I want to Talk About Motherhood

Sometimes I feel like I lead two lives. There’s the part of my life where I meditate in quietude beside the creek. Where I have the space to think about the big picture of existence, hold deep conversations, and pen beautiful pieces of writing.

And then there’s the rest of my life, the bulk of my life, where I am a mother of a very young child.

This part of my life is intense, full-spectrum, joyful, hard—and a lot less glamorous. 

Today my daughter is sleeping off a stomach bug. After shifting her out of my arms and onto the bed, I did the bare-minimum cleaning of our kitchen before I sat down at the table to steal a moment to write. I had already started typing before I realized there was still a sticky layer of crust from last night’s dinner. So I got up for a rag and water and another round of scrubbing. I had about fifteen minutes before I heard her cry again and the rest of my day began. This is motherhood.

I remember hearing once that mountains are like icebergs, the bulk of them aren’t visible. Even the tallest mountain on Earth has roots that sit like an ocean beneath it. They go deep, so much deeper, than we can see.

Motherhood is a mountain. There is so much, always so much, going on beneath the surface. But it’s so rare that we see it.

Ever since my daughter was born last year I’ve been writing. Writing about the mundane moments, the wonder, the terror, the sheer complexity and beauty of the journey. 

Writing has always been how I processed things. It’s how I make sense of this wild, intertwined journey of being alive. 

I’ve been writing about motherhood, daily, for the past year and a half…. but I haven’t shared any of it. Until now.

There’s a lot of reasons why I haven’t talked about motherhood much yet.

I need a good amount of time to process things privately before I feel comfortable sharing them. (Blame it on my twelfth house cancer sun).

But there’s also the realization that, as much as motherhood is at the bedrock of our existence, it’s also its own entire reality

When my daughter was first born I often wrote about the feeling like I had stepped sideways through a door in existence, into a secret garden where I was both more profoundly connected and more shockingly alone than ever before. 

Since then I’ve been seeking a space, an outlet, a private community sanctuary to start sharing more about motherhood (as well as pregnancy, post-partum and the realities of being a highly sensitive parent). 

And so, I’ve created Mothering Depth.

Mothering Depth is a blog on Substack, but it’s more than that. It’s a private, walled garden where we can gather together and talk about motherhood, creativity, sensitivity and being in the midst.
Mothering Depth isn’t a space where I’ll be teaching or guiding. It’s a space where I’m sharing vulnerably, deeply, truthfully about my journey of motherhood. 
It’s a behind-the-scenes look at my life—crust and all. It’s a space to go deep, together.
Curious about these depths? Read my first post about the naming of the blog (and why I needed to start this space).
And if you want to step fully behind the garden wall with me, become a paid subscriber (it’s $5 a month). 
Becoming a paid subscriber means getting access to all my posts. My most personal content will only be for paid subscribers, so joining this inner circle is how we can fully be on the journey together.
It also means that you’re supporting me in actually getting to write.

It’s often hard to justify taking the time to write. Free time is a very rare commodity in the life of a parent. And every time a spare hour comes up, there’s always a choice….
Do I put in more work hours? Do I sweep the floors? Do I research preschools? 

Or do I put down the “essential” tasks and do something for myself? Something that helps me process the enormity of motherhood? Something that brings my soul to the surface and makes me feel more whole? Namely—do I write, instead?
Becoming a paid subscriber to Mothering Depth means that you’re enabling me to make that choice. 
To invest the preciousness of my time in writing about this deep journey called motherhood, and to share it.

To be honest with you, this all feels like an experiment. 
An experiment in sharing more personally than I ever have before. 
In stepping away from being a guide and just being my messy, honest, tender and unfiltered self.
In creating a private space where we can all be in the midst, together. 
I’m excited, honored, and a bit scared. 
But mostly, I’m just so thrilled to be opening a door into these deep places with you. 
Read Mothering Depth and join me.

P.S. To all those who have somehow found this space already and subscribed— thank you. I can’t tell you what a gift each new subscribe has felt like. I am so moved and grateful for your support.