People: how’s it going? How’s motherhood?
Me: It’s good. She’s the best…
…I’ve never loved anything so sickening much. It’s the most heightened blissful love the most terrifying love. I’ve conditioned her to enjoy breast feeding while I bounce and walk around, now trapped marching laps of my house for hours before bed hunched forward, my hands and wrists and arms so sore they threaten to fall off.
Inspired to get stronger, ape like, jacked to manage monkey bars and pull ups for the inner child for the inner old woman who’s always whispered that I live into my hundreds.
Some mornings she is displeased with all of my offerings and I start to feel insane cooped up in this drafty house pacing. So I head for the woods and march around amongst drippy green moss and chatty birds. Up slick stoney hills, crossing frozen dribbling creeks. Breathing. Remembering how wonderful life is and straightening out the knots in my mind.
Her eyes pierce through my soul deep past my heart into a world we’ve known together before. We stare and smile into each other and talk noises. Hers are the most beautiful sounds. Light airy innocent attempts to tell me of her inner world. Her cries sting my ears, wrench my gut. Her tiny hands seem unreal…
…Her feet…
…But yah - I’m good how are you?!
11 weeks postpartum.
My hair inspired this photo.
