family

I Thought by Now I’d…

Posted on by Kaylin Stravalli

I recently left one decade behind and went full speed ahead into another – in more ways than one; and I began taking stock of how far I’ve come in the past ten years.

The past decade has been interesting to say the least. It was full of growth and change and a roller coaster of emotions. I let go of things I loved and things that were toxic to me to explore the opportunity of finding others that would serve me better and make me happier in the long run.

And yet …  my life hasn’t quite turned out how I had imagined it would twenty, fifteen, or even ten years ago.

Fifteen to twenty years ago, I imagined that by now I would be married with at least two kids and another one on the way (or on our minds at least). I would be an active mom, raising my babies, taking part in their education, and teaching them about the world and how to be a good human. I would be published and fulfilled putting my words out into the world, helping people, and entertaining them too.

Ten years ago, I was heartbroken and more than a little lost. I truly couldn’t imagine where I would end up or how I would get there. Maybe I would be the favorite, super fun, single aunt who travels, always gives the best presents, and is the one my nieces and nephews call when their parents “just don’t get it.”

Rather than any of this, though, life looks a bit more like this quote my sister came across on the internet and shared with me than anything else:

Thoughts of Adulthood
Turning 30, for me, always signified the start of true adulthood. I would no longer be a kid, teen, or young adult. People just seemed to take 30-somethings more seriously than 20-somethings. Yet I still feel like a teenager a lot of the time – only with a lot more freedom and a lot more responsibility.

I imagined having a thriving career as a writer. I imagined writing whenever and wherever, so I could live my two biggest dreams simultaneously – being a writer and a stay-at-home mama.

It would give me the flexibility to create for myself (and my loyal and ever-growing audience of readers, of course), to be a Room Mom, to attend field trips, and get to know my kids and their friends. I imagined having a close, intimate relationship with them like the one I have with my own parents.

In reality, I accomplished only a few of my goals. I live only some of the dreams that I spent my life contemplating and pursuing.

I finished college a semester early, moved to the city where I wanted to live and work, could hang with (most of) my friends, and was still near family.

I met, dated, and married the man I had come to believe didn’t exist. (Surprise! He does.) We have one sweet, happy, healthy baby girl who lights up our lives every time she smiles. We have a dog and a house we’ve been renovating (another dream of mine).

These are the things I’ve achieved. These are the dreams I am living. And quite honestly, if these are the things I’ve accomplished in 30 years, I think I’m doing all right.

So what if I don’t have a career? Maybe the next 30 years are about building it. Maybe all the work I’ve done so far is laying the groundwork and giving me a wide variety of experience to use in the next chapter of my life and/or in my writing.

All of the things I have done and experienced thus far taught me something (or a lot of things). They made me a better person, employee, coworker, potential boss, partner, mama, daughter, sister, and friend.

If this is my life, and it looks different than I imagined 10, 15, 20 years ago, maybe that’s a good thing. It might just be the best thing.

Had my life not taken what I considered some hard lefts and detours, I may not have met my husband or had my baby girl. I might be a completely different person, perhaps even a miserably unhappy or selfish one. Maybe those things put me on a new, different, even better trajectory than I could have planned for myself.

If this is my life and I wake up to the sweet faces of my husband and my baby every morning, even as I rush to greet and get ready for the day, it is just fine with me.

Actually, I will have accomplished and be living my life’s biggest dream and greatest purpose.

I Think of You: A Note from a New Mama

Posted on by Kaylin Stravalli

In the past three months, my life has forever changed. It has been a dream come true … and it has also been one of the most difficult times – mentally and emotionally – of my life.

While I am typically pretty good at keeping in touch with friends and family, in these past weeks, people have probably wondered what world I’ve been living in because it certainly wasn’t my usual one.

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They’d be right. I’m living in a whole new world in the white house at 6729. It consists of my husband, our dog Frank, one tiny human whom I love more than life itself, and me.

We have all been adjusting to our new life, and, for the most part, it has been an easy adjustment to make.

I have always wanted to be a mama. I’ve spent my whole life dreaming of it, watching and learning from other mamas before me, and figuring out what kind of mama I wanted to be when – God willing – the time came.

So when we found out I was pregnant, my heart was overjoyed. My prayers had been answered. My dream was coming true. When our daughter was born, it was like one giant puzzle piece in my life and in my heart fell into place. I slipped into my new role like a new dress tailor made for me. It fit perfectly and felt wonderful, powerful, and joyful.

But as my husband and I say, “It’s not all puppy dogs and rainbows.” First, labor and delivery is no joke. Second, recovery is no picnic either. It hurts. You’re sore. You’re tired (read: even more likely, you’re flat out exhausted). Not to mention, there’s a tiny human who is completely dependent on you for love and survival.

There are no breaks.

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Motherhood is diaper changes and nonstop nursing and a nap here and there – if you’re lucky. It’s learning her cues, so when feeding time comes, she’s not already ticked and starving.

It’s figuring out which diapers give the most coverage and the least likelihood of a blowout or diaper rash.

It’s tummy time – an activity she didn’t mind it in the beginning and now hates. That means you now have to find creative ways of getting that time in to build her muscles, so she can hit that next milestone and prevent a flat head.

It’s waking up at all hours of the night, then truly waking up sometimes and realizing you’d picked up and nursed your baby in your sleep. You know this because you’re holding her and your breast is out and near her little mouth like she’d passed out after she got her fill. It’s both amazing and a bit scary.

It’s learning that my body was built for this. I can survive on little to no sleep; finally, all those years of having trouble sleeping are paying off! My body can produce enough milk to feed my baby (something I know not everyone can do, which makes me extra grateful that I can), and I love being able to breastfeed her. My body handled pregnancy, labor, and delivery like a champ and has recovered quickly and well. For all of this, I am forever thankful.

It’s watching for signs of postpartum depression, so I monitored my mental and emotional state.

I also sat up thinking and praying and planning. I multitasked and kept the house (decently) clean. I took care of and made sure to give Frank love. I navigated my relationship and the changes that come with now being a wife and a mother. I racked my brain for any and everything that could be done from home to bring in money for the household, so I could stay home and be with my daughter because the thought of someone else watching her makes me cry and feel physically ill.

Through all of this, I have thought of my friends and family with whom I am typically good at keeping in touch. Lately, I haven’t been so good.

You may have wondered where I went. You may have been gracious enough to know that I was busy trying to learn how to be a mama and take care of a tiny human and just needed time to figure it all out.

You may have been worried about me, about how I was doing, about how I was dealing with everything, about how I’d do when maternity leave ended. (In fairness, I was asking myself all of these same questions.)

You may have thought I was too busy to think of you.

Well … some of all of that is true and warranted.

You may have asked yourself these questions but kept them in your heart; or you may have let it go long enough and checked in on me and asked – even if I didn’t always give you the full truth in return.

Know this, though, I did and do think of you. It’s just that:

  • It was at 2 a.m., I was up to nurse, and it wasn’t an appropriate time to call or text.
  • I got a free minute and a free hand, got ready to call you, and the dog needed to go out, the baby woke up again and needed fed, and/or I needed to go to the bathroom, brush my teeth and hair, and shower – or it was never going to happen.
  • I had just enough time to get a couple of house chores done and they were all loud. A noisy call would be hard and rude; and texting would interrupt the workflow too much, so I wouldn’t finish what I needed to get done.
  • I wanted to talk to you but knew I’d break down if I heard your voice.
  • Or you’d ask about my return to work, and I couldn’t bear thinking about it or giving an answer that wasn’t even true just to cut off that line of dialogue.
  • I wanted to see you but knew you’d take one look at me and know I was struggling. I couldn’t handle the pity or an offer to help when I knew you already had a full plate of your own. Plus, other people trying to care for my baby stressed me out more than it helped.
  • I also couldn’t bear breaking down and spilling my struggles because they were things I needed to work out for myself and with my husband; and it felt like a betrayal of my relationship to talk to anyone else about them. The guilt of that was one more thing I could not add to my load.
  • I thought of you, but it was 2 a.m. again and not an appropriate time to call or text.

In the past three months, my life has forever changed. It has been a dream come true, and it has also been one of the most difficult times of my life. I may have been busy navigating my new norm but know I thought of you often. I just wasn’t always able to reach out like I would have before – for a number of reasons, none of which were really about you.

Thank you to those who have given me the grace of space and understanding and to those who have broken through with a message you couldn’t have known was so perfectly timed.