It was raining. I was in the city with the boys.

Anxiety was creeping in, along with a sadness I couldn’t wrap my head around.

“Walk,” my body said. And so I did.

I covered the double stroller with the rain shield and walked up, up, up the city streets until I reached this.


Right there in the center of the holiday bustle.

Tourists shoved their way past her to see the big tree, the ice skaters.

Basking in light from the fancy shops, the promenade angels.

Open and proud and calm, and weeping.

A steady presence.

Abiding joy.

My hero.


Last week I visited the hospital where Judah was born exactly two years ago. As I drove home, along the same winding route, I found myself flooded with emotion as memories of that first year came rushing in.

The drive home from the hospital two years ago wasn’t so hot. It was my idea that Isaiah (then a mere 16 months old) should be with us to bring home the new baby. Unfortunately the timing coincided with his lunchtime and naptime. Isaiah banging on the metal bassinette as the cranky hospital nurse went through her endless discharge directions. And because I was holding a newborn and had a fresh C-section, I couldn’t physically restrain him. Although I tried anyway, sure I was ripping my stitches.

The drive home wasn’t any better. Both babies were screaming and crying. Not only was this a shitty moment, it went against all of my expectations for what the drive home with a new baby should be (and we all know our expectations of how things should be will always set us up for failure). I think it was on this drive when I had the first taste of that miserable anxiety. Wanting to either scream or get the hell out of the car.

Unfortunately this was only a foreshadowing of what was to come for the next 9 or so months.

So what would I say if I could go back and whisper something in my ear that day, two years ago?

That day when I was so tense and edgy and cagey and nervous and mad and tired and sore.

What would i say?

  • take a deep breath and let it go.
  • don’t be so testy. don’t worry about the rules. don’t find so much blame. so it was the wrong move having isaiah come with us. let it go. give him a snack. give him what he needs. and try to give the baby a reassuring hand.
  • i’d say get as much sleep as you possibly can. for real. because every ounce of your health starts with getting sleep.
  • leave the f*&^ing housework
  • get grocery delivery for gods’ sake. it’s worth every penny.
  • have martha, my angel of a housekeeper, come over. (actually, i hadn’t met martha yet.) find a martha–someone who will come over and spread their touch of joy around my house. someone who will see what needs to be done. catch me up on the laundry. bring groceries. hold the baby for me.
  • find a baby holder. because this new baby cried every single time i put him down for months.
  • god forbid find a different way than trying to get isaiah and judah up the steps after daycare every single day. i had all kinds of hangups about having a nanny, but in retrospect, it would have been so much easier.
  • get on medication for postpartum anxiety sooner. talk to someone who would help me see that I had postpartum anxiety, something I had never even heard of.
  • stop being so angry and find out what the root is. figure out what i need.
  • don’t be so judgmental to my spouse about doing everything “the right way.” the newborn days are not about doing anything right. they are about survival.
  • let it go.
  • i’d go back and just give myself a hug and say just enjoy this time.
  • find the joy in this moment and revel in that. 
  • find other moms. such trite advice but so helpful to see how others are coping and to laugh through tears.
  • get out of the house more. that winter was brutal.
  • stop having so many people over! why were we having people over every weekend? those visits that never seemed to end. Isaiah and their kids going crazy from being winter housebound. Me just wanting to go upstairs, put on pajamas and sleep w/ my baby.
  • what if i just admitted to everyone that i was a total wreck? why was I so afraid to let that show? trying to keep up appearances was exhausting. i’d go back and say to all those visitors. “i’m a wreck. what day can you meet me at the driveway to carry these babies up the steps?”
  • breathe. let it go.



I am finally, blissfully home with my children. And all the fears and self-doubts and ambivalence I had about taking a sabbatical from the company I run with my husband are light years away.

Being home with two toddlers is far from easy, especially with my just-turned-two-year-old who has taken to SHRIEKING. But I know with my whole heart that this is where I am meant to be. At least for now.

As we spend more time together, I’m learning more tricks for handling their most wretched behavior. Tricks like lightening things up with laughter or silliness (not a natural reaction for this serious Capricorn). Or being extra compassionate. Or acting completely nonchalant in the midst of their outbursts.

On our first Monday together, we were at the park. Coffee in hand, I was pushing both boys on the swings.

“Look at us,” I said.

“Everybody else is at work or school. But not us. We’re just playing at the park. On a Monday.”

To which my 3-year-old replied, with complete in-the-moment exuberance, “Yes! And I love you now!”

Well, there you go.

What’s to come on Hudson and Hill

With both boys out of preschool, I feel immense responsibility to expose them to a world of learning and wonder. In the coming weeks I’ll be writing more about how we’re spending our time.

Whether you’re secretly thinking about becoming a stay at home mom, or just looking for some new ways to amuse your little ones, I hope reading about my journey will be useful to you.



If you want to know where your heart is look to where your mind goes when it wanders


Just over two months ago, I wrote about my unexpected desire to become a stay at home mom.

Since that post, I have been working on listening to what my soul wants–without judging it, without letting “rational” arguments push it away, and without letting myself veer off-course every time something awesome happens at the office.

(It’s so easy to keep saying “‘I’ll just finish this one really cool project and then I’ll make the move.” That could go on forever.)

At first, I would only tap in to my deep desires late at night, or when talking to a sage woman friend of mine who is almost twice my age.

When daylight would come, I would think back to all those silly thoughts I had the night before and shove them under the pillow. But as I’ve spent more time inviting in the “what-if’s,” it’s flipped–it’s hard to stop thinking about anything else but the new life I’ve committed to.

Sometimes the things our soul wants the most are the things we reject the strongest.

A friend asked me a year and a half ago if I wanted to stay at home. “Absolutely not,” I blurted. It was such a strong, immediate reaction that it raised a little flag for me. But I ignored it.

Besides, I rationalized, I was just regaining my strength after dealing with a mean blow of postpartum anxiety. Staying home with two children under two seemed far more terrifying than just going to work.

This summer that my husband posed the idea to me: What if you stayed home?, even then, I didn’t feel a big Yes! That’s it! But this time I decided to consider it.

“Considering it” for me means mountains of research, talking to the wise woman I mentioned, and trying to push aside all the external forces/judgements/”are you crazy” looks I get from friends.

Since allowing my thinking to shift over the past couple of months, I went from “absolutely not” to wanting it so badly that living in my old life has felt like wearing jeans two sizes too small–making me feel uncomfortable and antsy in my “old life.”

It’s like I can see my children’s babyhood disappearing right before my eyes, and if I don’t inhale as much of it as I possibly can, quick, it will be gone forever.

So I’m cleaning out my desk. We are interviewing people to help take over my workload at the office. And I’m promising my boys that soon, mommy will be home.

I’m taking the leap. Stick around for the new adventure.


image: whereisthecool