One Year
The post I started writing a month ago, but was too busy living to finish:
My memory of Frida's birth is hazy. Three days of little food and no sleep meant that all of my dreams for being fully aware in that moment had given way to the most basic of instincts and a kind of delirious determination.
Everything seemed to be happening to and around me by the end, far away and out of focus. Not long after I fell asleep - the shortest and deepest nap of my life. I woke to my newfound existence as a mother and I have been wholly present for every moment that has happened since.
I don't remember Frida's arrival with any sort of raw clarity, but I have one year of the most incredible moments to make up for it.
Happy birthday little Frida. I am here forever and always, and I can't wait to see what the next year with you will bring.
My memory of Frida's birth is hazy. Three days of little food and no sleep meant that all of my dreams for being fully aware in that moment had given way to the most basic of instincts and a kind of delirious determination.
Everything seemed to be happening to and around me by the end, far away and out of focus. Not long after I fell asleep - the shortest and deepest nap of my life. I woke to my newfound existence as a mother and I have been wholly present for every moment that has happened since.
I don't remember Frida's arrival with any sort of raw clarity, but I have one year of the most incredible moments to make up for it.
Happy birthday little Frida. I am here forever and always, and I can't wait to see what the next year with you will bring.
- A -
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