Ten Weeks Postpartum

This is all normal.

I repeated it over and over and over again. I even wrote it on a piece of paper and taped it in front of the chair I nursed my son in — along with: There will be coffee. There will be sunshine. Go for a walk. I repeated to myself, It will not stay dark forever. It couldn’t, right?

I had no idea how achingly exhausted I would feel, how lonely being a new mother would be. Even if someone told me, which I’m sure someone did, you don’t understand the pain and complete disorientation until you experience it.

WordsMaggie TrelaJanuary 20, 2023MotherhoodComment

Am I Ready

Growing up, I always liked babies and loved to hold them. I was the "perfect little helper," my Aunt Marie would say. If you'd asked me if I wanted children of my own, I would have unequivocally said yes. "Maybe 4 or 5," I'd say, "but I'm waiting until I'm 30."

I turned 30 this year, and I don't feel ready to have children. Not not ready in the you're never ready sense, but not ready in the maybe I actually won't. I still love babies but me, a mother? The ticking time clock of my ovaries was starting to feel like a deafening bell ringing, "Do you want to become a mother or not?" It was a sweet winter weekend that taught me there might be room for both....

WordsMaggie TrelaDecember 29, 2017MR Writers Club, Motherhood Comment

No Longer the Good Girl

I was the good girl. For me being good was easy. I liked following the rules, and making my parents happy. If I was the perfect kid, the perfect sister, and the perfect friend, I thought life would be easier but also better. When you're young, adults, teachers, family all tell you, "be a good girl." Being good made other people happy, so it would make me happy (right?). I completely self-identified as such and was that good girl growing up. Crushes and unrequited loves would tell me I was "green" and "a girl to marry." My best guy friend in high school brought me back a souvenir from his summer vacation: a bumper sticker that read, "Good girls need it too." It was a crude yet accurate token to my teenage self. My mother was horrified (and to no one's surprise, I was not allowed to put it on my car)....

WordsMaggie TrelaNovember 8, 2017MR Writers Club Comments

Steadily Finding My Path

You know that moment just before you fall, but you catch yourself? Your whole body is being thrown forward, but somehow you slip your feet past your flailing body and stumble into a shuffle of safety. That's where I'm at. I was off track, and I'm slowly and steadily stumbling onto the right one....

WordsMaggie TrelaNovember 4, 2017MR Writers Club Comments

Fuck It! Let's Play Hooky.

If someone were to ask anyone who knows me well to describe me in one word, they would likely say "responsible," "organized," "planner," or maybe "anxious." Lovely, right? While I'm constantly trying to navigate my anxiety by trying to be more in the moment, I can't help but feel less anxious if my day is planned, my desk is organized, and I'm doing exactly what I think everyone wants and expects me to do. I'm a rule follower (thank you, Catholic guilt!)....

WordsMaggie TrelaOctober 22, 2017MR Writers Club Comment