When I think about the in-between, I don’t think of emptiness or waiting. I think of the moments between growth spurts—not just physical ones, but emotional and personal ones too. The pauses between the highs and the lows. The quieter stretches where nothing dramatic seems to be happening, yet everything is still shifting underneath the surface. It’s where things settle and integrate—where life quietly takes shape, somehow working itself out, and we emerge on the other side changed, better, or at least more aware than before.

This is the season I find myself in now.

As a first-time mother, I’ve spent the last year and a half stretching my capacity in ways I didn’t know were possible. I’ve learned, unlearned, and relearned so much in the process of not just meeting my son’s needs but helping him thrive. I can tell you exactly how he’s changed—when it happened, what it looked like, how it felt to witness.

What I can’t always tell you is how I changed along the way.

Somewhere in the rhythm of our days, in the routines and responsibilities, I realized that large parts of my own growth in this season went undocumented. Unnamed. Unremembered. I lived it, but I didn’t pause to witness myself inside of it. And there’s something important—necessary, even—about learning to recognize those shifts. About being able to say when they happened, what encouraged them (for better or worse), and how they shaped who you’re becoming.

That’s what I want this space to hold.

Right now, I am becoming someone who shows up for herself with the same care, consideration, and thoughtfulness she so naturally gives to others. This space is part of that practice. It’s a place for accountability, for memory, for gentleness. A place to slow down long enough to notice what’s forming instead of rushing past it.

I’ve never been a fan of the phrase “I’m here for a good time, not a long time.” I want both. A good time and a long time. But that kind of life doesn’t happen by accident. It requires intention. It requires action. Reaching old age with a life that was fully lived isn’t just a prayer—it’s a lifetime project. A deeply personal one. And I’m responsible for my health, my wellness, and the way I care for myself along the way.

This is me taking that responsibility seriously.

If someone ever stumbles across these words, I hope they leave feeling worthy of the same kindness they pour into others. I hope their desire to be here for a good time and a long time feels renewed. And most of all, I hope it reminds them that their journey deserves to be witnessed—not only by the people closest to them, but by themselves.

For now, this is simply a corner of the internet where I document my becoming.
The in-between.
Where my thoughts go to breathe.