This one is personal. A year ago, I became a mother overnight and nothing has been the same since.
This episode originally aired on Joy Michelle’s podcast, Called to Both, where I shared the raw truth of what that first month of motherhood looked like: NICU alarms, stress vomiting, work deadlines, and the tiniest, bravest baby I’ve ever known. It’s a story of chaos, love, reinvention, and survival.
To celebrate Ellie’s first birthday, I wanted to give you the full picture: who I was in those early days and who I am now. I hope you enjoy this permission slip to drop the plan, embrace the mess, and find grace along the way.
Becoming a Mother in Eight Hours
Our daughter arrived by email. Not in the metaphorical “the paperwork starts” way. I mean we got an email from our adoption agency with her case. A baby girl had been born two months early. She was in the NICU, three pounds and some change, and needed a family. By noon the next day, she was ours.
We packed bags in a daze and drove from Dallas to Austin. Just eight hours after receiving the official phone call, I was holding a tiny, brave baby girl in my arms. Ellie: the daughter I had dreamed of my entire life, placed in our care in the most surreal and sacred way.
NICU Life: Love and Alarms
NICU life is complex. It’s a place of healing, of hope, of heartbreak. We were overjoyed, but we were also disoriented, anxious, and running on instinct.
Ellie wasn’t medically fragile, but she was so small. She had a feeding tube and in an incubator. Every diaper change was watched. Every moment felt borrowed. I didn’t feel like her mom—I felt like a visitor.
And then there was the guilt. We met another adoptive family there whose baby wasn’t going home yet. When we were, saying goodbye felt like betrayal and blessing all at once.
Trying to Work and Survive
Meanwhile, I was still running a business. I was sending client emails from the hospital waiting room and updating deadlines between bottle feeds. I had convinced myself that I could keep everything afloat—and I couldn’t. I hit a wall hard.
When we finally got home, I thought, “Now it gets easier.”
Spoiler: it didn’t.
Chaos, Vomit, and the Glider Chair
Bless our friends, who had stocked the house when we returned home. There were diapers, formula, bottles, and love everywhere. But I was unraveling.
I started stress vomiting daily. I couldn’t shower, cook, or respond to texts. My nervous system was fried. I sat in a glider for hours holding Ellie, afraid to let her out of my sight.
We split nights into shifts. My husband and I barely saw each other. I spiraled deeper until I called my doctor and upped my antidepressant dosage. That decision might’ve saved me.
Asking for Help Is a Power Move
I realized I needed help, not just emotional, but logistical. We weren’t surviving. We were crashing.
So we hired a nanny. We found Amelia through Care.com and trusted our gut. She was calm, warm, and unshaken by the storm she walked into. She felt like family instantly, and to this day, she’s part of our support system.
We also outsourced groceries, meals, lawn care—anything we could. I used to wear self-sufficiency like a badge. Now I see asking for help as a radical act of love.
Rediscovering Myself in Motherhood
Thankfully, Ellie started sleeping through the night at four months. That’s when I came back to life. I didn’t become the old me, but instead I became someone new. I was softer, sharper, and more intentional about boundaires. I started saying “no” more and focused work that actually mattered.
I’ve been an entrepreneur for 15 years, but now? Every minute away from my daughter has to count. My ambition didn’t shrink—it focused. She’s not just watching me run a business. She’s watching me choose who I become.
There’s No Perfect System. There’s Only Grace.
If you’re in the middle of new motherhood and feel like you’re flailing, I need you to know something: You’re not doing it wrong. You’re just doing something unbelievably hard.
The baby books don’t mention the part where you forget how to be a person or the part where frozen dinners and help from strangers are lifelines. What about the part where love is big enough to break and remake you?
You won’t be in survival mode forever. You’ll find your rhythm. You’ll laugh again. You’ll want things again.
One day, you’ll wake up with a giggling one-year-old, and you won’t recognize the woman who made it through that first month—but you’ll be so damn proud of her.
A Love Letter to My Partner in the Trenches
One of the quietest but most profound parts of this first year with Ellie was watching my husband become a father.
In those early weeks, when I was barely functioning, he didn’t flinch. He learned how to change diapers, how to feed a preemie, how to hold space for me when I was unraveling. He was scared too, but he showed up every single day. We held onto each other even when everything else felt like it was falling apart.
He was deeply worried about me—and rightfully so. I wasn’t okay. Instead of pulling away, he leaned in. He carried us through when I couldn’t.
Watching him rise to the challenge, find his footing, and step into this entirely new identity with tenderness and strength has been one of the greatest joys of my life.
Eric, thank you. For being the calm when I lost mine. For showing up in every way that mattered. For becoming the kind of father I always dreamed my child would have.
Find It Quickly:
00:56 – Revisiting the First Month of Motherhood
03:13 – Adoption Journey and NICU Experience
08:28 – Adjusting to Life at Home
14:36 – Finding Support and New Routines
19:33 – Reflections and Personal Growth
Mentioned in this Episode:
Review the Transcript:
Hi friends. Welcome back to the system for everything. Today’s episode is a really special one. It is personal, it’s tender, it’s not very stoy, at least not in the way you might expect. Um, originally this episode aired on Joy Michelle’s beautiful podcast called To Both. Uh, she was on maternity leave and I took over and recorded an episode if you wanna hear that original version and support her show.
You can find it@joymichelle.co. Specifically the episode titled Adjusting to New Motherhood and Entrepreneurship. But today we are re airing it here on my show in celebration of Ellie’s Berry first birthday December 20th, one whole year. With the girl who changed every cell in my body. This episode captures what that first month looked like, raw and filtered, tender, and honestly pretty painful.
But before we jump in, I just wanna say that the second half of the year has been nothing short of transformational. Ellie has become this bright, hilarious, expressive little person, and I want you to hear the full picture. Both who I was in those early days and who I am now. Oh, and in case you’re wondering, today’s episode is called The System for the First Year of Motherhood Spoil.
Our alert there isn’t one because truly there isn’t anyone who tells you otherwise, probably hasn’t parented through multiple middle of the night feeds, teething, pain, and ace. Screaming baby who suddenly decides they have massive fomo and don’t want a nap. Consider this episode your permission slip to not have a plan to rewrite the rules and to find your own version of grace.
Hi friends. I am so honored to be part of this podcast while Joy is on maternity leave. Joy, if you are listening, congratulations and I hope you’re soaking up. Every bit of this wild and magical season. For those of you that don’t know me, I’m Julie Free, the Girl Behind Dallas Girl Friday. I do ops management for three long-Term Wedding Pro clients.
After being a wedding planner myself, I’m the creator of the Entrepreneur’s Death folder, which is a digital product that helps business owners prepare for the unexpected, and I’m the host of the system for everything, a podcast about. All the little systems that make our lives and businesses run smoother from meal planning to marketing.
Uh, today I am sharing something deeply personal, what the first month of motherhood looked like for me. Spoiler alert, there were no curated baskets or freezer meals. There were shifts throw up and NICU alarms, but also joy, deep gratitude, and one. Teeny tiny, very brave baby girl named Ellie. Our journey to Ellie began with adoption.
I won’t go deep into the background of that today, but I wanna say this, if adoption is something that has been on your heart, I am truly an open book. Please reach out, ask me anything. So we started the process in December of 2023 and we’re home study approved by April, 2024. We expected a long wait. My husband and I are Jewish, and statistically not to mention, we were told by everyone involved in this process that can make finding a match harder.
Um, and that’s not. Necessarily, uh, an indictment of antisemitism, but people only have a few seconds to look through profile books and things like that. And, you know, maybe they may see Jewish and think, oh, my kid won’t get Christmas. You know, not knowing that Christmas is my very favorite holiday. Waiting was like grief.
But we thought we had time and we didn’t. On December 27th, we received our daughter’s case by email from our social worker. A baby girl that was born two months early had been born to a Jewish mother. A week earlier. She weighed just three pounds, 11 ounces. We applied at 8:00 PM on a Friday night at noon.
The next day, our caseworker with our agency called us. It was the call that every adoptive family hopes for our daughter’s birth mother chose us. We packed up, drove three hours from Dallas to Austin and held her in our arms for the first time. Eight hours After receiving that call, we became parents in less than eight hours.
She came home from the NICU on January 6th after a total of 17 days, and everything changed. Within the world of adoption, many people adopt from out of state, and that’s due to a lot of maybe their home states have harsher laws or longer wait periods, or just a lot of things can vary. And then because of child trafficking laws, you can’t leave the state with your baby until you are cleared by the state that you are adopting from.
So this takes about two weeks, but really no less than at least a full seven days. I always had said, you know, we, we put that, we were open to it ’cause we didn’t wanna close anything off. But I was very open with my husband that I did not want to travel for adoption. The logistics not being in our own home without a support system, without all our baby gear.
I mean, that felt terrifying. We adopted within the state of Texas, so in normal circumstances we could have gone home with her that day, but suddenly we’re in the NICU in a hospital we don’t know. In a city we don’t live in trying to figure out how to be parents. This could be 30 minutes long, but let me just say NICU nurses are heroes.
Full stop. Ellie, thankfully was not medically fragile, but she was small. She had a feeding tube for the first few days and mostly just needed to gain weight ’cause we. Even as she started to progress, we literally couldn’t leave the hospital before she was four pounds because our car seat was regulated for four pounds.
But NICU life is complex. There is grief everywhere. We were overjoyed and heartbroken all at once. The alarms never stopped loud and jarring even when they weren’t for our baby. The lights were always on. I was never alone with her. She was tucked inside this strange incubator and every diaper change, every feeding, every moment was observed.
I didn’t feel like her mom. I felt like a visitor with a wristband. And I remember a moment that gutted me. The day we were being discharged, another adoptive family that we had met, the mom and I had become friendly, and they had been there twice as long as we were, and they weren’t going home yet. And when I had to look at her in the eyes and say, we’re going home today.
The guilt and the gratitude really collided hard. Meanwhile, during all of this, I was still trying to work. I had a laptop open in the family waiting room. My laptop was open in the cafeteria. I mean, I sent a frantic out of off email to clients whose projects were due. I mean, I was trying to keep a business alive while figuring out how to feed a three pound human.
When we finally made it home, I thought we would, we will find our footing. I thought it would get easier, but in so many ways, the real shock had not even begun. Um, we came home to find that our friends had stocked our house. I mean, they put together a changing table, set up the bassinet and multiple diaper caddies stocked us with extra bottles and formula.
I mean, everything we needed was waiting That part. Beautiful. The rest chaos. I started stress vomiting almost immediately. I have some pretty, some pretty bad pre-existing GI issues and my doctor later told me that when GI patients don’t sleep, their bodies literally can’t reset. My system was trying to shut down.
I couldn’t read. I couldn’t respond to texts. I couldn’t cook or clean or even wash my hair. All I could really do was take care of Ellie and sleep. I was absolutely a shell of myself, and I realized very quickly that I could not sleep next to our baby. In the nicu, she was by herself sleeping. We slept in a hotel.
So being at home that first night was the first time I really fully watched her sleep, was with her for a long extended period of her sleeping. And every single noise she made sent me into an absolute. Panic. I had been around babies before. I’ve been a nanny before. I have friends who have children, but she was four pounds.
I, I was terrified. I spent multiple nights in the glider in her nursery with her just on my chest, and after about two weeks of this, she ended up sleeping in a bassinet in our living room, and my husband and I took shifts. I was on duty and he would sleep from 9:00 PM to 2:30 AM and then my husband would take over and I would sleep from two 30 to 8:00 AM It was not sustainable, but it was survival.
There was one moment though when it started to feel real and not like it was just kind of some stranger in our house. We were home. Just the two of us in the glider, and Ellie was staring up at me, quiet, alert, locked in, and I suddenly realized I am this tiny human’s entire world. And that was the moment that I first truly felt like a mom.
Her mom, our original plan was that my husband would go back to work immediately. I mean, even the time we had taken for the NICU was so unplanned already, and I thought that I would work my normal hours with a baby strap to me. Like even just saying that is the most ridiculous thing. Like I really, I was sure that I could do that.
I was positive that that was fine in the plan. That first month was almost a turning point. Also in my relationship with my husband, he and I actually had a conversation about it recently because it was so unbelievably hard. Um, I was the one that had baby experience. He had held a baby. Maybe three times ever and had definitely never fed a baby or changed porn if let alone a teeny, tiny preemie problem.
I was basically incapacitated and he had to step up. Kind of getting that chance and that responsibility helps Tim prove to himself of we already knew. Police Spooky Survival Guide before your business. All your login contact, no choice workflows and need to knows let go of the control place. Because peace of mind easy for this Enneagram HA control freak And grab yours today at Dallas Girl.
Had no choice.com, but to rise to the occasion, a hot twist. And he was also deeply worried about me. I mean, he knew that I was not myself. So I note a few days after getting home, I talked to my doctor and we increased my antidepressant dosage. And I just wanna say that there is absolutely no shame in that.
There is so much power in knowing that you need help and asking for it. We had a lot of tough moments. He was scared and even in a few moments, pretty mad at me. And that’s okay. I mean, he is my best friend and we could say those hard things to each other and still be okay. And thankfully through it all we also managed to laugh.
We have always been silly, and I’m just so thankful that that never left us even in the. Darkest days. I mean, we made up songs about changing her diaper. We did silly accents during 2:00 AM bottle feedings. I mean, we celebrated the tiniest wins like her, you know, gaining an ounce or us remembering to eat lunch.
And those little bursts of humor, they weren’t just relief, they were oxygen. They reminded us that we were still us and. Even while everything around us was brand new and terrifying, two weeks in, we realized we could not do it alone. Uh, my husband had taken a month off work using FMLA, and I had taken an entirely unplanned month off from client work.
My mom is amazing, but she is older and she has her own life and limitations, and my friends are phenomenal, but they work too. And at. Five pounds. Ellie was too tiny and too young for daycare. I mean, we needed help. So we panic, hired a nanny. Uh, we, I made a care.com account. We interviewed four people and we were exhausted and overwhelmed and just needed to make a decision.
And we went with our gut. Amelia was warm and calm and totally unfazed by how much of a mess we were. I mean, she didn’t flinch. When I explained Ellie’s sleep schedule or how we had to feed her side lying, which is a preemie thing, she showed up like she had always been a part of our family. Our incredible, incredible nanny Amelia started when Ellie was six weeks old.
Today, Ellie is almost six months old, uh, and she’s still with us. She started three days a week, and now she works four from 10:00 AM to 4:00 PM I am fully at my desk on Wednesdays. We have no childcare and I don’t multitask. I might answer an email from my phone, like if LA’s napping on me, but I mean, that’s it.
I used to be the absolute queen of multitasking, and I physically and mentally cannot do it with an infant. There are people who can, and that’s incredible, but I can’t, and honestly, I don’t want to. Going back to work made me feel like myself again. I have never. Been so motivated or creative, and I’ve been an entrepreneur for, oh gosh, since 2010, so what’s that?
15 years. But now every single minute that I am away from Ellie has to matter. I have never had a higher purpose for working. Ambition looks different now. Not louder, but sharper. I don’t chase everything. I choose carefully. My work has to mean something, not just for me, but for this tiny person watching me become more of myself.
At four months old, just over 10 pounds, Ellie started sleeping through the night in her nursery. I would say that’s when everything really changed. My husband and I could sleep in the same bed again at normal hours for normal lengths of time. She still eats every three hours during her waking hours, but nights are on demand.
It felt like we could breathe. When we came home from Austin, we spent about two weeks ordering in all of our food. Just, I mean, Uber Eats after Uber Eats, and I’d be spending way too much money on it. After that. I signed up for HelloFresh. I don’t know why I thought I could handle a meal kit when I could barely keep up with emails.
Once again, a lot of food and more money went to waste. Two months ago, we started using a service called Front Porch Pantry. They are a business local to Dallas, but I would bet if you live in an urban area, there is something like it in your city. It is fresh. It lasts in the fridge for six days. You just have to stick it in the oven and then you eat and it’s so affordable and like shockingly delicious.
And I’m like really picky. And it’s healthy too. ’cause we do stuff. We try not to eat a lot of sodium. I still don’t cook. Between exhaustion and feeding schedules and timing, it just does not happen. I have had a lot of waves of feeling like a failure of a wife, which let me also say my husband cooks, my husband does cook sometimes.
Don’t think I’m just sleeping away at the stove over here, but I know that my husband and I will cook again. One day we outsource grocery shopping, housekeeping, lawn care, handyman tasks, all of it. I say all that to say my life has changed completely, and I am so grateful. I will never look at that first month with rose colored glasses.
I mean, it was brutal and blurry, and it broke me in ways I didn’t expect. But at the core of it. All I have ever wanted, my whole life was to be a mom, and now I am. I wanted to end with something. A good friend of mine wrote on her daughter’s second birthday. Um, she let me read it and it hit me hard, and I haven’t stopped thinking about it.
So I asked her if I could share it today. This one is hitting my heart hard. While we were focused on diaper orders and daycare drop offs, first days of work and first steps, all-nighters and contact naps days. When we’d say, I hope I remember this forever. And nice when we’d ask, how are we going to do this again tomorrow?
Time was slipping by. My baby is gone in so many ways and this birthday feels a little bit like saying goodbye. I know there is so much more to come, but it’s hard not to think about what’s come and gone. The sound of her breath is she falls asleep, her little hand on my chest while she nurses the gummy smiles and baby coups.
But now she’s just so fun filled with sparkles and lightning. She sings her ABCs, puts on her own shoes and scrambles eggs with me in the morning. She runs and jumps and swings and slides and never, ever stops playing. It’s easy to want to cherish every moment, but hard to actually do it. I’m trying my best.
I’m trying my best too. To anyone out there in the fog of new motherhood who feels like they are failing or flailing, you are not. You are doing it even if it doesn’t feel like it. Thank you so much for listening and letting me share my story. You can find me on Instagram at Dallas Girl Friday. You can learn more about the Entrepreneur’s Death folder, which can absolutely be utilized for maternity leave, and you can listen to my podcast, the system for everything all over at www.dallasgirlfriday.com.
I would love to connect. And Joy, thank you again for letting me hold space in this community while you take care of yours.
As I sit here now with a, I can’t believe it, 1-year-old who belly laughs crawls at lightning speed and lights up our whole home. I can. Barely recognized. The woman who recorded the first version of this episode, the second half of this year, was reclaiming myself, my joy, my identity, my mental health, my purpose.
I didn’t know that motherhood could feel like this. Expansive and steady, and deeply grounding. I started to feel like myself again, not the old version, the new one, the mama version, the softer version, the one who asks for help sooner and rests without guilt. I approached a work shifted too. I, I say no more easily.
I choose projects based on alignment, not obligation. I protect that energy because I finally understand how finite it is and how sacred. And Ellie is the joy of my life. I cherish her in a way that feels cellular. I didn’t know that I could be this happy. Not in a perfect life way, but in an anchored present deeply here.
Way I wanna bottle up every bit of who she is right now. Her scrunch little nose, the sound of her trying to save mama the the way she yells in pure excitement when she discovers something new. The way her whole body bounces with joy. Her spirit is electric and kind and curious, and I never want to forget these versions of her.
Honestly. I should probably do an episode called the System for putting together a baby book because I’ve got the photos, the memories, the hilarious notes in my phone. Zero structure on how I’m saving them. Classic. Alright. Look, if you’re listening to this and thinking, okay, but what’s the actual system for the first year of motherhood?
I’m sorry to report. There isn’t one, not a tidy one. Anyway, just duct taped days and tiny rituals and the kind of grace you give yourself when nothing is going to plan. But love is the one thing that always shows up. The system is survival, and then slowly the system becomes joy. If you are in the thick of that first month or the foggy months after, please hear me.
It gets better, not instantly, not magically, but slowly, steadily. Beautifully. You won’t be in survival mode forever. One day you’ll look up and realize you are smiling more than you’re crying. You’re laughing again, you’re dreaming again. And if you need medication, support time, childcare, therapy, or rest, you deserve all of it.
You are worth all of it. You cannot from.
Not even a little. The things that help you function, whether that is sleep, medication, help with the baby, or a frozen dinner, those are not luxuries. They are lifelines. You are still a good mother when you ask for help. You are still a good partner when you need a break. Your wellness is not a distraction from motherhood.
It is a cornerstone of it to my husband. Eric, thank you. Watching you become a father this year has been one of the greatest joys of my life. You found your. In fatherhood, in the middle of all the chaos and crying and learning on the fly, you have been the calm when I couldn’t find mine. The comic relief, the steady presence new has shown up for me and for.
Ellie in every single way that matters, and I am so proud of the tiny family we’re building together. Thank you for taking the time to listen to this one. Friends, thank you so much for being here along this journey with me and Ellie Girl. Happy first birthday.
