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Listening to Reason

We have two children. Life is generally a massive whirlwind of singalong nursery rhymes, building forts, cleaning yogurt/snot/paint/sand from bizarre places, remaining in character as some fictional cartoon person for much of the day, having up-times and having downers.

That’s everyone, not just me.

I have been so lucky to have been finding connection with fluid body work and fluid body listening with my children and my little one to come. It has helped me connect with all of my babies in deeper ways that seems to cut through a lot of the unnecessary rubbish and get to the core of them, and me, and our family circle within and around all of that.

It is beautiful to connect with that and sit within it, when I can.

The day-to-day stuff still happens and I am residing in this juiciness more now. But recently I had such a profound experience of living on the edge of that. I feel it is important to share this. I am driven to share it. Because it brings such simple clarity.

I was stuck to my bed one morning. Too early. I was dreading the wake-up call from the smallest. She is such a gem sweet lady during the day – but when she wants mamma and what mamma has to offer in the morning, she turns in to a raving banshee, who’s cry cuts through my eyelashes to drag me into stumble-dom,  retrieve her from her cot, and envelop her in the snuggle zone with her brother and I.

This happens a lot by the way, and mostly I manage OK, never awake enough to be too rude or annoyed. But on this night/morning, I didn’t have enough sleep. The older dude had me in a headlock for most of the night and for the rest of it had a toe or other limb in my face/neck/ear.

Well, really in writing this there is no excuse. I lost it. I screamed at them both, needing space, needing rest, needing quiet (ironically). It’s hard to write that…’I lost it’…. it really is. I became the banshee that annoys me so much. My son told me to calm down and my daughter put her hand on my cheek to console me.

And then, in the dark with my two beautiful babies I wept and wept. I wept at their little bodies lying in the dark with this witch woman. I wept at the resentment I felt at having to be awake at that ungodly hour. I wept in the resentment of that resentment. And how I felt in my body, how all of that made me feel in my body. And then, the kicker… I felt so unworthy.  I felt the self-blame for my miscarriages engulf me.

Why would my baby want to come into this body and be mothered by this mother. Was I to blame for the loss, holding anger in my biochemistry, my make-up? Did my adrenaline overload my system and harm my baby? Does my baby know that I can ‘lose it’ and choose another road? Did I do something else wrong?

All sorts of irrational thoughts raced through my head in the dark. The questioning of what it is to be a mother and to stand into those shoes fully and the physical womb-space, the mother-space that comes with that… on and on, cycling in questions.

And then, just as the questions came, so too did the answers. Clearly, like there was an answer to each one, through my children and my bodily awareness of my little one to-come. ‘Its alright Mam’ – a touch, a rub, a kind word, a sense of strength and relief. Them all caring for me in the midst of my outbreak. My guilt-tears, and snot-laden kisses on their foreheads in sorrow.

And my awareness of these gorgeous souls all telling at me that I did nothing wrong…that in fact THIS is why you are chosen by me/us.

Because there is love.

You are worthy because there is love, infinite love.

Then… a felt-sense of reiteration of all I know. ‘Receive me.

Receive my love.

Its right here’.



© 2016

In my love

Recently as a family we have been consciously and unconsciously honouring the constellation that has been emerging for us / around us, and ‘welcoming’ the next little one into our family in so many ways….

My little girl has been regularly holding, kissing and touching my belly saying ‘baby’ and laughing.  I asked my son again if he thought there was a baby coming to our family. He seems unfaltering in his knowing of this. We got to chatting about it and he seemed to have an assuredness in every answer and comment. I asked him where he thought the little one is now.

He said “He is in my love”


I was blown away. He verbalised what we had been doing as a family, holding the awareness and hope for the little one in our hearts. What a beautiful place to be, to be held, to exist. In his love. In our love.

It can be easy for me to sink back into the physicality of it all.  It can be easy to revert to the familiar of coming from a place of lack. The waiting, the impatience and the longing to be pregnant and hold the embodied little one inside of me – feeling the growth and the presence. And then the longing to hold the baby in my arms – seeing the growth, smelling and nuzzling into the gorgeousness. It can be easy to revert to despair when months come and go without either the joy of holding the positive test stick in your hand, or the excitement of a closer meeting in your heart.

But, within this movement of time between hope and despair there seems a greater preparation. Within this growing awareness of our little one coming – and the beauty that lies within that – there seems to have been some kind of ethereal conception, an energetic implantation to the family body and very obviously, the pregnant holding of the vibration of / the idea of / the essence of our little soul ‘in our love’.

How vast that sense of ‘holding’ is and how beautiful it is to have an umbilical exchange of giving and receiving from this place.


I feel the gifts coming from the little one,  the gift of this time to perceive things differently, the gift of developing perceptions in my body and in our family body. The gift of listening to this little one and how this compels me to listen more deeply to my children here and within my work. The gift of connection within this family, the greater family and throughout community.

There is receiving of him/her by us and the greater global body. There is receiving of ourselves in the remembrance of what our potential was and continues to be. There is receiving the awe and the unknown and the love.

How juicy it is to listen to the wisdom of the little ones who remind us what is held in our love. What a privilege.

Simple and profound.




Shine on you baby diamond

Another personal pre-natal awareness session meets another Global Unified Body listening session….

In the former, I was settling into feeling life as a baby – maybe a few days old. I was intrigued about how I was received. I felt the OK-ness in myself as this baby, an OK-ness that was totally connected to something greater, awesome, familiar –  to source. It was my navigator, my rudder, my anchor. All three in one.


I liked hanging out here, sailing in the OK.

This OK-ness was in the presence of the discomfort of my ‘form’, the body that I was in, how I arrived, and the ‘story’ of the surrounds, the people, the holding. There was so much questioning of  what the purpose of certain body parts were (in particular, the voice, the mouth) in the presence of the story of the parents.

I now know with certainty, that the connection to source throughout life is ever-present and palpable. The connection is in the non-conscious, and the struggle of life can lie in blending the conscious ‘form’ of us to the non-conscious source – the OK.

In acknowledging and ‘regressing’ to this pre-conception Ok-ness, I was able to see why I had chosen my parents, and I met my destiny, the essence within my mother, and without her story.

I connected from my pre-conception state to the heart-beam of my mother as a child. It was a very clear link. The child heart that could, and would hear me as an incoming in the ‘some-other-time’. It progressed as truth and destiny and a prophecy, in connection with her pre-form soul / her incoming soul. It settled my body sense to OK.

So there was an overall OK now, in form and in source. Phew! It felt like such a relief. To be received so purely by another in her purity.

As well as being very mind-blowing, this awareness that we choose our parents in timelessness gives earthiness to the idea of fate; the idea that there exists sublime foregone conclusions, that we make our wisest choices far before we even conceive of what a choice is. Our wisdom lies in connection to source, and the coming into form can somehow create struggle with the home of wisdom, and how we relate to it.


Later, in the larger group, in listening again to the older children, the adults who have arrived, we felt this created struggle, the returning to wisdom and safety, within the body, and within connection to source.

The integration of where we come from and where we reside is being brought to attention. If we can really hear the sweetness in and of the messages of our babies, and settle with their wisdom, we can begin to reconnect to our own wisdom, to our own source, and we can all come home to that. Again the theme of receiving ourselves allowing for the receiving of others comes through. A beautiful circle encompassing acceptance.

In sessions recently with babies in the womb, or in awareness of my own baby soul beam, it is clear that they are shining, bright centre-stage stars. They are singing their destiny.  They have chosen their womb-stage, their mama, in certainty. They know their wisdom, their stunning selves, their source. They own the spotlight, they own their voice, they own love.  And these little growing babies – in the womb, or who have arrived – are offering their hand to those who have forgotten the shining light in themselves, and inviting them to step into ‘shine’ again too.


It can feel sometimes, that the shining they bring is giving light to the edges of ourselves that we would like to keep quiet, out of the spotlight / stage left / back stage / out of the theatre altogether. It can feel like they are bringing exactly what we have not wanted to see in ourselves or hear of ourselves, or embody. It can feel like it is a case of opening up to the polar opposite of who we are.

And then they are holding our hand to show us how to shine with them, how to be OK in form, and in connection to source.

They want us to shine, they have chosen us for this. Timelessness ago.

They have chosen us for this! Whatever our ‘this’ is.

How fortunate we are.

Can we listen to them, acknowledge the awesomeness in them, receive the holding from them, receive them, and take a step towards shining alongside them – our little stars?



© 2015

Unifying Respect

I feel my little one at every turn. It is in my being now. It is getting easier now to know when he/she is speaking / writing / feeling through me.

I am beginning to trust what emerges in myself, and listen to that. The listening now feels like a 7th sense or beyond, higher than intuition. It is opening to awareness of information and the true response within the fluid body to that.

What has emerged strongly in past weeks – and in the context of our Global Unified Field of listening – is that there are still others to hear.

The need to listen to the older children at  such a high level, in the presence of the ‘incoming souls’ listening is very real.

In a recent therapy session with a mammy and baby, the mammy was amazed and moved at how engaged her little month old baby was with what we were doing, how we were all listening to each other through space and touch. She thanked me at the end of the session for treating her daughter with such respect. She had not seen that before, nor felt it so strongly in herself, and left our session feeling that her new truer communication with her little one was one bound in strength, clarity and honesty.

My sense over the past while is that I haven’t really been hearing my older children as deeply as I could. I mean, I listened to them with ears that I thought I understood their needs from a ‘mother knows best’ perspective, but in truth, I can’t actually teach them anything. That admission is so free-ing. It feels so spacious.

For the past few weeks, my son has been talking about his birth, his life in the womb, the time before birth – trying to work out the ‘rainbow’ and where people go, why they cannot come back… he has been showing me frustration in being with this lack of clarity. He shows it through his language, his impulsive reactions in connection with others, his physical well-being – his digestion. He has been saying that there should be a baby swimming in my belly now, where is it? He feels it is very small. He knows it is somewhere and that it is coming.  My son is flighty, he is starry, he is spacious. He told me yesterday that he was in the stars. I heard that.

My daughter has been patiently waiting for me to hear her more, to listen more honestly to what she brings to the family. She is kind to me in my challenges to hear. She observes patiently as I ‘lose it’ with things that I can’t control and waits to welcome me back into the picture. She holds attention, she commands the room, she merges with experiences like no one I have ever met before. She kisses my belly reassuringly when her brother talks of a baby coming. She knows life and how to live it. She has no fear in her exploration of things. She doesn’t just jump in the puddle she becomes the puddle. She is fluid, she is earthy, she is embodied wisdom.

I listened recently to the call I had with Shelley Lemaire the month before this wise earthy bundle was born. It was wonderful to hear how intimately Shelley knew her, and painted the picture of her as she was informed it by her. It was comforting to know that my daughter had been heard in her truth by Shelley as she made her way to me physically. It was truly awesome to hear how she and I (eventually) could ‘tune in’ to her being and her birth by listening in open honesty. It feels so good to reconnect with that again.

And in listening to these (two) children who embody star and earth,  or who may embody both and feel the confusion in that, it feels as though their stories relate intimately to the welcoming of someone/something new. It is as though their places and experiences are informing the bigger picture. And the knowing they can give to their mothers / mother earth.

I see in my children that they feel more heard. I have heard both of them laugh in their sleep since I have tuned in more. Real belly joy. I have felt how joyous it is for all of us to open to this level of listening, and I have seen too how my son processes this change within his little body. I have felt how challenging it is when I slip into old, ingrained patterns, and I feel that this awareness is how they are changing me fundamentally. Changing my knowing.

So far….

I know now there is relinquishing control. There is seeing;  from a very new and different angle. There is no longer truth in thinking we ‘know best’ / must ‘protect’ / must ‘guide’. This goes beyond the cognitive understanding of peaceful parenting / teaching / ‘theruping’.

I know now there is beauty in knowing nothing. More than I ever have known, I know there is teaching from them, not teaching from me.

I know now there is a deeper dance between us, a following of experience, of laughter, and pain, at another level, beyond words. And that if we can trust more in this, the boundaries of individual needs are lifted. There is a unified flow of movement and love.

I know now there is a stronger communication , a resonance finer than sound or gesture or feeling, brighter than light, more sensitive than skin. It is the resonance of connection that comes with yielding to the darkness, and allowing the darkness to lead the way.

I know there is the biggest, widest, most awesome mutual receiving in the belly of the most sacred and precious mutual respect.

I know there is no separation. There is one-ness, unity. A totality that allows for more ease in weaving in and out of connection with each other.

And, I know there is more. Infinitely more.

The moon shines down on the Arctic Ocean as curtains of green Aurora Borealis dance overhead, off the coast of the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge

©  2015


Windows to the Soul


When I was 19 I travelled from Ireland to America to work for a summer. It didn’t work out too well as I had to have my appendix out and return home. As I was leaving the family I was staying with – who were old friends – bought me a leaving gift. It was a mix of two things I loved, a music box with an Ernie on it. It plays a beautiful tune and has, until recently always brought me back to those times.

The music box stayed at my parents house for 22 years until my children found it and decided it was better in their care.

A mix of things made me look at this music box in a new shining light.

Firstly, my children’s eagerness to have this little toy at home with us. Something that has laid gathering 22 years worth of dust has found its purpose again. Something simple that gives us now-moments of smiles and giggles.

Secondly, we went to feed my parents dog (they are away for a few days) – who had been inside his little shed all day with no company. He burst out bounding around all long-limbed and gallopy, delighted to have company again. My son said something that really got me. He said “We see you”, like the dog was validated, his joy was received by us, his loneliness was understood and he could move through that a little.

As I have sat for a while listening with others to my baby’s soul beam, a few more things have emerged.

I am like the duck with Ernie. I am swimming around in my pond being all duck-like, going where I need to at a super fast pace, bottoms-upping when things get a bit much, looking at the murky depths of things for nourishment. Then life changes things over time, though it seems sudden, and I am aware that I should stop and open to something, something more nourishing that has a different source.

I see this big Ernie-like thing watching me, totally accepting of me, in awe of me and my waddle-some ways. Waiting, just waiting for me to notice.

When I do, when I take the time, I begin to listen and settle with what he brings. Patience, kindness, love, acceptance. He is unwavering in his presence. Just sitting waiting for me to see, knowing that someday I will look up.

And I have.

I shake my tail feathers a little and nestle into this watchful presence. Receiving what he brings. And when I look up for long enough, I begin to see. And we begin to see each other. And the basking in the soul’s gaze begins. Reciprocal appreciation.

My body is changing daily as I rest in him and receive. My eyes are changing, my brain is widening, neck and shoulders too. My sense of alert, the adrenaline charge that has sustained me for so long seems to be quietening a little, fear lessening. Things seem to be doing that they need to allow for continued gazing, receiving and awakening.

And his presence is changing too somehow,to an Ernie / Ernetta, seeming to hold all that is masculine and feminine and beautiful and knowing and connected.

This in turn allows me to experience my sacred and luscious feminine. All the while vulnerable and strong, open and motherly. Laid bare to be seen in my yin and yang.

Somehow, this ‘seeing’ reminds me that there is seeing and accepting all around me in this life. My children and husband see me truly, warts and all. We are all here, seeing each other, mirroring love and life. Humanity views.

And now, the sweet tune from the box symbolises the present, the now, the music of seeing and receiving of each other in earthly life and through the beam.

© Oct 25 2105

The lonely end of the rainbow

Today, on ‘Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness day’ and a couple of days after I wrote ‘Trusting the baby in the tweed jacket’  I lost my baby.

I should say, we lost him 5 months ago too, and were so happy when I became pregnant again, feeling that this was his chance to come in as he needed to.

I say ‘lost’, because that is my sense of it. He is lost to me physically, and yet there is the hope that I will find him again physically. I felt the energy of him about me through the whole process, and I do yet. But I had been confused about the Trust in the last post because of the feeling / not feeling sense of where my baby was at.

This morning, before we went to the hospital, as I felt my womb become less-pregnant, I asked for a sign that my little one was OK. I felt him all around me, and then from the playroom, one of those weird talky-toys left in a corner under a heap of teddies randomly said ‘Hello!’… OOOOeeeeeooooo

At the hospital they did a scan. This tiny, tiny dot on the screen that had stopped growing was our baby. The doctors hedged their bets as they said he may continue to grow, but I knew this part of the story was over. And yet, as we floated through the daze of bumps and heartbeats that were not ours, I felt him around me still. A vast presence wrapped around my belly.

In the car, we talked about our oldest child, who – at 3 years old- shortly after we found out we were expecting again had said “Mam, its time for there to be a baby swimming in your belly now”. And our 20 month old, who had randomly started kissing my belly every night. How just recently my older child said ‘There’s a baby in that belly now mammy”.  We agreed that, if they asked, we would tell our babies that this little one had just gone on holiday and will be back in my belly soon again.

When I got home, I felt as though we needed to let our baby go back to the stars and sat outside in the autumn sun, with our dogs, my husband pottering around, coming to hold me, and we asked the ancestors to guide him and be with him. I came in to rest, and here, I felt him again, around me as he has been for so long.

I was confused again. Its like he’s an energetic boomerang. And while it made me happy, I was so confused. Here is my womb weeping and expelling the physical body of my baby, cramping, telling me this pregnancy is gone from us. And between the cramps, I feel something like renewal, and the presence that is unwavering and faithful to the end. The heart energy that I feel so much in my work is there, the orbs of connection that are beyond boundary are strong.

My brain shouts ‘SHUT UP! This can’t be!’ The old me who resides a lot in her head. There is the vibrant redness that symbolises life-ending and life-sustinance all together. The end to the nervous knicker-watching of the past few days, and what really shouldn’t feel like a new beginning. It’s all just odd.

And then there is the grief. The sadness for the face I have seen so often when I close my eyes. The sadness for my husband’s sadness. The sadness of the giddy excited-ness of meeting my baby and it being kissed and slobbered on by parents, siblings, relations and dogs alike. The sadness of that feeling of not-being-pregnant anymore. Just me. Alone again. Being one.

And in the grief, Boomerang Boy pops up. Like a horizontal disc, or plane of awareness around my belly. So I sleep and hope the process goes quickly.

In the evening I heard from Shelley. She is wonderful. She has guided me through all of my pregnancies and the previous miscarriage. Together over the past few months we have shared our similar impressions of this little soul. She has been unwavering in her trust of this being. I am too weary to speak but she sits with our story herself and sends me a recording of her impressions. They resonate so much with me and help me find the trust again. She feels how much this little one is turning my understanding of what is ‘normal’ inside out. This is the reason I am able to write in this sleeplessness.

This is the reason I am able to write the following:

Microsoft Word - Sombrero Galaxie im Sternbild Jungfrau.doc

Trust in(side )Sadness

My little lost love,

You wear me as a tutu of energy all around me

Twinkly, full of vibrancy, full of the dance.

My body is unsure and my brain is old-school – thinking too much.

And you twirl around me, making my understanding dizzy

And you spin a torus to the stars,

sparkling this way and that.

Your tiny earthly body leaving now

My body mourns your absence.

Tweedy Tiny Teacher, wise as wideness.

I still don’t understand why, but you say ‘Trust!’

And I try to park my grief, and follow your lead

Breathe. Release. Like the tides,

the current of the unknown will bring me back to you in time.

Healthy, strong, creative and full of love.

Your Mamma is waiting.



© October15 2015



Trusting the baby in the tweed jacket

SO I and my wonderful pre-natal supporter had a session yesterday….

I had a lot going on in daily life, and at 9 weeks pregnant, connection to my little one was a bit nebulous at times. Busy home life, busy work life. I suppose I didn’t give myself credit for hearing the communication that was happening in other ways and I was returning to that biochemical-physical need. The doubting Thomas – wonderings like: ‘Why aren’t I feeling sick with this pregnancy? Why am I only experiencing some tiredness and why oh why aren’t my symptoms reducing me to a heap of groaning drain on the sofa, unable to communicate with others / play with my children / make dinner / be a super-woman?

My ‘Witness’ and Space Holder (who works in pre and peri natal fields) reflected that I have done so much self-work that maybe the intuitive self was getting there, getting stronger, and that things (emotional / physical) might be clearer in this pregnancy?

I spoke of how my growing embryo seems to communicate at a different level, like a philosophy student in a tweed jacket. There is such wisdom and a real clarity of light, and connection to a higher realm. I had been reading what Wendy McCarthy (Welcoming Consciousness) said about the different levels of communication and I realised that this is transcendental rather than a physical / body communication. That made me feel better.

I spoke of how guilt seems to be my M.O. Guilt about not being the best mother, guilt about how everything I do is impacting my little one, and my 2 children. How I was struggling with just being a good-enough mother. I feel I can differentiate on some levels between what is mine and my baby’s but I wondered if it will still affect him/her? My Witness reflected that being and showing ‘human’ is also important and it allows the baby to experience that of me and of the world it is coming into.

I related some stories of how my older children seem so good with things, how they can communicate through shock or frightening times, how they tell me their fears and their joys – verbally and non-verbally, and my Witness suggested; Hey, maybe I am not doing such a bad job after all!

We settled with intention. What is my intention today? It became ‘connection to my growing baby, or trusting the connection that I have as much as I feel the little one seems to trust it’.

We settled into the process and I found there seemed to be a ‘trampoline’ between my upper body and my womb, a protector, a divide to help the baby not soak ‘me’ up so much. I didn’t want it to feel the sadness and anger and trauma that I feel sometimes, so there was this trampoline there to bounce it all back up to me. Beneath the trampoline, the baby lay, so vast and free, in its little tweed jacket, being all philosophical, looking at its wise little toes, being with everything and nothing and knowing of its OK.

So what did my body need my Witness asked?

TO TRUST! Trust that the feelings I was having were ok. The baby is OK and the doubting Thomas part of me could just rest, be quiet for a while. And what can resource you? My family, my husband and my children. The love.

What is getting in the way?

Well, as it turns out, it was my mind. The thoughts, the brain, the constancy of them trudging along. And so the process began. I was in the womb, looking towards this fuzzy light, wanting to go there. My sense was that it was more star-like than earth-like. But it disappeared and I was here alone in the dark. I became so aware of my eyes, my nose, my frontal bone, tension and twisting. Third eye knarling inward…

My body movements were all head, looking this way and that. Seeking, searching something. Left to right left to right. Then another light, harsher, more fluorescent. I did not like this light. And the tunnel came into view then, but I was tired.

The birth canal lay in front of me but man, I was stuck, my body was trying to move and stuck stuck stuck. I didn’t like this. Head butting this cervix that wasn’t for budging. And the silence…. ( I should say here my mother is deaf and this has come up in several guises in sessions, mostly represented by silence – though she can talk, but it feels like the silence of my own voice).

And so, there was a sense of cells slowly quieting even more, pins and needles and then sleepiness. The epidural takes its hold. So groggy. Groggily going nowhere and, not really caring too much about that. My witness suggests placing my hands on my head and allowing whatever needs to be.

So tight… so tight…. hands come down squeeeeezing my forehead, eye. Squish. Here is my neck so tightly held. And I feel bewildered. And I feel my umbilicus, my belly button being tugged and I really don’t like that. And here is a shoulder and finally I can stretch and move that arm. Another shoulder. More physical freedom. But I feel so quiet and with no voice. Stretching up and out here I am. But there seems to be no trumpet sound, no whoops of joy, no applause, not even an exclamation mark. Quiet. And I feel so worried and anxious in this newness and almost… suspended.

What is this worry?

Its my cord. Its my mouth. I can’t breathe. Can I breathe? Where is breath? What is breath??? This was the silent worry of waiting for nourishment. Pause.

And suddenly, so suddenly, I fill up with breath with lungs and a nose is there. It breathes too. It is a little cold. And I am cold. But here are these lungs inside filling and emptying. This is a different sense.

And then, with this breath, I have awareness of my 41-year-old body with my baby and the trampoline has some room to move and expand. My baby can breathe too. There is connection in the physical realm, but there is trust of the transcendental too. And all the while, my baby lies back, tiny leg-stumps crossed (almost) and basks in the mammas renewed awareness of the trust that this little being has been floating in all along.

And my baby body again is here, exploring its mouth and head. Poking and turning slowly. Still quiet. Still wondering what has happened, but seems more OK in the quiet now. Belly doesn’t hurt. Eyes can open. They are wider. There still seems to be a sense of numbness and I feel it as an OK nothing.

And we leave the session here, being able to breathe and see and being OK in that. Being able to trust that both sets of senses are OK, the physical and transcendental.

I feel my womb with my hands and sense presence. I feel so so tired, but glad of the journey to breath and back to Trust.

I slowly go back to my kitchen, and my children smile and look at me differently. They see love. I see love and feel wide and grateful and happy. I rest a while and we do bedtime all together. I feel lighter. My husband says he can sense the baby more (and he never says things like that). My children kiss my belly. My son asks if there is a baby in there.

The evening is felt physically with stretching and good cramping and this continues. My baby has more growing room and is having a field day with this new space, and this knowledge that his mother has tuned into trust again.

And I feel as though the experiencing of what’s mine and his can be healthy, though I now see more clearly how my changes and the differentiation within that are good for my baby’s being. We can both breathe. And we can both Trust.


© October 2015