listen… this is your chance. this is your permission to forget ‘someday’. someday will never come… because today. is the day. today is your someday.
today is the day to stop wishing, and start doing.

today is the day that you give yourself permission to live with more love, and less hate.
for yourself. your sisters. your friends. for our daughters… for them to grow up with a little bit more confidence than you grew up with. in hopes that their battles are less with self..
today, you can begin. what have you got to lose? why wait? why live another day without more love in your life? it’s not too late.
it’s not as hard or scary as you think…
you are strong.
you are capable.
you are worthy. and beautiful. and loved.
you deserve this…
you are amazing. and unique.
and your mama gave birth to the most beautiful baby.

it’s a daily practice, sure…
over time it becomes a habit- just as your habit of looking in the mirror, grabbing, pinching, sucking in has become.

we all have those things that we want to work on. some extra weight to shift, those pants in the closet that we are desperate to squeeze back into one day.
but you are not your weight.
you are more than that. you deserve better than that.

image by Karen Walrond of chookooloonks

you deserve kindness. if we want our children to love themselves and others… if we want the world to be a more compassionate place- it begins at home. it begins with self.
the only time you’re wasting is by not starting now.
this chain reaction starts… your happiness and acceptance is contagious. people want to be around you… you inspire others.

i’m with you. you are not alone.

here’s an easy way to start: write down the things you dislike, the things you hate. and for every one of those- you must write at least one thing that you love about yourself.
for every negative thought you have for yourself, or for someone else- counter it with at least one positive thing.
read this real quick…

namaste.
i honour the light inside you- that is also inside me… that is inside us all.

it’s not about accepting your post-baby body (or whatever flaws you dislike)…it’s more about treating yourself with as much love and compassion. tenderness and understanding- for yourself… as you would the people you love.

you matter too…
you are just as important.
you are just as beautiful.
you are loved.

and so now it’s time to take the leap. and begin loving yourself more openly. to begin treating yourself with the same kindness and respect you’d treat your best friend.

it’s your turn. and i promise you’re not alone…
and i promise- it makes life so much more amazing. it opens you up to receive more love and light and positive things.
you are a unique gift to the world.
cherish that.

my post ‘shape of a mother‘ was featured on an article on the Glamour website today (!!!) saying that feels insane in itself.  at first i was giddy, giggly, and trying to play it cool.
then my friends comments started rolling in, and comments from strangers… and i am humbled. brought to my knees. falling in love with all of these women. my belly swims with butterflies- feeling like i’m not big enough to hold all of their out-pourings.. but i am. we’re doing this together. we’re better together.

more and more people were reposting. and suddenly i’m feeling vulnerable. eesh. comments i can’t control. wanting to help people to realise what these images mean to me.. what they are about…

wanting people to realise that i’m not this confident thing. that it’s a journey of love and tenderness for myself. and a lesson we all need to take on. it’s been a long road- but it feels amazing to be on it.

have you noticed how much more negativity weighs? how much more draining it is to be around…

and my heart pitter patters breathing it all in… i’m so in love.

before i got pregnant, i’d paint away- late into the night. thinking ‘what if this is what i create while i’m pregnant without realising that there’s more than just me…’ paintings came and went, along with negative pregnancy tests. and then when that positive test showed up- creativity went out the window. my muse manifesting within, in a whole new creation.

towards the end of pregnancy, with more than flutters- but full on kicks and rolls… navigating her body with my hands against my belly- i was given a few months of sudden burst of creative energy.

i’ve seen other artists film themselves create, and i loooove love love watching them. (bob ross was my first love after all) and so i thought to try it, fell in love with it. watching white paper fill with colour and swirly magic.

…but now it holds even more meaning to me. i see these paintings, during those final months of pregnancy- and remember everything. remember the magic that was spinning, remembering her knees tucked at my side… remembering my impatience and anticipation to meet her, but also not wanting my pregnancy to ever end.

and there was creation. there were smooth curves of fairy mamas…

Flower Fairy Mama and Wee Baby Bumblebee from e.darcy on Vimeo.

these paintings hold magic… they hold her story..

today i’m reminded of our beautiful journey together. a dear sweet artist, and now- i can call her a friend happened to be stopping in ireland and came out to take maternity pictures for me. it was pure magic that day… there’s no other word for it.

i sit here with my baby girl in my arms, tears down my smiling cheeks- as we take a peek for the very first time of that beautiful, magical day- when we were still just two beating hearts in one…

i have no words….

i feel like i’m looking at someone else. a goddess… a mermaid. a selkie sunning her skin…surely that isn’t me.

it feels like years, decades, and centuries ago that i felt her body swim beneath mine… how time does this to us, warps and transforms…

i’m sinking right into those pictures, swimming and wrapping myself up in them… remembering every flutter, every kick… every walk home after seeing her on the scan- with smiles as wide as the sky on our faces…
remembering how his arms carefully wrapped around my body as we stood in the kitchen.  how we’d stretch out on the couch and share our daydreams about this babe that was soon to come.

i don’t ever want to forget…. caroline, thank you for helping me to always remember…. for capturing this transformation in my life.

i’m sitting here, with claire in my arms, asleep… hoping that i never forget these transformative times…

—-

Somewhere over the rainbow
Way up high,
There’s a land that I heard of
Once in a lullaby.

Somewhere over the rainbow
Skies are blue,
And the dreams that you dare to dream
Really do come true.

my baby girl, my dreams really did come true…

thick red rivers of blood streaming from between my thighs. i could almost feel the coolness of it-as i woke up in a panic. checking between my legs, checking the sheets to make sure that it wasn’t really happening. getting up and going to the toilet to make sure that nothing was going on.

the dream disturbed me in a way so completely different from any other ‘anxiety’ dream of pregnancy/birth/motherhood. it wasn’t like the dreams of forgetting my baby, not knowing where i left her, someone taking her, not knowing how to feed her, giving birth to a fake baby. all of those typical stupid dreams that every pregnant woman has- that just tinges with anxiety.

this dream was entirely something else. so powerful and crude, scary and exhausting. it completely shook me. and i spent the day crying, under a dark cloud… hands to my belly for every movement. and even as she’d move- it wouldn’t bring me the comfort that i needed.

after a while of thinking about it, trying to figure out why i felt so shitty.. so down. so unsure. so unwell. e-mailing some of my beautiful tribe, and just letting it out. bawling… i crawled into bed with my husband, who just cuddled me. breathed with me. and helped me to fall asleep for a nap that my body so needed.

and still i dreamt of the blood.

at first, confused, hurt.. upset. my mind immediately went to the fears and doubts of:

when will the badness come?
this pregnancy has been so beautiful and easy and wonderful. the struggle to get pregnant meant that the beginning of this journey i was prepared for the worst. i was prepared, and each month proven wrong. each month- my body blossomed in such beautiful ways. helping me to find the confidence that i so needed. that i so deserved.  helping me to love this entire process and to trust. to have the faith… to believe in myself, and believe in birth. in life.

and then with these dreams, i was reminded- i have had it easy with this pregnancy… and we’re almost to an end… does that mean that something bad is bound to happen…. what is it going to be. how bad is it going to be… it’s almost inevitable.

the sudden fears of you-know-what.

and i didn’t want to think that way. i don’t deserve to think that way…

***

one of my tribe answered back; that blood is a force. of life and death.

after churning it around more. finding what all of this unsettled feeling means to me. what this blood means to me.

i finally feel like i’ve come to it. like i understand it… and now, can honour it.

this is an end. and a beginning.
like the blood- a force of life and death.

this pregnancy is coming to an end,
which is both life and death… both figuratively and literally.
i’ll stand on the threshold of both when i give birth.
giving myself over to both sides of life.
it will be the end, and the beginning…

the space inside my body that has grown and cocooned this life will be left empty.
and my empty arms will then be made full…
a transition from one world to another

the blood and the dream all make sense now,
i can’t control any of it…
it will all flow out from between my legs
and will be equally life and death.
celebration and mourning.

and that makes sense to me,
this uneasy feeling i have- how unsure i feel. this process of letting go.
excited to experience all of this,
because i have confidence in my body. i have confidence in birth.
excited to meet her… for our story to unfold. to begin
but realising that i have also to let go of what is now,
to come face to face with the reality of what that means.
i will no longer carry her inside my body…
i will no longer harvest a life inside.

the full circle of coming to an end, and also a beginning.
the moon’s waxing and waning.
a full string of mixed emotions…
being amazed and overwhelmed
upset and joyous
mourning and celebrating.

–

and now, i feel.. like i can begin.
washing away this process. letting go this emotional plug
i feel like i kind of just have to deal with it- and sit with it. and cry all day with it. to work through and figure out what it really means to me- what emotional block i’m holding onto.
to begin letting go of it,
and allowing her to sink down lower between my hips
so we can begin this dance together
where we both come to the most primal of our beings…

i know in every fiber of my being that this birth will be beautiful and powerful and change me completely…
i feel strong. and confident and… like nothing will stop me.

and on the other side, we will emerge.
two completely new people.
both with stories of the past…
and begin building our story together of the present.

full circle.

and then we had a positive test… the very first thing we breathed was ‘…we work.’ so thankful. so.. just.. sigh of relief. joy. we work.

from then on this confidence grows. i felt, at first, that because of our journey to this babe that pregnancy would not sit well with my body… that we’d have bigger challenges to face through this. when the opposite seems to be true. my body blossoms and grows, and with every new change i’m in awe.. in love.. that woman in the mirror- i remember her with compassion and understanding… but her negative words, her voice. her doubts.. they’re gone. i feel fruitful. fertile. prolific.

my womb harvests an ocean.
salty sacred solution… the beginning.
swimming, a force.
a blue aura being glowing, suspended. light. slippery, life.

my own salty tears stain my cheeks
in happiness, unbelievable joy.
once lost and afraid in my body, in a silent womb… and now completely in awe. a confidence grows that i never knew i could own…

my body is life.
my womb is life.
i am a vessel.
a muse manifests herself deep with my seed.

–

i go back through pictures i had taken during the journey. words i wrote along with them as my therapy. i’m so grateful that i documented that… that i took pictures of my naked body that i felt failed in. i’m grateful that i have those raw words.

i knew in my heart, even then through all of that, that one day i would be able to look back at that girl and that I would wish she’d be more gentle with herself… more kind and loving to herself.

and here i stand with those thoughts. my arms wide open for her, ready to wrap her up and embrace her… show her how beautiful her body is-that she is not a prisoner… that she is not anything less. i know that at the time the comfort would only last for a little while- because looking in the mirror with a magnifying glass and ugly words seems to block out everything else..

i’m most grateful that i have it all documented. my therapy. my body. it was the only way for me to get through our fertility journey… i feel stronger, more beautiful, more confident, more aware, more grateful than i think i ever could be without it…

i love everything about this body.

–

yesterday was beautiful and sunny… we walked through the town, passing by women with tiny newborns in strollers. women who i had seen at my ante-natal clinic that have already given birth. i was happy, it was sunny, my belly was beautiful and round and yummy.

and i realised what this stroll would have been like for me last summer. when i’d go for walks and pass by the playground, see round pregnant women holding onto the sticky hands of their toddlers… a mix of bittersweetness. falling in love with her beauty, wanting to capture it all for her… excited and ready to have what she has. and also that pang of wanting it so badly. i didn’t know her story, whether she became pregnant easily or not.(and it doesn’t matter…)

being here now, and loving my ever changing body, and everything that comes with it…  not taking even the tiniest bit of it for granted.

i will never forget  that pain of (in)fertility. and because of it, i know i can honour and cherish these pieces of new mamahood. and live with greater compassion and understanding.

and just this morning, a letter through the door letting me know of my scheduled appointment for next month. talking about the tests they would run. mentioning samples of blood and sperm…

nine months ago i sat in my GP’s office while i was on treatment with a fertility specialist and wanting to change the progesterone, because i knew it wasn’t setting well with my body.  she went ahead and wrote a letter to a free fertility clinic- telling me it would be a long wait. and at the same time, dismissing me… because i’m young.

as i thanked her for the new prescription and left her office- nearly shutting the door behind me, she reminded me again that it could take up to a year to hear anything back from the clinic. i thanked her, and said that i hoped that i wouldn’t have to go. that maybe i’d get pregnant before that arrived.

this morning i got to make a call to the secretary of the fertility clinic to say that my appointment was no longer necessary.

and i am so thankful for that…

but i nearly felt like i was jinxing myself.

all of that time. all of that heartache. all of that waiting. all of that uncertainty.

and a babe grows, 21 weeks.

–

i’m thankful that we never had to do sperm analysis. that we didn’t have to take a closer look at my eggs… that we didn’t have to do anything more invasive than a vaginal ultrasound to confirm my PCOS.

i’m thankful that the first fertility specialist we went to- that i found by word of mouth- filled us with hope (which i think was the most important…more important than any medications or procedures). he believed in me. he didn’t discriminate against us because of our age. he didn’t push me to the side… he didn’t think it was silly.  he was honest and sincere, and his office was decorated with pictures of babies from hundreds of women who also found hope in him. women who were successful in finding their babies with help/hope from him.

i’m thankful that i listened to my instincts- and changed what he prescribed to me against his, and my doctors advice.

i’m thankful for affordable healthcare, and free maternity and newborn care.

i’m thankful for this journey. finding my way through such a heartache haze. being able to share my story and find a tribe of women who hold me up. thankful for this mysterious part of the journey that is new. exciting… filled with spots of uncertainty. forcing you to once again- give yourself over to hope and trust.

each week still feels like a giant milestone. one more week past another safe zone. one more week closer to a healthy baby.

today’s phone call to cancel the fertility appointment felt… i guess a mixture of bitter-sweetness?

grateful that i can say i don’t need that right now, passing my appointment on to another kindred soul on such a trying journey.  and also a wee bit…like a security net has been taken out from underneath me?

–

baby has moved positions… it sits in a space more quiet than it did two weeks ago- where i felt every nudge, every little kick, stretch, roll. a pattern forming of when it was active and when it was resting.

but this mysterious baby continues to be a mystery to me… finding a quieter space- further away.  i wait for a moment in the day to feel a tiny nudge to know that all is well. that my body and baby continue to be healthy and strong. trying not to distract or disappoint myself if it’s quiet-because it’s still early days. because baby is growing and needs rest. because i know he/she is moving and i just can’t feel every motion. because… i have to trust. (is trust, hope, patience the lesson that this babe brings with it for me. on this whole journey?)

because i’m emotional. and hormonal.

and i got to cancel a fertility appointment i waited so long for- because i’m pregnant with the baby that i waited even longer for!  and i’m celebrating that.

and i know that my other journeying mamas will celebrate that part of their journey at some point too.  : )

love.