cultivating the beautiful ordinary by sharing our tales and our tables
The long trek from the maternity ward to the NICU requires a wheelchair and a hospital transporter. Michael has just left for a few hours to check on our two- and four-year-old daughters, who are at home and can’t meet their baby sister. I feel the shift as we roll from a floor of lactation…
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I was cold before I even saw the table. It loomed large in the white-washed room. All around stood shadowy strangers, watching as I hovered in the doorway. Hands twitching at my side, gooseflesh along my skin, I hesitated. I was no one to them. I knew exactly what they saw: another in a long…
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“Take a deep breath and fill your belly with air, in through your nose and out through your mouth.” Ally gently guides us through a trauma-informed yoga practice. I notice the rubber mat beneath me and the earth holding me. I am gathered with eight women fighting to find goodness in our bodies, vessels that…
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I gave birth to my son via C-section. It was not how the script was supposed to go, but I was an older first-time mother and a natural birth was not in my destiny. When the nurse laid my baby on my breast, I was so numb from the epidural that I couldn’t feel his…
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Sondheim has me weeping. I can’t stop. His melodies are tender, urgent, gracious, and hopeful.
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