Kristine Sostar McLellan |  Vancouver, BC

I spent the better part of nine months strategizing - scheming really - about how how I would get my life back to "normal". I'd see a family picnicking in the park with a toddler AND a growler and think, That's us! That's how we're going to do it. 

But four months into this whole shebang, I'm in it. Waking up every 1.5 hours for two weeks straight, this savage sleep regression seems as good a time as any to begin parsing through this experience.

While I try to enjoy one glass of wine on a Friday evening, I'm interrupted by near-constant dashes up and down the stairs to return the soother (some would call that a "no-no!") to its rightful owner's mouth.

Things are undeniably different. This isn't the kind of job where you get a bonus on performance. Sometimes you do everything right, and your progeny cries and cries and your heart breaks.

As I balance my sweet baby girl, that goddamned glass of wine, and the deepest wish that I could follow a complicated framework very closely to make this work, I realize it's time to start accepting the call to Motherhood.