I needed these words. It doesn’t seem to matter the number of births or the years that pass, I feel I’m perpetually becoming a mother. Shapeshifting again and again to accommodate them—expanding to love them, contracting to bear them. I’ve carved out my identity and practice as a writer alongside the space they’ve carved from my days and body. These reflections remind me of the beauty of brief records. Beholding from such a close distance renders meaning is both impossible and unnecessary, as you demonstrated perfectly with the excerpts of your own journal. Thank you!!
I needed these words. It doesn’t seem to matter the number of births or the years that pass, I feel I’m perpetually becoming a mother. Shapeshifting again and again to accommodate them—expanding to love them, contracting to bear them. I’ve carved out my identity and practice as a writer alongside the space they’ve carved from my days and body. These reflections remind me of the beauty of brief records. Beholding from such a close distance renders meaning is both impossible and unnecessary, as you demonstrated perfectly with the excerpts of your own journal. Thank you!!
That idea of "perpetually becoming" is beautiful. And this phrase! "...expanding to love them, contracting to bear them." so good.
Thanks for sharing these thoughts.
Annelise, do you ever teach writing workshops?! I would love to learn from you.
oh this is so kind! Thanks Adrienne. I've led a few workshops in the past, nothing regular. It's something I would love to pursue more of, though.
I've read this essay three times on two different platforms and two devices (in fragments) between toddler meal times, car journeys and doing my job.
I continue to love it - thanks for piecing together moments of your precious time to bring us this offering.
That reading rhythm sounds exactly like how I read most of my Substack/online content these days, too. Solidarity :) and thanks for the note. xx