Coming Back to Life


It has been 7 months since I’ve shared some of life’s beautiful moments. And seeing as how Conway will be 7 months old on Sunday that’s disheartening and joyful all in one. Pregnancy was great and then the first three months of Conway’s life I felt sub-human. I was a walking, weeping zombie. More on that later. While I’ve missed my little corner of the Internet to write about our happenings for family and friends or share my fashion chronicles (my favorite part), it’s also a reminder that I’ve been living life in my new norm – motherhood. That’s a word I always assumed would appear on my life’s resume but now that it’s there it feels surreal and I find myself fighting it. Why? It means I have to let go of my former self and accept a new portion of my identity. For some reason when people find out you’re a mom they cease to see you as anything else, if they aren’t a mom themselves. You’re no longer the fun one. R.I.P. Girls’ Night. You’re no longer a sexual being. I mean a human did come through my lady bits and my breasts are more a life source than a joy source but it’s all good. R.I.P. Foxy Lady. You’re no longer a trend-setting, fashion lover. I did and have worn my fair share of ensembles for more practicality, but I love a red lip and deeply impractical outfit (i.e. a bra not made for whipping a tit out at the first sign of hunger from my little or a dress. Dress sounds easy right? Try wearing a dress in public and latching baby on without abandoning all decency and throwing said dress over your head. That’s sexy.) R.I.P. Fashionista. And now suddenly all my friends are classified as “mom friends” or for all you other gals, just “friends.” But you know what? Despite what society dictates , I am and can be fun, sexy and fashionable and my friends, no matter what life stage they’re in, are my friends without some precursor identifier. I mean, I guess we all have identifiers for who we are or what stage of life we are in, but it feels wrong to not acknowledge my newest title – Mama, to possibly the cutest human ever – first. But still I fight it because I’m afraid that’s all people will see when they look at me. I’m not Brooke. I’m a MOM. Maybe that’s my own hang-up but I’m sure there are others struggling with their new found identity that carries possibly the largest amount of responsibility known to man, and I want them to know they aren’t alone. I’m proud to be a mama and I’m learning a lot about myself during this new journey, but I’m so much more. Though, it as given me access to some exclusive new clubs where the signs on the door are much like those tacked to the tree house when you’re five that says “No Boys Allowed.” Not true. It’s some of the most accepting and open women I’ve met and the support is  like being thrown a life preserver in an ocean full of ten foot swells – they lift you up and give you hope. Without them I wouldn’t be coming back to life. 

1.21.16 at 4:20 in the morning, Conway Bruce entered the world. My favorite picture of my favorite human. 

Like I said, we were zombies. 

Truth. You can be so sleep deprived and yet so incredibly happy at the same time. This makes me laugh. We were having so much fun at TopGolf and Conway immediately passed out after this picture. Enjoying a beautiful wedding minus our little. We laughed, drank, danced & did NOT talk about the baby the whole night.

And she loved a little boy very, very much. Even more than she loved herself. 

-The Giving Tree


3 thoughts on “Coming Back to Life

  1. Beautiful Brooke……what an incredible gift you have and what an important story you tell. I suffered from post-pardum depression for a solid year after my little came into the world. I now know, for many of the reasons you talk about. I can tell you now, Stella is 8 and I am 40 and those numbers have significance for me. I protect my time with my husband (date night has now become drinking wine on the porch listening to music when she’s asleep), I protect my time with myself (I make Stella wait 1 hour after I put her to bed to even peep for a glass of water……9 times out of 10, she falls asleep) and I emphatically proclaim – that is MOMMY’S HOUR – not Stella’s and not daddy’s. And if I choose to drink wine and watch the bachelor or read some uber intelligent book that I can barely understand or if I want to paint my toenails twice because I can’t really reach them as well over the leftover baby belly – then so be it. That has helped. We are women that are so much more than moms, or wives, daughters, sisters, bosses………we are incredible people that have done incredible things and will continue to break barriers. You be YOU, my friend. Yes, the title – “Mama” is another layer, for sure, but the chances you get to put that title aside – take them. And don’t take any smack from anyone. Wear the red lipstick and just get a bigger size on that amazingly audacious and inappropriate skirt……you can always take it in later – or not. Have a hobby….or two and leave the little with a babysitter. And when he’s older, if you ever catch yourself walking around the corner and flipping off your kid (he can’t see you of course) – don’t say I didn’t tell you it would happen – and then call me and we’ll drink wine and laugh about it. YOU ARE AMAZING. XO

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