November 19, 2017
We’ve been going through what I will liken to a challenging time these past few months. With the transition of being more permanently rooted to the US, with finding out about this pregnancy and being so sick, with Agatha beginning a new morning program – I feel like I could keep listing things until it gets all the way down to the smaller things – transitioning to sleeping on my side, transitioning to a different kind of intimacy with Jeff, to reading more, to finding time where there might be a few things to do but where I genuinely just want to embrace the silence. A balance of good and hard transition.
A place where rhythm didn’t feel as though it existed,
November 8, 2017
Mama’s hand is available.
That’s what Agatha will say when we are out for a walk since she’s started going to a little Montessori morning program a few mornings a week. When they go on walks at school the kids usually ride in the ‘roller coaster’ which is one of those multi seat carriages meant to tote our babies around. Aggie almost always opts to walk. But unlike our walks where she’s free to run ahead and explore on her own, and where she knows she needs to stop at the end of a sidewalk to hold a hand before crossing – that isn’t an option where she is ( which I totally respect and appreciate ).
October 28, 2017
In a safe place.
A quiet and gentle place.
Where you can sleep. And read. And quiet your head.
Where you can release anger and frustration.
Where you can regain patience. Where you can create s p a c e for you.
I often choose to stick with it, to stay with them instead of taking a much needed breather these days. Part feeling like I’m going to miss something. Part wanting to be there in case I’m needed. But in reality, when are we not needed?
And how much do we need a safe place?
More often than not we do. As mothers, as parents,
October 18, 2017
We were sitting in a goofy local fish restaurant on the North Shore. I had a fried Walleye sandwich in front of me and Aggie and Jeff were sharing a fresh fish chowder. I just started tearing up looking over at them and I thought to myself – I feel like a shell of me.
I feel like this huge part of my energy, my life force, my whole being has just disappeared.
And that’s what it felt like from the moment I found out until just a few short weeks ago. I didn’t have HG, I just had your regular morning till night nausea, sickness, sadness, exhaustion and loneliness that left me feeling empty.