A love letter to 2017.
Dear 2017, I pray this letter finds you well. Kinda. Sorta. Not really. You see, you have been a big skim-board to the shin. An unpleasant, unexpected, cringe-worthy sting to what was supposed to be a pleasant walk along the ocean. Sure, maybe a lot of it was my own doing. I wasn’t paying…
A year of parenthood. A year of grace. Lots and lots of grace.
A year ago today, Brooks was twenty-eight days old. I was twenty-eight days into motherhood. Twenty-eight days into the biggest change of my life. Twenty-eight days into a life of unpredictability, heart-wrenching emotion and exuberant joy. Twenty-eight days. Brooks was so little. Everything was so new. I was so lost. Postpartum depression, sleep deprivation…
Put the fancy dress away.
I’m sitting here in my pajamas, with sweatpants on with holes in the bottom. My shirt is way too big. My hair looks like I may have been electrocuted in the middle of the night. My breath stinks because I haven’t brushed my teeth yet. This is me. On a Saturday morning. In all my glory. I…