05/10/2026
This is the poem I chose for my first daughter the day before I went into labor with her.
Little did I know that it wasn’t just my children who would be striking roots into earth….it would be me.
I am the won striking again and again, forging unscripted, un-mapped paths for us all, but it’s because of them that I do it.
Motherhood is symbiotic. We are raising and growing each other…and it is everything. It requires all of you. The fragile and the fierce. The humble and the confident. The feelings, broken, wounded, healed, loved, peaceful, cracked open, uncertain and intuitive.
May you know deeply how loved, needed and absolutely magnificent you are today. And on the days you are shaken, come here. Our hands are all on your back. 💕
‘Human nature will not flourish, any more than a potato, if it be planted and replanted, for too long a series of generations, in the same worn-out soil. My children have had other birthplaces, and, so far as their fortunes may be within my control, shall strike their roots into unaccustomed earth’
- N. Hawthorn
