I officially gave notice at work today. I just sent an email to my boss, and that was it. Done. My maternity leave ends on May 12, and I from that point on I will be officially a stay-at-home mom.

At the same time, I sent an email out to my MFA program list, looking for a mother’s helper to babysit Sami for a few hours a week while I try to write. I had an epiphany today. I am going to write my book, no matter what. Even if my agent abandons me and the smallest of small presses rejects me and I have to self-publish and orchestrate my own book tour. I feel a renewed sense of hope. Motherhood has dropped a bomb on my life, a beautiful bomb, but a bomb nonetheless. Now the smoke is clearing, and I am remembering the dreams of my pre-mommy self. They are still there. I will make my dream come true, even if the publishing world won’t.

I feel a sense of shame that I can’t do it all and be a mom - write my book, exercise an hour a day, meditate a half-hour a day, work on Sami’s baby book, organize my closet, cook the meals, and clean the house. If only I got up earlier, went to bed later, drank more coffee, did something different and better than I am doing, then I would the Efficient Mother. But no, I must admit that I need help. Help that I can’t really afford. One can only lean on friends so much, and I am afraid to ask for their help anyway.