Two thousand eighteen

I started crying as I logged into my admin page for Writings for Sylvia just now. It isn't that I don't mean to write as often, its that time is different now. My lack of writings I know has bottled up and tumbled out periodically on my Instagram but the hard, tears falling on the keyboard, exhausted sigh with completion work that usually I am able to put into my entries is energy that moves me. It is heart work. It is therapy. And it is exhaustingly comforting. I remember so vividly sitting down to write my first entry, thirteen days after Sylvia was born. I remember thinking that what I was starting was something I never wanted to put down because this, whatever this was, was a part of her. I don't look like the mother of a daughter. I can't hold her hand, teach her new things, learn her quirks, talents, and sense of humor. I don't have the year and a half of experience raising a little girl, hearing her cries, feeling her hugs and seeing her smiles. What I have are the emotions, the memories and the human connection that I am able to put into words. When I don't write I feel guilty and when I feel guilty, I avoid. I tell myself I can't go there emotionally right now because this and this and that all need to get done. But today I stopped myself from the forward momentum of my daily tasks for a reason that I don't quite know. You need to write, I told myself. So here I am, sobbing as I type this. 

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Interview Links

Originally this week I had planned to dedicate time to writing out Leo's birth story. That plan got put on the back burner when I received a series of surprise emails requesting interviews and a personal essay regarding a recent post on my Instagram. While any media attention stemming from my humble little thoughts is appreciated, it is certainly unexpected.

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Overdue Update

Hi. What's new? I guess everything. I had a very frustrating attempt at transferring this blog to different host and in doing so lost all of the comments and feedback messages I had received and have to manually reimport all the photos for each post. Frustrating and very sad. The comment and feedback meant a great deal to me. But here I am, on a new space, devoting time again to writing. As I sit here typing this I have Sylvia's little brother, Leo, now one month old, asleep across my lap. Surreal.

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I'm still here. I promise.

For a while now I have been wanting to upgrade and restyle the blog. Initially I needed to get my thoughts out. I created the blog as quickly as I knew how and got to writing. Professionally it was never aesthetically pleasing but I didn't really care, nor was that its point at the time. The last several months have been hard. I haven't been blogging simply out of fear of what would come out. Words run wild once you start typing; its raw, its emotional and it can be very, very dark.

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