There are many ways to tell every story, and just as many ways to make meaning out of one. And so, as I thought about how to share the story of Annie’s birth here, as I twisted the memories from side to side, looking for what caught the light, I’ve come to decide that the story of our youngest daughter’s birth is above all a story of God’s faithfulness, His kindness, and His mystery. I would love to tell you about it.
Annie’s birth was my third c-section. To quickly recap: June, our first daughter, was delivered by c-section because she was breech. With Shep, I had the choice to attempt a VBAC or schedule another c-section. I planned to attempt a VBAC, but made it to my scheduled day with no signs of labor, and so delivered him by c-section, too. With a third baby at my practice, you no longer get a choice, so a third c-section it was!
I was a little nervous about this, because I had heard c-sections get harder with each subsequent one, but honestly was mostly relieved that I wouldn’t have to spend the whole pregnancy agonizing over whether to attempt a VBAC or not, as I did with Shep. And I had had two positive experiences with c-section deliveries and recoveries, so that was comforting!
One strange element of a scheduled c-section is that you get to choose your child’s birthday. As my due date approached, we compared the dates on the calendar to the doctors from my practice on call and debated the merits of various birthdays. In the end, it came down to either Thursday, July 8, or Monday, July 12. Those were the dates with my second and third favorite doctors (my first favorite, who delivered Shep, was not on call for the month of July!). We debated whether less-experienced nurses would be on during the holiday week. We discussed that a Fourth-of-July-week baby would be fun and festive. We looked at our work schedules. We considered proximity to John’s birthday (July 15th!). And we debated whether a few extra days might be just the time we needed to get John off crutches.
We eventually decided on July 8th. This time around, we didn’t need to worry about parents coming into town to watch our older kiddos, because they were already there! My parents had been staying with us for several weeks at that point to help care for all of us as John recovered and I progressed further and further into pregnancy.
And so we enjoyed our last few weeks as a family of four: a final date night to Mandolin, my niece staying with us to attend pony camp with June, our town’s Fourth of July parade, and, on the night before Annie’s delivery, a special picnic at one of our favorite parks with just the four of us. We ate pizza, the kids ran around, and we told them their sister’s name. It was special and sweet.
The next morning, we got up, took showers, finished packing our bags, hugged two sleepy kids, and left the house under a gray sky. We checked in at the Labor & Delivery wing at 6:30am for my 9:30am surgery, and after filling out a few last pieces of paperwork, were ushered to our room. Except… it wasn’t the room we were expecting. Instead of turning right to the Labor hall, as we had for June and Shep’s births, we were pointed left toward the surgical prep area.
And here, friends, is where we circle back to the primacy of expectations. Over and over again (and especially throughout pregnancy and my life as a parent), I have seen the power of expectations play out. When I have low expectations, I leave room for them to be happily exceeded. When I have high expectations, I leave room to be bitter and disappointed.
I made a particular point throughout my second and third pregnancies, and both newborn phases, to keep my expectations very neutral, and I really believe it was a key to my happiness throughout. I thought I had my hands open this time, too, but, as it turns out, not in the way I needed to.
Because the room we were ushered into was not the beautiful, comfortable, hotel-like room where we’d prepared for Shep and June’s births. No, this was a cold, empty, gray, windowless room with a narrow, hard, gurney-like bed. In my memory, it had a single crackling bulb dangling from the ceiling (that’s probably an exaggeration, ha). And friends, when the nurse closed the door after depositing us inside, I admit that I started to cry. And cried on and off for the next hour or so.
This is embarrassing to admit, no matter which way you look at it. As John gently reminded me, women have given, and still give, birth in circumstances orders of magnitude less clean, less comfortable, less safe. I had absolutely nothing to complain about, but, well, there it is. There I was. As I look back, I think a few things were at play:
Aesthetics matter to me. Lighting matters to me. A beautiful, comfortable space can lift my spirits and set me at ease, and a cold, harsh one can do the opposite. My emotions were already running high, knowing what was to come that day, and I think they went a little haywire when plunged into an unexpectedly harsh environment.
Something going off-script so early in the morning also sent me into a bit of a tailspin. If this was different, what else might have changed about the hospital’s policies? What else did I need to worry about or readjust my expectations on for the rest of the day?
Lastly and most significantly, being sent to this solitary, bare, out-of-the-way room made me feel less-than.
I know so many women battle feelings of inferiority when comparing their c-section births to “natural” ones, and thankfully, I had never really felt that way about either of mine. They were what I needed and resulted in healthy babies and a healthy mom, and that was good enough for me.
But to be put in this sad room, far away from all of the “normal” moms on the labor floor, made this feel far from a birth experience. It felt clinical. Surgical. None of the hustle and bustle, the cheerfulness, the light and warmth of the labor floor, the sense that exciting, wonderful things were happening all around us.
So yes, I cried. More than I’d like to admit – a hot concoction of frustration, confusion, anger, shame, and embarrassment. And I prayed. And finally, I slept. And when I woke up, God was gracious to give me a new lightness. I could joke with John about our surroundings, text with our families, follow the track of Tropical Storm Elsa (the eye was right over the hospital when I was in the operating room!), enjoy watching Wimbledon on the TV. I didn’t even mind the first few times our nurse popped her head in to let us know our surgery slot was being pushed back – from 9:30, to 10:30, to noon – and I was able to enjoy the now-familiar rhythms of c-section prep: meeting with the anesthesiologist, chatting with my doctor, getting a stomach bath, drinking the nasty liquid.
Finally, around 1:30pm, I was wheeled back to the surgery bay, John walking gingerly alongside. (Yes! He was cleared to walk in his boot without crutches just a day or two before her birth, though he still used them to get around most of the time.) As before, John and I parted ways at the surgery suite door so he could put on his gear and I could receive the epidural. Soon enough he appeared at my side, squeezing my hand.
One thing I was adamant about this time around was that I wanted worship music to be playing in the delivery room. As the surgery began and John pushed play on the songs I had put together, tears started to trickle down both sides of my face. He was, of course, worried when he saw this, and I remember saying, “No, no, it’s okay, they’re good tears, they’re good tears.”
In that moment, I was completely overwhelmed by the goodness of God. I was here, I was alive. My husband, the absolute love of my life, was at my side. I had two amazing, healthy babies waiting for me at home. I was about to meet our third baby and I just couldn’t wait to hold her in my arms.
I thought about the worries I had sustained in all three of my pregnancies, how I didn’t have to worry about those things anymore. I thought about how lucky I was that I even got to have a third baby. I thought about how grateful I was for this season of my life, of carrying and giving birth to our babies, how grateful I was to have been invited into this miracle and mystery three times over. How could I not cry? I’m tearing up now.
I said this was a story about God’s goodness and God’s mystery, and it is. I don’t know why I am so lucky. I don’t know why others are not. But I can assign the goodness and faithfulness of our story to God, because He is good and faithful, even when the circumstances are not. It’s what I’ve chosen to build my life on. The song that was playing when Annie was born was so fitting:
“There’s so much that I don’t see But I see You, but I see You And there’s so much that I don’t know But I know You, but I know You And there’s so much that I don’t understand But I have seen Your goodness And it’s just enough, that I’ll
Bet all I have on You, I bet all I have on You I bet all I have on You, I bet all I have on You ‘Cause only a fool would find real love and just give it up I bet all I have on You, I bet all I have on You.”
Our daughter was born at 2:26pm and weighed just over 7 pounds. She had a head full of dark hair (still does!) and looked absolutely horrified to find herself in such a bright room. They kept her in the warmer for longer than I remember June and Shep being there, but she and I got to snuggle as they finished the surgery (which was smooth and uneventful – just how we like them :)) Soon enough, we were wheeled out into the surgery hallway, where we were monitored for another two hours or so before scooting over to the family recovery floor (thankfully, the same lovely rooms that we were in after both other births!).
In the months since, she has lived up to the promise of her birth – she is a true sign of God’s goodness and faithfulness, the sweetest and most precious baby girl. I’m so grateful for her story, and as always, for getting to share a bit of it with you. xo
Six years ago this month, Stephanie and I posted an invitation on our respective blogs: would anyone be interested in reading articles together and discussing them once a month? It would be like a book club, but with articles! That first night, we sat around my living room with snacks and drinks in hand, 10 or so strangers who just happened to have a little blog in common. I didn’t know anyone in the circle except for Stephanie… which is a pretty crazy situation for an introvert to find herself in.
These photos are from our six-year anniversary dinner on Stephanie’s back deck… it’s good to have a wedding planner in the group!!
Six years later, the faces around the circle are beloved friends. I wrote extensively about this realization last year, how these strangers had become true, dear friends, so I won’t go into it again. But the thing I’ve been trying to figure out recently, is why this group is so special. I mean, yes, we’re friends – lots of people have those. But everyone in Articles Club is completely besotted with Articles Club (seriously, just listen to Steph wax poetic), and I do have a few theories as to why that is.
1. It’s rare to meet dear friends later in life. Often, the new friends you do meet are the parents of your children’s friends and not necessarily those you’d pick for yourself, and so it feels positively spoiling to have gained a dozen kindred spirits in my late 20s and early 30s. Bonds grow quick and deep when you sit around a table for hours of conversation each month, discussing everything from childhood to work to parenting to relationships to politics to religion to finances.
2. We are all starved for community. The pandemic has exacerbated this, yes, but loneliness was an issue in the culture at large long before COVID. As many as 61% of young adults feel “serious loneliness” right now, and about half of Americans say they have three or fewer close friends (which represents a precipitous decline in friendship over the last few decades). I think I can speak for us all when I say I am SO GRATEFUL to have a guaranteed evening of friends, conversation, and laughter every single month in this bleak landscape.
3. We’re starved for meaningful, compassionate, nuanced discussion. It’s not all laughter :) To the table we bring different backgrounds and opinions and passions and convictions, and yet we’re able to have nuanced, generous conversation. We live out the idea that what we have in common matters so much more than what divides us. I can’t tell you what a haven this feels like in a sometimes-cruel world that loves to point fingers and keep score.
4. We appreciate what we each bring to the table. Stacy will make you split your pants with laughter (Libby, too). Bethany teaches us up-dos. Adelyn keeps us young. Kelly is our resident luddite. Ginna is our resident mom. Julia keeps us from trending too precious. Pressley and Chelsey are our forward scouts for almost every rabbit hole we could ever want to go down. And Stephanie makes us feel loved and special by seating us at the most beautiful tables. We’re all just normal people, but the things (and people) we love grow lovelier by loving them, and that’s definitely true of this group.
Yes, that is the chicken pot pie I made with a “six” carved into the top.
All this to say – I think you should start an Articles Club. I think our world would be a happier, kinder, wiser, more generous place if you did. I KNOW it might seem scary, or you might not know where to start. But YOU CAN DO IT, and I hope you do. Lots of tips here if you’d like to try :)
Now onto some of the articles we read in the past year together, if you’d like to read along!
I’d love to hear: what’s an article or essay you’ve read recently that made you want to discuss it with someone? Or, what do you think would be an interesting theme to discuss with a group like this? Leave a link – we’re always looking for new ideas! :)
At long last, I’m back with the third and final entry in this blogging series! We’ve chatted about the nuts and bolts of blogging and all about content, and today we’re wrapping things up with deep thoughts, the future, and other assorted grab bag items. (There will be one more series-adjacent post with writing tips – coming soon!) Thank you again for your questions, your interest, and your engagement, with this series and always. It means so much!
Without further ado…
Mostly unrelated, but the cutest package from my friend Katie’s shop!
I’ve noticed you have quite a lot of readers who also comment, so I am wondering how they get here. Once they’re here, how do you get them to stay and become involved enough to comment?
Great question. I do not know the exact answer, but I have a few theories.
1) Many of my earlier readers found me through Southern Weddings. SW was a beloved and personal brand (I wrote about my wedding planning on it!), and so many readers felt they knew me and cared about me before they ever found Em for Marvelous. Working with Southern Weddings was a shortcut to people caring about me.
2) I genuinely care about my readers, and I think (I hope!) that comes through in my writing, my choice of content, and our interactions. I do my best to answer questions, reply to comments, and respond to emails, and if someone leaves a comment here and has a blog of their own, I try to return the favor. (I know how much it means!)
3) I like to think I write about interesting topics that engender conversation. I love discussing interesting things with interesting people (it’s why I started an Articles Club!), and from what I can tell, this blog attracts people who feel the same way. Eventually, a flywheel effect takes hold – once you know smart and kind people are commenting, you’re more likely to check the comments, which results in more engaging comments.
4) This feels like a community because there’s no agenda. I don’t need to sell you something. You are here because you appreciate what I have to offer; because you know I do it for the enjoyment and privilege of sharing, perhaps you express your gratitude through joining the conversation.
Those are my best guesses, anyway. You tell me :)
What are your favorite blogs right now, and why?
When I open up Feedly and there’s new content, these are the subscriptions I’m happiest to see updates from:
— Cup of Jo | In my opinion, no one does it better than Joanna. Many blogs tout themselves as feeling like a conversation with your stylish and in-the-know best friend, but all of them pale in comparison to CoJ. She showcases diverse voices, excellent writing, and interesting topics – content that feels relatable, genuine, and infinitely discussable. I appreciate that I’ve discovered beloved recipes, genius parenting ideas, hidden travel destinations, and unique gift ideas from its archives, and also that it serves as a bulwark against my own confirmation bias. Reading CoJ helps me understand the motivations and perspectives of people who are different than me, and to empathize with them. On that note, I very much admire how Joanna handles her highly-engaged community – they’re fiercely passionate about everything, including her site, and she handles moderation and feedback with grace, empathy, and good humor.
— Everyday Reading | If I had to choose one blogger who is most aligned with my core values and predilections as a person and parent, it would be Janssen. We have our differences, to be sure, but she is by far the blogger who most often leaves me saying “yes!!!” after reading one of her posts. I love her focus on raising vibrant, confident, resourceful humans, and in a world of content that can often feel like the same ideas repackaged over and over, she consistently shares posts that are clever, unique, and thoughtful.
Many of you say reading EFM is like hearing from a big sister. With Janssen’s youngest of four daughters being about the same age as June, I feel the same way about her.
— Something Pretty | Lisa is a dear friend and beautiful writer. Our taste and style is similar, so I know if she’s recommending something, I’ll likely love it, too! Even though I get to chat with her in real life whenever I want, I still love reading her thoughts on faith, family, and celebration.
Honorable mentions go to Coffee + Crumbs and The Fashion Magpie! Both share beautiful essays that make me think, feel relatable, or encourage me to grow in some way.
Do you plan to write a book one day? (I think you should!)
If just one of you had sent this question in, I would have blushed and grinned and ignored it. Since four of you did, I felt like I had to include it, ha!
But really, a book?! Who do you people think I am? Ha! I know we live in an era when seemingly every content creator has an ambition to publish something, but the idea of writing a book has never occurred to me in any serious way. What would you even want me to write about?
On a more serious note, my proximity to the publishing industry in various ways (through work, and through my brother-in-law, a literary agent) has made me aware of many of its stark realities. Mainly, that to get a debut book deal (especially in the non-fiction realm), having a huge social following is almost a requirement. With stripped-down budgets and a saturated market, the publishers want you to be able to do much of the heavy lifting of publicity and driving sales.
(Note: Many of you are probably familiar with my 2021 goal to create a book for my family from the first ten years of EFM. I’m still excited about this goal, but it will be rolling to 2022, since exactly zero progress has been made, ha.)
Would you want this to be your full-time job?
Heck no. Heeeeeeeeeeeeck no. I’m not sure there’s ever been a time when I seriously considered this, but it has gotten even less appealing over time.
I love writing – crafting a beautiful sentence and shaping an idea until it comes out just right. I love teaching and sharing. I love meeting friends in the comments and learning together. I love writing about topics I find important, but that don’t, in my opinion, get enough air time. I love leading a community united around getting better every day and enjoying the beautiful world along the way.
I don’t like scouring the interwebs for shopping round-ups.
I don’t want the pressure to be on my phone and on social media at all times, posting and engaging and fighting the algorithm. I don’t want the landmine-dotted landscape that shadows every professional influencer: of never saying the “wrong” thing or not saying the “right” thing.
I don’t want to monetize a brand that’s built around my family or myself, further complicating the issue of privacy and boundaries.
I don’t want the entrepreneur life of wearing all the hats. I’d rather not have an unpredictable income.
I don’t want someone else to tell me what to write about and I don’t ever want to feel I have to compromise my opinions or convictions for the sake of making a sale.
So no, turning this blog into a job is not for me. I would love to be able to devote more time to it in the future, but only if that was possible without needing it to produce income!
How do you deal with negative people or criticism?
I’m almost scared to write this, but I have very, very rarely received negativity or criticism online (at least not that I’m aware of, ha!). In fact, I can only think of one instance, and it’s so mild it almost doesn’t bear retelling, but here it is: in one of my annual surveys, a reader rather brusquely commented that she didn’t care for me posting the yearly videos of our kids, because she thought it was oversharing.
Pretty innocuous, yes, but I think it stung because protecting our children is one of my most important jobs, and sharing about them is something I think about more than almost anything else. It’s also a lot higher stakes than something else they could have criticized, and so I’m more sensitive to the idea that I might actually be doing it wrong.
We do deal with disgruntled people at work, and I often get called in to advise since I’m known as the diplomat on our team. In those cases, I try to remember that “hurt people hurt people” and that a rude or angry comment is very rarely about you. Usually, it is both possible and satisfying to transform an ugly interaction by treating the other person as if they had good intentions – the old “killing them with kindness” idea :)
What do you think is the future of EFM? Of blogging in general? Growth versus decline?
Seven years ago (!) I wrote a post commemorating my sixth blogging anniversary. Here is part of what I wrote, including a lengthy quote from Erin Loechner (in italics):
“I know lots of people think Instagram and Pinterest have combined to sink blogs. I agree that social media has changed the way a lot of people blog, including myself. But those two platforms on their own would never make me stop blogging, because to me, blogging is an incredibly lovely – and powerful – form of storytelling. Erin Loechner worded it much more eloquently than I:
Storytelling doesn’t die… And blogging is storytelling, but with a megaphone. We’re just here, on our soapboxes, sharing what we know – the good and the bad and the mundane and the pointless and, sometimes, a few words string together in the right way and spark a life change in someone we’ve never met.
It’s good. It’s necessary. We’re cavemen, carving our stories on the walls of this Internet mountain – words and pictures and documentation that we were here. We existed.
I think about this all the time, about the kind of picture I’m carving. Is it worth it? Is it profound enough to exist in my mountain for future generations to view and question and fill in the blanks about the kind of people we were? The answer, of course, is yes. Absolutely, yes, one thousand times over… we’re telling a story that history will use to piece together the puzzles of this age. And that’s a story I want to be a part of.
Blogging won’t die, because it was never truly alive. The stories, the voices – that’s where the heart beats. And storytelling, friends, is forever.“
I love being a part of the story, and so from where I sit now, I’m in it for the long haul. Long-form content, where I can provide context and offer value, has always been where I’ve felt most comfortable. I hope I can continue writing and sharing long into my children’s childhoods and beyond. What a gift to record these years for posterity! What a gift to feel like I’m making a difference, however small, in the lives of people along the way.
As for the future of blogging in general, I’m bullish. I’ve always been bullish (obviously – it’s why I’ve kept it up all these years!), but I’m also hearing whispers in all corners about a return to and renewed focus on blogging. (Newsletters, too.) People are realizing social channels are not effective internet homes. Between frustration with the algorithm, the often illiberal landscape, the harmful effects many feel when engaging, and the realization that it could all be gone in a snap due to a hacker anyway, the love/hate relationship seems to be souring every day.
Blogging does take a lot of work. And it can feel futile and lonely if no one seems to be around to appreciate it and engage with it, without the built-in community of social media. But when it works – when writers make the effort and readers make the effort – it can be magic.
What’s your blogging “why”?
I have lived a wildly fortunate life. I know the Gospel. I come from a whole and healthy family (I also married into one). I met the love of my life in high school and we have three marvelous children. I have an education. I was raised in a rich lineage of wise, kind people. These are gifts from God, and I believe He has expectations for how I should use them (to whom much has been given, much is expected).
And so, in my own small way, I am trying to freely give away whatever I have been given. I don’t have all the answers, but I do have confidence in the decisions I make for myself and my family, and a willingness to share them. Part of my life’s work is to equip and empower women to see that they are capable, and this blog is a large part of that. (The fact that I have the ability and passion to write here is a sign to me that this is where He wants me!) Hopefully, through sharing my story, I can show you that it’s okay to live your own path kindly, purposefully, and simply, without fanfare or fluster.
In more recent years, as our world has grown increasingly polarized, it’s also my deep prayer that this place can be a reminder that what we have in common matters a lot more than how we differ.
I’d like to start a blog, but I feel like the list of what I might want to write about feels impulsive and disparate. How have you managed to stay so cohesive over time?
Though I like to joke that I never change, the fact is, I have, and so has this blog. I went from writing about weddings, fashion, and inspiration boards, with only the lightest touches of personal storytelling, to sharing about personal finance, raising kids, making a home, and a million other random topics, with lots of personal storytelling. I went from writing five times a week to four to three to my current one to two.
What has stayed consistent, I think, is my perspective and my care. And so, if you’re willing to be vulnerable and authentic as a writer, to share things that truly matter to you, those things just might matter to other people. And when your readers care about you and your perspective, they accept you and your topics changing over time. Thank you, friends, for allowing me that grace.
What advice would you give someone starting a blog now versus when you started?
My advice would be the same: do it. If it gives you half the joy it’s given me, it will be more than worth the effort.
Whew. These posts have felt a little raw and like a LOT of talking about myself. I’m glad we did this but I’m also looking forward to moving on, ha! Here’s to many more years of interesting discussions!! Up soon: our Atlanta/Florida vacation, those writing tips, Annie’s birth story, and my top tips for the fourth trimester as I close out that season in my life!
Friends, I’m so glad you’re as interested in this series as I am! Thanks for sharing your thoughts on the first post – I always love hearing from you.
Today, we’re diving in to all things content! I’m answering your questions about where I get ideas for posts, the topics I’d never write about, whether I’ve written any posts I regret, how and where I draw my personal boundaries, and more. Let’s go!
Have you always enjoyed writing? How did you come to love it?
I’ve enjoyed writing for as long as I can remember! I remember being so proud in second grade when my teacher laminated and bound a short story I wrote and illustrated. She shared it with the principal, who also wrote me a note saying she loved it. (Just goes to show how much the encouragement of teachers can mean!)
My love of writing grew out of my love for reading, which has also been around for as long as I can remember. My parents both read to me, of course, but I think something that was foundational in cementing the habit was seeing my Dad, especially, reading books in so much of his leisure time. I wouldn’t have said it in these exact words, but I wanted to be just like my Dad, and so I read, too!
In high school, I took a few Creative Writing classes and was the poet laureate my senior year (fancy!). I majored in English in college, with a concentration in Poetry; my senior thesis was an original collection of my poems about our island in Maine. I also took a Creative Nonfiction class which I loved; no surprise, since that’s pretty much what I do here now!
All along the way, I had people – teachers, mostly, but also family members – who reflected back to me that I had talent, and encouraged me to keep developing it. I am so grateful for that.
Where do you get ideas for posts? Do you store them somewhere? Do you have a content calendar?
I get ideas everywhere and all the time! Far more than I would ever have time to write about. There are a few main buckets:
— Ideas that grow out of our family’s season or activities. If we’re learning or doing or experiencing something, it’s a natural fit for a blog post, since I’m already spending a lot of time thinking about it. Examples include this year’s garden party and my post about baking with June.
— A trend in the culture or a theme I’m noticing. Conversations with John or friends, sermons at church, posts on Instagram or blogs, articles or essays, podcast episodes, and the things that pop into my mind before I fall asleep at night can all spark ideas for posts, especially if my take on a trend seems different from the dominant narrative. Examples include this post on children and the passing of time, this post on trade-offs, or this post on the standards of parenting.
— Reader feedback. Sometimes this comes in the form of a direct suggestion or query, like from an email, a DM, or a blog comment. Or, I might notice that a particular post generates more conversation than usual, which tells me the topic might be worth expanding upon. Examples include my photo organization series, this post on self care, and this post on organizing your own childhood memorabilia.
While waiting for their time to shine, ideas for posts reside in a Google Doc. It’s just a simple bulleted list; right now it has sections for reader requests, work, home, parenting, Marvelous Money, and “everything else.” As of this writing there are 116 post ideas in the doc, which should keep me busy for many years to come.
And yes, I do keep a low-key content calendar! I wrote more about it here, including the sheet I print out six months at a time to house my schedule and month-by-month ideas.
Is there anything you’d never write about?
Yes! Hundreds of things, probably! I want to discuss things that bring people together, things where it’s possible to find commonalities, so you generally won’t find me writing about the divisive issues of the day (except maybe screen time with kids, ha). I’ve found that it IS possible to think deeply and feel passionately about something without broadcasting my thoughts to the widest possible audience.
I rarely say “never,” but one thing I can *almost* guarantee you will never see me write about is my vote. This is a practice I picked up from my Dad, a Coast Guard officer and political science professor; he has kept mum on his personal picks all my life, even in the face of pestering, curious children. (As you’d expect for a professor, he was happy to talk about any issues on the ballot, and even the merits of the candidates, just not the boxes he checked.) I’m not sure if this is a policy common in the military or just a personal preference, but I’ve grown to respect (and adopt) it in my later years. It’s not for everyone (in fact, it would probably seem quaint, or even wrong, to some), but it feels right for me.
A mostly unrelated photo, but I wanted to share the Four Things bag that was a gift from my sister-in-law! It’s mostly my library book bag, so it is related in a way :)
What would you love to write about, but haven’t?
Oh gosh, so many things. (See: list of 116 blog post ideas in Google Docs.) I would love to do another round of Marvelous Mamas, and a series of interviews with my favorite dads. I’ve been kicking around ideas for a post on patriotism for YEARS. I’ve wanted to have a discussion about our relationships with our alma maters. I want to finish my Triangle guide. I want to share my advice for new college students. (I’ve already shared advice for new college grads!) The Toni Morrison essay with the line “your real life is with us, your family” has been so resonant with me for the last few years that there must be a post in there. I want to write about parenting with a higher risk tolerance, my most-recommended books, helping our kids develop executive functioning skills, and soooooo many Marvelous Money topics (lifestyle creep, our rhythm of generosity, college savings, working with a financial advisor, the financial implications of having three kids…!!).
For almost all of these, the limiting factor is time.
For having written for such a long time, is there anything you regret writing about? Any posts that embarrass you now?
This is an excellent question, because I have, indeed, been writing here for a very long time. The answer, though, is no, there’s nothing I can think of that I regret writing about.
Of course, some of my earlier posts are a bit cringe-y (whyyyy wasn’t my first post something more astute?! and why did I think I was a DIY blogger??). But I don’t think I need to be embarrassed by posts like that – I was doing the best I could with what I had, and where I am now was built on what came before.
I think the most important reason that I have no regrets and few embarrassments is three-fold:
1. I am a naturally moderate and (in many ways) cautious person, and I tend to think deeply about things. I have a good sense of how I and my writing will be perceived by others, I think about the future a lot, and I have long looked to mentors and experts older than me to model myself on.
2. I have been a pretty fully-formed person since about age 16. The core of who I am and what I believe has been intact for a long time, and I like to say that core is embodied in my spirit age of 36, ha! Even as a college sophomore, I was a wife, mom of three, homeowner, and working professional at heart :) I have not weathered wild swings, but instead seem to have gently evolved over the years. This might sound boring, but it does come in handy when you share your life on the internet.
3. If there is a post I’m particularly nervous about or where I want to make extra-sure my meaning and intent is clear, I’ll ask John to read it before publishing. It’s very helpful to have someone who can catch your blind spots.
What is your approach toward blogging for yourself and blogging for your readers? Do you feel you write more for yourself or do you consider your audience first?
I’d never quantified it before, but this question helped me realize I have a few hurdles that every post must jump over before being published. In order, they are:
1. Am I passionate about the topic? Do I have something unique to share? Am I eager to sit down and start writing? Am I forming sentences and jotting down notes as I fall asleep at night? Am I looking forward to the comment section, eager to discuss with you all?
3. Will my readers find it interesting and helpful? There might be topics I’m passionate about, and that are admirable, but that simply aren’t a good fit: I’m thinking of topics that might be too niche or obscure, too specific to my personal situation or interests, to be widely useful.
In the end, this blog is a record of my personal life, written firstly for my family, but it’s also a public record, not a diary. I don’t think I would have spent so much time pouring out here over the years if I didn’t think it could have an impact beyond the walls of my home.
How do you manage the balance of being personal, yet protective of your and your family‘s privacy? Does it ever feel scary or strange sharing so much about your personal life in a public format?
It’s impossible to know how I’ll feel in the future, but thus far I feel comfortable with the balance I’ve struck. I think about this very deeply, on a consistent basis (at least with every post I publish!), and am regularly examining my comfort level and fine-tuning my approach. I know it will continue to shift as our kids get older, too! The guardrails above help. A few others that come to mind:
— Aside from their nurseries, I don’t plan to share photos of our kids’ rooms. Those feel like personal, private spaces.
— I have never felt comfortable sharing a day-in-the-life post or a specific schedule of our days. Though I love reading those posts from others, they’ve always felt out of bounds for me. (One exception: I did do a DITL Stories series on IG in spring 2020. Things were so nutty and outside our normal with COVID that it seemed like an alternative reality, ha!)
— If I’m deciding between similar family photos, I choose the ones where my kids look better, rather than myself.
— I try to ask permission when I’m sharing photos of other people’s children (like cousins!) and do my best to be considerate of any details I share about others.
— Again, if there’s something I’m on the fence about sharing, I’ll ask John for his opinion or to read through the post.
And the biggest, though perhaps most nebulous one: I always want to be telling my story, not writing theirs. I never want to box them in or make them known here in a way that would preclude their own development or self concept.
It is possible to share some without sharing all, to share generously but not excessively. Do I do it perfectly? No. But I have found it is a worthy pursuit.
And that, my friend, brings us to the edge of part three’s topics, so we’ll pause here for today! I’d love to hear any of your thoughts on today’s post, or feel free to share a favorite past EFM post or post idea you’d love to see in the future!
