When we were young

When we were young

My voice has changed, she told me. Not believing it was me taking the video of her as a baby, she asks over and over if it’s truly me. She says that voice is too high, too happy to be the mother’s voice to which she’s grown accustomed. I laugh at the time at her… Read more

Third place

Third place

I rub my belly asking you for answers. Are you quiet like the big one, sensitive, shy and mild, or loud like the small, bold, brave and eager? I wish for your ability to forgive. For my being overwhelmed at times, for the chaos of this home with love overflowing this tin box of drippy… Read more

When she grows weary

When she grows weary

It is her calling. The blood, the sutures, the screams, the sweat. She is this- the stitching, tear wiping, hand holding, sweat swiping. Her time is hers, but yet it is not- not when you need her four nights in a row at 3am. Not when she can’t turn her job off. 35 hours a… Read more

My moons, my moms

My moons, my moms

Like the moon, in our pregnancy we expand. Slowly, gradually, and over a set gestation, And then, when we are full, we birth new life. Like the moon too, we then wane. Having given every ounce of our energy and our being to our creation, we sacrifice all that was. Physically, emotionally, we decompress. We… Read more

Third time’s charm

Third time’s charm

I saw you last week and it made you real. Not that you haven’t consumed my every thought, and not that I’m not holding you in my heart. I’m not saying I couldn’t feel you were there. I certainly have watched my belly expand to fit you, and my pants stretch to accommodate your growth,… Read more

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