Instagram story viewer> @theresalaumann> Posts

Theresa

@theresalaumann

763

followers

902

following

portraits and sentiments
work-in-progress novel— @notebookno1
▫️▫️▫️

POSTS STORIES REELS TAGGED

Last weekend my dad looked up from where he was sitting at my dining room table and said: it must feel good to be so loved. He was talking about JR. I’ve thought about those words everyday since. The simplest, sweetest statement. It must feel good to be so loved. And I’m the one doing the loving!! The easy but sometimes tough work of unconditional loving. It felt good to be seen. It felt good to know that I’m doing this somewhat “right.” It felt good to have my role model say “ata girl” in a way I needed to hear. taken in Downtown Indianapolis by @theresalaumann

80

4

a month ago

Today at the DMV a solemn looking security guard turned to mush as I walked through the door with my seven week old son in my arms. The man was enamored with JR. He told me all about how he believed babies can see angels. “They see what we can’t, they can see the angels.” I smiled and wondered if this man might be right. Maybe babies do see things that we as adults can’t or maybe they can sense things that we as adults move past because functioning on autopilot is all too easy. I’ve enjoyed cataloging interactions such as this.

There have been a number of special interactions. The woman in the bakery who told me to savor these days and “to hell” with breastfeeding once I told her it hadn’t worked out for us. The worker at FedEx who celebrated JR’s short time on earth and then proceeded to explain the births of his two daughters who are now 8 and 10 years old. The mom in the cafe who told me how much she missed the newborn days and then invited me to lunch.

These are moments that I hold onto because they remind me of how special life is to so many of us. It warms us to see such tiny human beings emerging into the world. Here they are with their tiny toes, and dinosaur onesies, with spit up on their chin and light in their eyes. These people didn’t know me and had no obligation to interact with me—but they did because babies are full of goodness, they awaken something within us.

Babies remind us of possibilities, potential. New beginnings. A fresh start. Untarnished in any way. They are the best of us, the seers of angels. taken in Indianapolis by @theresalaumann

74

11

a month ago

There is nothing that could have prepared me for motherhood. For the high I feel when I stroke JR’s soft head, when I hear him coo, and watch his eyes settle into sleep as I sing to him the lullabies my dad relied upon with me. I am in awe when I see my son’s lips curl into a toothless smile, when he stares back at me in a way that feels like he knows I’m his mama. And hearing the pride in Bryan’s voice as he summons me to look on while he props JR up in order to teach him the “mechanics of walking.” These are things I couldn’t have wrapped my heart around until now.

And also, mothering is hard. Joyful but so hard. It’s difficult to be up at odd hours, to have a mind that feels a bit weighted and foggy. It’s weird to find myself occasionally trapped in thoughts such as, “I can’t protect my boy from the future pain he’ll feel— what if he’s treated unfairly, bullied, left heartbroken, what if I can’t be there when he needs me?” So many of my expectations came crashing down quickly. I didn’t feel confident about relying on breastfeeding alone to feed my baby. I envisioned myself showering daily, maintaining my skincare regimen, remembering to brush my teeth; I get to these things when I can. I’m consistently negotiating with myself, moving the mark on what I can manage, what makes sense. Bryan and I do not always see eye to eye and this feels especially hard during this tender time.

Last night a friend told me, “Remember the foundations—sunlight, the earth on your feet, movement, good food. They will literally bring you life.” With this in mind, I stood out in my backyard with my feet in the grass. I felt the sun on my face as I held my boy. The warm summer air felt like a supportive hug. “I love you,” I whispered into the top of JR’s head as I held him to my chest. And I smiled as I heard these words, and I channeled them towards myself as well. I love myself for how I’ve grown into motherhood, how I have held the joy and hardship simultaneously. How I have committed myself to the most important role I’ll ever have. Mother. by @theresalaumann

76

17

2 months ago

We love our BOY!!

Meet Bryan Ruben Jr. (aka “JR”).

Our guy was born on 7-16-2026 at 5:42pm.
He was pulled from inside me in an unplanned
c-section—we saw him and our hearts expanded. Parenthood is such a precious gift. I’ll be in awe forever. by @theresalaumann

153

65

3 months ago

I have a thing for documentation. I like to do it. It’s a game I both choose to play and also feel I don’t have a choice in. It’s fun and it lends itself well to my need for organization. A common phrase during this pregnancy: I’ll write that down! And I do write whatever it is down because I want to remember things, all kinds of things.

The first kick (or flutter, it was really a flutter) I ever felt I felt on my dad’s birthday. My most consumed beverage during pregnancy has to be milk—whole milk. Each day I jot something down: feelings, when a certain pair of pants stopped fitting, how I intend to tell my friends “we had a baby!!” Versus saying “the baby was born.” Because really, Bryan and I put a lot of work into this and we want a little credit in the announcement, you know? Anyhow. I can’t stop documenting.

This week in particular feels of utmost importance. Perhaps it’s actually the final week of pregnancy. Perhaps! And I want to remember as much as I can. How I passed the days, how our dryer broke and we became laundromat frequenters, what I was reading, thinking, fearing, anticipating. “I’ll write that down.”

Something I remembered recently—in my senior year of undergrad a photography professor I had at the time told me: you’ll never regret documenting your life. How true her words ring, especially now. I’m not sure what I’ll do with all this documentation but I do know it’s important. taken in Columbia, Missouri by @theresalaumann

89

17

3 months ago

A rambling bit on motherhood—

Growing into “motherhood” has looked like quiet moments of prayer-asking a higher power to protect me and my baby, to usher us smoothly towards birth. It has looked like peacefully folding newborn outfits and methodically training for a natural birth. It has felt like waves of depression and deep rooted worry: am I strong enough for all this? It has also felt like overwhelming joy, the kind that makes you take stock of the tiniest details, in hopes of imprinting them on your mind: how lucky am I to be standing in this kitchen cooking, while the sun pokes through the trees; I can hear the soft rustling of leaves as a breeze finds me—my dogs asleep on the back porch, a bright red lady bug meanders across the cutting board where my pitcher of raspberry leaf and hibiscus tea is brewing.

Pregnancy is so many things. So many emotions. Layers. I find it shaping and reshaping me almost daily. And I find myself being open to this.

Today marks thirty-six weeks of pregnancy, my desire to savor this experience only grows. Each day an opportunity to cherish and thank myself, this version of me, while simultaneously welcoming a me that is evolving and stretching and moving closer to a girl with a baby in her arms.

Motherhood is asking everything of me and nothing.
All at once.

#motherhood #pregnacy taken in Columbia, Missouri by @theresalaumann

103

13

4 months ago

The long and short of it: my 35th year provided what I needed.

My 35th year brought me to unexpected highs, lows and inbetweens that are hard to describe. I believe it to be the year I surrendered to the life I have been wanting yet couldn’t articulate; or maybe it’s the life I didn’t know I needed even though the signs have been there for years. I let go of a career path that had continuously shown me it wasn’t a good fit. I began to see the emotional heaviness I am capable of carrying as a teacher (I remain an ambivalent student, I’m still learning) and less of a burden. I got pregnant and I am certain that this evolution into motherhood is the most sacred work I’ll ever do; even on the hardest days I can find space to be grateful. I began cultivating friendships that felt like safehavens, ones where “saying it like it is” is wholly acceptable, the kind that celebrates you for bringing your whole self, flaws and all. I found creative writing again, I have been locating an inner voice that had yet to be given a chance, and one that has much to say.

Year 35 was something of an amalgamation of the good, bad and ugly— the joyful, painful, and profound. Year 35 has me believing that trust is my savior and my best guide.

I stepped into year 36 last Friday, April 24th. I’m here for the unfolding of what I anticipate to be a very special year, one deliberately built on the knowledge and truths which surfaced in the previous year. I’m ready as I’ll ever be.

#motherhood #creativewriting by @theresalaumann

78

11

6 months ago

“Everything is on time” a close friend of mine likes to say; a phrase that I quickly scribbled down and hold as a mantra. Everything is on time— our first, sweet babe arrives July 2026.

We are ready to be forever changed.

#firstimemom #motherhood #trust by @theresalaumann

191

47

6 months ago

2016: a time of honest art making and absorbing art— my own, my friends’ work, frequenting the various fine art museums in and around Washington D.C. It was also a time of experimenting with hairstyles and wearing the smallest shorts known to woman. Making time to be on the beach, feeling mostly invincible, searching for meaning and not realizing this fact. Whimsical, freeing, frightening, uncertain; a spectrum. by @theresalaumann

44

3

9 months ago

A little gratitude for this central Missouri autumn— I’m seeing vibrant reds, landscapes with livestock; I’m comforted by crisp air which smells like falling leaves. This time of year is my absolute favorite.

I run on these good vibes— and the fact that my dog is the cutest half-swine and that “God’s plan for me does not involve LinkedIn.” taken in Columbia, Missouri by @theresalaumann

20

1

a year ago

I quit my PhD program in order to choose myself— whatever it is I’m becoming. I have no grand explanation for why it must be this way but it must. I do know that. I found myself continually muttering: this isn’t the path. It just wasn’t and I’ve accepted that. It’s beautifully human to try out all kinds of paths. Walk down a ways and realize it wasn’t the view you anticipated or maybe it was and you want to keep searching. Sometimes the view we crave turns out to be shit. And that’s just the truth of things. Thank goodness there’s no rule in life which states you can only travel down so many paths. It’s the opposite in fact, with the time you’re given I beg you to walk and walk and walk and to keep walking until you feel something in your stomach that says: this is it. Trust me you’ll feel it. We all deserve to feel that. So here I am walking, searching, finding, paying attention to that stomach compass. I’m getting closer to something good, honest.

I started a little something to document my writing and wild ideas and personal truth telling. Beware it’ll be messy. But messy is the best way now (and likely always)— join me if you like: @notebookno1 taken in Columbia, Missouri by @theresalaumann

46

20

a year ago

I gave myself permission to pivot. Because sometimes the thing you are clinging to, your North Star, the very thing you believed could fix you or move you forward in life, turns out to be the thing tethering you to a version of reality not meant for this lifetime. “Let it go; let it all go,” I whispered to myself over and over. In the shower. Behind the wheel. As I waited for the hot water to boil. “Let it go baby.” So I did. taken in Columbia, Missouri by @theresalaumann

55

0

a year ago