/ Candid Talk

2020, you created life within me.
you gave me the presence to be
and the time to feel.
you gave me the space to arrive,
here at this water and to dream
of the little being that would grow.
now we end the year together, here.
toes in the sand, cotton candy skies.
and we wait… ✨

/ Candid Talk

the curves of carrying life 🌙 these final days of just me and baby are so intimate, so special, so bittersweet. we can sense each other’s eagerness to meet in real life, and yet, it feels as though we’re longing to hang onto just the two of us for a bit longer.

birth is the first time we truly experience what all of motherhood becomes: the simultaneous heartache and happiness of hanging on, and letting go. protecting, and releasing. creating, and then trusting.

and that is why becoming a mother is the greatest lesson in trust, in selflessness, and in allowing those you love most the freedom to become all they are meant to be.

/ Candid Talk

as I prepare to welcome our rainbow angel, I felt overwhelmingly called to share a letter I wrote to the baby we lost after we miscarried last year, early into our second trimester.

a part of sharing this is for me, as a means of healing before I give birth. and another part is for you. for every mother who has suffered the same kind of pain — you are never alone in your heartache, and you are never alone in your joy that will someday follow.

🪐🪐🪐

dear baby, but I had plans.

I had plans for you, for us, for our family.

I reorganized my closet by pieces I could still wear. I emptied our guest room that would become your nursery. I ate clean foods. used organic everything. manifested our journey together and dreamed of you in your bassinet.

but sometimes, no matter how well we take care of ourselves or how powerfully we speak our desires into the universe, plans still change.

I hated god, and I praised god, all within the same breath.

I’d spend hours looking for a sign in the sky that reminded me of you. but I saw nothing. nothing to heal my broken heart, or my aching body.

I wanted my plans back. a growing belly, a hospital bag, a birth plan, a nursery board on pinterest. I wanted a list of names, mom jeans, a babymoon, and belly kicks. I wanted you, all of you, and instead I felt empty.

and now… now your light surrounds me everywhere. I had to open my soul to yours, to feel your heartbeat from another place.

I see you in every sunrise. in every ray of light that fills our home. in every rainbow that stretches its colors across grey skies. I feel you in every warm breeze. in every touch of the ocean. and now, within me, as I grow your brother or sister. your souls are connected, this I know is true.

baby, I had plans. but that’s just it — they were mine… and plans never belong to me, anyways. together, through mourning and celebrating, and crying and forgiving, those plans become what they always were: our LIFE… unfolding in unexpected, yet intentional ways. sometimes hard, sometimes beautiful.

thank you for being both.

dear baby, I cannot wait to hold a part of you in the coming days, as I welcome your soulmate into this world 👼🏼

/ Candid Talk

I remember the transition of me to we, when jake and I first fell in love. and then it went from we to us, when we welcomed our first child. and I remember each time mourning the end of what was — ending a sense of independence, of freedom, of solidarity with myself and the ones closest to me.

but in that mourning of an end, has always been the celebration of a beginning. an opening of my heart in ways impossible to imagine before. an awakening inside of me, so willingly ready to share parts of myself with another soul. to give everything, and to receive everything — the greatest love. so pure, so simple, so infinite.

and so, as I mourn the end of what is — my husband and child and me — to make room for another, I know this ending will bring my heart to places unfathomable to me now. and for that, I am ready.

/ Candid Talk

this is where i’ve always come to see you, light of mine 🌙 and soon, you’ll be earthside.