over and over again, this theme rolls onward in my life right now. i feel aligned, mostly positive, gracious and overall pretty happy. there's been multiple times i wanted to sit and write this piece, but then there's this part of me that says "but what if things didn't work out as you said?" "what if you go broke?" "people will think you are tooting your own horn..." but, honestly why do i care? this is me and if people get something from it, great. if not, also, great. same reason for me not going to use capital letters here... because i don't feel like it. like it or don't. negative self talk is so self deprecating. we wouldn't let someone talk to us like that, but we let ourselves talk us out of EVERYTHING! this is a little tale and peek into our life. over a year ago john left his comfortable job with good benefits (no, really the best benefits there are, kind of benefits). he could do this job with his eyes closed,
it's been really hard to sit down and write this. not just because i keep falling asleep or stella needs to nurse... sure that is a part of it, but, there is a vulnerable part to writing this birth story that i have been having a hard time wrapping my head around. i'm an open book and this post will be a piece of that open book, but know that i still am sifting through some anger that things didn't go as "planned" even though for 10 months i mentally prepared for all possible outcomes and knowing the plan may not happen. ...and per usual i didn't hold back on details. if you can't handle it, sorry. this is birth. INTRO: it was most important for me to bring our child into the world in the most organic way possible. after lots of research, resources and conversations we decided the best route to do this would be a home birth. we chose our midwife, found an amazing doula , and i received back up care the entire pregnancy from 2 obgyn's that i c
That night I watched the innocence both fade and transmute. As life goes it didn't go as I expected or dare I say "planned." I knew we were close to the end of an era; that Santa / gifts under the tree gasp era. My secret goal was to make it through this Christmas. A couple weeks ago we did the rounds of our neighborhood for a "Christmas walk" aka walking around looking at the lights. When we got home, Ana poured herself a glass of oat milk and asked "Does Santa put the gifts under the tree or is it the parents?" Shock and "not now" filled my body as I hung up my hat and coat in the mud room. "What made you think of that?" I asked. "I was just thinking about the milk and it made me think of it." "Hmmmmm" I posed the old "what do you think" back at her feeling like this is not the right time and clinging to my own wants for what Christmas should look like. I wasn't ready to answer, I needed to thi
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