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Ever since coming home from the hospital last week, the days are starting to blend together. I even have to pull out my calendar and count day by day every time someone asks how old the twins are! It’s been a chaotic and blissful week all at once.
I wanted to return to what I’m calling my “origin story” this week. Two newsletters ago, I began recounting the story of how I became a writer. I stumbled upon the practice when I was only nine years old, but have been enthralled ever since. What started as a fourth grader writing short stories for fun has grown into something so much more. Since then, I’ve explored writing blog posts, flash fiction, creative nonfiction, legal memos, and more. I have fine tuned my craft to fit what seems like one hundred different scenarios, and every day, I have more ideas still.
In addition to sharing a little bit more about how I became the writer I am today, this newsletter also divulges some of my “favorites” that are getting me through the postpartum phase of life, a check-in on how my mission to lower my screen time is going, and more!
Chapter 2: The Poet
This is a continuation of the story of how I became a writer and why I write. To read Chapter 1, check out Self-Care Sunday #3.
At the end of my fourth grade year, just before my family’s escape back to North Carolina, Mr. Burns sent us students home with our report cards. It was essentially a standardized form, where teachers could check, “Satisfactory” or “Excellent” or “Needs Improvement” next to different subject areas, along with our actual grades. My parents had always rewarded my siblings and I for good grades, whether it was getting to choose a restaurant for the family to eat at or simply visiting Baskin Robbins, so all I really cared about was seeing all A’s. Mission accomplished. But after my quick perusal of the report card to ensure that I could get two scoops of rainbow sherbet on a cake cone, I noticed a handwritten note at the bottom. It read:
“It has been a pleasure to have Megan in class. She is bright and a talented writer, and I wouldn’t be surprised if she publishes a book by the time she is eighteen!”
I was stunned. Even though I had enjoyed writing “books” with my friends throughout the year, and I appreciated all of the time Mr. Burns allowed me to write, a part of me still viewed it all as a silly pastime. Even though I was only ten years old, I was already convinced of my limits. In my mind, writing books is what someone like J.K. Rowling or C.S. Lewis did, not Megan Eldredge. As an avid reader, I knew better than to view myself as being on the same level as all of the other authors whose work I read. They were adults, they were professionals, while I was a ten year old kid.
I quietly tucked the praise away in the back of my mind, the way you stick a fortune from a fortune cookie in your wallet, never to be seen again. My family moved back to the South, and I was the “new kid” for the third time in elementary school. The transition was not as smooth as I had dreamt it up in my head, and without Mr. Burns or any of my friends who were determined to co-author a book with me, my writing slowly stopped. That is, until sixth grade.
Starting in middle school, I was placed in an advanced program that had me two years ahead in school. This meant that I skipped several years of math, science, and English, and jumped straight to eighth grade material. I still remember the first day of pre-Algebra, where the teacher wrote “x+5=9” on the board and we were asked to solve for x. Everyone around me instantly knew the answer, whilst I was inwardly panicking. What the crap was a letter doing in the math problem?? What does x need me to solve for them? Skipping several years of school unfortunately marked the beginning of my grudge against mathematics as a whole, and I always struggled to keep up.
But then there was English class. I might not have been a star pupil in pre-Algebra, and I didn’t have the photosynthesis song memorized that many of my classmates knew from elementary school, but I did still excel at reading and writing. When our teacher mentioned at the end of class one day that we would begin a new unit focused on writing the following week, I was instantly intrigued.
We returned to school on Monday and kicked off our new unit by reading, “The Tyger” by William Blake. I hadn’t read much poetry before, and I found myself captivated by the rhyme schemes, repetition, alliteration, and flowery language contained in all of the poems we studied.
I giggled at the simplicity of, “This Is Just To Say” by William Carlos Williams, and at the cleverness of, “The Red Wheelbarrow” by the same author. I drowned in the words of, “Annabel Lee” by Edgar Allen Poe, and fell so in love with the poem that I attempted to memorize it. I was fascinated by the poems of Shakespeare, and impressed by the close attention paid to syllable counts in order to correctly write in iambic pentameter. I had thought about my writing before, but I had never thought about it as deeply as these poets seemed to, and so I picked up my pen and embarked on a new journey: becoming a poet.
I bought a college-ruled, black and white composition notebook from Dollar General and wrote, “Meg’s Poems” in my most careful penmanship on the cover. I numbered all of the pages and left enough blank pages at the beginning to create a Table of Contents. And I got to work. I brought that notebook with me everywhere, and filled its pages with poems of all varieties over the course of several years. I’ve frequently seen the writing prompt inquiring what lost possession you would reclaim if you could, and I always think of this notebook, lost somewhere in a cardboard box or under a bed. Once I transcribed all of its contents into a Word document in college, the notebook disappeared, and I never saw it again. But what I learned from keeping that notebook has stayed with me forever.
To be continued…
Week #5 Favorites & Highlights
We are officially in survival mode over here as we adjust to caring for newborn twins. Luckily, my husband and I are best friends before all else, so we’ve been able to find the humor in all of it. Yes, we’re sleep deprived, but somehow we’re still finding things to laugh about through the nights, and tiny ways to take care of each other during the day, whether that’s helping the other squeeze in a nap or simply finding pockets of time to spend quality time together. In addition to that, here are some of our favorites that are making survival mode bearable:
- Gold eye masks. I laughed when I open the box because the packaging says that these, “are like an energy drink for your eyes” and that could not be more true! I am currently pumping every three hours, even through the night, which means that I am rarely getting more than two hours of sleep at a time. Although mentally, you get used to it, your body does not, and the bags under my eyes have grown darker by the day. These eye masks are extremely soothing on my sore eyes, and are a fun way to feel like I’m spoiling myself even though I’m exhausted.
- Photo share albums. My camera roll now looks like a fan page for my twins, and can you blame me? I know from experience just how fleeting this age is, and before I know it, the newborn days will be gone! I feel that way and I see them every day, so I know many of my friends and family feel it even more. To save me the time it would take to text photos to my parents, siblings, grandparents, and friends individually, I started a photo share album with everybody. It has been so fun to share photos as I take them, and everyone is able to comment and like images as well! I have found this to be a great alternative to posting a bunch of photos on social media, while still keeping all of my loved ones in the loop. If you, too, are trying to minimize your kids’ digital footprints but also want fun ways to stay in touch with those that are long distance, this is the perfect solution!
- Walks in the park. I really struggled when I was postpartum with my first daughter over five years ago. At only twenty years old, I don’t think I was adequately prepared for everything I would go through physically, mentally, and emotionally after giving birth. Although I struggled a lot, one thing I remember that helped immensely was getting outside to go for a walk every day. If it was raining or too cold, I would walk around a store instead. But just packing up my baby and getting out of the house to move my body even once a day had an amazing positive impact on my mental health. This time around, I knew that the chances of postpartum anxiety and depression would be even higher since I was having twins. Luckily, I have been doing okay these past two weeks or so, but once I started my daily walks, I felt even better. Whether you’re postpartum or just feeling down, I would encourage you to get outside for a walk, even if it’s just for five minutes. I promise you’ll feel better!
Screen Time Confessional
Last week, screen time was up because of our extended hospital stay, but now that we’re home, the opposite is true.
Screen time was down 34%! This was somewhat surprising to discover, because with all of the feedings and late-night pumping sessions, I was certain that I was racking up tons of hours on my phone. Especially since I am pumping through the night, while my husband handles the feedings, it has been all too easy to reach for my phone and mindlessly scroll social media while waiting for the timer to run out.
I indulged a few times, but I started keeping my textbooks and scriptures on my nightstand, and tried to reach for those just as often. I never thought I would find myself studying the Equal Protection Clause of the Fourteenth Amendment at three o’clock in the morning, but when you’re a mom in law school, you do what you have to!
Turning to books instead of my phone when I could helped me feel a little more grounded throughout the week, which is especially important now that I’m postpartum and all vuLnErAbLe. The last thing my mental health needs right now is to be playing the comparison game on Instagram. It’s still on my to do list to delete social media from my phone entirely… but we’ll get there.
Self-Care Tip of the Week
At least some of the time, put yourself FIRST.
So far one of the hardest parts of having newborn twins has been when they are both crying and need me at the same time, but I can only tend to one of them. I do my best to juggle them both, such as rocking one rocker with my foot for one twin while I hold snd feed the other, but sometimes it simply cannot be done, and one twin has to wait. And then other times, one or both of them will need me, but I also need something.
When this happens, I’ve learned this week that it’d ok if sometimes I take care of myself before taking care of someone else. It often only takes a few minutes. This concept is already somewhat familiar to us, because we’ve all heard on airplanes to first put on our own mask before assisting others.
Even if you don’t have a newborn (or two), there are still instances you can practice self-care by putting yourself first. For me, yes, this means sometimes taking five minutes to pee or eat before picking up a baby, but maybe for you, it will look like spending the first few minutes of the day in your thoughts rather than on your phone. Or maybe it will look like declining an invitation to a social event because you really are drained, rather than attending out of obligation.
Whichever way you choose to do it, I would encourage everybody to try and find even small ways this upcoming week to place your needs first.
Thank you all for joining me for another week! Between preparing for finals at school and adjusting to life with two newborns, I have been slowly making progress on writing out the twins’ birth story and cannot wait to share it all with you. In the meantime, touch some grass, drink some water, and take care of yourself! ❤
Step by Step Parenting 