This Thanksgiving week, my son, Balthazar, just turned four and as I watched him blow out his candles and ride incredibly scary rides at Disneyland, I am struck by how fast time has flown.
Four years ago, right in the midst of the pandemic, my husband and I were in the thick of our postpartum haze while also working full-time with no help. For about six months, we operated on a two-to-four-hour sleep schedule and it seemed like the difficult days would never end. And yet, here we are, four years later marveling at the passage of time and the gift of resilience.
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