hoped. I just kept going, because something in me believed it might.

A lot of my twenties were spent in that space — doing work that wasn’t always visible or linear or easy to measure. So to be where I am now… it feels a little surreal. To look around and recognize pieces of those early dreams reflected back in my real life — our marriage, our home, our daughter, our community. It’s not lost on me.

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33!

33 was an incredible year — in no small part because of everything that came before it. It felt important to acknowledge that. Not in a “look what I built” kind of way, but more in a “wow… that season mattered more than I realized” kind of way. A few recent lessons that stayed with me:

TRUST THE PROCESS —

Our journey to a family started before we knew it and ended before we wanted it to. Before conceiving Elliot, I experienced a miscarriage. I went in for an 8-week ultrasound and there was no heartbeat. I may share more about that one day, but for now, it feels like a quiet part of the story that shaped everything that came after.

That experience cracked something open in us — it made it clear how deeply we wanted this. And as we kept moving forward, “trust the process” became something I returned to often. Not as a way to bypass what was hard, but as a way to steady myself inside of it. Letting go of what I couldn’t control didn’t feel passive — it felt necessary, intentional. Eventually, we found our way to Elliot. I spent most of my 33rd year growing, delivering, and beginning to raise this tiny human. A miracle!

ROTTEN FRUIT FALLS ON ITS OWN —

For a long time, I felt responsible for addressing anything that didn’t sit right. I pride myself on being someone who speaks up, who tries to clear the air before things have a chance to fester. And while that instinct comes from a good place, it can also be exhausting. This year, I started to understand the value of stepping back — of not needing to resolve everything, of allowing space for things to unfold without my intervention. When I heard the phrase “rotten fruit falls on its own,” something softened. It reminded me that not everything requires my energy. Not everything is mine to carry or to fix.

TOO FAR TO FAIL —

This summer, we renegotiated our biggest contract — putting a meaningful partnership on the line and advocating for ourselves in a way we never had before. It stretched us financially in ways that felt uncomfortable, uncertain. It was really hard, but we had a sense that this kind of discomfort was necessary if we were ever going to grow.

After ten years in business, we have the experience, reputation, and proof of what we’re capable of. Advocating for ourselves felt vulnerable. But with a baby on the way, something shifted. Money stopped feeling like a measure of survival and started to feel like a tool — a way to support our family, to create stability, to build a life that reflects what we value.

So, in the thick of negotiations, when the thought of losing it all crept into my mind, I told myself we’ve come too far to fail. Not because failure isn’t possible, but because going back to playing small no longer feels like an option.

IT’S NO ACCIDENT —

This is the one I’ve been sitting with the most. Because on one hand, I look around at my life and feel so much gratitude. And on the other hand, I know that none of it came easily or quickly or without its share of doubt. There were seasons of uncertainty. Nights where everything felt fragile. Conversations that were hard, but necessary. Work, both internal and external, that no one really sees.

So when I say “it’s no accident,” I don’t mean it in a way that erases privilege, luck, or timing. This life didn’t just land in my lap. It was shaped over time — gently, imperfectly, out of order, unknowingly and intentionally, piece by piece. Even now, it doesn’t feel like something I fully “arrived” at, for it’s still a journey unfolding. But seeing how many dreams have already come true has me so hopeful for all that’s ahead. With continued effort and grace along the way, I love this life today and can’t wait for what’s to come.

HOW YOU MAKE PEOPLE FEEL —

One of my biggest takeaways from 33 was a simple one. It’s less about what you say or what you do and more about how you make people feel. Not a new concept — we’ve all heard some version of it before, but this year, I felt it land differently. I started to notice it in small moments. Playing with my friend’s kids. Sitting with a friend who had just become a mom. Even looking at my fledgeling daughter. Realizing they don’t always need advice, guidance, or a solution — just to feel seen, held, loved.

It made me more aware of my presence. The energy I bring into a room. The feeling I leave behind after an interaction. Shifting my focus in that way from what I’m saying to how I’m showing up. It’s less about getting it right, more about being there. More often than not, that’s what people remember anyway. At least I do.

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34!

The number 34 has held significance in my life for as long as I can remember. Back in my Boston sports era, two of my favorites — Paul Pierce and David Ortiz — both wore #34. 34 found its way into everything: usernames, emails, passwords. It also happens to mirror my birthday: April 3rd, or 3/4 as they write everywhere outside the U.S.

So while some people have golden birthdays, I have a feeling this might be my golden year. Here’s what I’m carrying into it:

CONSISTENCY —

Navigating this season of new motherhood has stretched me in ways I didn’t fully anticipate. I’m so grateful for the time I get with my daughter and for a business that allows for that flexibility. But, without childcare yet, it’s also meant that progress, in all other areas, feels slower. I’ve had to redefine what consistency looks like.

Instead of trying to do everything, I’m focusing on a few things I can return to each week — movement, getting outside (Kiwi makes sure of that), giving TikTok a try, writing here. It’s less about perfection, more about presence. We’ll see where consistency gets me!

TRAVEL —

Last year took us across the country (Minnesota, Montana, Alaska) — and even across the ocean to Italy. After years of being so focused on building Maine the Way, it reminded me how much I value travel to my core. I see this as an investment in new perspectives and experiences, not just an indulgence. This year and moving forward, I want more of that. Big trips (Japan!!), small trips — lots of camping, everything in between. Getting to share those experiences with Elliot makes it feel even more meaningful.

GENTLENESS —

This is the one that feels most important — to be connected to my intuition and have a regulated nervous system. I’ve started to explore what it means to feel truly at home in my body — especially in a season that asks so much of it, physically and emotionally. What I’m realizing is that gentleness isn’t something that just happens, it’s something I have to practice. For me, it looks like offering myself the same grace I’d give someone I love. Not rushing the healing. Not performing the growth. Not mistaking stillness for stagnation. Trusting that soft doesn’t mean slow.

BEST CASE SCENARIO —

Maybe I’ll save my full list of new mom mantras for another post, but this one feels bigger than just parenthood. For whatever reason, my brain is quick to jump to the worst case scenario. Maybe it’s instinct. Maybe it’s learned. What if, instead, I let myself imagine the best case?

Not in a naive or overly optimistic way, but in a way that feels just as available as the spiral. Because more often than not, reality lands somewhere much closer to the ideal than I expect. And even when it doesn’t or when things feel hard or uncertain, I’ve found it’s usually more manageable than my mind made it out to be. So this year, I’m working to rewire that reflex. To step out of the anticipatory spiral and come back to what’s actually in front of me. Which, more often than not, is pretty good.

Thank you for being here, for reading thoughts from my heart. As I read this back, there’s still a part of me that wants to take a red pen to it all, to dim the lights a little. Sharing joy can feel more vulnerable than sharing the hard stuff. But I’m proud of myself — the growth, the gentleness, and the gunk in between. So here it is, in full light — 34!

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Starting with a visit to San Francisco for my best friend’s wedding. We gave traveling with a baby a try — read all about it here. Upon return, we did a complete 180º and squeezed in a hut-to-hut ski before they closed for the season — I wrote about that too, and even included a packing list with our go-to gear. The month ended with some family time in DC, where I met my nephew, who was born just three weeks after Elliot. Getting the cousins together and watching my sister step into motherhood was everything. To think we have a lifetime ahead of us with these little buddies just fills my heart to the brim. Big moments aside, March flowed with simple pleasures too. Allow me to share a few:

WASHINGTON DC

My sister and I had our babies three weeks apart and, while we both wish we could have been there for each other in those early days, we knew it was important to tend to our respective newborn bubbles. A few months later and with our feet underneath us, we were ready to carve out time for the cousins to meet. She came up from Richmond, our mom and I scooted down from Maine. DC was the perfect middle ground.

We found a charming carriage house with beautiful bones and honestly didn’t need much more than that — the whole trip was really about being together with the kids and their Jammy. The cherry blossoms were in full bloom, it was a touch warmer than Maine (the bar, admittedly, is low in March). We were walking distance from the zoo, cute cafes, etc… easy, slow, exactly what two new moms needed. Meeting my nephew, watching my sister become an auntie to Elliot, feeling our family quietly grow into the next generation was so sweet. I’m sure this trip will become an annual tradition and it’s fun to think about the littles enjoying new aspects of this city year after year.

GRASS

Simple, but also — revolutionary?? Aside from the beautiful scenery and fun city life that San Francisco offers, one of the things we were most looking forward to on this trip to warmer weather was simply sitting outside in the grass with our three-month-old. She was born in November, so it had essentially been cold and winter her entire life. Anytime she was outside, she was bundled to the brim. So finding a patch of grass, soaking up the sunshine, and just being with her was such a sweet moment. It has me looking forward to the spring and summer ahead more than ever. I cannot wait for many more picnic blanket giggle sessions.

MOVEMENT

My postpartum recovery has genuinely surprised me. I tried to allow myself a lot of grace and space to recover from the very real trauma that is birth. I feel so grateful that moving and being in my body has felt natural and good. I have no urgency to “bounce back” or return to who I was before pregnancy — I love this new version of myself. Feeling comfortable in my body and loving her is something I prioritize deeply — and hope to model for my daughter.

That said, moving and feeling strong for her has never felt more important. I’ve loved the at-home Pilates workouts on the Form app (mentioned in my January Favorites). This month, getting back to in-studio classes has felt amazing too. I’ve been practicing at Greener Postures as well as the Portland Yoga Collective — with my all-time favorite instructor, Christina. Shoutout to her. Many more flows ahead.

MUSIC

On top of being an awesome yoga teacher, Christina is also a DJ. I always love the music she curates for her classes, often adding some to my own playlists. Each quarter, I throw the songs I’m vibing with onto a playlist. It’s a fun little archive of the season of life, filled with random Shazams, radio top hits, or other cool beats I come across.

This month I’ve also been really enjoying listening to albums all the way. I mentioned the album Julia by Ásgeir, the Icelandic folk artist, in my February Favorites, but I’ve been leaning into this approach more broadly. Rather than putting on an artist’s radio station, I’ll find an album of theirs and commit to it. It’s such a beautiful way to experience art, especially with the pace of life these days. Whether I’m home with Elliot or driving somewhere, there’s something really lovely about letting the arc of an album just unfold.

OCOTILLO

If you’ve spent any time at Terlingua, you already have a sense of what Ocotillo is about — and if you haven’t been to either, I genuinely don’t know what you’re waiting for. We’ve been longtime fans, so when the opportunity came up to feature Ocotillo for a brunch writeup with the Maine Office of Tourism, we said yes before the sentence was finished.

Their brunch menu is the kind where you want to order everything, so we did. We’re heading back tonight for Cam’s birthday dinner, which really says it all. If you’ve been sleeping on this West End spot, let this be your wake-up call. Come patio season, you’ll find me there with a marg and absolutely no plans to leave.

ADULTING

Speaking of driving — two additions to my car have genuinely leveled up my adulthood. The first: nail clippers. I always seem to notice my nails are too long at the most inconvenient times, so clipping them in the grocery store parking lot has become my signature move. The second: floss. Specifically, this Coco Floss I recently discovered. It’s less waxy than regular floss, so it feels like it actually gets everything between your teeth. I feel like a better person every time I use it — definitely have a chip on my shoulder after flossing. If you’re looking to elevate your adulting routine, consider habit stacking your drive time.

KUMQUATS

One of my goals for our California trip was to eat some really good citrus. Since our flights got delayed by the airline, we never ended up going up the coast as originally planned, which meant no grocery store, and therefore no citrus haul.

I love kumquats. They’re so fun, so bright, such a uniquely wild little flavor — so I was absolutely delighted to spot them tucked into the table arrangements at my friend’s wedding. Her florals were stunning and when I noticed those little orange orbs, I knew they were meant to be enjoyed that evening. True to my quirky form, I grabbed a couple, popped one in — and they surpassed all expectations. A natural Warhead, if you will. Being me, I spent the rest of the night popping them into unsuspecting friends’ mouths and watching their faces go from surprise to delight. 10/10.

APRICITY

The last thing I’m really excited to share this month is a word: apricity. It means the warmth of the sun in winter — but I think it can be extrapolated to mean comfort in an uncomfortable place, or finding delight in harder times. It really resonates with my outlook on life these days. I aspire to find much joy in simple pleasures — a warm car on a cold day, sunshine on your face while skiing through a quiet deciduous forest, meaningful conversations with friends about the harder chapters we’re navigating.

The word came to me when we published the first edition of Maine the Way, Issue 01: Winter. It’s been a more subliminal theme in my life over the past decade, but I have a feeling it might play a bigger role in things moving forward. Whether that’s the name of a future gallery or just this little corner of the internet for now. Who knows. But it felt right to make it the name of my Substack.

So here we are. Enjoying the warmth of sun in winter. Enjoying gathering my thoughts. Enjoying sharing them with you! If these write-ups resonates with you, consider subscribing to Apricity — it would mean the world to me!

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Outdoor gear is a real upfront investment — but every item here has earned its keep, whether that means staying cozy on cold mornings, recovering after long miles, or fumbling through the newness of getting outside with a baby and a dog in tow. We’ve found that the right kit makes all the difference between a sufferfest and a genuinely magical experience — though if you ask Cam, those are the same thing. Whatever your crew looks like, I hope this helps you get out there.

BABY

• Morrison Outdoor sleep sack — she stays so cozy in this down sack.

• Thule Chariot with the infant sling and ski attachment — a big investment, but has made getting out with our girl so accessible. I talk lots about this in my 0-3 MONTH MUSTS.

• travel crib — very light, transportable!

• Woolino onesies — a gift from fellow adventure friends and have been our daughter’s go to on all winter adventures this season.

• Iksplor nursing shirt — have LOVED this merino nursing shirt. It’s so easy to feed my daughter incognito.

DOG

• harness — solid harness and works well in the Ruffwear ecosystem, making it easy to clip a leash on under her down puff or rain jacket.

• down puffer — Kiwi doesn’t always get cold, but when she does we love having this cute down jacket for her to snuggle up in.

• booties — we weren’t sure how Kiwi would take to booties, but after the initial awkwardness, she really didn’t seem to mind. We only use when it’s quite cold and I think she actually appreciates them!

• food bag — friends gifted us this bag when Kiwi joined us. It’s awesome — great size and love that it keeps her food dry for any adventure (mostly canoeing).

• dog bowl — this came for free from FBMP when we picked up a life jacket for Kiwi and we’ve used it ever since. It’s easy to clean, transportable, and nice that it has a silicone rim to catch the drips.

SKI GEAR

• Madshus Panorama skis — can’t think of a better tool for the job! The fish scales make the uphills easy and the metal edges give me great peace of mind descending.

• Madshus MNT boots — comfortable and warm — you can’t ask for much more out of a ski boot!

• ski poles — personally, I’m still on the hunt for a set where the wrist strap clicks in and out…

• day pack — something light, smallish, with lots of pockets is my favorite.

• water bottle — insulation is a must to keep that water for freezing.

• thermos — I love making a hot cocoa for the trail and this keeps it warm.

• snacks — there are many ways to snack on the trail, but have you tried these??

• headlamp — rechargeable and lightweight, just remember to have it charged!

• socks — and a lifetime guarantee!

• hat — I like having an alpine headband, a nordic hat, and a necktie with me at all times.

• gloves — something lightweight and durable.

• sunnies — these ones are nothing fancy, but just make sure they’re polarized for that bright snow

Clothing

• merino base layers — I like having both lighter and heavier layers. Ibex has great options for both weight!

• soft shell pants — whatever you’ve got that’s warm, flexible, with a little wind shield is great.

• soft shell top — I’ve been loving the Patagonia R2 for lighter-weight layering.

• down jacket — wore this a lot both on the trail and around the huts!

• vest — it’s all about layering!

• shell — weather dependent, it’s nice to have something rain slash wind proof.

• down skirt — really can’t say enough good things about a down skirt!

• sleeping bag — there are beds in the huts with pillows, but don’t forget your sleeping bag.

• slippers — these down booties with a shell are such a game changer for winter adventures!

• cozy cabin clothes — more merino wool… what do you know!

ACCESSORIES

• packing cubes — I don’t know how I did it before packing cubes. These are essential for staying organized on any adventure…

• toiletries — face wipes, SPF, dental care, you know the drill!

• face wipes — my favorite way to stay fresh in the backcountry! I have the big bundle at home and just grab as many as nights away.

• med kit — better safe than sorry…

• camera gear — I especially love my Fujifilm for the size on adventures like this!

• battery pack — this one has a built in USB-C cord, which makes charging my phone a breeze in the backcountry

• book, journal — Lechtrum dotted journal girl through and through.

• bathing suit — for the sauna — although I suppose you could swim in the lake too…

These are the things that have made our adventures possible, which is invaluable for our growing family. Whether you’re dreaming of your first hut trip or just trying to figure out how to make winter work with a new baby or pup, I hope this list helps.

Please, reach out with questions — getting outside with the littles (two or four legged) is something I genuinely love talking about. Thanks for reading!

Getting there, though, required some patience. The motion of nordic skiing is no joke for a postpartum body. My first few times back on skis were gentle, deliberate — a good reminder to listen to myself and let healing lead. I was careful not to let the pull of fresh air and wide open trails outpace what my body actually needed. But after a handful of easy shuffles at my local trail system, I could feel real progress in my pelvic floor. There’s something profound about that kind of acute body awareness after such a transformational experience — a quiet, powerful way of reconnecting with yourself. Each outing felt like a small negotiation: how far, how fast, how much? Feeling stronger than expected, the idea of a hut-to-hut trip started to feel less like a dream and more like a plan worth making.

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We kept bumping into the kind folks from the Appalachian Mountain Club at conferences — the kind of run-ins that start as quick hellos and turn into lingering conversations about adventures, cabins, and what it might look like to bring a whole little family into the fold. They were warm and enthusiastic every time and that energy was contagious. Once we had our feet under us — baby, dog, and all — we stopped deliberating and started packing. We picked a date, committed to it, and made it happen. Here’s the story of our hut-to-hut ski with a four-month-old:

Day 1 — Winter Parking to Little Lyford

Despite our best efforts to pack the night before, getting out of the house is always a scramble. A dog, a baby, a mountain of gear, and two adults who also need to eat and function — there’s a lot to wrangle. We hit the road around 10AM, pulled into the AMC winter parking lot around 1PM, and hoped that left us enough daylight to make it to the hut.

A few other groups were already there, suiting up and loading bags into the shuttle sheds. That service is a huge perk of staying with AMC — and honestly, it’s what made this trip possible for us. Gone are our ultralight-packing glory days. With two dependents in tow, we leaned on the gear shuttle to tote our growing list of necessities: Kiwi and our daughter shared a tote bag, and we threw in a pack-and-play for her to sleep in, and a bag each for Cam and myself.

We organized our day packs, loaded our overnight bags into the shed, and suited up to ski. This was also our inaugural outing on our new Madshus Panorama backcountry nordic skis — and what a debut. Fishscales made the climbs totally manageable and the metal edges gave us real confidence on the descents. The route kicks off with a lovely downhill, then follows the Katahdin Ironworks Road before picking up the Hedgehog Gate Trail — wide enough for the two of us to ski side by side, which felt luxurious.

Our little girl dozed for a stretch, then spent the rest of the time gazing up at the trees from her down sleep sack, thoroughly enjoying or unbothered by the whole adventure. Kiwi, meanwhile, blitzed through the forest collecting sticks and prancing alongside us like she’d been waiting her whole life for this exact day. As we skied along, I could have sworn there was a halfway-point sign on this trail, so as the miles ticked by, I started to anticipate it... which slowly curdled into mild dread as I feared we were way more than half way, with no sign of that sign. Thankfully, it doesn’t exist (anymore? ever?) — and before I could spiral further, we were dropping down into Little Lyford.

We checked in at the lodge and got our cabin assignment: Wolf Star. The fire was already roaring inside, which immediately curbed that post-ski chill. We set up the pack-and-play, filled Kiwi’s water bowl, and changed into cozies. Dinner is served at 6PM, so once we’d settled in, we made our way to the lodge, started with a beer in the loft, conversing with fellow guests about past adventures and future ones. Then it was downstairs for a delicious spread — butter chicken, rice, salad — before we called it a night and tucked in early, full and happy.

Day 2 — Little Lyford to Gorman Chairback

We slept pretty well, all things considered — a wood stove needs stoking and a four-month-old needs feeding, so it wasn’t exactly uninterrupted, but we unfurled from our sleeping bags feeling ready for the day ahead. Breakfast was eggs, bacon, waffles, homefries, and lots of coffee. Temperatures had dropped overnight, which firmed up the snow beautifully. We packed up, geared up, dropped our bags in the shuttle shed, and headed out. The Panoramas were again the perfect tool: grippy on the climbs, confidence-inspiring on what turned out to be some very fast descents. It was thrilling!

Along the way, we found ourselves reminiscing about the last time we skied this same route. It was -2°F. Cam’s binding snapped. He was down a ski and, understandably, down in spirits. We ended up giving the hut staff a key to our Thule box to retrieve a backup pair for the next day — not exactly a solution for the miles ahead of us. After some lamenting and a lot of shuffling along on one ski, Cam serendipitously intercepted the gear shuttle snowmobile, who swooped in and saved the day. There’s more to that story, but the short version is: we are devoted to our Madshus Panoramas and their very trustworthy metal fixtures, which are nothing like whatever flimsy piece of plastic that gave out on him that fateful day.

We skied into Gorman Chairback around 12:30 and got our assignment: The Bling Cabin #6. We quickly dropped our gear and made a beeline for the lodge to eat our bag lunches by the fire. My turkey and cheese wrap hit so hard. Then Cam and I tag-teamed the afternoon: one of us in the sauna, one of us with the girls, then we swapped. I had the sauna entirely to myself and it was exactly the kind of quiet unwind I didn’t know I needed. After we’d both had our turn, we bundled everyone up for a strut across the frozen lake so Kiwi needed to get her zoomies out before hunkering in the cabin while we dined.

That evening’s spread was a full Thanksgiving: mashed potatoes, turkey, cranberry sauce, the works. Incredible. (I did learn that spaghetti and meatballs is also in the menu rotation — and I will absolutely be timing my visit around that next year.) We lingered at the table longer this night, trading stories with the other guests. Topics included med kit must-haves, previous hut-to-hut, and adventuring with a baby to name a few. That’s truly one of the best parts of this kind of trip — the people you end up in conversation with, the way shared adventure opens people up.

Day 3 — Gorman Chairback to Home

French toast casserole for breakfast. I went back for thirds. After several cups of coffee, I filled my thermos with hot cocoa and headed back to the cabin to pack up. Temperatures were still below freezing, which meant we got the green light to ski across the lake — and the conditions were perfect. No wind, not too cold, the ice smooth and flat ahead of us.

We breezed across Long Pond almost faster than I wanted to. The conversation was easy, the gliding was effortless, and I genuinely didn’t want it to end. But before long we were back on the KI Road, making that final climb up to the parking lot. Our bags were waiting for us there, and something about seeing them made it feel real — the adventure was wrapping up. We loaded the car, changed into driving clothes, and signed out of the registry.

This trip was a dream come true. I’m proud of us for making it happen — for planting the seed, checking if it could grow, and then, once the roots took hold, actually going. Getting out with a baby isn’t easy, but it is so, so worth it. We’re out here living our family values: adventuring, connecting, conversing, making memories. May this be the first of many. Thank you to the incredible folks at the Appalachian Mountain Club for welcoming our little crew with such warmth. See you next year.

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PACKING LIST

In a world of bare necessities, having creature comforts in the outdoors makes the adventure makes life a little more worth living. I’m all about bringing what you want, not just what you need. So I compiled a list of both essential and luxury items for bringing a hut-to-hut trip like this to life:

BABY

• Morrison Outdoor sleep sack — she stays so cozy in this down sack.

• Thule Chariot with the infant sling and ski attachment — a big investment, but has made getting out with our girl so accessible. I talk lots about this in my 0-3 MONTH MUSTS.

• travel crib — very light, transportable!

• Woolino onesies — a gift from fellow adventure friends and have been our daughter’s go to on all winter adventures this season.

• Iksplor nursing shirt — have LOVED this merino nursing shirt. It’s so easy to feed my daughter incognito.

DOG

• harness — solid harness and works well in the Ruffwear ecosystem, making it easy to clip a leash on under her down puff or rain jacket.

• down puffer — Kiwi doesn’t always get cold, but when she does we love having this cute down jacket for her to snuggle up in.

• booties — we weren’t sure how Kiwi would take to booties, but after the initial awkwardness, she really didn’t seem to mind. We only use when it’s quite cold and I think she actually appreciates them!

• food bag — friends gifted us this bag when Kiwi joined us. It’s awesome — great size and love that it keeps her food dry for any adventure (mostly canoeing).

• dog bowl — this came for free from FBMP when we picked up a life jacket for Kiwi and we’ve used it ever since. It’s easy to clean, transportable, and nice that it has a silicone rim to catch the drips.

SKI GEAR

• Madshus Panorama skis — can’t think of a better tool for the job! The fish scales make the uphills easy and the metal edges give me great peace of mind descending.

• Madshus MNT boots — comfortable and warm — you can’t ask for much more out of a ski boot!

• ski poles — personally, I’m still on the hunt for a set where the wrist strap clicks in and out…

• day pack — something light, smallish, with lots of pockets is my favorite.

• water bottle — insulation is a must to keep that water for freezing.

• thermos — I love making a hot cocoa for the trail and this keeps it warm.

• snacks — there are many ways to snack on the trail, but have you tried these??

• headlamp — rechargeable and lightweight, just remember to have it charged!

• socks — and a lifetime guarantee!

• hat — I like having an alpine headband, a nordic hat, and a necktie with me at all times.

• gloves — something lightweight and durable.

• sunnies — these ones are nothing fancy, but just make sure they’re polarized for that bright snow

Clothing

• merino base layers — I like having both lighter and heavier layers. Ibex has great options for both weight!

• soft shell pants — whatever you’ve got that’s warm, flexible, with a little wind shield is great.

• soft shell top — I’ve been loving the Patagonia R2 for lighter-weight layering.

• down jacket — wore this a lot both on the trail and around the huts!

• vest — it’s all about layering!

• shell — weather dependent, it’s nice to have something rain slash wind proof.

• down skirt — really can’t say enough good things about a down skirt!

• sleeping bag — there are beds in the huts with pillows, but don’t forget your sleeping bag.

• slippers — these down booties with a shell are such a game changer for winter adventures!

• cozy cabin clothes — more merino wool… what do you know!

ACCESSORIES

• packing cubes — I don’t know how I did it before packing cubes. These are essential for staying organized on any adventure…

• toiletries — face wipes, SPF, dental care, you know the drill!

• face wipes — my favorite way to stay fresh in the backcountry! I have the big bundle at home and just grab as many as nights away.

• med kit — better safe than sorry…

• camera gear — I especially love my Fujifilm for the size on adventures like this!

• battery pack — this one has a built in USB-C cord, which makes charging my phone a breeze in the backcountry

• book, journal — Lechtrum dotted journal girl through and through.

• bathing suit — for the sauna — although I suppose you could swim in the lake too…

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Originally, we were going to spend the first half of our time in Mendocino — cruising along the coast, wandering through the redwoods, and exploring cute towns along the way. When that part of the trip got waylaid, we were bummed thinking our window for wilderness had closed. Much to our surprise, San Francisco is really the gateway to tremendous adventure. We were not disappointed.

We arrived in the middle of the night and Ubered to our accommodations in the Marina District. We picked this spot because it was central to wedding activities, but its proximity to the Golden Gate Bridge made popping over to the highlands a breeze. Still on East Coast time, our baby woke us up at 6AM — and since our car rental wasn’t ready until 11AM, we set out on foot in search of coffee and pastries. We walked through the Presidio, among the eucalyptus trees, and up and over the hills of the city. First impression of the topography: the aerial grid of the streets gives no indication of the hills they’re draped over, making the route surprisingly treacherous on the quads.

Our destination, Arsicault Bakery, came highly recommended by a trusted friend who lived in SF for many years. Only after we ordered did we learn it was also on the bride’s mind that morning — wish we’d coordinated better and brought her some croissants. Fresh out of the oven, it felt wrong to wait to eat, so we beelined to the nearest park bench: a ham and cheese and an almond croissant each. They were as advertised — absolutely delicious.

Continuing on foot, we popped into Jane on Fillmore for coffee (and a feeding for our girl). It was so nice to sit outside! Karl (the fog) had been hanging around all morning but was starting to lift by the time we picked up the car. As we crossed the Golden Gate Bridge, the skies had parted and the California sun was shining through.

We wound our way up into Muir Woods, and even though we’d hoped for many more hikes among the redwoods throughout the week, this park did not disappoint. It was spiritual among the giants. With little underbrush, you could see far between the trunks — admiring beams of light filtering through the humid air. We stuck to the trail along Redwood Creek (since I was carrying our girl in the carrier), and it more than delivered. At a slow, meandering clip, the out-and-back took three hours. She loved the flowing water and the friendly faces — her first time facing outward. She was absolutely in her element.

Even as foodies, we have a habit of getting distracted by all the fun and letting too much time lapse between meals. Realizing we hadn’t eaten since the croissants and not wanting to get hangry, we decided our next stop would pull double duty as a late lunch and an early dinner. The Pelican Inn came recommended by a local friend — imagine the coziest croft serving traditional English fare. Fish and chips and a pint sounded perfect — and they were. Cam went with the English dip sandwich and we finished with some truly top-tier bread pudding. Satiated and wanting to save our energy for the wedding weekend ahead, we took the scenic route home and called it an early night.

The next morning started early again, but this time we had the car — so we hopped across the bridge and kicked things off with breakfast in Mill Valley, where we even ran into that same local friend (great testimonial for the spot). The chorizo burrito was elite. I had to be back in the city by 11AM for wedding festivities, so we didn’t have abundant time, but we made the most of it by driving up Mt. Tam and getting out for a few quick walks. It genuinely blows my mind that such beautiful wilderness is a stone’s throw from one of the biggest cities in the country. The stoic redwoods mixed with rolling pastures overlooking the Pacific is a photographer’s dream. I could have stayed up there all day and I’m already hoping to be back for proper hikes and picnics. The rest of the day featured a bumping bus ride to the beach with a bunch of girlfriends and a welcome party at a bowling alley.

Squeezing every last drop out of our final full day, we arose bright and early and headed to Tartine Manufactory. Touristy or not — we didn’t care, it was delicious. The airy warehouse space had that quintessential mid-2010s San Francisco energy we loved. Coffee, a spread of pastries, a breakfast entrée — no notes. We grabbed another coffee at Sightglass before making our way to Baker Beach for a stunning walk toward the bridge. The Golden Gate will forever awe me. Pelicans flying overhead, nude beachgoers reading in the sun — quintessential California. We enjoyed more burritos for lunch *when in Rome* before getting ready for the wedding that evening.

Our flight left bright and early the following morning, so that concludes our San Francisco chapter. We had an unreal time taking in the sights, catching up with dear friends, and eating plenty of delicious food along the way. I wasn’t sure what to expect traveling with a four-month-old, but she surpassed every expectation. We learned that everyone benefits from going with the flow and from taking the path of least resistance whenever possible. It will all keep changing — but I’m so proud of us for sending it west to celebrate my best friend. A real treat.

My mantra lately has been: “If you want to have an [adventurous] baby, you have to do [adventurous things] with your baby.” Sounds simple, right? And yet the barriers seem to grow taller the closer reality gets — whatever the variable is adventuring (skiing, swimming, camping) or traveling (road trips, flying). I’ve found that putting the cart before the horse — planning it, then figuring it out — works for our family. Sometimes fumbling through the first try is the only way to iron out the kinks. Grateful for this trip for many reasons, but mostly for pushing us to just go.

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I love keeping a running list of favorites throughout the month. They’re usually random — something pops into my head, I drop it into my notes app, and then at the end of the month I recap. It’s fun for me and I hope you enjoy it too, so here’s what stuck with me in February:

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Tom Kha Soup

I caught the sinus cold that apparently everyone caught this winter. Tom Kha soup was the magic elixir. Coconut milk, lime, ginger, a little heat — the kind of meal that makes you feel nourished. There’s a new Thai restaurant near our house, which I ordered from twice in one week (two-star spicy, which felt brave and correct to kick the cold). It parted the brain fog and cleared my sinuses.

Ski Touring

We weren’t sure what getting outside this winter would look like with a baby, but ski touring was the perfect divide-and-conquer activity. Cam went out for a lap with a friend (who also has a baby born shortly after ours), then the moms tapped in for our own lap. It’s the perfect length of adventure: skin up, cruise down, reset.

We set the dads up with bottles for the babies, which made it manageable for everyone to seize the day. As much as I love lift-served downhill skiing, a full resort day might be a stretch right now. Ski touring feels like the sweet spot — adventure without overcommitting. Not to mention, we got a powder day — how lucky are we?

Thule Chariot

We’ve gotten so much mileage out of our Thule Chariot this winter. I mentioned it in my 0–3 month baby must-haves, but truly — it’s been one of the best investments. Ours includes the infant sling and the ski attachment, which many friends and family members contributed to on our registry. Yes, it’s an investment, but we’ve used it close to 30 times already and our baby is only four months old!

Since this winter has been so wintry, having reliable snow close to home has made micro-adventures completely doable. Knowing we’ll use this setup for years — and hopefully with future kiddos — makes it feel incredibly worthwhile.

ShopMy

Speaking of registry items — I compiled a full list of everything we asked for from our loved ones. I’m happy to share more about our approach, what we got, what we’ve loved, and what I would recommend should you be interested. But I’ve really been enjoying using ShopMy to link products I genuinely love. Yes, there’s an affiliate component, but mostly I just find it clean and easy way to organize gear, clothes, etc. I have sections for postpartum favorites, newborn gear, Kiwi’s things, clothing, adventure musts, and more. If you’re someone who naturally sends shares favorite finds with friends (the original influencer?), it might be worth setting one up. I’ve found it surprisingly fun.

Local Apres Ski Hangs

We’ve done a lot of skiing at Riverside here in Portland because conditions have been so good. And nothing beats grabbing a beer and a bite afterward. Two spots we’ve been loving:

• Allagash & Foundation — Allagash is basically across the street and is dog-friendly. Grab a yummy deep dish pizza to go from Foundation. Pretty unbeatable combo to enjoy world class beer and amazing nosh.

• Bissell Brothers — on Mondays and Tuesdays they run an all-day happy hour. Their burger (normally $18 without fries) comes with fries for $10, and a pint of Substance is $5. It’s an unbeatable deal and such a fun place to meet friends post-ski.

Ásgeir — Julia

One day Spotify prompted me that Ásgeir had a new album out, and without much thought I pressed play. Immediate love. The album, Julia, is a no-skip situation. If you like Gregory Alan Isakov or Lord Huron — that ethereal, driving-through-the-mountains, wilderness-feeling kind of music — you’ll love this. The vocals are stunning. The instrumentals are beautiful. I’ve already sent it to multiple friends, and I refuse to gatekeep. Let me know what you think if you listen.

Trader Joe’s Hair Oil

In my January Favorites, I talked about my dry-skin savior (Ursa Major body oil forever), but February’s beauty favorite is the hair oil from Trader Joe’s. My hair is borderline addicted. If I add a little post-shower, it stays smooth and happy for days. It smells good, feels luxe, and makes me feel slightly more put together — which in this season of life counts for a lot.

Nervous System Regulation / Somatic Healing

I’ve tried a lot of therapy modalities over the years. While I feel like I’m generally in a good place these days, I am more than ever aware of my nervous system — how it responds, how it holds things, how it shapes my energy.

I’m not an expert here and there’s so much more to say, but if you’ve done years of talk therapy and feel like you’ve plateaued, exploring somatic healing might be worth considering. It’s less about thinking your way through something and more about feeling your way through it. That shift has felt meaningful for me.

That’s February. We’re into March now, so I’m already dropping new little favorites into my notes app for next month. Let me know what resonated — or what your February favorites were. Thanks for being here!

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I’m loving the vulnerability of growing into this new version of myself. To feel that openness and a grounded confidence at the same time is a powerful pairing. I’ve never felt more human or more in love.

My notes app is currently a melange of midnight-feeding dreams, grocery lists, voice memo transcriptions, half-baked ideas, and things I swear I’ll remember but absolutely won’t. Organizing the “ideas worth sharing” has become unexpectedly cathartic. So truly — thank you for giving my thoughts your time. When I think back to the first three months with my daughter, here are things that made it smooth, cozy, and even adventurous:

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DOONA

The Doona was originally on our registry. Then we removed it after hearing words like redundant, heavy, clunky. A friend with three kids promptly told us to put it back on. She was right. The Doona is a car seat that transforms into a stroller with the click of a button and it has made leaving the house infinitely easier. We wheel her to the car, pop the wheels up, click her in. Arrive somewhere? Wheels down — off we go. No mental gymnastics about whether it’s worth attaching a car seat to a stroller base. Knowing myself, I would absolutely skip that step out of laziness and regret it 14 minutes later with numb arms and a coffee I can’t hold. All of that to say — we are team Doona.

SKI PULK SYSTEM

This one is an investment. The Thule Chariot is not an impulse buy, but if you want an adventure baby, you have to adventure with your baby. Many friends contributed to this gift on our registry — and we’re so grateful. We’re borrowing the infant sling and received the ski attachment as a gift from Cam’s parents. It truly takes a village. And asking/registering for the gear that makes your lifestyle possible is well worthwhile in our book.

We’ve used this setup more than 20 times in six weeks. Our first outing with our daughter was around six weeks old. Thanks to an epic winter, we haven’t had to travel far to put it to use. Knowing we’ll use it for many years, throughout the year — bike attachment, ski attachment, the whole system — makes it feel less like a splurge and more like a long game investment in family life.

ADVENTURE LAYERS

She was born in November in Maine, so we knew the winter was ahead of us. Getting outside is non-negotiable in our family — and having the right layers make that possible. Iksplor gifted us a merino suit for her and I’ve been loving their nursing top for myself, making breastfeeding in the lodge subtile and comfortable for all involved. We also rely heavily on Woolino pieces gifted by dear friends. We love the temperature regulating, breathable, and forgiving qualities of merino wool, so having those layers for our girl is wonderful.

Lastly, Cam’s sister gifted us a down sleep sack from Morrison Outdoors, which gives us enormous peace of mind when she’s napping outside in the bassinet or cruising in the chariot. Her cheeks are always rosy when bundled in it as we channel our inner Scandinavians. The perks of having babies breathe that cold air seems second to none, so we feel great about bundling her for the elements!

BIBS PACI

My dear friend Hayley gifted us pacifiers from Bibs at our baby shower after doing research of her own. How thoughtful! And my was she on to something. We had an assortment of binkies, assuming babies were democratic about such things. They are not. Our daughter had opinions and quickly zeroed in on the Bibs style. Her preference was immediate. Since sharing this with other new parents, it seems the Bibs paci has quietly become a favorite among our circle of tiny, discerning humans.

NURSING PILLOW

On the recommendation of my best friend, I went with the My Brest Friend nursing pillow over the Boppy. I didn’t know what the difference would be, but now I understand. The flat surface makes it easy to lay her down without her slipping into the liminal space between my body and a rounded pillow. It clips securely around your waist, so if you need to stand up, grab water, or reach for a burp cloth, it stays put. It’s not glamorous, but it is deeply functional. And in those early weeks, functionality is romance.

BOUNCER

To no one’s surprise, our daughter prefers motion. The Baby Bjorn bouncer gave us a second wind in those early months. If I needed to set her down to make dinner or take a shower, the bouncer saved the hour. Now at four months, she’s more interested in sitting upright and observing the world like a tiny executive, so we’re slowly outgrowing it. But for the first three months it was a daily driver.

MOOD LIGHTING

At some point I may share more about labor and delivery. For now, I will evangelize about vibey lighting. We brought an IKEA globe lamp with a smart bulb to the hospital. It was a game changer there and has been every single night since. Set to a warm orange glow, it gives just enough light to see during feeds without jolting either of us fully awake. My circadian rhythm says thank you. My daughter says nothing, but falls back asleep faster — which feels like a glowing endorsement. If you take nothing else from this, at least screw a warm smart bulb into your bedside lamp.

NARA APP

We are not tracking every nap, diaper nuance, or shift in poop consistency. But remembering feed times? Essential. The Nara Baby Tracker app has freed up brain space I truly do not possess right now. I cannot and will not remember which side we ended on at 3:17 a.m. Being able to glance at my phone and know exactly when she last ate and from where has been wildly helpful, especially as we stretched toward three-hour feeds. Low effort. High return.

CARRIER

In the spirit of transparency, while baby carriers are wildly useful, I am not in love with ours. The WildBird Aerial Carrier requires feeding a buckle through a loop before clipping it in the back. When layered for winter weather, putting it on in a chilly parking lot with a mildly impatient baby feels like a small but unnecessary obstacle course. If I were to do it again, I’d choose something with a more straightforward back buckle. I’ve heard great things about carriers from BabyBjörn and Ergobaby. Minor grievance, but worth noting.

I so appreciate you reading these reflections. Imposter syndrome sits on one shoulder whispering that the world doesn’t need more maternal musings. On the other shoulder, there’s a steadier voice reminding me that my perspective matters — that if my heart or honesty helps someone, that’s enough. But what I’m realizing most is that writing this is cathartic for me. So that’s my reason for sharing. Thank you for being here — we’ll see where this goes. 🤍

Before it happened, I braced myself for a seismic destabilization. I’d heard so much about how grueling grief can be — how it rearranges you and re-contextualizes everything around you. While it has changed me, I’m actually in a steadier place than I ever anticipated. Not because it wasn’t hard. Losing a parent was one of the hardest things I’ve walked through. But from that I’ve grown, found deeper emotional capacity within myself, and only expanded my empathy for others.

I was very conscious of three guiding principles while we were in that final chapter. They grounded me then and they still ring true now — both in reflecting on that time and as new life events arise. While I don’t feel like our culture is good about talking about death, I wanted to share these lessons with you in case they’re helpful for you or someone you love — as they were for me.

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1. be present with the chapter you’re in.

Grief isn’t something to rush through. It’s tempting to try — to stay busy, to intellectualize, to do anything that softens the edges of what’s actually happening. But losing a parent — or walking alongside someone in their final months — deserves your presence.

For me, that meant naming where I was: this is the chapter I’m in. My dad is dying. This is where my energy goes. Caring for him is what matters most right now.

Acknowledging that reframed everything — my capacity, my responsibilities, even how I moved through daily life. I still showed up to photo shoots. I still went to some gatherings. But my availability was different. Smaller. Softer. And letting it be what it was became a form of self-respect.

There was a strange peace in not fighting reality. I wasn’t pretending it wasn’t happening. I wasn’t trying to skip ahead. I was present. I knew it wouldn’t be forever. And being in the now allowed me to feel emotions as they arose, instead of storing them for later.

2. show up in a way you can live with for the rest of your life.

When someone you love is nearing the end of their life, it’s easy to lose yourself in showing up for them. But how you show up — and what you need from that relationship in its final chapter — matters too. That isn’t selfish. It’s honest. Because you’re not just navigating the present. You’re shaping the memories you’ll carry for the rest of your life. That thought guided me deeply.

My relationship with my dad had layers — like most parent-child relationships do. History. Friction. Tenderness.. It mattered to me that I didn’t carry unresolved resentment into the rest of my life. I didn’t want lingering baggage to be the loudest thing left. At times, that felt impossible. I wasn’t sure how we’d untangle years of dynamics in a matter of weeks.

But in those final two months, I made a quiet decision to lean inward instead of away — to have the hard conversations, to extend grace, to choose softness when it would’ve been easier to armor up. Slowly, something shifted between us. It wasn’t perfect, but it was intentional. And now, when I think of him, there’s lightness. The sharp edges are gone. What remains is love — steady and uncomplicated. I wasn’t sure I’d be able to release everything that stood between us, but I did. And that love is what I carry forward. That feels like a gift.

I also recognize how individual this looks. My dad passed away here in Maine, so I could stop by often — sometimes just to reheat dinner and sit for ten minutes. My sister lives out of state, but when she came north for his final month, she wanted to be there around the clock. She had the capacity to spend nights with him, whereas I would need to go home and collect myself at the end of the day. We each did what we needed to live with ourselves later. No shame or judgment. Just different capacities.

What counts is being intentional. One day this chapter will become memory and you’re the one who has to live with how you moved through it.

3. suppress nothing & feel your truth

Grief is not linear. The more I stopped comparing my experience to what I thought it should look like, the more space I had to actually move through it. Letting my grief take its own shape — without forcing it into a familiar storyline — was one of the most freeing parts of healing.

There were moments I thought would undo me that didn’t and unexpected things that hit like a wave. Sometimes I wasn’t crying when I thought I should be. Sometimes something small felt enormous. There was anger. Confusion. Unexpected peace. Even lightness. All of it was real.

I learned quickly that emotions don’t disappear when we ignore them — they just wait. And they tend to grow heavier in the waiting. The harder things got, the more tempting it was to numb or distract. Instead, when I had the capacity, I let myself feel it in real time. Not dramatize it. Not analyze it to death. Just name it. This is heavy. This is strange. This hurts more than I expected. Suppress nothing. Let it move.

A year later, I can feel the difference. Because I didn’t outrun it, there’s softness now where there used to be weight. There’s lightness where I expected only ache. For that, I am proud of myself.

Nothing about this season is something I’d wish on anyone. But to live is to love — and to lose. Navigating my grief with honor and openness has healed me in ways I couldn’t have predicted. It expanded my emotional range. It taught me that we can hold deep sorrow and surprising steadiness at the same time.

I miss my dad. There are still hard moments, but there’s also gratitude and clarity and love that feels uncomplicated — now.

If you’re walking through something heavy right now — grief, illness, a transition you didn’t ask for — I hope this lands gently.

Be present with the chapter. Show up in a way you can live with. Feel what’s true.

Sending love.

I dream of January for most of the year. When summer schedules feel loud and full, my mind wanders to the quietest, darkest month. Slow, snowy days are filled with crafts, soup, and community. The holiday buzz fades. There’s no pressure to be anywhere, look any certain way, or be anything other than cozy. It’s lovely. It’s important.

Images from Field Notes: Protest at Monument Square. Written by Cam Held for Maine the Way.

MAINE NEEDS

January hasn’t been without its heaviness. With ICE raids disrupting communities here in Maine and darker news nationwide, keeping it local feels more impactful than ever. While it’s always important to call our representatives and persuade them to protect pristine lands or continue to nudge them that health care is a human right, it sometimes feels like those “bigger picture” requests get lost as echoes down long chamber hallways. With a new baby of our own, we can appreciate the importance of things like diapers, formula, and cozy clothes. Maine Needs keeps a thorough and up to date list on their website of what’s most useful. I encourage you to check out and see where you can best contribute!

URSA MAJOR GOLDEN OIL

On the lighter side of winter survival, staying hydrated feels like an uphill battle. If your skin is as thirsty as mine, Ursa Major’s Golden Hour Dry Oil is your best friend. I found it last year, loved it through pregnancy, and my winter skin still drinks it up. It absorbs beautifully and is not greasy whatsoever. Their products always have such lovely aromas — it feels like an at home spa treatment every time I lather up!

QUINCE CASHMERE

Cam gave me a cashmere set from Quince for Christmas. Since I’m in loungewear most days, having something that feels quietly luxurious — whether I leave the couch or not — has been a small but mighty upgrade. I have my eye on many more of their Mongolian cashmere pieces, but starting with this navy set has been luxe!

SHARK FLEXSTYLE

You may be sensing a postpartum theme: small ways to elevate while staying realistic about bandwidth. I’m not much for makeup, but five minutes with the Shark FlexStyle goes a long way. A good hair day is, quite honestly, the backbone of a good day. It takes me mere minutes and sets the tone for the subsequent few days of feeling fresh! It’s definitely more of an investment, but after using the same blowdryer since high school, I was due for an upgrade. I’m still figuring out how to get my hair to stick in a curl, but once I do it’s over for y’all!

BONE BROTH

On a heartier note, most of our meals lately are broth-based. Making our own bone broth has really elevated our stews. Our simple recipe starts with a rotisserie chicken from the grocery store with some aromatics and herbs thrown in. Set the pressure cooker on high for four hours and you’ll have a rich, collagen-filled stock that becomes the base for the coziest stews we rotate through all week. Some of our favorite soupy dishes are Braised White Beans and Greens, Coconut Curry Chicken Noodle Soup, Creamy Tortellini Soup, & White Chicken Chili.

JOURNALING

Committing to morning journaling has had a bigger impact on my wellbeing than I expected — both on a micro and macro level. Inspired by Sami & Sami of FORM, I start with a brain dump: what I did yesterday, what’s ahead today — just to clear the mental clutter. Then goals, gratitude, ideas. A place to send love, release something, notice what’s circling in my mind. I prefer a cheap drugstore notebook as the pages don’t feel too precious for my messy thoughts, but their journal includes beautiful prompts if you prefer more structure. The more imperfect, the better.

MOVEMENT

In the vein of health & wellbeing, moving my body has felt good and it’s a goal of mine this year to keep it that way. Obviously we all know that movement is good for us, but finding movement that feels good has been the biggest shift. I’m loving the combination of pilates and strength training on the FORM app. I also followed their pre-natal series closely, which I feel was a contributing factor in my smooth labor and delivery. Happy to share more about that at some point, but for now I’ll just say that FORM makes it easy to move at home and removes as many barriers to staying active as possible!

I hope you enjoyed a peek at some favorites from this month. Other formats I’m excited to share: reflections from the fourth trimester, baby registry ins and outs, packing lists for adventuring with a little one, and more. I’d love to hear what you want to read about as I navigate this season — raising a baby, running a business, and trying to stay true to myself along the way. Thanks so much for being here!

Not perfect. Not easy. Not without tears, night sweats, or total brain fog. But steady. Supported. Held. And far more okay than I thought I might be. So I wanted to share a few of the things that I genuinely believe shaped what I would call a really positive postpartum experience — both as a reflection and in case it’s useful to you or someone you love.

do the emotional work before you get here

This is the one I can’t emphasize enough. In the years leading up to starting a family, I spent a lot of time doing emotional work. Therapy. Self-reflection. Untangling old patterns. Strengthening my mental health. At the time, when it felt hard, I often wondered: Is this really worth it? Wouldn’t it be easier to just smile and pretend everything is fine?

It was worth it. Postpartum is hormonally destabilizing. So is life. Your brain is foggy. Your body is healing. You do not have the capacity to be doing foundational emotional labor while you’re in the thick of that.

I think of it like building a house. I spent years clearing and leveling the ground before we ever started building. Now, I get to lean on that foundation instead of trying to pour concrete in a storm. That work didn’t just benefit me — it shaped the environment my daughter home to.

have a partner you can fully lean on

My executive functioning right now is gone. I love logistics. I love efficiency. I love planning. None of that is happening — and honestly, it hasn’t been since late pregnancy.

To be with someone I can completely trust to run the household, carry the mental load, go to the grocery store, and manage the invisible ecosystem of a home — without me double-checking anything — has been everything. I truly cannot imagine doing this with someone who needs to be managed themselves. That would be more exhausting than the newborn phase.

receive. let love in.

It didn’t take long before I felt physically capable again. And almost immediately, I felt the familiar tug of: If I can do it, then I should. But this chapter doesn’t reward that instinct. It shouldn’t. Healing, nurturing, grounding, and receiving were the real work.

Accepting help felt oddly uncomfortable at first — like I was breaking a rule I didn’t know I’d been living by. But letting others care for us softened everything. I’ve learned that giving someone the opportunity to show up for you is an act of generosity in itself.

set up a meal train — not just for the food

We set up a meal train when we got home from the hospital because I thought we’d be too overwhelmed to cook. What I didn’t anticipate was that the food would be the least important part. We scheduled visits three days a week for the first month and a half. People came by. Sat with us. Told us about their lives outside our newborn bubble. Listened to our birth story. Held the baby. Hugged us.

We are both very social people and knowing that someone was coming by regularly was incredible for my mental health. It also helped field requests to support us and meet the baby. Having a structure that allowed people to sign up and plan around took that off our plate too. They didn’t just bring dinner. They brought connection. Normalcy. Love. A reminder that we weren’t doing this alone.

prepare food, but not how you think

We didn’t freeze full meals like lasagnas. We froze high-quality ingredients. Sauces. Broths. Prepped components. Things that make cooking easy. At the end of a day spent mostly on the couch, making a simple meal feels grounding. Like I did something. And having good ingredients ready to go has kept us incredibly well nourished without draining energy.

sleep is a family value

We are incredibly lucky to have a good sleeper — knock on wood. Cam went deep on researching sleep routines. I’m a great sleeper myself. I truly didn’t know how I’d handle the toll of constant wake-ups. Miraculously, she’s been sleeping through the night more often than not. Whether it’s nature or nurture, being able to actually rest has had an outsized impact on the mental health of our entire household. If there’s one trait I hope to pass down, it’s the ability to sleep deeply and dream big.

it’s okay to prioritize your peace

News cycles, family dynamics, and the general state of the world still exist. But this season has taught me it’s okay to gently pull the bubble closer. To touch the outside world lightly and then return to the quiet magic happening right here. Protecting your peace isn’t avoidance. It’s preservation.

there is no such thing as too much love

Superlative adjectives now apply equally to everyone in this house. Kiwi is the sweetest. So is Elliot. There is no ranking system anymore. Everyone is the best and we are so lucky!

All in all, this postpartum season has been far better than I anticipated. I think part of that is allowing space for the possibility that it might not be good — and then being surprised when it is. I am such an advocate for doing the work on yourself, even when you don’t know what it’s preparing you for. I feel like I’m finally standing on a foundation I built years ago without knowing why. And that’s a pretty incredible feeling.

With so much love,

Christine

♥

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