Always (Three Months)

1/2/19

Gwendolyn,

You still feel like a dream. Like the sweetest imagining I’ve ever had. Too sweet and too good to even fathom being reality. But here you are. And your smiles melt me, and your tears break me. At this point in your little life, I can hardly identify when our two identities start and stop. We merge in to each other. A fluid round of touch and nursing. And I freely admit you give me as much comfort as I give you. I am grateful for the reprieve of cuddling, of nursing, of talking, of smiling...it keeps my heart calm.

Sunshine (Two Months)

12/2/18

Gwendolyn,

The second month of your life has been filled with sorrow. On November 8, the unprecedented happened. A fire blazed through the nearby city of Paradise, Calif., and destroyed near everything in its path, including the homes of my grandparents, Howard and Corine, and my uncle, Nate. As of now, the Camp Fire is the deadliest and most destructive wildlife in California history. 

Me Without You (One Month)

11/2/18

Gwendolyn,

It’s been a month with you now. And somehow, I can’t remember me existing without you. It feels as if my identity has shifted to define itself in a way that includes you so completely that the idea of you not being a part of me before now seems foreign. I think of birthing you and it somehow feels like an old memory...like an experience that has long defined me despite only being a month ago. I think of mothering you and I have that same feeling: Loving you has somehow always defined me. You fit into my identity. You fit into my forever. You fit into my eternities — a part of my yesterday and tomorrow, and inseparable from my own perception and definition of joy. You’re a part of my forever and make our family feel whole. It feels as if you’ve always been a part of the plan and I thank God that He has included you in my story. 

Gwendolyn's Birth Story

I never thought of my first baby’s birth as being traumatic until I realized how badly I didn’t want to relive it. I hoped and prayed my second birth would be a healing, validating experience, and to say I was not disappointed may be the greatest understatement of my life.