When it finally gets cold enough to use the heat for the first time in a long time, I fire it up to take the chill out of the living room early in the morning. Even though the central heat I have now that I control from my phone with my Nest thermostat is a huge upgrade from the old...
The Waiting Room
We’re in the car, and Jonah is asking me for our “old playlist,” as he calls it. There’s a shared, almost secret language that exists when you have a child where they talk about and ask for things and only you and your small circle know what they’re talking about. Imaginary friends, certain songs, the way they like their food...
The Minutes Before Waking
Written 7/18/22 There was a stretch of five minutes this morning where I didn’t know yet that I had a body. I didn’t feel or think anything yet. I didn’t yet call into consciousness that I’ve been lying in bed with horrible COVID symptoms for the last however many days (what day is it?) or that my husband had it...
This is it.
“I got you, my love,” I whispered, as I scooted off the couch en route to transfer Jonah to the bed. These nights, he falls asleep in my arms, nursing, while I read books in a hushed, melodious tone. His mouth is still sucking as I stand up with all 26 lbs of him, remembering how he felt in my...
This Love.
This love. It crushes me. And lifts me up. It keeps me going and stops me in my tracks. It pushes me forward and holds me back. This love. It’s vast and endless and relentless and beautiful and sad. It shows me my deepest fears and darkness and lights up all my brightness. This love. It exposes who I am....
How Many More?
How many more nights will I get to nurse you to sleep? To hold you across my lap with your head resting heavy on my arm? How many more times will I get to feel your entire body relax into mine as you drift to sleep? To feel your gentle suckling every so often as you sink deeper into rest? ...
One Year Old
(*Written March 1, 2020, two days before my son turned one year old.) I’m struggling so much around Jonah turning one. I feel intense dread in my body and sick to my stomach. I can barely eat. I cry just writing or thinking about it. It feels like I need to cry and scream and rage outwardly, but there isn’t the...
Where Does the Rage Go?
Where do the screams go?The ones that well up like a wave but can’t crash to shoreThe ones that rise up in your throat begging to be released but get swallowed instead Where does the heat go?The burning of “I can’t” and “how am I supposed to” and “no”The fire that rises and threatens it all with its no going...
My Shower
My Shower A year and a half in, I often feel far away from who I emerged as after giving birth - that confident, calm, focused person, born anew. The mornings can be stressful, even though we have nowhere to be. Cooking and young, active toddlers don’t really mix. But then I take a shower. I can close my eyes...
The Birth of Jonah Austin
I left this world to birth our son. My water broke at noon the day before he was born. I didn’t know if he’d come that day or several days later, and I wasn’t feeling any movement or contractions, so my husband, Joe, and I ate lunch at the park in the rain while my waters poured out of me...