This is a blog entry about a travel diary that turned into a blog that turned into a book:
How much do you love David Byrne? Almost as much as Cornel West, haha.
I just started it, and of course I love it. David Byrne is wicked smart and thoughtful.
So a little break today from "one year ago" because these days were spent just waiting. That's the thing about that due date farce. Someone, a medical professional, assigns you a "date" and then, despite plenty of resistance, that "date" then becomes a marker for all things, all sorts of anticipation and expectations, most of which are not your own. And if there's a "date" then you can be late. And if you're late, then it turns into Someone Else's Problem because then there are Risks and Liability. And then there are Measures to be taken. You might feel where we're headed.
I am physically terrified about writing about the next four days, last year. That means I have to do it. I am so so scared to feel what I wasn't able to feel last year. I am so scared to look my loneliness and helplessness in the face, to re-member the pieces and the real pain of my birth as a mother. You may want to take a break from reading for a week or so, because we're headed to a place that is not necessarily a typical birth story (yet far too typical, just not the kind you read or hear in company). I'm going to give you my honesty, okay? I'm going to tell you what I know, first. Then I'm going to tell you what I feel. That is so that when I write about my feelings, my confusion, my pain, you won't forget how smart and full of gratitude I am.
Here's some beauty for you: