I woke up this morning and it felt a little harder to be a mom. We all have days like this, but today felt like a different kind of hard. And I tell myself that I can do hard things, remind myself that I do them every day, and try to snap myself out of it. But today, it felt like I could hardly do hard things and almost felt like I didn’t even want to do them anymore.

As our family grows, our schedules get busier, the house gets louder, the mess gets messier, and we all can get lost in the commotion. However, time remains exactly the same… twenty-four hours in a day and we can’t stop the clock. So when no one is looking and I notice an opportunity, I slow down.

I’m 39 years old, almost 39 weeks pregnant with my 5th baby, and my oldest child recently turned 5. Occasionally, during a brief moment to myself, I feel a kick in my belly after a busy day as I sit down to rest and I just think about this simple fact of life… I’m 39 years old, almost 39 weeks pregnant with my 5th baby, at the height of my career and only at the start of my potential. Sometimes I smile to myself, sometimes I close my eyes and have to take a deep breath, and sometimes I shake my head in disbelief.

On my fifth go-around, what I’ve learned is that it all figures itself out. It has to. So we stay flexible and remain adaptable because no amount of nesting will prepare me or us for how our family will change as we welcome another baby.

A second faint pink line appeared. This cannot be accurate, I am on birth control. When I told my husband, he didn’t believe it either and came home after work with a handful of pregnancy tests. Ten minutes later, 2 pink lines, a happy face and a blue plus sign lit up next to the toilet.

“Yes. YES, YOU CAN. You just need help, Mav,” I reassure him as I guide his feet onto my thigh like a step stool. At the next, platform, again, I redirect his can’t. You can, you just need help. You can, you just have to try again. It wasn’t until he said can’t for the third or fourth time that I threatened that open jump was going to be cut short and we were all going home. It felt like the nearby parents at this enormous trampoline warehouse suddenly got quiet when I lost my patience.

They may not be able to recall one memory from Greece years from now, but those synapses are manifesting themselves in ways that I cannot provide in the comfort of our lives in Pennsylvania. It’s a lot like magic.

My heart starts to break, but rather than breakdown, I go on and ask her what color everyone was. Daddy, Naomi and the au pair are brown. Maverick and Zuri are white. Mommy and Skylar are golden. So she did associate golden to skin color. I was wrong.

Naomi not only did not prefer me, but if you read my last blog post, she started a phase where she wanted nothing to do with me. In fact, after one straight week of missing bedtime, Naomi stopped calling me mommy altogether.

In the blink of a week, my babies were different, growing and defining themselves at lightning speed.

When Ricky married me, he knew exactly what he was getting into. I don’t cook. I don’t bake. I don’t clean. And I don’t fold my laundry. I am not domestic and he loved me nevertheless.

I am so blessed that I find it somewhat ridiculous. I am young, healthy and educated. Although, I am a first generation Asian-American immigrant, I really only have first world problems. And I have made the American dream my every day reality. Nevertheless, a part of me is constantly searching for more.

"Raw and real, this memoir by Felicia Thai Heath recounts her tumultuous childhood as the daughter of a teenaged immigrant mother and a prominent gangster. Her story will grip you from the first page, as she sweeps you through the hardships she and her mother and siblings endured in a life that few can imagine. Outstanding debut."
—Lyn Liao Butler, author of Red Thread of Fate and The Tiger Mom’s Tale

Without hesitation, I know what I want for them and I know how I want them to view themselves. Therefore, If a position of influence presents itself. I must take it. I must take it, take it seriously and flourish. Because before I know it, Skylar, Naomi and Zuri will find out that this is a man’s world. If I walk in my purpose and raise them well, nothing about that will intimidate them.

I need rest, I need inspiration, I need self-care, I need support. With a growing family, I may need it more often or in longer periods and in more meaningful ways. I am beyond lucky to have a partner that understands how I function.

For one reason or another, parts of me left forever and others resonated. I was not too little or too much of Asian or American. I was building confidence. I still consider myself an Asian-American woman, and in the United States, that can be anything. I am unique and feel empowered to embrace this.

Creating this blog amongst other things keeps me humble and reminds me of the love that exists right in front of me when I cannot see clearly. Most importantly this includes my husband.

I ask myself, “What exactly would I feel guilty about?” Sometimes temporarily putting me first is what allows me to put them first forever. Whatever your situation is as a mama, if your feeling ‘mom guilt,’ just take a step back, look at the beautiful family that you are building. Take the power back.

Every year, late in winter, I feel anxious with the need to get away. Get away from the early sunsets, away from the same route to work and away from the same errands.