POEM.

They held my hand as I counted,
A gentle care for my past trauma.
And as the numbness swept down,
Up rushed a rising nausea.

MUSINGS.

I went from the midst of spring’s creative abundance and was thrown into the depths of winter. Summer and Autumn skipped in a flash as a small body, moving too fast on fawn legs, fell too hard.

POEM.

[content note: reflects on birth trauma, tread gently if this may be triggering for you]

POEM.

When I wrap you in my arms
And imagine you so small,
I see the growing that we’ve done,
And wonder at it all.

MUSINGS.

The beginning of motherhood looks different for everyone and we can’t plan for everything that could and does happen during childbirth. But we can be prepared and empowered.