This is the final chapter in our birth story of three parts. This one will be a long one, fair warning…

In Part 2 of our birth story, I talk a little about the pregnancy leading up to delivery. A brief summary with some personal photos throughout.

I am putting our birth story down on record. It feels like a rite of passage for a writer who becomes a mom. I’ve been looking forward to this for quite some time.

I tell it in 3 parts. I would be honored to share it with you.

I am overdue to post the birth story for our son. That will come soon, but for now, I wanted to begin by sharing the name story: how we arrived at the name we did for our son. 

This quarantine life has become a surging, ever-challenging, sometimes changing long-term reality for us all.

Everyone handles this differently and what I hope emerges is more compassion, less fear. More grace, less hatred (oh the events of this time could fill volumes). More contact, less distance. More love, less judgement.

There’s that saying, we never stop learning. I’ve always appreciated what that meant. I loved College not for the normal reason of meeting great people, being on your own, going somewhere new. All of that is valid and played a vital part of why I loved the years in my College town. However what I loved …

There is newness coming in many ways. This latest post discusses that and more.

“We learn through everything, if we are open. Even when we’re closed, we can come back to discover. It’s never to late to grow.”

I’m oscillating between strength and weakness. Between functioning and being back to “normal” but then mourning and being angry that instead of packing my hospital bag and putting the finishing touches on our nursery in these last few weeks, I’m not. There is no stocking up on supplies. There is no prepping and planning.

The moments that change us have a way of dividing our lives into a before and an after.

I think that happens multiple times in a life. As sad as that is to think about, knowing that we have experiences that we go through, that as monumental as they seem at the time, that there is no guarantee that something even more altering won’t come somewhere else down the line. That’s the side effect of living – leaving ourselves open to knowing that one day it may take every effort we have, just to breathe in and out.

Seven Months. That’s how long it’s been since I came to this space to speak. I’ve gone longer, but it still dampens my spirit, the hiatus between the coming. My sister-sage-writing hero- friend Kris Camealy declared the most perfect insight on the practice. She put in syllables what my soul tries so desperately to convey, …