becoming at Home

I’m glad you’re able to get a moment to sit with me and chat. I know how hard it is to find even the smallest pockets of time after becoming a mom. I’ll make this quick, since I know you already have so much on your plate—

I hope you know that you are allowed to slow down. I know that you thrive—maybe even enjoy—knocking out a hundred things on your to-do list. The sense of purpose and accomplishment it gives you can be a little addicting. Trust me, I’ve been there. But I want you to know that now, as a mother, you are allowed to shift your focus. It is okay to shift your focus. Maybe that means that instead of finishing all the chores you’re used to doing in a day, you only get one or two done. That’s good. That’s okay. You still deserve a pat on the back.

I hope you know that you are allowed to… be less than. You’ve lived your life aiming to be the best at everything you do—which is incredible and badass in its own right—but motherhood doesn’t demand perfection. In fact, it asks the opposite. It asks you to slow down. It asks for one task at a time, one day at a time. It asks for humility. Because if motherhood were about being the best at everything and never dropping the ball, I don’t think it would hold the same power it does.

I hope you know that you still matter. Yes—even when the chores aren’t done. Even when you haven’t showered in three days. Even when the house is a mess and you’re wearing milk-stained clothes. Yes, you matter. You are fulfilling one of the most important roles you will ever have in your life. You matter. The mundane, repetitive days of motherhood can make you feel invisible, but don’t let the world fool you—your child sees you. He or she is watching you.

So if today looks nothing like the life you once measured yourself by, I hope you’ll hear this clearly: you are not failing. You are becoming. Becoming softer in some ways, stronger in others. Becoming someone who is learning that worth isn’t earned through productivity, but lived out in presence.

This season may ask you to loosen your grip on control, to sit in the unfinished, to learn that some of the most meaningful work will never be checked off a list. And I know how uncomfortable that can be for you. But there is so much grace here—grace in the half-done tasks, grace in the quiet moments, grace in choosing rest when everything in you wants to push harder.

You don’t need to prove anything right now. You don’t need to save the world today. Loving your child, showing up in the small, ordinary ways, and giving yourself permission to be human—that is enough. More than enough.

So breathe. The lists will wait. The version of you that gets everything done will still be there when this season shifts. But this version of you—the one learning to slow down, to be present, to love deeply—is doing holy, important work.

And you, dear Type A momma, are doing just fine.