Born of Surrender: Stella Turns Five
On miscarriages, sobriety, pandemic birth, and a little star dust.
Five years ago today, I met my youngest daughter, Stella.
She was born in the middle of a pandemic, in the middle of a storm, in the middle of a chapter I didn’t yet know was closing.
She is the baby of the family—the bright, bold exclamation mark at the end of our story of building a family. And even though I’m now walking through a divorce, I remain deeply grateful to have a co-parent in Keith who loves our children as much as I do and who shows up for them fully.
We always knew we wanted two. But getting to two wasn’t easy. I was working as a hospital dietitian, drinking too much, barely hanging on. We experienced multiple losses along the way, and the grief of that season shaped me in quiet, lasting ways.
As I grew more sober-curious, I tried everything to fix myself:
Moderation tricks.
Only drinking on Tuesdays.
Only drinking wine or beer.
Taking a week off that somehow never lasted more than a few days.
Self-help books.
Hiding tiny bottles in the center console of my car—warm like sake, but with no chaser.
Before Stella came along, I even drove to an AA meeting on my lunch break one day but panicked outside the door when I heard voices reciting something. I didn’t know if they were going to hug me or tar and feather me, so I ran.
That was right around the time a hurricane rolled through—maybe Irma?—and I leaned way too hard into the storm snacks and storm drinks. I was ashamed of how I behaved in front of my extended family, particularly my sister and my mother. Miserable. Numb. Spiraling.
Shortly after, I walked back into AA, sat in the back, and cried THE. ENTIRE. TIME.
But also, I knew: these were MY people.
Didn’t matter if they were lawyers or moms or homeless or TV anchors. I saw myself in them. I picked up a white chip. I got a sponsor. I took that terrifying first step.
That was around July 2019.
And then in October—just a few months sober—we took Fiona to Disney for her third birthday. I white-knuckled my way through the Food & Wine Festival at Epcot, pretending I was fine. But I made it through. We put the baby to bed, had a little sexy time—and lo and behold, Stella was conceived.
So yes, Disney really is the most magical place on earth.
This time felt different. I was clear-eyed, softer, more surrendered (but not all the way surrendered, as I found out after she was born). But I was still scared of losing another baby. When I shared my fear with my sponsor at the time, she coldly told me I needed to “find a hobby.”
So I fired her.
And by firing her, I quietly fired my whole program.
But pregnancy became its own program. And I know not all women abstain during pregnancy, but for me—I felt good. I loved being pregnant. Like, floaty, glowing, grounded-in-my-body good. Keith used to say I carried myself differently when I was pregnant—and he was right. I felt more feminine, calm, sensual. I felt like myself, maybe for the first time. That little life growing in my belly made me feel like I had a purpose in life.
And I do.
At 39, though, it was harder on my body than when I carried Fiona a few years prior. Especially when I developed a pregnancy-related condition called PUPPPs—a miserable, full-body itchy rash that doesn’t go away until the baby is born.
At 39.5 weeks, I couldn’t take it anymore. At 2 a.m., I told Keith I was driving myself to the hospital to be induced. He stayed back with Fiona while I checked myself in like the hyper-independent woman I am—but of course, Keith took Fiona to his mom’s and was by my side within hours.
And there he was—husband, father, photographer, coach, hand-holder, and human chew toy—letting me squeeze and bite the life out of him through those Pitocin contractions.
No audience. No distractions. Just us and the midwife and a nurse, and the sound of rain outside.
Also very, very different than Fiona’s wild ride of a birth in 2016 that was 70 hours long and included about 20 family and medical personnel in the room. That story is for another day.
Back to Stelly.
I had a mirror. I watched her come into the world.
It was just the midwife, a nurse, Keith, Stella Josephine, and me.
And a raging storm outside.
And a few of those horrible COVID tests up the nose.
But…
I saw her first breath.
I felt her first latch.
The umbilical cord pulsed in all its life-giving glory.
It was all just so damn BEAUTIFUL.
We didn’t name her Stella just because it’s beautiful, though.
We named her Stella because it means star. ✨
And she is.
Born of struggle, surrender, sobriety, and second chances.
From the Heavens above.
A light in the dark.
A bright and wild girl who made our family whole.
Happy 5th birthday, my radiant, fearless, slightly gangster, yet tender-hearted girl.
I’m so glad you’re mine.
🧘🏻♀️🛠️💫
Tammy
#StayGrounded #DoTheWork #KeepTheFaith
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just for the hope of hearing “Good girl”—
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