For two months now, I have been dedicated to a daily practice. Each morning I wake up and write morning pages before doing anything else. Some mornings my eyes are half open as I write and I can barely see the words spilling onto my pages. The mornings I think I have nothing to write…
Millions of prayers whisperedAs parents look down on their young A full lifeA future wifeHealth, wealth, and safety These words are prayers but more like pleasA dealA demandA need We dream of hopes for those tiny toesAnd wishes for that grinBut what if all we hope for them is already within? I pray for self-acceptance,…
A few weeks ago, I closed off another round of working with the counselor who inspired this blog 10 years ago. When I started seeing him about 7 months ago, my inner guiding voice was a hot mess. Between having an infant at home, the pandemic, and working full-time from home with said infant, things…
If we don’t think it’s important to teach our children that our needs as a parent and person matter, we are incidentally teaching our children that someday, their cups won’t matter either. We are teaching them how to be a martyr. That their life, wellbeing, and happiness is dictated by others and they don’t have a say in the matter.
Ever since having a child, mortality is on my mind a lot more than usual. I have always known life is precious, not guaranteed, too short, and all the other appropriate and relevant clichés. But now having a daughter, it’s like a daily, (literally) screaming reminder of how much there is to miss out on…
I have always been a people pleaser, it’s simply ingrained in who I am. This doesn’t mean I don’t speak my mind, engage in conflict when necessary, and follow my own intuition and desires– it just means that my knee-jerk, automatic response is to make others happy and do/say what I know will please them.…
I want to be alone I want to be with people, even the loud and stumbling and belligerent ones Don’t touch me, I’m claustrophobic Hug me tightly and hold my face in your hands, even if they’re clammy I need a routine I want to live each day different from the last I want to…
I used to do this thing where at the end of the year, I’d post some of the foods, products, and random things I loved and enjoyed over the past year. I haven’t done it in years, and yes it is only August, but I decided to make another one of these posts because quarantine…
I wrote a poem. It’s geared towards elementary school-aged children…the kids who are going back to school virtually, or doing a hybrid model. That is…until the schools get shut down again and everybody is virtual. It’s hard on parents. It’s hard on teachers. It’s hard on the kids. It’s just hard. Feel free to print…
People start asking you very soon after having a child if you plan to have a second one. A harmless and understandable question, sure. But it always sends a shock through me. I know the socially appropriate way to respond, so I smile and give a lighthearted, “Maybe!” or “We’ll see!” Sometimes if I have the time…
The following poem was written by a friend of mine who attended a protest in Louisville, Kentucky yesterday. I have read it several times over, and each time I find something new in it to love, each time something hits a little differently. Thanks, Jas, for your beautiful words. Your bravery. Your insight. Your compassion,…
I sat in the lobby waiting to hear my name. Mismatched clothes, slippers for shoes, bloated and empty belly resting on my striped thighs. I couldn’t look at the glowing women around me, I wondered what they might see in my face? Terror Exhaustion Apathy Sadness Counterfeit joy Envy Anger Confusion Physical pain Emotional pain…
In the way that you cry when you’re tired and lonely, I am reminded that I can do the same. In the way that you allow yourself to be held, comforted, and kissed by someone who loves you, I am reminded that I can do the same. In the way that you continue to eat…
I walked into the NICU, excited to see you and be near you I walked into the NICU, the room they told me was yours, and looked down at a beautiful baby, but something was wrong. I didn’t know if you were mine. They told me this was your room They said you were sleeping…
