There are a lot of people like me. Women who know things. Women who have seen things. Women with diseases in their livers. There are a lot of women with scars on their arms and words that carry themselves like sparrows. There are women who were too big for this town, who had their backs bent carrying things like religion and a history that originated somewhere in the crook of a branch that extended over a stream. All of you women with lines on your brow, with cracks between your fingers… it’s been a long winter. All of you, you are beautiful and so am I.
I know that I can expect my body to change after giving birth — it’s kind of obvious to me that growing a human, gaining 30-60lbs, and then pushing a human out of my body will do that. But I want to know the nitty-gritty: how does your body REALLY change?
I’m sure I’m not the only one here who had a thing for dinosaurs as a kid. My favorites were the plesiosaur and the duckbill. So I put together a craft round up of dino love — wait until you see the brachiosaurus’ new job.
It seems as though we tell each other a lot of scary stories about parenthood. I mean, of course people want to share their experiences with each other. But all too often this storytelling slips into fear mongering. It’s sort of a pre-emptive commiseration — an anticipatory sing-song of Oh, you’ll seeeee….
I’ve heard the objections before but I’ve always loved unusual names so nay-saying never really had an impact on me. However, I have felt that if I planned to give my own child an unusual name it was my duty to really, truly examine those objections. Would giving my kid an unusual name really damage her? I’m thinking no.