"Wishing you a day of remaining in the moment. Not the past or future or story. Not your thoughts or anxieties or lists. But right here, right now, straight into the center "
while steve and augustus prepare the morning coffee together, to which gus calls "coffee time," i usually lay like a lazy cat in bed for a few lingering minutes, just to have a moment all my own before i begin the day. i can always hear the grinding of the coffee beans, our boy's little voice saying, "ok daddy, i be cawful" and the whistling of the yellow kettle telling them its time.
i lay there, staring out our windows which sit across from our bed, and gaze. i don't know what i think about, if i'm thinking at all, or if i even need to. i just feel alive and calm. quiet and relaxed.
soon after these moments, i hear two tiny feet running down our hallway, rounding the corner, abruptly stopping at the side of our bed. within those seconds, i make sure i've pulled back the pillows to see his beautiful face pop over the covers."ok mama, coffee time!" he says, and that's my que to make my way out of bed. usually he runs back out, ready for his morning oatmeal, and i stumble trying to find my robe and socks.
i shut our closet door, and stand in front of it. not an easy task for someone with severe and perpetual body image disorders, but i do it. i lift up my too-many-nights-slept-in vintage nighty and turn my body. once to the right. pause. once to the left. pause. i see if we've grown. i examine my stretching skin.
i secretly, quietly, and deeply smile.
another day. more progress. more growth. more love. more love. more love. more love.
this time around, the days have been much harder. my breath is much heavier. my heart literally races and hurts, all day. my blood pressure drops immensely for no reason, and i have to quickly sit for fear of falling. without an explanation, i keep hope. i keep faith. i trust. i assume this is all a part of my voyage, one that will sail straight to her arms. or his.
i dare not wish a minute of it away. or wish for the days for it to be over. i love every second. i love every ache. every lost breath. every skipped heartbeat. each sciatic nerve collapsing. every part of my body fighting to be the best possible home and host to our light. it's all wrapped up in this package we will hold come less than three months from this moment. it's all progressing towards our new and beautiful baby.
1/ tea time in bed
2/ 27 weeks, the photo of this entire post
3/ my little boy angel, asleep in the pretzel twists of my legs
4/ upon waking
5/ nursery dreaming
6/ a corner of the nursery
7/ lemon-poppy bundt cake decorated with pansies (made with my mama)
8/ waiting on the water to heat, a practice in patience
9/ the sweetest image: dad and gus putting together his "big boy bed"
10/ most afternoons, shirtless for the both of us
11/ coming back from the market with flowers peeking out of his backpack ;)
/ this song
/ this recipe (i added roasted chickpeas too)
/ this short documentary - i love the handmade knives
/ this hair
/ i would rather have them than a million dollars. photo 11 killlsss me.