This Wasn’t What We Expected

There’s something about a baby that slows everything down.

In the middle of busy days, therapy schedules, school routines, and all the moving parts of life…

Sawyer reminds me to pause.

To breathe.

To just sit in the moment.


A Different Kind of Motherhood

Becoming a mom to Sawyer has felt different.

Not because I love him any less or any more—but because motherhood looks different the second time around.

But also… because he is different.

Sawyer is, in so many ways, the complete opposite of August.

And I’ve found myself having to relearn motherhood in a way I didn’t expect.


We Didn’t Know What to Expect

After August, we really didn’t know what to expect going into life with a second baby.

If I’m being honest… we were bracing ourselves.

We were ready for:
Sleepless nights.
Lots of tears.
Constant soothing.

We basically had our combat gear on, preparing for another intense season of newborn life.

And then Sawyer came… and we were like…

Oh.

This isn’t bad. 😂


Wait… Is This Normal?

In fact, there were moments early on where I genuinely thought something might be wrong.

Because he wasn’t crying all the time.

He was calm.
Content.
Peaceful.

And I remember thinking,

Shouldn’t this be harder?

It took me a minute to realize…

This is just… a different experience.


Relearning What Comes “Naturally”

With August, so much of early motherhood came with questions.

Learning how to meet his needs.
Figuring out what worked.
Navigating things that didn’t always come easily.

But with Sawyer, some of those things feel… different.

Simpler, in a way.

He sleeps well.
He eats well.
He rides in the car without a second thought.

He laughs easily.
Smiles often.
Loves to play, be held, and rocked.

There’s a rhythm to him that feels natural.

And I’ve realized something in this season that I want to say carefully, but honestly:

Some parts of this have been easier.


Holding Two Truths at Once

And saying that doesn’t take anything away from August.

Not even a little bit.

Because I don’t love him any less.

If anything, walking through the harder seasons with him has deepened my love in ways I can’t even fully explain.

But what I’m learning is that both things can be true at the same time.

Motherhood with August stretched me.

Motherhood with Sawyer feels softer in some ways.

And both experiences are shaping me into the mom my boys need.


A New Perspective

Having August first changed the way I see everything.

It taught me patience.
It taught me to slow down.
It taught me to celebrate the smallest wins.

And now with Sawyer, I feel like I’m able to sit in moments I might have rushed through before.

I notice more.

I soak in more.

I don’t take as much for granted.


The Beauty in the Differences

My boys are different.

Their needs are different.
Their personalities are different.
Their experiences of the world are different.

And that’s okay.

It doesn’t make one better or more important than the other.

It just means motherhood looks different with each of them.

And I’m learning how to show up for both.


Soaking It In

Right now, I’m just soaking in this season with Sawyer.

The snuggles.
The smiles.
The ease of certain moments.

While also continuing to walk the journey with August—celebrating his growth, supporting his needs, and loving him just as deeply.

There’s room for both.

And there’s beauty in all of it.

Guilt is Not a Parenting Strategy

I used to feel guilty all the time.

Guilty for not doing enough.

Guilty for resting.

Guilty for losing my temper during a stressful episode.

Guilty for needing quiet.

One of the many things this journey has taught me is to let it go.

Call me Elsa.

This season — early mornings, a baby who treats sleep like a suggestion, big emotions and even bigger responsibilities — has made something very clear:

Guilt and shame are not tools.

They don’t make me a better mom.

They don’t regulate my nervous system.

They just make everything heavier.

I’ve learned that conviction and guilt are not the same thing – and one comes from love, not shame.

What I’ve Stopped Feeling Guilty About

1. Asking for Help

Needing help doesn’t mean I’m incapable.

It means I’m raising children in a demanding season. It means I understand that sustainable motherhood isn’t meant to be done alone.

Also, if someone offers to hold the baby so I can shower in peace? I’m saying yes.

Strong moms build support systems.

2. Letting the House Be “Lived In”

My house is not a showroom.

It’s a therapy recovery zone.

A baby play space.

A snack distribution center.

Clean enough is enough.

If you come over and see toys on the floor, congratulations — children live here.

A regulated mom matters more than spotless counters.

3. Napping When the Baby Naps

Rest is not laziness.

Rest helps me show up with patience.

Rest keeps me from turning bedtime into a personality test.

Rest supports my health, my hormones, and even my long-term goals.

I don’t have to earn rest by completing a productivity checklist first.

Sometimes I earn it simply by waking up at 5:00.

4. Saying No

No to overloading our calendar.

No to things that disrupt our rhythm.

No to pretending I have unlimited capacity.

Structure helps.

But rigidity burns us out.

Flexibility > perfection.

If it costs us our peace, it’s too expensive.

5. Protecting Our Peace

Not every invitation is necessary.

Not every opinion deserves space.

Not every comparison deserves attention.

Especially not the ones coming from social media where everyone’s kitchen is spotless and their toddlers eat quinoa without complaint.

I am not competing with influencers who don’t live my life.

We keep it simple here.

Simple meals.

Simple routines.

Simple expectations.

Because simple is sustainable.

The Truth About Mom Guilt

Guilt and shame are not productivity strategies.

They don’t make me more patient.

They don’t make my kids more regulated.

They don’t make this season lighter.

Structure helps.

Flexibility helps.

Rest helps.

Simplicity helps.

But guilt?

I’m not using that anymore.

Grace is a much better teacher.