pulling up

In order to leave a place with any kind of peace my heart must slowly pull away long before the leave taking happens. I look around the rooms as a stranger. No longer intimate with every inch I hold myself off and aloof. And then a moment happens and the space reaches out and holds me in a tight hold and it chokes me and I am connected with every fibre. The rooms are strange and sterile and yet, for now, we still live here. 

transplanting

Having a sudden pang. Of sadness, regret, the ache that comes with growing up and growing out. We have made a home here. And now we leave it all behind and start again. All over. 

breath like butterflies

There are lists and piles and boxes to pack and sort and stack and move. And then there is this. Eyelash flutters and the softest of breaths on my breastbone. And time stops and there is nothing else in the world. 

like light

One is a firecracker 

The other a firefly

And I

I will dim into darkness

Until I learn

How to balance

Their light

With mine 

And trust that after all

I will not lose my light 

And when the time comes

I will shine 

A constant burn

A star

An anchor 

The way home 

For all of us. 

dinner

I wait until dinner. So I can blame it on the onions. 

ox mama

They talk about birth bringing out the mammal/animal/beast. I have heard women mention wolves, and tigers, and bears. Fierce and strong and feral. 

Birth was three weeks ago, and I was a lion. Today, through the bone-tired, body broken, brain wasting that is post-partum I am still a beast. I put my strength to the plow and push through. I lower my head and plod on. Back and forth, the mind numbing and endless tasks of new motherhood are completed and begun again. I do the work. Ox mama. 

milk and blood and tears

They say that with the milk come tears. 

Baby was born 5 days ago. I roared her into the world in pain and water. At home. When we would usually be eating breakfast I birthed her and then everything changed. 

There is no usual any more. There is no we anymore. Patrick and I. With so much to do in the care of ourselves and our family, words of love and encouragement are sent room to room by text message. Hannah and I. My girl, and her mama. I miss her with an ache that goes as deep as anything I've ever felt. And I've felt a lot of deep aches this week.

The baby is beautiful. Calm. Perfect, except for a lip tie that makes feeding her excruciating. A deep toe curling sear that really cannot be described. Or helped much. 

The process of pregancy and birth can be described as a labrynth. A long winding journey through pregnancy into the tight dark spiral that is birth, and then an even longer, slower unwinding back out the other side.  There are no dead ends, but there are blind turns and dark corners and so much trust that goes into taking the next step. The promise of a labrynth is that there is always a way through, we just have to keep walking the path. 

Deep breath. One more step.