Better, Not Perfect
January nearly derailed me
On January 1st I walked my son in his stroller. Our normal 1.9 mile loop by the river. I watched the sunrise and like so many, pondered on all my hopes and wonders for the year ahead.
And I reflected. Yes, on what a wonderful year 2025 was (my favorite so far, by far). But also on the fact that 2025 surprised me in so many ways. And it’s many of those surprises that turned out to be my favorite moments, or my favorite stories to tell.
I looked to the sky and decided to welcome whatever surprises 2026 had in store for me with an open heart.
Whoops.
The next day, my son awoke with an unexplainable bruise on his chest. My husband and I, obviously incredibly concerned, immediately brought him to one of the best hospitals in the world.
We left the ER 15 hours later, with his leg in a cast. They diagnosed him with a femur fracture, despite him showing no signs of pain or discomfort.
For the next 2 weeks we were under investigation with child protective services for suspected child abuse. This meant around the clock “supervision” in our own home, social worker visits, and follow up medical appointments. All the while, we were still utterly bewildered how this happened to our son.
Fast forward a bit. We brought him back to the hospital for a follow up with the orthopedic team. Another full set of X-rays to evaluate the healing process. Turns out, there was no fracture to begin with.
“There was never any fracture” the doctor told us as she ripped off his cast. Our mouths on the floor and our hearts in our hands.
We have yet to receive any apology from the hospital.
The child abuse allegations have been dropped, but we’re all still recovering from the emotional trauma. My son is still figuring out how to crawl again. This will hurt for quite a while.
Surprise. Surprise. Surprise.
Touché, 2026.
File under ‘miscellaneous hardship’ within this year’s vision board.
But this is not a post about how to overcome adversity, or about how to handle yourself when life gets put in a blender.
I could sit here and tell you how well I handled everything. How strong I was and how I turned this into an incredibly inspiring and somewhat funny story of resilience.
Sure. I was strong. When I needed to be. But I also allowed myself to take a few hot showers filled with tears, and crumble into open arms before an invitation left parted lips.
I allowed myself to fall apart.
I stopped reading. I stopped writing. I stopped playing jazz while I sipped my matcha and I selected evening placemats out of habit, not out of joy. I didn’t scroll Pinterest looking for my next iteration of better for you apple bread. And I definitely didn’t eat enough dark chocolate.
But I did find comfort in the soft moments. I cooked soup in the mornings and served it in my favorite green bowls. I indulged in blue light, and watched 30 minutes of a show in bed at night, frownies on, mouthguard in. And I relied on my marriage like I never had before. Through thick and thin.
January has flown by. I haven’t sat down to write in almost a month. And truthfully, coming back on here feels a bit painful. I feel…behind? Not because of the half chewed posts sitting in my drafts. But because of the community. And because of the actual hundreds of saved posts piling up.
I didn’t have time to read everything. So instead I read nothing.
And I wallowed that my little corner of the internet wasn’t getting the attention it used to.
Because I’m type A to a tee. A diagnosis that is unfortunately often accompanied with paralysis of perfection. If it couldn’t be perfect, why do it? If I couldn’t finish it, why start?
But unfortunately, with this mindset, habits become identity and lifestyle becomes rules.
Last Wednesday, I laid out my gym clothes before bed. The next morning, I went through my typical morning motions. I bundled up and walked the 0.6 miles to 24/7 Fitness. I picked up some weights. It wasn’t perfect. But I felt better.
I came home and I put makeup on.
Sunday, I made muffins. Chocolate because they’re my favorite. And I wore the new sweater because today’s the rainy (snowy) day.
This week, I’ve been playing Malte Marten on the Bose in the mornings (suggestion courtesy of Mary Mondanaro).
I’ve caught up on a handful of Substack posts.
I’m drinking midday hot chocolate again.
And I’m planning a brunch themed first birthday party.
I wouldn’t go so far to say I have my spark back.
But I have ditched the all or nothing mindset.
Because instead of waking up one day and deciding that I’m okay again, I’m going to stand here rubbing kindling together trying to find some light in this January cave.
Better, not perfect.
Better. But I still have that 2 a.m. hospital moment seared into my memory. The on-call doctor’s response to my innocent question:
“What happens now?”
“I’ve seen some people keep their kids”.
Yes, I crumpled onto the tile floor in a sheer puddle.
But you know what?
Femur-gate happened. We made it through.
And holy shit, I am one strong mother.
This month isn’t all bad. It’s not black and white and multiple things can be true at the same time.
I sit at here 3:14 a.m. typing this. Our downstairs pipes are frozen and we have the cabinets’ contents strewn about our kitchen and family room, space heaters blasting (knowing full well this will not work!)
But these are small problems to have. Fortunate problems to have.
I am fucking blessed to be able to sit here and type away with a hot beverage in a warm home.
It wasn’t a bad month. It was just surprising.
And is it kinda messed up that I can’t wait to see what happens next?
Perfection aside, I think I’m officially ready for you, 2026.
This post is definitely a brief departure from my normal wellness-esque writing. And I heavily debated leaving this one in the drafts.
But then I realized that Better, Not Perfect couldn’t be more relevant.
So if you take one thing away from this post: remember to keep going through the motions. It’s okay to simply exist when life starts life-ing.
You’re doing great, sweetie pie.
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What a nightmare. So sorry you had to go through with this but thank you for sharing your story. I know it’ll help someone else. 🤍
oh my goodness you've really been through the ringer this jan natalie, i'm just glad to hear you're all okay physically, even though i'm sure you're still feeling the whiplash of all that worry and then relief, and all the in between too. i've had a friend go through that with her baby after an unexplained bruise and she still feels all kinds of way about what happened, and i know it made her nervous to reach out to healthcare for her baby again, which is just so backwards! but i know if anyone knows how to take damn good care of themselves and adjust it's you 🤎 phewwww, well, i'm sure you didn't have that one your bingo card for 2026.
and also i just want to say, feel free to declare substack bankruptcy 😆 clear the inbox and start a fresh. we'll always be here however much you publish 🫶🏼