… there is only the fear of writing badly. –Anna Quindlen
I’m not sure what I’m afraid of, really, or whether I need to know. I do know that I haven’t written here in months, and that this space is something I love and miss. I was going to start here with my birth story. It is beautiful and I love to share it. But I can’t seem to get it typed out. So I am starting with something simple: today.
It is December in New England, and I can’t help but feel that the rain pouring down should be snow. Our real-wheel-drive car is so bad in the snow that I think I could live without a white Christmas this year. We have precious cargo now, after all. We love being parents. Our house feels warm and cozy. We spend time reading stories and singing songs and kissing wonderfully chubby baby cheeks. There are struggles. My anxiety is almost-not-quite-out-of-control recently. Nathan is in finals. I am forcing myself to do some self-care (like writing this, now!) and things are looking up. Today (Sunday) was Nathan’s birthday, and he had a happy one. I bought him a special children’s book, the second in an awesome series he discovered when I was pregnant. We read it to the baby. I highly recommend it. Here it is:
And here is my love, today, showing off his blue eyes and wonderful cheeks and Mommy’s nose:
That’s all for now. But I am back. And this proves it. Hello, again!