The love a mother has with her child is vulnerable In no other relationship will someone know you from the guts In no other love will they touch the ugliness of you and still call it home
Joy, Rage & Grief
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Dylan's Birth
40 weeks and 3 days. My eyes opened up to my dark room at 2:30am after a decent cramp and I thought, “Ooh, that was a good one.” I had Braxton Hicks for months. I fell back to sleep. More came and went, some deserving of a check of the clock, but in my sleep haze, I estimated a half...
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The ocean in me swells with a warning: It’s the salt that alters fresh water to brine. (His salt). I once grew a blooming reef and sheltered a tiny, silvery fish ‘til she was ready to slip through the coral archway. She took the reef with her. It’s okay, I tell myself. I like feeling still. Too much salt kills....
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....
Labels Change
"Three in one Kids Shampoo/Conditioner/Body Wash” “Children’s All Natural Scented Bubble Bath” “Kids Watermelon Body Wash and Bubble Bath” These are the words written across the bottle labels perched on our bathtub. As I sat cross-legged on the semi-soaked floor-mat during bath time tonight, a feeling of longing and panic sank a hole deep in my chest; when did all...
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The story of a mother’s love is that it’s limitless implicit The first love we know and the last love we cry out for But I know mothers and the love I see is deep in the bones wavers between firm and yielding can be fractured is holy and imperfect
Waiting
Liz and Richard sold everything, finally married, and moved to Japan and we are waiting Niki, Melvin, and Penny took a month off as a family, drove across the country, and moved to Oregon and we are waiting It is not like me to be stagnant to be repetitive to leave and come home, leave and come home, leave and...
I Miss My Baby
I love my vibrant, impulsive, brave, incredibly intelligent and fiercely independent little human. But tonight…tonight, I miss my baby. I miss the little squeals and growls and silly sounds. I miss watching her scurry around the living room on hand and knee. I miss trying to figure out what she wants from the toy box as she stands there propped...
A Gentle Reminder to Myself
I’m up late, again. Worrying, thinking, and prepping for what’s ahead. Thinking about all the little things I should and could do. Making to-do lists, packing healthy lunches, sanitising, laundry, dishes, looking at baby pictures. Worrying about my child’s development, are they on track? Or are they falling behind? What lasting effects has the pandemic left on my child? Social...
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? ...