Kelly Burch

Last week, as the U.S.

Parenting my daughter through toddlerhood is sometimes amazingly rewarding. Her personality is emerging and I see the conversation and friendship that will hopefully fill our lives when she says things like, “I’m really proud of you, Mommy,” or “You’re my best friend.” Other times, when she blatantly refuses to obey, I seethe.

Parenting a toddler is invigorating, exhausting, dirty, and intense. But since I want my daughter to have cousins (or at least pseudo-cousins) one day, I can’t always share the truth about my tiny tyrant on social media, for fear that my friends and siblings would never reproduce. And because, sometimes, you just want to project the image that you're calm, cool, and collected.

I clearly remember the first time that I was forced to accept that something was wrong.

Can you name an elite female athlete? If you asked me to name someone other than Venus or Serena Williams I’d have a tough time.

Posting about my miscarriage on Facebook was the most cathartic thing I could have done for myself. It allowed me to validate my feelings.

There’s something fascinating about a date that you only get during one-quarter of your years on the planet — an extra, bonus day, that’s a bit outside the norm. According to English tradition, Leap Day is the one day when women can propose to men, the idea being that a day that falls outside the normal social bounds is perfect for breaking convention. You don’t have to propose to your love today (although if you plan to, be sure to share the story with us!), but I challenge you to break with the tradition of self-sacrifice, and take some time on this bonus day to put yourself first.

As we made our way to the back of the plane, the baby apologizing the whole way, passengers were giving us a certain look, one to which I had become accustomed to receiving when with my daughter. The one that says, How cute. I, however, was shaken. Had I really taught my daughter, all of 1½ years old, that she needs to apologize for herself? That because she was noticed — rather than slipping quietly through a space — she needed to say “I'm sorry”?

I certainly still have moments of self-doubt, but I make a conscious effort to change my internal monologue at those times. Instead of saying, "If only you were good enough to write a book," I tell myself "You're doing great accomplishing small steps to get there." Instead of berating myself for always splitting my attention between my daughter and my work, I congratulate myself for juggling writing and motherhood.

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