This morning, it snowed in Seattle. It reminded me of the night Max was born, almost exactly five years ago, when it was sunny and rainy and windy and then, in the middle of the night when we were upside-down with time and date, we looked out the window and saw snow swirling around. I don't remember much about those early days and hours, but I do remember the snow.

Five years ago, newly pregnant, my husband and I were full of expectation and wonder at how much our lives were about to change. Like many mothers-to-be, I was fixated on the labor and delivery part of this journey. I felt somewhat confident the newborn challenges would be manageable, but I knew the labor and birth were all on me. I diligently took the birth classes, read the books, talked to our midwife, and hired a doula.

The one piece of information from our birth class I recalled in the middle of a long and arduous labor was the phrase: "Transition is usually the shortest and most intense phase of labor, lasting about 30 minutes on average." 

Labor Detoured

When I arrived at the hospital birthing center, 24 hours into labor with Max and nearly fully dilated, I heard the nurses' whispers: "Transition; she's in transition." Five hours later, I was still "in transition," and nothing I had learned in class seemed applicable anymore. 

It would be another seven hours before Max would make his appearance in the world. During those hours before Max was born, a lot of things happened. 

It turned out that not only was he a "sunny-side-up baby" whose head position was causing me tremendous back labor, but he was also tipping his head back and up as though arching backwards to see us. Knowing him as I do now, this fit with his determined, strong, curious personality. At the time, however, it put us in a challenging position.

We ended up needing almost every intervention possible, despite our boldest attempts to avoid them. At the climax of the emotionally charged day, the obstetrician who'd been called in to assist told me I had three choices: vacuum, forceps, or Cesarean section. I opted for the first and second choices. 

I knew that a C-section was a major abdominal surgery, so we opted for the less invasive interventions first. I felt like we were prepared, well-supported, and certainly all ready to meet Max. 

As it turned out, the vacuum did not work, despite two attempts, so the doctor turned to the forceps. It was 5:30 p.m. on a Monday. The room filled with people, reminding me of a circus car with clowns climbing out, except this was not funny. Nurses, another obstetrician, two pediatricians, the anesthesiologists, and our doula filed somberly into the room. The next 30 minutes were a blur of pain, tears, hope, and a deep longing within me for Max to arrive safely and all of this  to just be over.

At 6:01 p.m., nearly 36 hours after active labor started, Max was born. 

Motherhood Born in Fear

I kept asking, "Is he okay?" and crying, "I'm so sorry, baby," over and over again. Specialists whisked him off to be examined. I later learned they had been fearful that they might have had to resuscitate him.

It was incredible how a single day could be both so joyous and terrifying. 

It would be many more weeks before I healed and many more weeks before poor Max, with his huge, cone-shaped head with bruises from  the vacuum and  forceps, would heal, too. Our midwife called him a "warrior" who had "been through the war."

I Am Still Grieving

I sometimes feel like I am cheating Max, because every year, as his birthday rolls around, I do not always feel joy and excitement. While there is grief in remembering our birth story, I am excited that he is growing older and doing more interesting things and blossoming into this amazing young person. 

Aging is bittersweet; when we are young, we don't realize it is happening. When we are old enough to appreciate it, many years have already passed. Didn't someone once say that "youth is wasted on the young"?

My emotions have been all over the map these past few days. My recent trip to California with just Max was important and wonderful. I am glad we made the time to do that together, but coming home was harder because all the stress of life was still here, waiting for me. 

This week, we hit the ground running: work and school and laundry and classes and planning his preschool birthday celebration. There was also his friends and family birthday party to plan and my thinking that hosting it at our house would somehow make it simpler. Good grief, what was I thinking? 

Now, here we are, on the precipice of his last day as a 4 year old. I know that tomorrow night, when I kiss him goodnight, he will still be the same Max he was today and the same Max that will wake up Sunday morning.

While his birthday is a celebratory day of Max and one that ultimately should bring us joy, it also marks an anniversary for me of one of the hardest and most difficult days of my life. It's complicated when the day that is supposed to be one of the highlights of my life is also one of my greatest hurts. I tell my students and my children frequently that you can feel two emotions in the same moment. For me, Max's birthday is the holding of two emotions, if not more. 

Time Has Allowed Healing

The further out I get from his actual birth, paradoxically the more I seem to recall. It has taken many months and several of his birthdays for me to realize that what happened the day he was born was not my "fault." It has taken me that long to find ways to have empathy for myself and our shared experience, but it hasn't been easy.

Yesterday in the car, I was listening to the kids' radio station and a song came on by the Okie Dokie Brothers called "Along for the Ride." The song, about life and traveling down a river, gets to one lyric that says how I will go along for the ride if, "child, you'll be my guide." I started crying right here in the car. 

I thought about how much I have learned about myself and life from being a parent to Max. I have learned a lot about parenting, too, but I do not think this evolution of self would have ever occurred for me, had I not had the birth experience I did with Max and had I never been Mom to Max. 

I realized how much Max is truly my guide, even though I am his parent. I cannot navigate these waters without understanding him, and every day he shows me how to do that better.

As the Hard Memories Fade...

Every day that we continue down this road, we also get further from the starting point. Mostly, that's okay, because it means leaving behind something painful and scary and sad, but also it is painful and scary and sad to leave it, because it means Max is further from being that tiny baby who fell asleep on my chest, who cried for us so often in the night, who fell in love with trains before he was even 2 years old. 

I keep thinking I will remember all this, and some of it I may, but much of it slips away as I make space in my mind for new memories.

This is the crux of parenting: not the diaper changing and the spitting up and the messes and the tantrums, but the shifting of older memories and experiences to make room for the new, and us trying to hold on to them just a little longer, to glean a little more of the sweetness of our babies, before they slip away and turn 5. 

How long has it been since your child's birth? How many times have you shared your birth story with others? How do you continue to celebrate the good and work through the challenges? 

#normalizenurturing

Some days, I feel like I do a pretty good job of balancing my career, my family, and myself. Other days, it feels like I'm falling desperately behind and failing on all three counts.

Why do I feel so unbalanced? Why do I feel like I'm not doing enough with my kids or at work or for myself?

I think part of it is the expectation in our society that we need to achieve balance, that we need to spend time with our kids, that we need to get recognized and promoted at work, that we need to be perfect wives, that we need to carve out time for ourselves. If we fail on any of those fronts, the guilt starts again.

I haven't found a perfect solution, but I feel like I'm progressing in finding that balance, particularly in being more present for my kids, which is the most important element of balance for me. These are some of the adjustments that I've made that have helped me create more time with my kids:

Strive For Balance Over Time, Not Necessarily Every Day

If I try to achieve perfect balance each day, I will fail. If I stay flexible, I may have a fighting chance. 

When my son was born, I decided to start my own business where I get to decide how to balance my family and my clients. I decide how much work to take on, and I decide when enough is enough.

I work more hours during certain times of the year, often working several hours at night after the kids are in bed. I also take almost two months of vacation each year to spend exclusively with my kids. Sometimes I take a night to go with friends, but if my kids need me, I may have to put my social activities on hold. I need to work some weekends; other weekends, I take an extra day off to focus on family. 

Take Advantage of the Time We Do Have

Whenever possible, I try to bring my kids into my daily routine. My son likes to help me bake and cook, so I involve him in meal preparation. It helps him learn how to get around in a kitchen and also gives us special time together. 

I drive my son to school each day and pick him up, a total of about an hour in the car together each day. We have developed a repertoire of games and conversations, and I really cherish this time. 

Instead of leaving my daughter at home with my husband while I go grocery shopping, I take her with me and talk to her as we go through the aisles. Sometimes having her along makes these tasks a little longer or more hectic, but I think it is worth it in the end.

Share Sleep

I have heard so many working parents complain about how little time they have with their kids during the week. Some parents arrive home from work at 6 p.m. and have their little ones in bed by 7 p.m. We do manage to sneak in more than an hour of time together in the evenings; usually I end up having close to three hours with my kids at home before bedtime. 

Being together doesn't end there. I find that sharing sleep time to be an essential way of staying close, even when we can't spend as much waking time together as we would like. (For babies younger than 6 months old, reference Infant Sleep Safety Guidelines from Nurturings.) 

Plan Dates With My Kids

I try to set aside special dates with my kids. When we stay home, we do get some time together but that is often combined with doing the laundry, checking email, cooking meals, cleaning up, and all the other things that get in the way of focusing on each other. 

On weekends, I try to carve off half days to go out and do special activities like a walk or a visit to a museum with one or both of the kids. In the summer, I take Mondays off and often spend the day out and about with one kid or the other, going to the park, stopping at a cafe for a snack, visiting the bookstore, or eating ice cream. Sometimes my husband brings my daughter to meet me for lunch. Every once in a while, my son and I go out for an early dinner after school before going home. 

Editor's note: Another idea is to plan playdates for the kids with another parent or two in your friendship circle! Even just meeting at the city park for an hour or so can be replenishing. If you're feeling stretched thin or unbalanced, don't hesitate to reach out to your parenting support network. We need one another through this parenting journey!

Read Together 

Reading is a way of sharing stories and ideas, gives me and my children another way to bond, provides a stepping-off point to discuss feelings and topics of importance, to develop hobbies, and to laugh together. 

I read to my kids every day. Even when everything else is falling apart, I try to keep this as a constant. 

We have books everywhere in the house. We have books in the car. We have books in the diaper bag. Anywhere we go, I bring books.

Accept "Less Than Perfect"

My husband helps out a lot around the house. Among the chores that we share or that I do, I've accepted that I don't need to be perfect all of the time. 

Some weeks, I get my daughter and myself dressed out of an unfolded and unsorted hamper of clean clothes. Often I pay the bills once a month, rather than paying them as they arrive. I started out making my own baby food but then gave up and went for store-bought baby food instead. My hair looks better when blow-dried, but except on the coldest winter days or at the most special events, I leave the house with wet hair.

Balance is not one-size-fits-all. In what ways have you discovered how to spend more time with your kids?

#normalizenurturing

I thought I kept my car clean and tidy.

Then my husband walked in the door, waved a diaper in the air and said, "Hey, look what I found in the trunk!" It was quite a surprise: With our kids being 10 and 7 years old, the diaper era is long gone for us.

I placed the diaper on the kitchen counter. I stared at it and felt a sense of relief and a hint of joy. Memories started to flood my mind. 

How I didn't miss those diapers. How I didn't miss the sleepless nights.

I used to joke around, saying that my babies had a unique "no sleep" gene. For five years, my nights were occupied by breastfeeding, changing diapers, and rocking babies who grew into toddlers into preschoolers...five years of constantly interrupted sleep.

I then felt a tug in my tummy as other memories began to stream into my mind: How I miss the warmth of their little bodies next to mine. How I miss opening my eyes in the morning to the sight of their beautiful, peaceful faces. How I miss their sweet baby scent, their glowing smiles, and their innocence. How I miss the monumental milestones that engulf a parent's heart with pride and joy.

A few days earlier, my husband and I had gone on a rare road trip with just the two of us. About about an hour of an usually quiet drive, he looked at me and said in a tone of concern, "Wow, soon the kids will not want to spend the weekends with us. What are we going to do?" It was a startling realization. I replied that I didn't know, added that we will figure it out, and that maybe we should just do what we used to do before we had kids.

A part of me felt a sense of liberation. My husband and I made countless memories traveling and exploring away our pre-kid days. Recapturing those days sounded appealing. 

Another part of me felt very sad and nostalgic: I couldn't imagine our weekends not revolving around our kids. I could only imagine how much I will miss their constant presence.

A few days later, I found myself staring at the long-lost diaper. It was a stark reminder that the only constant in life is change. It is the essence of life. Clearly we witness our kids grow, develop, and change right in front of our eyes. The challenges, the rewards, and the joys of parenthood never cease to exist.

Today, with the exception of infrequent nights occupied with worry or our nocturnal pets keeping us up, our nights are quiet and restful. Gone are the sleepless nights, the separation anxiety, and what at times felt like suffocating dependency. Nowadays, hovering around are challenges of a different kind: Discipline, sibling bickering, and school. 

Today's priceless rewards include observing our kids independent and confident beings, watching them foster their own unique personalities and forge strong friendships, and most of all, I marvel at their ability to face their own challenges, strive, and overcome.

Every age and every stage bring a unique set of challenges and blessings. Much like a rose, with all its beauty and blossom, parenthood has thorns. I am facing the challenges comforted by knowing that they too will pass. I am experiencing the blessings and rewards, recognizing that they will likely be nostalgic in the future.

The one constant frame is the unconditional commitment and love that comes with the role of being a parent. Possibly, if I can embrace it all, I can endure and treasure the present as well as the future with all that it has to offer.

What will you miss from this stage of parenting? How can you enjoy more of the time with your child in the moment?

#normalizenurturing