The Nested Nomad is one year old today, and even though I haven’t posted in a quite a while, I think this is something worth celebrating and definitely the best possible day to jump back in. When I started this blog, I had no idea where it would lead or what direction my own life would take. I didn’t anticipate how much I’d come to love blogging (it’s so much more than just a writing outlet), nor did I think I’d take such an extended break from it when Selah came along.
When I posted back in October that I was taking an early maternity leave from blogging, I was sad but certain it was the right thing to do for my family—and it was. I was just as certain that I’d be back to blogging about four weeks after Selah was born. I’m not sure where I came up with that number, but it seemed like a reasonable amount of time.
And then I learned that life with a newborn is not reasonable or predictable or certain.
I thought motherhood would become a new compartment in my life. I knew Selah would overwhelm my whole heart with love, that my whole identity would change, that my whole world would shift; yet somehow I also thought she’d fit into my day in various time slots, into my blog as a new category, and into my Intsagram feed every three pictures or so. Well, if you take a look at my current feed, it’s kind of all about my baby girl.
It turns out, she is all-consuming. Especially in the newborn weeks, I lived and breathed Selah.
I wouldn’t say I lost sight of myself. I was always in my own view, the me I used to be: the wife, the copyeditor, the writer and blogger, the daughter, the friend. I still desperately wanted to be those things, but I knew that temporarily, I couldn’t. I needed to be only Selah’s mom—and I didn’t mind.
For a while, I didn’t even miss who I once was. I believed that in time, I’d eventually adapt and ease back into the things I used to be, doing the things I used to do. I didn’t think it would take this long, but for that I give myself unending grace. Some moms can jump back into “real life” in a matter of weeks. I couldn’t. I didn’t fail by not meeting my own expectations—instead, I changed my expectations and decided that when I was ready, my heart would nudge me to begin again.
Seven weeks ago, I gently nudged myself to read a book.
Four weeks ago, I gently nudged myself to cook.
Two weeks ago, I gently nudged myself to exercise.
Today, I gently nudged myself to write.
For this next season of my life and my blog, I’m relaxing my expectations.
My goal for the next month or so is to write a few times a week during Selah’s naps and to post to this space once a week. Maybe some weeks I’ll do more and others I’ll do less, but I’ve realized I need to write every week. Writing is one of the deepest parts of who I am, and it’s a practice I’ve missed so desperately that I ache for it. After not writing for the past three months, I feel rusty and squeaky and slow, but I trust that I’ll get my voice back if I just start typing the words.
Since I’ve been gone, there have been a lot of new readers in this space, and to you I say welcome! I’m thrilled that you’re here. To those of you who have been around for a while, thank you for sticking around in my absence. This little community is so dear to me, and I’m beyond excited to reconnect with you all. Most of all, I’m deeply grateful to those of you who have encouraged me while I’ve been away learning how to be a mom, who have assured me that I still have a place at the table when I’m ready to come back.
It’s hard to believe how much has changed in the last year, and I have hopes for what could take shape in the coming year. But I’m learning that hopes are different from expectations, and I’ll do my best to keep my expectations flexible, my hopes high, and my dreams terrifyingly big.
This space feels as homey and comfortable as the sunken middle cushion of my couch, and I’m so delighted to be back.