About five years ago, my eldest son was enjoying the last few weeks of summer before starting kindergarten.

One night, while reading a bedtime story together, it hit me—he wasn’t recognizing any words when I encouraged him to try. Not even the simple ones.

That familiar wave of mom-guilt crept in. Somewhere along the way, I’d absorbed the idea that kids should be able to read a few basic words before kindergarten. I worried that I hadn’t focused enough on “sight words”—those little connecting helper words like the, and, is, to, was and so on.

After some quick research, I learned these high-frequency words appear so often in books—and don’t always follow regular phonics rules—that it helps when children memorize them by sight.

So, I dove in. We started reading together every night, pointing out the sight words and recalling them as they appeared on the next page. I figured if we repeated them enough times, it would eventually click.

But it didn’t. Not right away.

Then a wise friend told me something that stuck: “When it comes to learning, kids are like popcorn—they pop when they’re ready.”

And that really clicked for me.

My son went off to kindergarten, and in his own time, began recognizing and reading those sight words. Before long, he was reading full books on his own, curled up before bed, softly reading aloud just for the joy of it.

That moment shifted something in me. “Have a little more trust in the universe,” I whispered to myself.

My firstborn taught me to have faith in the natural rhythm of learning and development. But then—my universe tested me again. With twins. Boy-girl twins, who I’ve been told countless times not to compare to one another. And yet, that’s easier said than done.

When you give life to two beings who once shared a womb—who’ve been in sync since their very first heartbeat—it’s hard not to compare. But as fraternal twins, they only share a birthday.

They’ve always had their own pace, their own way. My boy twin, Liam, was born one minute earlier and has often been weeks (sometimes months) ahead in things like crawling, walking and coordination. Mila, on the other hand, has always led with personality—sass, confidence and independence. She’s the boss, and he’s her biggest supporter.

My husband and I sometimes catch ourselves comparing their development to where our eldest was at that age and then remind ourselves that it’s neither constructive nor fair. They had completely different starting lines.

Twins often show what’s called developmental trading—one may advance in language while the other excels in physical or social skills, balancing each other out over time. They also tend to communicate more with each other than with adults, using shared cues, gestures or even their own mini language (which I can absolutely attest to!).

It’s one of my favourite parts of being a twin mom—even if it sometimes makes their speech appear delayed when, in truth, they’re communicating beautifully in their own way.

Now, a few months into kindergarten, I’ve noticed some of those same old worries creeping back in—especially around reading. But this time, I’m doing my best to quiet them. Because what I’ve learned about learning is that our children are our teachers, too. They’ve taught me to slow down, to have faith and to trust the process of popcorn—because they’re always learning. And they’ll pop when they’re ready.

This might seem like a silly question, but it is one successful blogger and mompreneur Natasha Mills had to ask herself during her transition from an over-worked sales rep to a successful blogger, influencer and brand ambassador.

Mills (or @mommamillsblog as she is known to her more than 46,000 Instagram followers), shares the ups and downs of her journey to make a career pivot, find purpose and evolve into the role of “mom” as a recovering high achiever.

As an only child, I craved praise from my parents. Throughout the school years, my worth felt dependent on the grades I got. After that, validation and wealth came in the form of doing a good job.

The job? A sales career that began one month after graduating university. I received a bachelor’s degree in psychology with a business minor and then landed the title PepsiCo sales manager for Vancouver Island.

For seven years, I drove the island, setting up displays in grocery stores for every season from spring to Super Bowl. I had no commission structure as an incentive to push hard. What drove my ambition was a reliable salary and the chance to grow within the company, but what happened next rocked me.

I surpassed sales targets and worked innovatively, earning myself the reward Sales Manager of the Year. Soon after, a promotional position became available on the mainland. I interviewed well for it, but the job went to someone already living there who was less qualified. This rejection crushed me.

From that point on, I just existed in the role and drove the Island without a spark. I wanted to leave Victoria and started interviewing with various companies, but then I met my husband.

For the first time in my life, I felt the steady hand of someone I could see forever with. We fell in love very fast, moved in together, and I got pregnant within five months.

When I held my first-born and felt his beating heart against mine, I was born again. I felt a passion light up inside me that I didn’t know was possible.

Continuing with the sales role, I felt the growing monotony of tedious, unfulfilling work and decided that I desperately needed a creative outlet. I loved to write, and I loved being a mom, so I published a blog to share about the things I was going through, from mental health to navigating potty training. The signs were there to leave the job, but I ignored them. However, the universe has a funny way of making you leap when it’s time. The company did some major cutbacks, and I was let go on a severance package.

I had my son, my love and a new passion project with six months to explore my blog and social media opportunities while being financially insured. I loved the creativity to express myself online, both through images and video, but especially through the authenticity of writing. I got to show up in a way that felt so liberating, while also applying a skillset from corporate to make brand deals and collaborations. Money wasn’t coming in fast enough though, and the time had come to job hunt.

I landed a job in a new industry of medical device sales and doubled my previous salary. It was a cut-throat industry of demanding travel and sales targets.

Then, just as I was starting to feel “wealthy,” the world shut down for the pandemic and I found out I was expecting twins.

Everything seemed to crash down around me in both terror and disbelief. Once the twins entered the world, I saw life through a very different lens. I experienced undeniable bliss, but also staggering exhaustion and isolation. I felt compelled to share real and raw emotions from the heart—connecting in solidarity with a broader motherhood community online.

My following started to grow, and I felt another fire light up inside of me. I channelled that same ambitious drive that I had from corporate, to promote myself into a world of entrepreneurship.

I’ve had four successful years of progressive growth with aligned brand partnerships and even created an online course for aspiring digital creators. Since deciding to go all in and decline going back to the path of financial certainty, I’ve always asked myself, what does wealth mean to me?

I realized that from the standpoint of career, it’s having the freedom and flexibility to evolve in ambition, while prioritizing motherhood first. It’s in sharing my messy, imperfect truths—and being accepted, just as I am.

Wealth is when I’m present with my children, grateful for their health and all the memories we hold in our hearts. Wealth is having a loyal, loving husband to share every season of the journey with.

Wealth to me, is having the most important title of all: Mom.

I just finished a 90-minute Zoom appointment with a psychiatrist seeking help. It was possibly the most important call of my life.

It wasn’t easy.

I had to advocate for this support through my family doctor—which I am grateful for—but truly, it was a struggle.

I had to be consistent. Following up on what felt like trivial trial-and-error suggestions for medications and their amounts, stopping and starting for years.

I always felt pushback at getting a referral for a psychiatrist. Either it was “waitlist was too long” or “I should try these other things first.” If I’m being honest, I didn’t feel seen— but that’s due in part to our overworked system.

I’ve tried addressing the issues holistically while also blaming hormones and things like Premenstrual Dysphoric Disorder (PMDD) which are probably part of the problem.

But finally, six months ago, after two grueling years of following up on my anxiety as a twin mom of three, my doctor connected me to someone within mental health who listened for a quick assessment. At the time, the intensity of my anxiousness was so great that she was able to expedite the process from a full year’s wait to today.

So I finally got to meet with the psychiatrist and she was fantastic. This call was the type of dedicated care I wish could be accessible to everyone— especially mothers.

We spoke of my early childhood, traumas and anxieties. How they have seemingly translated into why I too often feel dysfunctional today.

“I can tell you are strong,” the psychiatrist reassured me, “and that you just carry on with life. You’ve adapted to being high functioning with high anxiety, but it must be exhausting doing so.”

I felt seen.

What baffles me is how difficult it was to make this call happen. To finally receive a clinical diagnosis of three distinct types of anxiety after nearly 34 years of life.

The silver lining is that the demands of motherhood were the very thing to dismantle my ability to “just cope” in life and drive transformative self-improvement instead.

We have a plan and I feel liberated.

Some might call my revealing all of this as oversharing. I feel called to enlighten anyone struggling to advocate hard for yourself.

If I can vulnerably support just a handful of you in the process of seeking help for my mental health, then I feel fulfilled.

I wish I wasn’t so irritable at my kids and could be more like how they ask of me.

The fulfillment is astounding; motherhood is the purest state of living that I’ve ever experienced— but loving them is unconditional and it comes with many challenges.

I can be patient and mindfully compassionate to a point— but I can also regretfully snap at my wits end.

I see a lot of posts going around about early childhood trauma and how to speak, act and do better for our children.

I agree that in an ideal world it’s true— we should continually rephrase, nurture and encourage *calmly* regardless of any behaviour.

What I don’t agree with is this implied accusation that we are damaging our children if we don’t adhere consistently to this standard of new-age parenting.

I think all we can do is try and aim for our best every day, but I refuse to feel shame:

For my lack of patience when overstimulated.

For my cyclically-imbalanced mood swings.

For utilizing screen time for sanity.

For the projection of my own childhood wounds that I still need time to heal.

For abrupt frustration when we know the older ones know better and it feels like they’re testing us at a cellular level.

I think we should apologize to them often, and after reflecting, manage those big feelings with compassion as best we can when they come up again

I won’t apologize though, for being a human being in my evolution of parenting—it’s a damn hard Olympic sport.

I think we need more real-life mothers sharing how hard this is all actually is with unapologetic solidarity and a side of forgot-to-gentle-parent.

We need to agree that we all have different levels of tolerance on different days for the exact same behaviour.

We need to know that when we are being tested, that it’s not a time to feel judgment, instead a time to feel seen.

I think we must learn in hindsight and discern teachings from our children; to look at challenges as an opportunity to not repeat history, but also to see our own instabilities as indicators to find more support and seek self-care.

We must know that we don’t always have to do everything right in order to be a good mom. We are, and we need to put ourselves first, too.

I hope this message helps normalize any fear or sadness parents are going through in transitions, especially when other younger siblings are involved.

A Poem for My Eldest

Sometimes I forget how little you are

because of how fast you’ve grown. Sometimes I “expect” too much

considering everything you’ve shown. You are my eldest, so big and so brave. And yet

we’re at a crossroads once more A reality check when time slowed down

and we couldn’t get you out the door. School can be daunting and so can transitions

I see it now loud and clear You need me like they do, that nurturing attention normalizing everything that you fear So I keep in my glovebox this weathered old photo the one they taped up at your cubby Those days I’d drop you off you held on so tightly letting it go was so hard on mommy Then I felt it all flood back in with warm tears and tight embrace my sensitive little boy who’s still in there Mum needed this reminder To slow down and tell you I’m here, I love you your heart, we will repair

A summertime experience to remember

From the moment we found out we were having twins, I had a preconceived notion that we wouldn’t be doing much anymore.

Late in the pregnancy, I remember taking our older son Hudson out for dinner and thinking “This is it. Likely our last enjoyable supper of freedom. It will never look or feel like this again.”

Fast forward nearly two years later and I was right. Nothing is ever easy anymore and it’s usually always a complete spectacle to do anything out in public. It’s become all that I know, though. As twin +1 parents we have to constantly keep tabs on six arms, six legs and three very mobile strong-willed bodies. It’s a lot—all of it—but what I’ve come to realize is that for every one of our challenges comes equal parts reward.

That’s how I feel about our recent camping trip to Hornby Island, BC.

It’s a place I grew up visiting almost every summer with friends, enjoying every ounce of its laidback tropical vibe without a care or responsibility in the world.

Hornby is peaceful, calm, cool and collected. It’s where my husband and I first travelled to in our early days of dating. We had set up a tent at the oceanside campsite and blissfully floated away on the crystal-clear shallow blue waters.

The island holds an immense sentimental value and so I thought that this would be the year to go again and celebrate my husband’s birthday—with the support of my dad—as it was Father’s Day too! So we rented an RV, we had grandpa’s extra hands and we had the ambition. I will say I definitely braced myself for work and set my standards quite low for any form of relaxation. I don’t think anything could have prepared us for what was to come, though.

Getting there wasn’t so bad. It’s a few hours’ drive and two small ferries to arrive at this paradise, all while being first-timers towing a large sleeps-six trailer. The twins had their nap and we got there at a good time and lucked out with beautiful weather for the majority of our stay.

Our home base was the same campsite as always—the one with two-minute loonie showers and outhouses for bathrooms. It’s only a short walk away from the stunning Tribune Bay Beach so I was all for roughing it on a budget.

The hardest part of trip? Taking all of the chaos and stress from home and seemingly amplifying it in one-sixteenth of the space. It was a humbling challenge not for the faint of heart, each and every one of the five nights, six days.

It was meals eaten on the ground. It was endless diapers. It was a questionable-family-hygiene-type of animalistic vacationing.

The biggest fail of the trip? Not bringing the twins’ travel beds along. My husband said there wasn’t room—and while this did seem true—they turned out to be crucial.

In place of the pack-and-plays was a lower bunk bed with a makeshift rail guard enclosure for the twins to sleep together. My daughter figured out how to break out of that after the first few sleepless nights of adjustment.

We never knew if she was finally asleep, or if she was standing up in the trailer walking around like a little ghost in her sleep sack. Eventually the twins found their rhythm and cuddled up together. This was the first time they’d done this, other than newborn naps, and the visual made everything worth it. It was the sweetest thing.

The most important realization of the trip? Not having thought through safe containment (for sanity) or ideas for daily distraction.

I spent way too much time thinking about meals and snacks and not enough communicating with my husband about how each day would go for entertainment, how they would eat their meals and what to do for naps. An octagon enclosure saved us—and so did the beautiful beach—but we could have done so much more to prepare for how each day would look. You live and learn I guess.

The best part of the trip?

I got closer with my dad and was able to see him in such a different light, helping out with our children in a different atmosphere. The twins finally got to experience something so different than their usual daycare and bedtime routine in a post-lockdown world. Their eyes lit up in a way I’ll never forget.

Our family of five once again grew through taking on a new challenge and coming out more knowledgeable and resilient on the other side. The goal was to have a family experience and create some lasting memories—and we did just that. We sailed back home with something that far exceeded what I ever could have envisioned.

Next time, though, I won’t go anywhere without those travel beds.

All settled at home 5 days grown.

Liam and Mila are officially back to their birth weight today and have made us so proud as we learn in baby steps how to navigate this new reality together. Despite being more comfortable in our beds, their dad, Mitch, and I barely slept a wink the first night home from the hospital, feeling so overprotective away from the reassuring call bell and medical support.

As new twin parents on that first night, we felt so scrambled trying to understand all that goes into these night feeds and stay on top of every moving part—figuratively and literally! Last night however, was a success story, with a broken-up six hours of sleep for us, great feeding intervals (one three-hour stretch) and I’m feeling like a new woman.

We’ve begun to streamline the process in our bedroom and have transformed it into our Zen sanctuary of comfort, white noise, meditation sounds playing continuously, a mini fridge stocked with water, snacks and room for milk storage. It takes a total team effort to get this job done and I’m so grateful for Mitch being so hands-on and how far we’ve come together already.

Through the blur of it all, I am practicing patience and compassion for myself, for my older son Hudson adjusting to the change, and I’m learning to let go of everything out of my control.

No matter how hard the journey gets, I feel complete, knowing that these twins chose me to be their mommy. Every passing hour we are growing and learning together. Every feed is a little more successful than the last because we are embracing flexibility. The teamwork I’ve established with their daddy has given me the needed confidence to press on along the unpredictable road ahead. It’s been scary and so very real with emotions running all over the place.

My life is forever changed and I’m navigating a very liberating acceptance with that. I’ll be endlessly grateful for these tiny blessings and for my body for enduring all that it has in creating, delivering and nourishing them.

One month in.

As is the case with newborn parenthood, there often comes a time when the chaos starts catching up with you. No matter how hard you prepare for it and lower your expectations, there it is. Unannounced and loud in your face like a freight train coming at you when you have nothing left.

We’re only one month in with the twins but I met eyes with this place last night. Dad was there to save me. Without a moment to eat my dinner, surround-sound crying started up with Mila and Liam who are needing to cluster feed and be held in the evenings, all while we try to get our sensitive and sweet older boy to bed at a decent hour without him holding a grudge.

Then, one twin won’t settle until the early hours and the whole schedule we’ve strived for all day is thrown off. My brain, already compounded with excessive sleep debt, finally gave up trying to fall into a slumber. I was up until 3am anticipating the next feed, and I felt very scared.

I can’t function when it gets this bad. The morning rolled around and dad took over as best as he could, got Hudson to daycare and I finally settled the twins beside me, breasts painfully engorged, feeling guilty to sleep in with them until nearly 11am. But that’s what I needed to exist today.

And I needed Mitch. I love him and the father he is to our three. I feel so grateful for the team that we have become on this journey. We pull each other’s weight when the other is lower, and so far, it’s been working.

To any moms struggling with this kind of stuff, I see you. From no support to more support, we’re all fighting a different battle for our little blessings and it’s so important to remember that we’re in this together.

The highs and lows of two newborns with a four-and-a-half-year-old dynamic is insane. Some days we’re rocking it—or at least it feels like we’re not drowning. We’re loving the novel nuances of having this full, multi-faceted family.

Other days feel like complete and total chaos in that we’re totally outnumbered as parents—by our six-week-old twins revving up equal parts cuteness and inconsolable evenings; and by our Hudson whose whole world flipped upside down, and whose parents are too exhausted to help him turn that world right side up again.

Pregnant with twins and now in her second trimester, mom-of-one (soon to be three!) Natasha Mills fills us in on what it’s like to be pregnant during a pandemic.

Q. How are you doing? How has your pregnancy been so far?

A. I’m doing as well as I can be expected with twins during a global pandemic! It’s crazy to think that a public health crisis of this magnitude only comes around once in a century, and here I am living that time with two growing babies in my belly.

So far the pregnancy has been manageable, although the first trimester had me completely debilitated with morning sickness.

Now in the second trimester, I’ve definitely begun eating for three, but am also starting to feel quite uncomfortable. You could say I’m secretly grateful for the ability to stay at home in loungewear as I grow!

Q. Where are you planning to give birth? At home? At the hospital?

A. I’m definitely planning for a hospital birth. The twins will be likely be a C-section as my son was—he turned out to be a very big boy. I have a comforting relationship with my experienced maternity doctors. I know I’ll be in the best hands there.

Q. Who will attend the birth? Partner? Parents?

A. With the new hospital rules in place, only one visitor will be allowed to accompany me and that will be my husband. It’s unfortunate to think our son and both sets of parents will likely be unable to meet the twins until I’m released from hospital 3-4 days later, but I’m hopeful that restriction may change in time for their arrival later this summer.

Q. How do you feel being pregnant right now, amidst everything that’s going on?

A. Bittersweet. It’s almost ideal to be hiding in the home amidst my growing discomfort, and it takes a bit of the pressure away to be social in setting dates with friends and family. I’ve had the ability to really take in this pregnancy so far on a mental and physical level. Time is flying by, but it has also paradoxically slowed down all the same. On the flip side—as a true introverted extrovert—I miss my fiends and family immensely. I miss hugs and gatherings.

Q. What’s been the biggest challenge of being pregnant during a pandemic?

A. One of the greatest challenges so far is not being able to shop and test out the gear or essentials that I’ll need for twins. I’m someone that likes to touch, see and feel items in person rather than browsing online. There is also, of course, a never ending paranoia of the unknown, and not wanting to get sick with COVID-19 myself.

While I know it’s for my protection, it’s been a bit disheartening to take some of my important medical appointments over the phone. With my initial obstetrician check-in, I felt like I was leading the call and it made me nervous that something could get overlooked or left unaddressed. Phone conversations are just not as engaging and reassuring with something as important as pregnancy touch points.

Q. How have you stayed connected to family and friends during distancing? How has this helped you?

A. I’m staying connected to family and friends mainly through social media, text messages and I’ll do distance walks with my mom to keep my sanity, and to ensure I’m getting fresh air and mobility for the babies. Her presence—even at two meters apart—gets me through any trying time and I’m so grateful that she’ll soon be moving into our tenant suite to support us when the twins are here. My mom is the most compassionate person and I love her so much.

Q. Advice or thoughts to help other expectant parents now?

A. My advice to other expecting parents at this time would be to find a good routine every day, and to see this unprecedented era as an opportunity to slow down enough for optimal self-care. Try and get yourself organized as best as possible. Utilize free virtual support like prenatal yoga on YouTube, or connect with local mom groups on Facebook. Enjoy the simple things in life again, and be grateful for each day that you are healthy, living quality time with those closest to you. Try and meditate often, and have faith that normalcy will progressively come our way again.