a: Your new book is called The Mother Year. What inspired you to write it? Was there a particular moment or realization that made you think, “This story needs to be told?"

C: I never intended to write a book - I was just trying to make it through. Each night during that first year of motherhood, I whispered voice notes into my phone. Some were prayers, others breakdowns, or glimmers of joy I didn’t want to forget. Over time, I realized I was recording the words I most needed to hear. When I listened back, I thought, If I needed this, maybe someone else does too. That’s how The Mother Year was born - not from a plan, but from the sacredness of becoming. It’s a daily devotional, one page a day, to meet a mother exactly where she is (because I know how scarce time is during these seasons). 

a: You’ve mentioned that a mother is her baby’s entire world—their “earth.” What does it mean for you personally to “be” that grounding force?

C: To be my baby’s earth is to be their anchor in a world that’s bright, loud, and unpredictable. Especially after birth, when they’re emerging from the quiet warmth of the womb, I want to be their softness, their steadiness. It means offering my body as their first home, my arms as their sanctuary, and my presence as their truth. Some days I feel stretched thin, but then I remember - I don’t need to be perfect, just with them. Being their earth isn’t about holding everything together; it’s about being the place they return to, again and again.

a: You write, "We were designed by God to be connected to our babies..." How do you see that connection evolving once your children are born?

C: In pregnancy, we share breath, blood, and rhythm. After birth, we share emotion - our nervous systems still syncing even without the umbilical cord. I remember a quiet night, nursing my son, when he looked into my eyes and I felt an invisible thread deepen between us. The physical bond shifted, but the connection became even stronger. That’s the sacred design - it changes form, but never fades.

a: Those first few weeks with a newborn can feel like an emotional whirlwind. How did you navigate that landscape, and how did it shape The Mother Year?

C: I didn’t so much navigate it as surrender to it. I often think of that early season as the “newborn forest” - you can’t see the path ahead, you’re just so deep in it - the feedings, diaper changes, etc. - you are so needed in the thick of it all. I learned that I didn’t need to have all the answers. My intuition was a quiet whisper at first, but it grew stronger. I let myself cry, laugh, be frustrated, and fall apart. I stopped trying to “bounce back” and committed to “bounce forward” into this new life. I wrote in the in-between - at 2 a.m. feedings and sunrise resets. That emotional fog became the heartbeat of The Mother Year. It’s not a tidy book, because motherhood isn’t tidy - it’s sacred, wild, and true.

a: How do you balance motherhood, being a wife, your career, and your passions—especially when your baby feels like your whole world?

C: Balance isn’t a perfect formula - it’s a constant recalibration, and it’s something I’m still learning, especially now with two kids. Some days I’m fully in mother mode. Other days, I pour into my legal work or writing. My marriage is a partnership rooted in love and mutual respect, and while our time can be limited, we stay connected through honest check-ins and small acts of care. I’ve also learned to ask for help when I need it, which is still hard sometimes, but essential. I try to show up for what matters most in each moment and trust that it’s enough. Grace - for myself, my partner, and those around me - has become my greatest tool.

a: Your recent post highlights how divisive motherhood choices have become. How do we shift the narrative toward unity?

C: We need to shift from judgment to curiosity. In writing The Mother Year, I interviewed 100 mothers and this was so clear: Every mother is doing her best with what she knows, what she has, and what she’s carrying. If we could look at one another and say, “I see you. That must have been a hard decision. Tell me more,” we’d build bridges instead of walls. We all want to feel seen and supported. Unity begins when we stop competing and start connecting.

a: Mothers often feel pressure from social media and outside voices. Did you experience this? How did you stay true to your own path?

C: Absolutely. I felt pressure at times to appear composed when I was struggling inside - especially with things like breastfeeding, which didn’t come easily to me for my first baby. I thought that meant I was failing. Leading mama circles helped me return to the truth that it's natural to be learning alongside our babies, to be experimenting and finding our way through these tender times, one wobbly day at a time. In those spaces, when I asked mothers to share what was on their mind, the answers were real, honest, and in their stories, I felt less alone, I felt witnessed. 

a: Many moms wrestle with guilt or fear of getting it wrong. What advice would you give to a mom who feels stuck in that fear?

C: You will get it wrong sometimes - we all do. That’s not failure, it’s feedback. Mom guilt shows up even when you’re doing everything right - like taking a break. It’s sneakier than regular guilt, but it just means you care. Let it lead you back to presence, back to love. That’s what your child needs most - not perfection, just you.

a: As you launch The Mother Year, what do you hope readers walk away with?

C: I hope they feel less alone. I hope they feel softened, seen, and reminded that this season - no matter how tender or raw - is sacred. If I could leave them with one truth, it would be this: You’re not behind. You’re not broken. You’re becoming. This is matrescence - the profound, often invisible transformation of becoming a mother. Let every moment shape you. Let it make you more.