My capacity just keeps shifting in motherhood.

I started with one baby and a part-time job. Coffee dates were easy. Adult conversation was still woven naturally into my days. I could pack up, meet a friend, linger a little.

Then another baby came. The work hours decreased, and so did the coffee dates. But I found myself at story times and playdates instead—still reaching for adult interaction because I couldn’t quite have conversations with these two yet.

Then they started talking. And then a third baby arrived.

Suddenly I was talked out. Touched out. The job quietly disappeared. The playdates and outings stayed, but I was leaving them more drained than filled. Then all three were mobile. Two were talking constantly and clearly. I realized I couldn’t hold a conversation with anyone anymore—not without interruption, not without losing my train of thought mid-sentence.

So my rhythm shifted again.

More outings with just the three of them and myself during the day and evening meetups with friends after bedtime. Less trying to force what used to work.

It feels like a constant recalibration of capacity, based entirely on their ever-changing needs. What worked three months ago doesn’t work anymore. What filled me then, empties me now. Motherhood keeps you on your toes like that.

I’m learning to let go of what worked in a different season, even when I loved it. Even when I miss it.

Because every shift holds both a loss and a gain.

You lose something that once fit beautifully.

You gain something new that fits the now.

And both can be true at the same time.

Your capacity keeps changing.

And somehow, you keep growing into it.