I think that I will start my first entry of 2025 with active use of one of my favorite phrases, in medias res. A Latin derivative, it means “in the middle of things” and is a literary term used to describe a story that begins in the middle of the plot. The term comes from the ancient Roman poet Horace, who advised epic poets to get to the heart of the story right away.

I know: Many days have passed since I’ve made use of this page… months continue to go by as my online domain collects dust. But I have passed “go” on my yearly activation fee and have paid my dues, so I might as well open the door and settle in. I pay rent here.

Today, I have a story to tell, a reflection that warrants use of a keyboard and blinking cursor. This blank canvas feels like pulling on a cozy sweater, worn in and familiar. A cup of tea to my left, a new ambient Spotify playlist on repeat on my phone… it’s the right “vibe” for a deep-dive stream of consciousness.

So let’s begin.

On a particularly quiet day in December, working in front of my computer, I received a Slack message from a friend and former colleague. 

“Hey hey: Super random question.” She began. “How did you find your sparkle again after having Roman?” 

I chuckled to myself as I read her post, then paused. Paused some more. Shook my head and typed back to her- “I am confirming receipt of this message; The answer is not easy, every day is different, and I want to give the response the attention it deserves.” 

I sat back in my chair. 

Do I have my sparkle back? 

Most days, I feel like I am the one asking others to divulge their secrets.

But the proposed inquiry was for me, and I therefore want to spend time reflecting on 2024 in the rearview. Because to be honest, it was one of the most transformative years of my life. 

To fully delve into the present moment, though, my recent history, it behooves me to move farther back in my timeline. So let’s talk about motherhood first. Becoming a parent. 

I will never forget a walk that my mother in law and I took one summer at our beach cottage. “Why do you want to become a mother?” she asked. 

“Because I’d be really good at it,” I responded without hesitation. 

She smiled and I elaborated. “I’d like to believe that Mike and I are good people. We have solid values, we have a strong bond, we can give a lot to a child, and in turn, our child can give a lot to the world. It would be a privilege to make our mark on the future, infuse love and our values into someone who in turn, can impact their future.” 

“I love that answer,” she said.

And that stuck with me. My husband and I were good. We wanted to make more good. The world needed more good. 

A little over a year later, we found out we were having our son. 

Although we were amidst the tail end of the pandemic, I personally was in a very good place. As society shifted inward, I looked inward as well- I lost 15 pounds, was a vibrant creative, living out loud on this very page and gaining a following, writing poetry and reading books, writing reviews outside of my day job hours- a job that was incredibly fulfilling and one that I was really aligning with. I had just helped launch a virtual aspect of our software and service and was gaining recognition inside and outside of the company. 

My relationship was solid- my husband and I were in the “fun” phase of trying to have a baby and we were exploring our own hobbies and shared ones together, spending more time at home. Weeknights included games of “Trouble” and “Skip-Bo.” Weekends included cook-outs and cook-offs with our inner-circle of friends.

Things were really good. Pregnancy therefore felt really good. I flowed through all of it. 

Motherhood was something I was made for, I just knew it. 

And the moment the labor and delivery nurses placed Roman on my chest post-C Section, the moment his skin touched mine, my heart caught fire, flames welding Roman and I together as one. He was mine and I was his, forever. Even now, writing this, tears prick my eyes. There is no feeling quite like meeting your own flesh and blood, pieces of two souls fused together with big blue eyes enveloped in thick lashes, staring back at you. 

I went all in. And although there were times where I felt like I was paddling vigorously below the surface, trying to keep my head above water, I never drowned. 

I am very fortunate- I did not have PPA or PPD like so many other mothers I know- my heart continues to go out to those who face struggles everyday. Maternity leave was a gorgeous stretch of time where, although I was tired, I was thriving in learning how to be a mother. 

It was when I went back into the world that I struggled. I didn’t know how to carve out time for myself. Work trickled back in. Responsibilities emerged. Playdates and birthdays and travel plans and to do items peppered my calendar and through it all, Roman remained the paramount priority. I felt guilty for going grocery shopping or to Target for Christmas gifts, wanting to be home to relieve my husband or sitter. The mental load, I realized, was year round. Transitions needed my undivided attention and they were constant. Formula transitions. New diaper sizes. Sleep regressions. Purees with fiber. Glass versus plastic. Summer clothes versus winter clothes, and on sale because he won’t be in them for long. Future sizes. Doctors appointments. 

It all swirled in my mind 24/7, and each bullet of the outline contained multiple action items. My planner looked like I was trying to get to the moon with all of my notes, not aiming to get through a Wednesday. 

I went back to work full time and once the pandemic truly flatlined, we were expected to return to the office at least one day a week. I found an incredible in-home care network while on maternity leave, a then 14-year old homeschooled neighbor of mine, looking for a job in childcare to support her future aspirations. She started working with my son when he was just four months old, Monday through Friday. I am truly blessed- she has since become a member of the family who has practically raised Roman alongside me. 

But no one sees that I jumped back into work right at the start of the 4-month regression. One that was long and hard. My schedule is still the same, almost three years later. I wake up before Roman, get myself ready and set the house, then have him from 7-9. My nanny comes and I hand him over, walk into my office to start my workday. There is no transition. No carride. No music. No work out. No break. 

Once my sitter leaves, my workday ends -unless I am not done finishing a task and need to log on after bedtime- and have Roman until dinner. Dad is a gem and comes right home from work and cooks dinner, yes, every night… We eat at the table and then one of us tackles clean up while the other does playtime and shower. We both do bedtime. 

Everyday, it’s the same routine- We are a well-oiled machine at this point and manage the load- our parts and the whole- very well together. But I do not get time to myself until 8PM. It’s the first self-priority point in the day. 

I’ve examined this for a while now. 

After year one, I took a look around me and just -became aware- that my son was thriving, but I looked and felt like hell. At Roman’s two year milestone, it really hit me. I had just returned from a vacation in Maine where I officiated my best friend’s wedding. It was an honor that I never imagined being a part of, and I poured myself deeply into the ceremony creation, the details of being her only present bridesmaid and facilitator. Juggling that responsibility and Roman and work gave me anxiety spells regularly, feeling like my plate was just too full. 

I rolled into her wedding day with a breakout so bad, it was hard for the make up artist to cover my blemishes. 

And when the photos came back from the professional photographer, I stared at myself and cried. I was an officiant for my best friend’s wedding! What a cool bucket list item, a rare and beautiful opportunity, an absolute honor. 

But I cried because I was in so many photos, and I didn’t recognize myself. I was happy in the pictures, sure, but I looked tired, worn, unhealthy, hollow. There was no sparkle at all. Just a reflection of a woman, stretched too thin. 

And this is when I decided to take action. 

My mother passed away just 4 months after her 60th birthday after a losing battle with cancer. It was her third time fighting and she fought as hard as she could. But after years of not taking care of herself mentally, physically, emotionally… after decades of living solely through and for her children, holding on to things needing release, people pleasing, collecting, never purging, adding more and more to the plate without prioritizing herself… the cancer stuck around and festered in the shadows.

I am hyper-aware of this notion, the idea that history could repeat itself, so in 2024, I decided to make some investments for myself. Do some work in hope that I could change course. 

No one talks about how hard it is to find time for self-prioritization during the first two years of motherhood. Everyone talks about the “bouncing back” or lack thereof, but the reality is that you are needed pretty much 24/7 until about age two and a half where independence and self sufficiency starts to emerge. If you are someone who found early motherhood easy, please tell us your secrets. 🙂 But without some radical boundary setting, a village of support, and some extreme willpower and stamina, pouring into yourself when you are in the throes of newborn, infant, and toddler milestones- it’s a lot. All I am saying is- if you are in a season of life where you are struggling to find yourself again, you are not alone. And it’s something that I wish that, as women, we normalized. 

You are not alone. 

The first thing I did in January, as all New Year benchmarks tend to do, was take a long look at myself. I took a snapshot of my total being. 

I analyzed the thoughts that filled my mind, the inspirations of my soul, my body. I looked at my job, my relationships, my family dynamic. My hobbies. My friendship circle. And I started to journal. 

“Who am I?” was the question I proposed. 

• What parts of my past did I miss?
• What did I like so much about my “former” best version of myself? What would I like to infuse back into my day?
• What no longer served me? What did I need to let go of? 
• What does “health” look like in this current phase of life? 
• What brings me joy, what drains my energy? What is a priority versus something to release?
• If I could only pick 1 thing for myself in a day, what would “that thing” be? 

That is where I started. I actually wrote my husband an eight-page re-introduction of myself in January, a stream of consciousness validating the ‘roommate phase’ and committing to diving deep into the above sentiments in 2024 so that I could emerge as a -hopefully- reinvented partner. I admitted to that feeling of ‘survival mode’ and asked for his partnership and support of self-rediscovery. I knew that it was going to take time and money and maybe even a re-evaluation of responsibilities while I explored things like ‘me time’ and yoga in the middle of the day on Saturdays.

In January, I logged onto Goodreads and made a reading goal. I loved my Adding Punctuation identity, my creative literary self, and although I was not creatively flowing with inspiration, I could at least read. 

That became my one thing. I started waking up at 5:45AM to get a few pages in downstairs, curled up in a blanket with coffee. I had an hour to read before I had to pause to prep Roman’s morning routine. If I wasn’t tired before bed, reading was a bonus activity, one that quieted my mind instead of doom scrolling. 

It was something for me. 

In February, longer, warmer days started to emerge and I started walking. Half-hour break in between meetings? With my sitter upstairs in the playroom, I could sneak outside. 

I committed to making breakfast for myself before sitting down at my desk. 

In March, I decided to buy myself a facial for self-care, the first one since Roman was born, with a highly rated esthetician in Occoquan. I liked her because she also practiced holistic wellness and was a reiki master, something my mother was very in-tune with as she moved in and out of spiritual discovery later in life. I felt an immediate connection with her and could practically hear my mother saying “this” over and over as I moved through my session. 

After my facial, my esthetician sat me down and went through some of her findings. She said things like “blocked heart chakra” and “glucose intolerance” and “insulin resistance.” I leaned in. Handed over my credit card. And made another appointment. 

In April, I bought my husband a year’s worth of dates for our anniversary. I invested in quality time. 

In May, I went on an overnight ‘glamping’ trip with my best friends and my stomach felt terrible the entire time. I felt bloated and uncomfortable which wasn’t unusual but was the final straw. 

Scrolling through Instagram that night, I saw that my cousin was a holistic wellness practitioner with concentrations in weight training, meditation, and nutrition. I sent her a message, “Hi- it’s been a while! Do you coach remotely?” 

One week later, my stool sample was in the mail for an out of pocket test that would jumpstart my wellness journey. 

From June to September, I worked with Sydona on meditation and breathwork, optimizing hormonal and digestive health with supplements, brazil nuts, collagen protein powder, and wholesome, anti-inflammatory foods. I walked everyday, preferably outdoors, learned to find and feel the sun. I joined ClassPass and started going to a local yoga studio- that was a part of my former life that I missed and Sydona helped me identify that. In just one month, my physical symptoms diminished and the better I felt, the more vibrant I became. 

The desire to live out loud and lean into my truth. 
Intimacy.
Self-confidence.
Balance. 

The more aligned I became, the more time I found available to do more. Dabble. Habit stack. My ‘one thing’ was effortless so I added other items to my daily ‘self care’ to do. 

There is an app called ‘Finch’ and pardon my millennial vernacular, but  it’s basically a Tamagotchi for yourself. Add self care habits to a list and every time you cross something off of the list, you “feed” your little pet bird. I added “to do’s” for vitamins, daily meditation, journaling, 10 minutes in nature, tea, candlelight, skincare. 

These items became part of my routine, I tried to stay as diligent as possible, giving myself grace where needed. 

And I saw progress. I was becoming a new version of myself that I really liked. 

So I explored a little more. New music. Tarot cards. Date nights. I showered with a speaker. I caught up with friends on work commutes. I found a routine in going to bed by 9:30PM and waking up at 5:30PM.  I suddenly had a lot more time.  More breadth and depth. 

And Roman didn’t suffer. If anything, he continued to blossom along with me. 

Embracing passions is not just a way to nurture your own spirit; it also sets a powerful example for your children. They witness your journey of self-discovery and the joy that comes from pursuing what you love. In turn, they learn to value their own passions and the importance of self-care. By pouring into ourselves, we enrich not only their lives but also the lives of those we love, creating a harmonious balance of family and individuality.

On our walks, creativity struck. I always wanted to write a book and in discovering the world around us while we ventured down our neighborhood trails, Roman’s conversations became a narrative that I began to play around with. 

I started a garden this summer to get outside more, use more natural herbs in my food and drinks. Roman learned about tomatoes, how they change color, he picked up worms, he sifted through the dirt with his tractors and dump trucks. 

We celebrated the magical and the mundane. Rather than spinning my wheels to entertain him, our walks turned into playground explorations, Chik-fil-A breakfasts, library stops. We ventured to new places around town until I mused, “Is there anyone else like me? Are any other moms looking for things to do in Prince William County that are low lift activities, low cost, and without spending a day in the car?” A new Instagram account, “Moms on the Map,” was created with my best friend, also wondering the same thing over in Loudoun. 

Fast-forward to today. 

“How did you get your sparkle back?”

I don’t know if I can say that everything glitters in gold, but I am on my way toward a new version of myself that I am proud of. And it took a lot of reflection, time, money, effort, and a commitment to change, to really understand what elements of my youth still inspired me, what aspects of motherhood were non-negotiables, what I want my future to look like, for myself and for my family. 

Which means continuously making the time. 

Which means saying ‘no’ to some things, saying ‘yes’ to others. 

Trying new things that haven’t been done before. 

Trusting the process. 

I am heading into 2025 as a mother, a wife, a professional, a friend… a woman who is so proud of her past, is flowing in her day to day, and is excited for her future. I still love listening to electric dance and house music although I’ve traded my tutu’s and neon bracelets for cozy thrifted finds. I still love running but am now more in tune with my inner seasons and prefer yoga and stretching, gentle walks, when my body is in need of a slowdown. I drink coffee with protein and almond milk in the morning, sip tea with lemon and ginger before bed. I have a skincare regimen, a vitamin and supplement routine. I nourish my body, most of the time, but won’t turn down sharing a vanilla milkshake with Roman.

All of these things are insignificant but oh so important puzzle pieces, falling into place. I’m rediscovering who I am. 

When Roman asks, “Hey mom, what’s your favorite color?” 

I can say, “green.” 

When Roman inquires what my favorite animal is, I can tell him, “A wise old owl.”

We dance to “Riptide” by Vance Joy in the kitchen. The soundtrack of my home transcends beyond Ms. Rachel and the Puffin Rock theme song. (Although we love them both.) 

Roman is my ultimate “why” for uncovering every ounce of my aligned identity, pushing radical change. The best years are ahead and I want to be the best version of myself for them, a whole human, teaching him how to be a whole human. I owe him that. I chose motherhood. But even more, if I don’t press forward with my dreams, knowing I have one chance at a big, vibrant, beautiful life, then I will feel both the mom guilt, and the guilt for abandoning myself. 

It’s that simple. Eight pages of journal musings but in the end, truly simple. 

So to conclude this examination, hours later, computer screen now the only light in the room, I want to say to my colleague, to my dear friend…

We are mothers. We have spent the last few years holding our young, clothing them. Feeding them. Tending to their every need. We pour our paychecks into them, investing not just our finances but also, our last bits of energy into their tiny spirits, hoping to fill their eyes with wonder and joy. Each moment we dedicate to nurturing their growth is filled with love, but often, in the midst of so much devotion, we can lose sight of an important aspect of our own identity.

Now it’s time to look at the day and find those precious minutes and seconds- the in-between moments- where we can start to pour into ourselves. At first, this might simply mean allowing ourselves the luxury of rest. With rest comes quiet reflection and contemplation. It’s in those serene moments that we can examine what can be ‘that one thing’ that yearns within us for rekindling.

What is it that makes the heart sing? Is it painting, writing, crafting, or perhaps something entirely different? Start with that passionate ember- fan it back to life.

Then create a routine around it. Create life around it. Weaving passion into the mundane is essential because once you have a slice of something that lights you up, you crave it more often. Whether its baking with a child to create delightful memories or sneaking in a batch of muffins after bedtime to surprise your family with morning treats, those activities not only ignite creativity but also strengthen family bonds. Document your culinary adventures- take photos of your work and share them. Let them be a testament to your dedication and talent. Network your name. Take a chance- live out loud. It becomes a catalyst for so many other opportunities, opening doors you never even considered.

And then, my love… you will start to sparkle again without even realizing your own shine. 

I believe in you.