A New Kind of Normal


Day 10 hit me like a ton of bricks. I held on, as much as I could, to that bubble of newborn magic where time stands still and life flows like a dream, but this physical world operates, obviously, by the rules of physics: What comes up, must come down.

And you guys, down did my hormones surely plummet.

I opened my mouth to speak, and a squeak would follow, followed further by a gush of tears and incoherent wailings of “it’s over”, or some other similar yet totally illogical sentiment. I felt myself slipping further and further from touching all I can describe as Spirit, and landing further and harder back into the physical world; normal life creeping back like a harsh and abrasive inconvenience I tried so hard to push away.

Time is all we have, isn’t it? We’re born with nothing and we take nothing with us when we leave. If we’re lucky, we acquire along the way experiences like love and growth, strength and power, joy, resilience. We make families, we learn, we fail, we work hard, we gather money, we rest, we try hard to listen to the call of what makes us come alive. And when we’re busy making spaghetti bolognaise and walking dogs, driving to Officeworks and picking mint, paying our rates bill and making Bridgestone appointments to get our car serviced, life happens.

One day after one more day, until our time’s up.


It’s not hard to find happiness when the external events of our lives mirror magic: the birth of a child, the wedding day of two people in love, a holiday in paradise. Nobody has to dig deep to find joy when these experiences unfold; they are the natural icing to our otherwise standard cakes.

However, the wisest people know that happiness doesn’t lie within these external events of our lives. Happiness lies within us, period, and it’s up to us to find, create and cultivate the most joy we can in this strange thing we call life, of which all we’re given is time.

What I thought was over, I don’t know. Yes, her birth is over. Yes, that first magical week is over. But she’s here. She’s ours forever. And she’s filled me with so much unbearable love I can cry at just the thought of it. Life flows on, as it always has, as it always will, nestled within the school concerts and the grocery lists, the fights and the hard conversations in our kitchens.

And all of it is a gift.

So, some small happies in this – our new normal life with our precious Georgie Rose.


The love is real with these two. Ella’s dreams have well and truly come true.

And though Billy’s approach is less gush-gush-oh-my-god-look-at-her-toes-gush-gush, his adoration melts me. He will cradle her so softly, saying, “Mum, I’m being gentle,” before looking down at Georgie and in a sing-songy voice say to her: “Hello, I’m your big bruva. I’m Billy.”

Obviously, I can cope with zero things about the sibling love right now.

Having this guy home. 

And gradually (in between beers and lots of good company) doing small home projects that make us happy.

Choosing our girls’ hen house colours

And planning out our Spring garden with chutney and pickling dreams.

Watching our big girl’s first ever public aikido performance.

Which I still swoon about every time I see her in her white ghee, so focused, so strong and so dedicated.

Pretty blooms.

First walks

And burning Georgie’s scent:

Bergamot + Rose.

And this little scene I will never tire of…

Besides, it’s September. Did I mention it’s the three-month triage until Christmas? And all of my three baby’s matching Christmas jammies arrived?


More to come.


Well little things that make you smile
Dancing barefoot in the dark
If only I had strength to change your mind
Oh for what you need
You will not see
Choose your words before you speak, oh
Can you see that all you’ve got is time?

-Save Yourself, Kaleo.

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