Nursing, motherhood, and the courage to dream

How my daughter's stubbornness led to my creative freedom

I was counting down the days I would finally get my breasts back.

Not a single parenting book prepared me for the sensation of my chest swelling with milk; the oatmeal with flax seed breakfasts and nine fenugreek pills per day to keep my supply up; or how my clients didn’t give a shit that my baby was in the other room, wailing for sustenance. Of course, I wanted to bond with my daughter. But I also wanted to grow my business and sleep for over four hours at a time and go to the dentist without worry of starving my child.

But I had gotten my wish for an independent, opinionated little girl who never learned to suckle from a bottle; nor showed the typical signs of weaning around her 1st birthday. At least by then, naps and bedtimes were (mostly) consistent. We started daily walks around the neighborhood; me weaving a stroller up and down hills that left me gasping for air. I selected projects that allowed for (and welcomed!) minimal meetings. And the most important of all: I swapped my phone for a Kindle; concluding that if I was going to spend four hours a day nursing, I should spend it reading books instead of doom scrolling on social media.

It’s as if my daughter knew how I’d been writing in my dreams for years; that if I was going to spend any free time away from her, it should be on the stories I wanted to tell. I must have spent 95% of those nursing sessions dreaming up the universe that’s the basis of my book(s). If I hadn’t leaned into nursing and listened to what she was trying to say, there’s a high probability I’d still be chasing a dream I never wanted.

Recently, I reached out to a coach for help to revamp the plot structure of my book. “I wish I worked with more mothers,” she said on our intro call before revealing herself as the primary caregiver to her (soon-to-be) two children. As hard as it’s been to coordinate our schedules amidst a three-hour time difference, it’s encouraging to know that I’m not the only mom who insists on this style of parenting—calls during nap times, deep work sessions in the early mornings and late nights, screens and snacks in times of sickness and general “Oh my god, can you give me five minutes to reply to an email?!” Sometimes I yearn for the fortitude of a full-time working mother, forking over the equivalent of a mortgage for forty hours of uninterrupted work.

But then I think back on those 3 am nursing sessions and how I learned to embrace the silence; my veins flooding with oxytocin as my daughter suckled away. I have no desire to revisit the sleepless nights; the chapped nipples; or the eczema on my hands that lingered for months because I was unwilling to take medication that cut my daughter off from the antibodies she needed. At least now I know that my daughter was giving me the gift I didn’t know I needed: the courage to dream.

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WRITE 👩🏽‍💻

For the last six weeks, I’ve been drowning in StoryGrid structure, trying to nail down the seven key scenes of my book. I finally made some headway on Version 5 when my coach left me a comment reading, “It’s getting there!” 😅 I’m still a week or two out from a full Inside Outline. But it finally feels like I have enough material to draft scenes without working myself into a giant plot hole.

The only silver lining in taking this long to nail down the beginnings of an outline? It’s given me time to update my writing portfolio! If you’ve been dying for a sneak peek of the book, check out:

• This short story, featuring the two side characters whose wedding brings together my two main characters.

• An old chapter, foreshadowing the end of my main characters’ romantic relationship.

• A recently deleted scene, depicting the first encounter between my two main characters.

LIFE 🏡

Earlier this month, my husband took our daughter camping for the weekend, leaving me 48 blissful hours to do whatever the hell I wanted. So I devoured two books. Wandered the aisles of the grocery store. Went shopping with my best friend, talking to her for five uninterrupted hours. It was exactly the break I needed, because summer’s been a blur of play dates and birthday parties and I am perpetually behind on laundry and when did my four-year-old revert to being a baby who demands to be spoon fed?!

BALANCE 🧘🏻‍♀️

I didn’t realize how much I needed my yoga practice until I dropped a wooden cutting board on my left shin—resulting in five weeks off the mat; increased anxiety, clumsiness, and rage; and the realization that thinking about my story is just as important as writing it. For someone who once used a stubbed toe as an excuse to skip a workout, this is a surprising development.

That said: don’t take this as a PSA to do yoga—I suspect hiking, meditation, and running would garner similar results. The point is to develop a daily habit that taps your brain into the universe, transforming the “I don’t know” into “But I know how to find the answer.” I’ve lost count of how many epiphanies I’ve had in the middle of a vinyasa sequence, and that, to me, is well-worth the effort.

What is your movement practice of choice in getting unstuck?
Leave me a comment and let me know.

READING 📚

In The Likely Event by Rebecca Yarros. The romance-centric synopsis does not do it justice. This is a masterwork in how to layer internal arcs and suspense subplots to drive a love story forward. Plus, it’s free on Kindle this month! I’ve already pre-ordered my paperback copy, and put my name on the library for queue for her fantasy bestseller, Fourth Wing. I suspect my reaction will be similar to when Harry Potter debuted—resistance, followed by a dash to the local Barnes and Noble on sequel release day.

STREAMING ⏯

This NPR Tiny Desk concert with Babyface. This set list could have easily been two hours long with the number of Top 10 hits he’s written and/or produced. My brain may have exploded when he revealed his production credit on Fall Out Boy’s “Thx fr th Mmrs” (who knew?) and his insecurities about his singing voice. It’s proof that even with 50 Grammy nominations, imposter syndrome never goes away.

COOKING 👩🏽‍🍳

It’s summer, so all I seem to crave is my favorite smoothie bowl. Add 1/2 cup ice, 1 banana, 1 cup mixed berries, 1 small cooked beet (I buy the ones already prepped at the grocery store) 2 TB PBFfit powder, 1 TB ground flax seed, and a splash of non-dairy milk into a blender. Blend until smooth, using the tamper to push down the ingredients. Pour into a bowl and garnish with coconut chips, cacao nibs, and bee pollen. It satisfies my sweet tooth, balances my root chakra, and some days, is the only way I can sneak a vegetable into my daughter’s diet.

Hope you’re having a great summer,

Sophia :)

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P.S. In case you missed it, here’s last month’s essay on how an Uber driver helped me come to terms with my Vietnamese American identity.