Motherhood or Spiritual Awakening?

My Motherhood Journey (aka: The Accidental Spiritual Awakening)

My journey into motherhood was, well… a lot like my life—a rollercoaster of joy and chaos, laced with cosmic jokes and spiritual plot twists.

I was a whoopsie mom.

I had just flown back from England, freshly out of a same-sex relationship, and somehow found myself impulsively reuniting with my ex. It felt like one of those “soulmate reunion” stories—two hearts rekindled by fate. Fast-forward six weeks: I’m throwing up in a movie theater bathroom, trying not to panic because earlier that morning, I’d decided to leave said boyfriend. Why? Because I’d finally realized his drinking was, well… a thing.

Thank you, England, for recalibrating my definition of “problem drinking” (not in a good way).

Deciding whether to have the baby or not was one of those moments where you know your life is about to split into “before” and “after.” I wasn’t ready. We were broke. And I knew better than to believe a baby could fix a relationship—I’d watched that hope fail spectacularly in my own family.

I remember going to lunch with my sister, in full-on panic mode, desperately trying to get into Planned Parenthood to “take care of this problem” ASAP. She looked at me with wide eyes and said, “But I could be an aunt.”

That sentence changed my entire life.

Why? Maybe because I always wanted my sister’s love. Maybe, deep down, I thought giving her a niece would finally earn it. Or maybe… just maybe… my soul stepped in and whispered, this is your path.

When I told my boyfriend, he cried. Not with fear—he was in. He promised sobriety and a better future, the kind of vows we make when our soul lights up and momentarily overrules the ego.

Pregnancy was rough. Life was harder. And I was terrified I’d raise my daughter the way my mother raised me.

Books became my lifeline.

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📘 Buddhism for Mothers by Sarah Naphtali

My dear friend Brook handed me this gem and told me, “Just flip it open on a bad day—it always gives the right advice.” It was my pre-oracle card era, apparently. One day, in full meltdown mode, I opened it to a page that said (and I’m paraphrasing):

Your children picked you. For exactly who you are. And exactly what you’re providing.

That page changed everything. I stopped trying to be who I thought they needed—and started being myself.

Lesson learned: Be you, so they can be them.

👉 Find the book here

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📘 The Proper Care and Feeding of Husbands by Dr. Laura Schlessinger

Yes, that Dr. Laura. And yes, I was a liberal woman listening religiously to a conservative radio host. Why? Because I knew I had no clue how to do marriage well. Once my husband got sober, I realized—oh no—it wasn’t all him. I had healing to do too.

This book helped me redefine my role in marriage and gave us five beautiful years with our kids before the 2008 housing crash blew our lives apart.

(But that’s another story for another blog.)

👉 Here’s the book

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📘 The Explosive Child by Dr. Ross Greene

When my son was five and throwing wild tantrums before holidays, my mom was convinced he was bipolar. (Again, he was five.) A client of mine said, “Oh no, that’s totally normal. He’s just overwhelmed by the emotions of surprise and excitement.”

Mind. Blown.

This book taught me to stop fighting him and start understanding his emotional world. Total game changer.

👉 Get the book

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📘 The Gifts of Imperfect Parenting + The Gift of Vulnerability by Brené Brown

Driving from Bellingham to Portland, I put on The Gifts of Imperfect Parenting. My husband was moving out while I was gone. I was full of shame and heartbreak. Brené’s words felt like a warm, grounding hug.

Later, The Power of Vulnerability hit me with a realization: I thought about my feelings a lot—but I wasn’t actually feeling them. That was the portal to my Higher Self. Love, truth, and healing flooded in.

👉 Get the Parenting Book

👉 Get the Vulnerability Book

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📘 The Dance of Anger + Attached

Post-divorce, I didn’t want to keep repeating the same relationship patterns. A counselor handed me The Dance of Anger and Attached, and boom—I started seeing my trauma clearly.

My fairytale “everything-is-amazing” narrative was actually a coping mechanism. I had no idea that early childhood trauma, alcoholic caregivers, and a narcissistic mother were still running my show from the shadows.

Red flags? Couldn’t see them.

Pain? Couldn’t sit with it.

Feelings? Numb.

Consistency? Non-existent.

It was the root cause of why I never felt safe—and why health, love, and money felt so out of reach.

👉 Get Attached

👉 Get The Dance of Anger

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📘 The Complete Enneagram by Beatrice Chestnut

Eventually, I stopped reading books about how to be a great mom and started reading about how to be me.

Authentic. Whole. Real.

Because in a world that rewards the mask, being your true self is a radical act.

The Enneagram helped me understand myself—and my kids—in profound ways. It was like turning on the lights in a house I’d been fumbling through in the dark.

👉 Explore the Enneagram

In the end…

Motherhood wasn’t about being perfect. It was about being present. Healing. Growing. Becoming.

It’s funny. I set out to learn how to be a “good mom,” and ended up learning how to simply be myself.

And maybe, just maybe, that’s what being a good mom really is.