Daring greatly

 

Entering one of the happiest and most transformative chapters of my life.

Amidst the anxiety, the endless “Am I doing this right?”, the sleepless nights, and all the babysitter dramas, I somehow met a version of myself I’m genuinely proud of. All those years of 'doing the work', sitting down and being accountable with feelings, reading loots of self development books, learning, growing, and now.. I can finally see it. It’s showing in the way I think, the way I love, the way I handle the hard days, and the person I’ve become.

As a baby photographer, newborn life has never been unfamiliar to me. I’ve spent years surrounded by newborns and hearing my clients’ stories, but experiencing it for myself is an entirely different story. They say it takes a village to raise a child, and I am soooo grateful for mine. so, so grateful I cant even express it into words.

I have never loved anyone the way I love my daughters. I would do anything for them. I feel like the old version of me has quietly disappeared, and in her place is someone stronger and more grounded than ever.  The love, the lows, the joy, the exhaustion. everything comes at full force and I am still getting used to this.  It has been a learning journey, trying to let myself be vulnerable and truly feel joy without being anxious of it being taken away.  I can be fully present in the beautiful moments without needing to protect myself from the possibility that they might end. I am learning to let myself feel more, care more, hope more without being afraid of the other shoe to drop. I have been reading Brene Brown's 'Daring Greatly' and it has been eye opening for me, just how much I relate to every single chapter. 

Maybe this is another part of the work: learning not just how to survive the challenging moments like ivf and bedrests , but how to fully receive the good ones like now. 

A new chapter

                    There is something about newborn life that makes time feel almost cruel.

Today, I looked at my seven-day-old daughters and suddenly realized that their faces have already changed. It has only been a week. A week ago, I was meeting these little faces for the very first time, memorizing every tiny detail even in my *fly state from the epidural* .. the shape of their noses, their sleepy eyes, the little creases in their skin. And somehow, in just a few days, they already look a little different.

I cried because I know this is only the beginning. 

Everyone tells you that newborns change quickly, but I don't think you really understand it until you're staring at your own babies and realizing that the version of them you saw yesterday is already gone. And how I want to remember everything. The tiny sounds they make in their sleep. The way their fingers curl around mine. Their little stretches. Their milk-drunk faces. The way they look when they're searching for comfort. Even the things that feel ordinary right now. Because one day, I know I'll look back at photographs of these first days and ache for the babies they were. And already, I miss who they were a few days ago.

Motherhood is beautiful, but there is something just heartbreaking about loving someone through every version of them while knowing you can never keep a single one. Maybe this is why I got into photography, so I can preserve moments and keep them close to heart forever. For the longest time last year, I wondered why things had to happen the way they did. Why IVF. Why the waiting, the uncertainty, the fear, the exhaustion. Why this particular pregnancy. On hard days during pregnancy, even though I hate to admit this, I sometimes wonder, "why two babies?".

And now I look at my daughters and somehow, all of it feels connected. Every choice I made, every turn my life took, every difficult season I went through somehow led me here. I don't know if I believe that everything happens for a reason, Im usually not that dreamy. But looking at my girls, it is hard not to feel like every road was leading me to this veryy moment. 

I’m not usually a feelings person. But a week of motherhood has re-ignited something in me that I thought was lost forever. Since pregnancy, I feel like I have unlocked a new version of myself with every stage. Being pregnant changed my body, but it also changed the way I see and process everything. It made me more emotional. More aware of time. More present. More vulnerable. I still dont know if that is a good thing, and probably not. If anything, it makes me feel weak and defenseless because without my usual emotional wall, I feel powerless. Im so used to having a detached demeanor, I love how not a lot of things can faze me because Im simply not an emotional person. I dont feel a lot, and I guess adulting hardens you like that, you learn that not a lot of things is worth worrying over. I was not even nervous for my csection, or when I had my cerclarge surgery. I honestly dont remember the last time I got emotional or overthink over anything - my mantra is basically just try my best and 'so be it'. 

 

But now Im a person who cries just because her babies' faces have changed in a week :) 

 life lately ; navigating big emotions, new milestones and nourishing my body to grow life

Since I hardly link this page anywhere, it’s always pleasantly surprising to notice steady visitors in my statistics. I prefer to think that those who stumble upon this page do so for a reason .. not to pry into my life, as I rarely share personal stuff, but to gain a new perspective from another human being. 

So with that, I thought I’d share my 5 pregnancy rating. Rated in difficulty level.

1. IVF - 4/10 because the whole process turned out to be more straightforward and easier than I expected. With the exception of egg retrieval process because that was one experience I would not wish on anyone. I would say the most emotionally draining part of IVF was the waiting game. 

2. Morning sickness - 1000/10 it was all day sickness 24/7, felt a lot like losing myself and being trapped in my own body. It made me think about how incredibly tough this experience must be for people who didn’t plan for pregnancy. I had to pause work, cancel plans with friends, and all day all week for months I couldn’t eat without vomiting. I was later diagnosed with HG, which eventually landed me in the hospital for three days of IV drips just to recover. I genuinely hope TM2 will be much better for me

3. Unsolicited advice from people gets a 1/10 from me. We are entitled to our own opinions and if its coming from someone I dont feel close to personally, I don’t care much about it and I don’t let it affect me.

4. Fatigue and energy levels were about 6/10. For a few weeks, I really struggled to function normally or wake up early. I’m usually not someone who takes naps, but during that time I couldn’t help it. It made me feel quite unproductive and strangely empty.

5. Trying to find comfortable clothes was about 5/10 in difficulty. My usual clothes slowly stopped feeling comfortable in the stomach area, so I had to start looking for pieces that were softer and roomier.

.from the archives

A few years back, I read Michelle Obama’s Becoming, and I remember a chapter touching on the topic of infertility . I breezed through the pages without giving it much weight, still blissfully unaware that in the near future her words would hit much closer to home. 

Back then, standing inside my own version of that experience, I truly understand how isolating it can feel. So much of it happens quietly and alone. I dont feel like oversharing so I wont dwell on too much details, but I try to meet the chapter with as much grace as possible ... But I remember thinking what a privilege it is to live in a modern world where challenges like this no longer feel like the end of the road. I don’t take it for granted, ever. 

And now, with all my dreams answered and waiting period over, I find myself in a new kind of disbelief

The very thing I once longed for is now quietly unfolding inside me, and somehow, I’m still unprepared and overwhelmed by it. No one really talks about this part. The part where joy and fear sit side by side. And yes, the nausea. The pure never-ending exhaustion that feels like it seeps into my bones. The way somedays I dont feel like myself at all anymore. Hobbies on halt, creative work on pause, favourite foods gone. The guilt of feeling so awful and 'negative' instead of being grateful. The loneliness because none of my close friends are at the same stage of life. 

Some days I’m overwhelmed with gratitude. Other days I’m overwhelmed, period. But that is life, it comes in seasons and right now that might be nesting and resting for me before the chaos. right now Im just allowing myself to feel every emotions with as much steadiness as I can find. 

on another note, it truly surprised me even after long stretches of not updating this page, my views are still consistent as ever. 

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There is something special about a kitchen in the morning light that feels sacred. The kind of special that welcomes you with the smell of something warm on the stove, with the promise of good food and even better conversations.

I had one of those days today, catching up with a long distance friend. Instead of rushing through plans, we stayed in. And we talked. 

I’m not sure why something so simple lingered with me that I have to blog about it, but it did. Maybe that’s the point. Connection doesn’t have to be loud or flashy to matter. Sometimes the quietest moments leave the deepest impression.