of ammas and wives. it’s her journey too.

My entire heart begins to beat faster and warms up to a temperature that is pretty unbearable – but in the best way. When you choose someone to parent with – you hope that they will be just as enthusiastic about parenting and your children as you are. And, sometimes that doesn’t necessarily happen. Roles…

chrysalis of mamahood.

My words don’t seem to fully make sense sometimes and I think that it’s this transition that mamahood creates. Like, I’m stuck in this multidimensional chrysalis that I will be gnawing at for years and years to come. The transition to mamahood isn’t overnight. It’s this ever growing, every changing process that involves high moments…

this is 11 months.

t his is 11 months. this is what three month early premature babies could look like. thriving, adventurous, cunning and clever. independent af. this has been 11 months of producing milk and nine months of exclusively nursing twins with no end in sight. this is 11 months co-sleeping, baby wearing, being security attached but also…

breathing life into the storyteller.

no editing. bathroom lighting. just me. I’m finding myself again that life? just a series of ‘finding oneself’ the result of change and circumstances. constantly changing. I was a climber, I say to myself. I was a painter. I was a creator. I was. I was. I am. I’m trying to change my language. I’m…

when your postpartum feels co-oped.

Postpartum is supposed to be a very special time. It’s a time of healing and taking care of the new mother and a time to adjust to the new normal. This has been the absolute worst time in my life. The days following my mother’s death was difficult – planning her funeral at 20, writing…

and things take a turn (fighting lying down). 

we saw these two today. they’re rambunctious and healthy. I was a bit tired of these scans every two weeks. Part of me thought they were useless and overdone but, know what, I’m grateful? These scans check my cervix length and make sure the babies are growing. Up to this 21 week point, my cervix…

more than a body but maybe more than a shelter too. 

They are beginning to hear now. They are seeing, smelling, and they are hearing. They are consuming the words I say aloud and being nourished by the thoughts coursing through my head and, at this point, they are an extension of myself. Connected to my body, feeding off my body, my blood pumping through their…

this should be simpler. 

I’m standing in the shower, listening to Chance the Rapper and swaying a tiny bit – I need them to move.  I need the reassurance that they are there and alive.  You never really get away from that anxiety that follows you through each try and failure. Infertility follows you even when you have suceeded. …

Birth is always on my mind.

Birth is always on my mind. I saw the photos from my own birth when I was five or six. They were in this old album, stuck to the pages, that presented this story about how strong this seventeen-year-old girl was to push out this six pound and seven-ounce baby. She had a unmedicated birth…