Six months and nine days ago, I had a baby. Four months and two days ago, I started a new job. Six days ago, I moved in to a new house — the first house I’ve ever bought. Oh, and in the meantime, I also started three new blogs and picked up a lot of freelancing work on the side to prepare myself to start working from home to spend more time with my daughter starting next year.

To say that I am overwhelmed would be an understatement.

I try to stay focused on my motivation, rather than my to-do list. I tell myself that this is only temporary. Soon we will be unpacked. Soon we will have all the rooms painted, the bedroom furniture set up, the items we need purchased. Soon I will be able to slow down. I won’t have to watch every penny so carefully. I won’t have to work as hard. My daughter won’t require so much constant care.

But then I think: I’ve been here before. I seem to have been in this “temporary” state for as long as I can remember. One goal begets another. As one task is completed, I am reminded of another. As one scheme for success fizzles out or is abandoned, another consumes my energy.

I wonder if I will ever be content to just be. It is hard for me to know the difference between what is necessary for me to do and what I simply feel compelled to do. How much am I working hard for my future, and how much am I just speculating about my future? (ah, but that’s another story…)

I wonder if I will make the mistake of letting Quinn’s childhood pass me by before I have time to realize that it is happening. I don’t want to be one of those parents who is too consumed by work and worry to take the time to be in the moment. I want my daughter to always know that she is loved. That she is more than just a responsibility for me. That she is precious and interesting and wonderful just for being herself.

When I can remember to do it, I just breathe. So here I am: It is past midnight and I am just now finishing up my work for the day. I’ve written my needed quota of freelance work for the day. I’ve shopped, I’ve moved furniture, and I’ve made business calls. Now I am catching up on e-mail, catching up on personal blogging, and trying to catch up on a to-do list that I will never catch. And through it all, my daughter has been sleeping peacefully in my arms. Her sweet face doesn’t know this weight yet, and I hope it will never know it the way mine does.

I just breathe. And I rub my nose over her soft, fuzzy head and take her in. I just breathe.