Before I had kids, I had motherhood all figured out. I would have a natural birth. My milk would come right in. And my baby and I would bond during that precious golden hour.

Then I had my first child — and every certainty I carried unraveled. 

I experienced a crash c-section where my baby and I almost died. While in the recovery room, I began hemorrhaging and had to be rushed into the emergency room for a second surgery. My baby was taken to the nursery and was bottle-fed formula. When we were finally reunited, he rejected the breast.

We both went home in diapers and in tears. 

The weeks after giving birth broke me down. I wasn’t prepared for the hormonal shifts, the sleep deprivation, the crying spells. Baby after baby, I thought, this time will be different, I’ll be better prepared. But some new challenge would rear its ugly head.

Now I build plans, systems, and structure that hold under pressure — for the weeks after birth, the seasons you can’t see a way through, and every high-stakes moment in between.

Survival isn’t luck — it’s preparation.