Love
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I hate this place: postpartum like you don’t see on social media.
I wake up to a familiar ceiling. The sheets are heavy but not heavy enough to bury this feeling. 5-4-3-2-1 – they say. In all the brochures. 5 things you see. 4 things you feel. 3 things you hear. 2 things you smell. 1 thing you taste. Isn’t that how we’re taught to regulate? Emotionally? Continue reading
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The many firsts you’ve brought into my life
The day I took it all in, your every move. The softness and fragility of each moment I held you in my arms. The day I was no longer a woman expecting or a woman in labour. The day I was officially “mom”. Faye Milan’s mom. Continue reading
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Father, mother, and daughter
I’m sitting here and writing this with one ear lent to my playlist and the other at the mercy of the slightest sound of your breath. My eyes constantly darting from this journal to your bassinet. My arms ready to drop any and everything if a chirp from you orders their embrace. Continue reading
Boundless Entries 