3 2 w e e k s + 2 d a y s

We just got home from a week in Palm Springs, it was glorious, a week straight of soaking up sun rays + laying in the pool. I had no idea how magnificent water feels to a pregnant body that feels as though it is about to burst in half; no pain, no weight, no torture of gravity - heaven.on.earth.

As hard as this has all been, I am really beginning to see the sacred nature of this giant undoing. This whole process, since sperm + egg made contact, has been nothing short of a massive and out-of-control landslide carrying me into the depths of the underworld. I have never been more scared of my sanity not returning; this is likely because before this I never knew what content happiness felt like, but at this stage in my life I have been gifted a small window of mental stability (called sobriety) and that stability, that sanity has been such a beautiful and illuminating gift. Pregnancy smashed that sanity to a bazillion pieces and I fell apart, I became plagued with worry I would never get it back.

32 weeks in I am beginning to see that this descent into the underworld is less of a loss of sanity and more the beginning of what is to become a profound initiation + catapult into a dimension that I can not yet fathom. I am not losing my mind, as I thought, I am breaking open at the very seams in order for life to infuse my cells with the appropriate ingredients for this next level of soul expansion that is to take place. It's a rearrangement on the most basic of levels, this experience is changing my very core.

It still hurts, but today I feel an enormous amount of hope.

The call I feel towards magic today is indescribable, I want nothing more than to climb up + into the heavens, find that long-white-haired old crone and commune with her infinite wisdom as she cradles me through this tumultuous time. I want to feel her embrace, I want to hear her whisper her delightful guidance in my ears, I want her touch, her magic, her spark of unwavering faith.

Today I am desiring to cut the painful chords of energies that are blocking the sunlight of spirit; I am ready, as hard as it is, to say goodbye to what was. I am hyper-focused on honing in and creating the sacred right here in my own life, in our teeny tiny growing family, the drive is instinctual, it is not something that I am capable of ignoring or denying; I'm surrendering to the mystery of it all.

I've been lighting candles and palo santo here in our home, cleaning corners of dust + energies, bowing tenderly on my knees in pure reverence for the enormity of this highly sacred time.

I went out and collected muffin making supplies so that I can stockpile a freezer full of my aunts delicious muffins for the 4 trimesters when we welcome a new life into our home - alas, grocery shopping exhausted me and I will have to nap before the food prep begins, but that's ok, this is a time for ultra slow living.

I feel the darkness raging.

I feel the past flooding me, haunting me, reminding me. I remember old love, old wounds, old stuff from childhood. I feel it all, I remember it all, I can not put it to sleep. And so, I'm riding it out - witnessing it, holding it, letting it go. I am reaching to my healing modalities - recovery work, therapy, writing. I'm crying. I'm raging. I'm diligently allowing all feels to digest, to move, to be seen + heard + felt. I'm not sure if this is 'normal' for pregnancy, but it is my 'normal', and so I am here + honoring it.

I am scared to death, to be wholeheartedly honest. I am scared of losing myself, scared of birthing this human, scared shitless of what the hell Motherhood is going to look like. I'm terrified of postpartum depression - I know it doesn't happen to everyone, and I know, I know, I should 'think positive', but with my mental health history + the way pregnancy has been, I can not help but be apprehensive about what the hormonal swing + life adjustments in postpartum will bring - and so, I pray. I pray for guidance, I pray for divine will, I pray to stay in today. I am preparing for a sacred 4th trimester, I feel ready to surrender into whatever life hands us.

I know with all of my being that as long as I continue to surrender my soul to my highest power, and as long as I remain present to what shows up, I will be ok. I know this with every beat my heart has ever taken.

Amongst all of the shadow work in this dark underworld, I feel a palatable call to magic, I feel divinity lurking around every corner, I can see the gems of what will soon be a beautiful ascension all over the place. I feel guided, taken care of, and supported by the heavens. I do not feel alone because my connection to my higher power is on fire at the moment. I can hear her, I can hear her call, I can feel her demand for the slowing down, the quieting, the nesting. I can sense divinity as I plummet into this uncharted territory of the underworld, and it truly is so beautiful.

So here we are, less than 8 weeks until the 'due date' for baby aliens arrival earthside.

Here we are, filled with a myriad of emotions.
Here we are in limbo land of what is to come but what is also no longer - what a magical + bizarre place to reside.

Here we are, babe in the womb, dancing, in prayer, filled with a deep reverence for the unfathomable magnitude of what this all is.

And so it is.

only love, - k xo

9 w e e k s + 4 d a y s | to go!

There are 9 weeks + 4 days left to go until this baby human is due earthside.

I feel pretty bad that I am excited for this to be over, the guilt I feel is just enormous, it takes my breath away a lot of the time. I have been diligent about being honest about this journey and all of its dark twisty turns and yet, parts of me feel ashamed at how dark it's been, am I just a 'Negative Nancy' (I don't know how Nancy got stuck being the negative one, why not 'Negative Nate', or 'Negative Norman', sorry Nancy) and missing all the good? Is the baby in me absorbing all of these dark frequencies? Have I set her up in a womb of terror?

I’ve never felt such huge guilt + shame in all my life, I don’t even know where it’s coming from - probably from the little gremlins knowns as hormones that love black magic and dark tales of mind fuckery.

Yesterday I laid in my bed with Merlot - the dog, not the wine - cuddling him so tight and whaling in uncontrollable tears at the death I imagined was going to occur for him next week; yes, you read that right: I was in my bed with my fully-alive-definitely-healthy-pooch mourning his death that was to occur next week - it felt so real, I hated that he was gone, but he was right in my arms.

I am obviously losing my mind. 

My ragingly high pregnancy libido has dropped - out of nowhere - to zero, and I am pretty convinced that due to my lack of sexual interest that my whole marriage will come crumbling to the ground. I have a loving husband who has been nothing but supportive and we have wildly healthy communication, so he knows exactly what's going on with me, and he assures me day after day that he won't leave because I'm not horny like a rabbit, but no amount of kind words + support have me convinced. He is going to leave and likely he will take the dogs with him, or call "child welfare", but for dogs, "dog welfare" because I am a bad pooch Mum and I do not walk them enough, they are deprived + miserable and it’s obviously all my fault.  Reality: they get walked daily, I am home to cuddle them + entertain them all hours of the day, they eat an organic raw diet, they have piles of toys, and the pooch park they visit is now on.the.ocean - it’s a beach pooch park - they live the fucking dream life - but it somehow feels like it’s not enough.

Yep, mind loss. 

I went for lunch the other day with a couple of friends and when I came back to my car it was gone, well it wasn't gone, it was just on a street I swear to the sweet heavens I didn't leave it on, with a ticket on the windshield to boot. I know for a fact I left it down the other road, I always leave it down that other road, why would Tuesday have been any different? But no one broke into my car to move it to a 2-hour parking zone to play a trick on me, I left it in that very spot and I just seem to have been overtaken by pregnancy brain and I have no recollection of leaving it there.

Sometimes I wonder if I will birth this child and then just remain mentally fucked up for all of eternity amen.

I can't see my vagina anymore, I despise to my very core being touched right now, I'm energetically dead, my libido is gone, and my thinking has taken a deep plummet into pure insanity. I'm not gaining weight as they want me too - although the baby is growing as per her expected quota (obviously from robbing all nutrient stores and life force from me! What a smart thing you are, Mother Nature), and it turns out that I have developed 'diastasis recti', or a split in my abdominals, so that will be a fun healing journey. I feel guilty for everything, every.single.choice that has to do with parenting or mothering feels earth-shattering, paralyzing, and far too complex for a human like me to be able to solve - when did life become such a riddle? I'm not good at math, or riddles, and I didn't sign up for this crap. Also, I puke in my mouth a lot now, I guess that's what happens when a stomach gets squashed into a ribcage by a growing uterus and the host, or I mean, mother of the baby experiences  'acid reflux'. 

Some people actually have a baby to 'save a relationship', that's a real thing that I hear people do. I just gotta tell ya - that's a bad fuckin' idea. Your partner is going to witness the highest and lowest of emotional extremes for you, they will have to talk you off the edge when you are mourning the loss of your still-alive-dog, calm you down when you get parking tickets - that they obviously won't be happy about either, but dare they say it, heads will be severed - shave bits and pieces of your body that you can no longer see, and likely - if you are water birthing at home - catch your poop in a fish net. Any pride I had left is burning down in a pile of seething death in the backyard.

This shit is not glamour, people. 

But, I hear the baby makes it all worth it. 

But then again, you people tell me a lot of crap I'm not so sure about these days.

I don't know who to trust anymore.

I do feel like a winner though right now because I am not dead tired like I was a week ago, my body is just a mere 'normal-fuck-me-tired'; I do not feel like gravity has a vendetta for me, or what my feet are glued to the earth, or that my body is made of bricks. I still feel like the walk around the block is a little long + unfair, but it's not like mount Everest anymore and that's a win, I'm counting all wins.

I really feel seen by midwife, I am working hard at my recovery with support from my sponsor, and I am diving deep into surrender. I have officially reached out to my therapist, and I am laughing at this chaos as much as I can. I can not control this, or life, or any outcomes at all, my only job is to sit in the here and now and do the very best I can at letting go, self-caring, and handing my will to my higher power. I'm on new supplements, which is making a massive difference, and I am forcing myself to eat (even more) food + drink more water. I relish in the glory + excitement that the man I love has to meet this tiny human, I love that he is so keenly interested in touching my belly so he can gain assess to her, and I am grateful that he has the emotional capacity to a) handle me and b) be excited for the both of us, because right now I am mostly just looking forward to pregnancy being over, feeling guilty for feeling that way, feeling terrified of becoming a mother, and feeling guilty about that also.

All in all, I think we are right on track.

only love, - k   

3 0 w e e k s

Hello baby,

Today you are 30 weeks old, your head is facing down, you move a whole lot, you seem to growing as per schedule, and we have renamed you “Wolverine” because I am pretty sure your hands and feet are made of razor blades based on your fierce and feisty punches to my innards. You have a powerful heartbeat, it’s rhythmic, forceful, intentional - there is nothing meek about you, sweet human.

Having you in my womb has brought up an enormous amount of emotion and I am going to be honest with you, I am scared to death - scared to fucking death - that you will be born into this world and you will feel the pain I felt growing up. I feel paralyzed in it these days, totally overwhelmed by it. I’m scared I will fail you, I’m worried sick that your heart will ache the way mine did. I think the closer we get to our meeting date, the more worried I feel, it’s resting like heavy bricks upon my heart.

So I wanted to make week 30 all about some promises I have for you.

Honestly, I have no idea how to be a Mother - the sheer thought of it  makes me squirm - there are many days I imagine us skipping the whole ‘you calling me Mum thing’, and just leaving it at a simple ‘kori’ - parts of this truly have my heart racing in discomfort. I have no road map for this whole Motherhood thing, but I do know that I have learned a thing or two about self-care along the way, I have developed a few strategies to remain self-loyal, and I have become a fierce protectoress of space holding for humans on their human path.  

What I know for sure, is that you have a picked a woman to Mother you who will hold the fiercest space you could ever imagine to blossom into exactly who you are meant to be.

I promise that I will always listen to you, I promise I will hear you, I will hold space for you, and I will not make assumptions on your feelings. I promise you that on the days when I do not understand your human journey, I will become curious and I will ask - I will never tell you how to feel, I will never ever suggest that you “see it more positively”, I will always allow you to unfold in the emotional depths that your soul needs too. I promise you that no matter how hard human’ing may get, your darkness will never scare me, your human depths will not cause me to look the other way.

I promise you that our home will be a safe space; I promise that you will always feel comforted here - even on the days where it’s hard and we may be at each other's throats - you will always know that this is home, and it will never, ever feel anything but safe for you.

I will not force you to believe things you are not comfortable believing in - you can grow, blossom + choose for yourself what best enables your own expression - it does not have to mimic my views. I will always support your causes, your voice matters, your passions matter, and I will be here to cheerlead you on.

I fiercely promise to always uphold my own self-care - I will teach you self-love by demonstrating it, I will show you what a self-loyal, sober woman in recovery looks like. I will place my self-care at the top of my priority list so that I always have the right amounts of love to give to you. You will not see me martyr my way through this existence and run on an empty tank. You will learn - because I will show you via my actions - that self comes 1st, self-care is a non-negotiable.

I promise to hold space as we do on the playa: radical self-expression.

I promise to live via the principles I learn walking the path of sobriety: surrender, trust, a day at a time.

I will do my very best to be the Mother that you need, I will keep my side of the street clean, I will focus with diligence on my own self-care, and I will be fierce in space holding for you to simply unfold exactly the way your soul is meant too.

I am excited to meet you, to learn from you, to give you all that my soul is meant to give you.  I’m looking forward to dancing this human path with you, to earning your trust + respect, and to always making you feel heard + seen.

You are such a fierce teacher for me, I am already so grateful for you.

Love Always,

Your Fierce Mama Bear

2 9 w e e k s + 3 d a y s

I’ve just got to sit here and write, I need to purge and get this - whatever ‘it’ is - off my chest.

My body feels like I am made of bricks, that are attached to balls and chains, that are tethered to the ground, and every single move I make feels exhausting. This morning I walked the pooches - a slow saunter - and the small act of bending over to clean up after them causes the sensation of burning lactic acid through my whole body as if I had just sprinted a 5km uphill. I can’t catch my breath, I’m burping stomach acid, I feel like showering is a daunting task. I feel such enormous guilt at the lack of fitness I have - I’ve never been so slow and so out of shape - and I know, I know, I know this is normal and, yes, I know, I know, I know to be kind and gentle on my self, but it is still fucking with my head.

I am really weepy today, super teary and filled with fear.

I feel like I am dying.

I feel like everything I have always been is no longer operating the way it always operated. My drive, my email response times, the number of pushups I can do, the loss of ability to hold space and coach others, the minuscule number of tasks I can accomplish in a day - all of it - gone. It's just withering away right before my very eyes. The bed needed making this morning, and honestly, it was too much, it just felt too complicated, and we do not even have sheets, just a big duvet, it couldn't be easier. But it was too much, and I am so tired, and that’s just the way it is right now.

I do not feel hormonally fucked anymore, for that I am so deeply grateful.

I feel like I am keenly grounded into a reality right now that is just simply uncomfortable.

There is a human growing in me. Life is changing in ways I can not fathom. It is normal to feel fear, to move slow + experience exhaustion, to question what the hell I am doing. These are all normal things, and yet, it’s still so shocking when ‘in it’, it still feels uncomfortable. Every day my belly gets bigger and kicks get stronger, and yes, I know this is the 'to be expected', but it's still so shocking to me, with each growth spurt I become more aware that there is a human being in there that will be earthside in less than 100 days, and that, that is some wild, fucking, crazy stuff.

It's expected.

But it's shocking, and hard to adjust too.

And that’s ok.

These are the moments that I am trying with all of my mite to surrender into what is, to hand my will over to the care of a higher power, to trust that this is, in fact, unfolding exactly as it should. I am busy over here filling my ‘god box’ (which is the size of a semi truck) with love notes of ‘you fucking take this shit from me’, and spewing out words on scrap paper, on the blog, on social media to just to catch a breath, a moment of peace. I’m eating muffins because that feels right today - maybe it's emotional, maybe it's physical, I don't know, but muffins are the right choice right now - and I am just trying so hard to give myself a break and rest; I feel too tired to ignore it, and yet that internal battle is such a loud force.

I am handing over the way I thought it should be, and I am trying hard to simply bare witness to the death that is happening. Because, this is a sort of death, that’s the truth. Deep inside of me I know that this death, this wildfire that burns my life down as I knew it will leave magical soil, and wide open space for the new and unfathomable to grow - I know this because I have lived this forest fire, I know the destruction, the surrender, and the rise - I have faith in this process. And yet, there are days, like today, that it’s taking every cell in my body to remain focused on the faith part and not to jump right into the fire and let it take me down with it.

I’m just going to let it burn,

all of it.

Today the fire has me frightened, hot, and filled with tears. I’m scared to death today. But I am here, allowing, witnessing, and feeling. I am here, in the heat of this transition, calling on the deepest faith I have, over + over again reminding myself that the universe is in charge and that yes, this is going to be more than ok.

only love, -k

m o t h e r s d a y | 2 8 w e e k s + 6 d a y s

Mothers Day 

To all of the humans who are feeling their hearts tugged on this emotionally charged day, 

to the women who are mothers + happy for the gift of it; to the mothers who mother children that are not their own blood; to the teachers; to the women who are struggling to conceive; to the ones who have lost babies to miscarriage + stillborn births; to the women who are suffering in darkness + silence while trying to bare a baby she maybe wanted or, perhaps didn't want; to the alcoholic (and all other forms of addiction) mother who wants nothing more to put down the bottle, but can not; to the women has dreamed with every fiber in her being of becoming a mother, but for whatever reason life had other plans; to the women who are natural, patient, nurturing mothers + to the ones who are pulling out their hair wondering if this was the right choice; to the women suffering in the stank swamps of postpartum + prenatal depression; to the women who chose to terminate a pregnancy; to the humans who wish they could bare a baby but do not have a uterus; to the humans who have lost a mother, or cannot for the life of them make peace with the mother they have; to the humans who grew up without a mother; to the women who are surrogate mothers; to the women who foster children, adopt children, or step parent children; to the mothers who lost a child; to the women who choose not to have children but mother in so many other ways; to all of you, Happy Mothers Day.

Wherever you are, whatever emotion this day stirs up for you - light or dark - I see you, I honor your human journey.

only love, k

2 7 w e e k s + 4 d a y s

What can I report today?

Let’s see here - I am 27 weeks + 4 days along in this wild journey called pregnancy.

Baby kicks have become less like muscle twitches and a whole lot more like a human being inside of my womb kicking me - sometimes I can even feel the limbs (I can not differentiate between baby aliens body parts) pushing back at my hand, what a mind-boggling sensation that is.

Darkness is definitely lifting; I was even bored yesterday - yes, real, actual boredom. Considering I have not been working or maintaining any form of routine (and most of my days for the past 27 weeks + 4 days have consisted of TV and staring at walls while trying not to puke everywhere) I am dumbfounded that I have not experienced this sensation of boredom yet, but let’s be real here, the depths of darkness and hormonal upheaval are the furthest thing from ‘boring’. People ask me, “what are you doing with your days”, and I don’t really know how to answer - they seem full, but they have been full of nothing reportable, other than trying desperately to cling to any sanity I had left.

This week I learned that prenatal depression is, in fact, real, and although no doctor ‘diagnosed me’, it is undeniable that I was in the trenches of that very thing. I’ve also learned that prenatal depression is extremely rare, and hard to find too many resources on. Part of my healing will certainly be some intentional exploration around this issue and putting my own voice to it - why are we not talking about such things?

I am also coming to learn that I am scared to death of what postpartum may look like, and yet, I am open to surprises from the universe. I know I am not there yet and so I do not want to dwell on that - especially because it takes away from any joy I have today. With that being said, I am actively putting into place some very, very intentional postpartum self-care.

For now, though, I feel ‘in the clear’.

I’ve been amazed at the judgment in the motherhood community, so much unsolicited well-intentioned ‘advice’, so much criticism, so many opinions, so little room to simply be authentic and flow through the experience as the body and mind of the pregnant woman call for.

My experience was dark, and still to this day people say I am “lucky”, which makes me feel wildly unheard. To this day people tell me to “watch my weight”, or they tell me to make sure that “you only think positive thoughts while you have a baby in you” - oh yes, that sounds realistic + authentic.
I know the world means well, but there is such an absurd projection from one another as to what we think it ‘should be like’, or what ‘we wish it was like for ourselves’.

I feel like the world tries to shut down anything that isn’t easy to hear, I feel like the humans within this motherhood community (men, women, mothers, non-mothers) turn a blind eye to the darkness that this ‘magical time’ is for some of us. I know the 1st trimester is commonly reported as being awful, but for me - I was unable to function, unable to think straight, unable to get out of bed, unable to leave the house. I know one woman in all of the pregnant humans who I have spoken too that had it this fucked up, and thank god I had her, she affirmed to me again and again that I was not dying and that life would be born again.  

I do not actually know how I remained sober - it was bad enough that there was many-a-day that I was willing to do almost anything to take the pain away. Well, that’s not totally true, I know exactly how I stayed sober: I kept up with my recovery work with diligence as I had in the beginning, and I didn't isolate, I continued to reach out and share and not dare walk this darkness alone. I prayed. I cried. I raged. I walked this path with raw authenticity, and I think that saved me.

I’m learning that pregnancy is a deep right of passage, I am learning that it can become unbearably dark for some of us, I am learning that - like any dark night of the soul - it can strip us down to our very core, to the point of no return, where we humbly bow down, naked, sweating, breathless on the raw earth, and we wave our white flags, “I surrender”, before pieces of us die + begin to compost in the earth.

For me, this journey has been a total undoing.

Everything of who I thought I was has been taken.

All of what I thought the world looked like - shifted.

My priorities are rearranging before my eyes, but nothing has been set in stone, yet. It’s all still in this mess of ‘to be determined’, the ‘more shall be revealed’ has not been shown and this space feels much like the hallway of hell I am so familiar with.

I am feisty these days; I have no time for shit, no time for humans who are not loyal, or those that treat me poorly, or for old resentments to rot my soul. I have no desire to hustle for approval. I have no time for drama or crap. It seems I only care about bowing down into divinity and listening with all of my mite as to what the universe is trying to tell me - the rest feels like noise.

For me, this journey has been a dark descent into the underworld, another opportunity to meet self head-on, to die, to be reborn, to rise like the Phoenix. But before any good ‘rise’ there must come a wholehearted jump into the pit of hot flames, a willingness to burn, to let go, to disintegrate back into the pits of the earth.

And that’s where I have been.



Letting it all go.

I do feel, however, that in the past 2 weeks something has shifted within my descent into the underworld - I feel that I am no longer fighting it, I am no longer looking for an escape route, I have accepted where I am, the underworld, and there is one way out: through it.

I hold my womb these days with my eyes closed and I weep.

I cry knowing that there is a teeny tiny life inside of me, a teeny tiny human who gets to walk this dark and transformative journey with me. I cry because right now we get to traverse this underworld together; right now she witnesses me die, and we will both witness our re-birth, because as she is born, so too will the mother in me be born, and life will be new for us both. This will be the only time that her and I walk this path with such togetherness, I hope that even though it’s been tough that she is seeing self-loyalty, self-love, boundaries, faith, and surrender. I hope she is seeing the medicine of authenticity, truth speaking, and the value of finding the divinity in the dark hours.

Right now I know we are in the darkness - her in her cradled womb of amniotic fluid, and me in the underworld of dark nights - and there is something deeply magical to me about the fact that in this sacred time our hearts beat together, we are connected by physical and energetic cords, and I feel so blessed to have this tiny human already teaching me such big lessons.

I can not wait for us to rise, together.

All I want her to know is how valuable the underworld is, and how magical the rise like a Phoenix bird is. I want her to know that it doesn't have to be pretty, it’s not always neat and it can really fucking hurt sometimes, but the clouds part, and we grow, and rise, and heal.

I know this underworld well,

and I know how to rise.

I know how to feel the depths of uncomfortable emotions, I know how to stay, how to remain radically still until the miracle happens. I know how to bow in humility when life gets grande, and this journey has been nothing but grande.

Here we are - baby and I - bowing, surrendering, allowing.

Her growing, me burning to my death, both of us scheduled to be born soon.

only love , xoxo - k

I hold my womb these days with my eyes closed and I weep.

I cry knowing that there is a teeny tiny life inside of me, a teeny tiny human who gets to walk this dark and transformative journey with me. I cry because right now we get to traverse this underworld together; right now she witnesses me die, and we will both witness our re-birth, because as she is born, so too will the mother in me be born, and life will be new for us both. This will be the only time that her and I walk this path with such togetherness, I hope that even though it’s been tough that she is seeing self-loyalty, self-love, boundaries, faith, and surrender. I hope she is seeing the medicine of authenticity, truth speaking, and the value of finding the divinity in the dark hours.

Right now I know we are in the darkness - her in her cradled womb of amniotic fluid, and me in the underworld of dark nights - and there is something deeply magical to me about the fact that in this sacred time our hearts beat together, we are connected by physical and energetic cords, and I feel so blessed to have this tiny human already teaching me such big lessons.

I can not wait for us to rise, together.

All I want her to know is how valuable the underworld is, and how magical the rise like a Phoenix bird is. I want her to know that it doesn't have to be pretty, it’s not always neat and it can really fucking hurt sometimes, but the clouds part, and we grow, and rise, and heal.

I know this underworld well,

and I know how to rise.

I know how to feel the depths of uncomfortable emotions, I know how to stay, how to remain radically still until the miracle happens. I know how to bow in humility when life gets grande, and this journey has been nothing but grande.

Here we are - baby and I - bowing, surrendering, allowing.

Her growing, me burning to my death, both of us scheduled to be born soon.

2 6 w e e k s + 3 d a y s

Perhaps having a baby will lead me to fall into the category of humans who know a greater love because of children, perhaps not.

I am here to say, however that having a baby does not define our ability to fall in full capacity for love. 

There are many humans on this planet that will not bare children for a multitude of personal reasons + that does not impact their ability to love. 

How dare the world project an idea that the humans who do not have children will ‘never know full love’. That is simply not true. 

Sure, for some, a child may have exploded their heart + showed them a level of love that only a child could have taught them, and good for them. 

But not having a child doesn’t mean that there is less capacity for love; 

having a child is not a pre-req for love capacity. 

I have been a women fiercely against the idea of having my own children and I have always been appalled at the number of humans who insist that due to my personal choices, I will never know real love. 

All my life people literally would say that straight to my face - do you know belittling and damaging that is?

Life is not about coloring inside the lines of the story line that society said we ought to live. 

Life is messy, and many of us are handed coloring books with missing pages, deformed images, and no crayons to brighten pictures up. 

Not all of us are walking the same story line - most of us are not. 

Most of us are trying to piece colors together and figure out what to do with the deformed story line we were handed. 

We are trying to heal. 

We are trying to be authentic. 

We are trying to walk our own path to love, and it might look different than yours. 

Some humans don’t want kids, or can’t have kids - let’s not shame the each other for walking our truths. 

Be careful not to assume that your experiences of the life events that shaped your glorious self will be the same for someone else. 

To the humans who are not having children - for whatever reason that my be - you just keep on lovin’ with your big bass ass hearts. 

I see you. 

I value your infinite love capacity.

only love - k

2 6 w e e k s + 2 d a y s

I feel as though I am finally coming out of the fog of this treacherous pregnancy, and with that, I am feeling a little haunted + blown away at how bad it really was. I mean, I knew it was bad, but now that I am feeling like myself, now that I have caught my breath I can see with much more clarity at the whirlwind that has taken place these past 6 months and 1 week.

I want to document this journey partly because writing is healing for my soul, partly because I want to remember it all, and partly because, like in all things in life, our world seems to want to brush over the pain, package it up into a “enjoy every moment” parcel, slap a positive quote on it, and de-value the darkness. I have found this to be true in so many avenues of life, but in the venue of pregnancy I have been absolutely baffled at the lack of support + understanding, and further: the judgment in this community.

So many humans have ‘best-intentioned advice’ and offer it unsolicitedly, likely unaware of the true impact of their words. I know you come from a good place, I know the advice is meant to cheer a pregnant lady up, I know it’s hard to watch a human struggle, but so often this well-meaning, unasked-for advice diminishes a humans experience, it invalidates a woman's truth, and in pregnancy it makes us feel like ‘bad mothers’ and shitty women.

I know that’s how so many of your well-intentioned words hit me.

But the thing is, I didn't ask for advice, I don’t need a pep talk. Well intentioned advice may be just that - well intentioned - but it can come across to the receiver as unsupportive + dismissive, and further it’s isolating for the human who is in pain, or the women who bares the babe that is struggling to hold it together.

Trust me, those of us with rough pregnancies would change it and “enjoy the fleeting moments’ if we could. Trust me, we would find deep solace and excitement in the weekly app updating us on the size and development of our babies if we could. And trust me, we would form a fucking bond the with baby in our bellies if we could. This was not my experience. The app scared the shit out of me - week after week I got to open it up to solidify that not only was some alien-like creature growing inside of me, but that there were further forms of pressure that suggested I should feel connected, excited, and in awe at the divine miracle of life. I didn't feel connected to the baby in me, I felt hatred for it, I despised it, I would have walked away from my egg if I could - that’s the truth, that’s what it was like for me.

Yes, I did feel like a shitty human, a subpar woman

Yes, I did feel infinite amounts of guilt.

And then I was reminded again and again to “just enjoy it”, I was reminded that “there are many gifts to pregnancy”, and that “the 2nd trimester will be better”. And while those may be true from some, it wasn't for me, I didn't enjoy it, and I failed to see the gifts. Combine the fact that I was falling completely short of what society says “good motherhood” should look like, mixed it with skyrocketing hormones and paralyzing sickness, as well as the total loss of the personality I usually have and this became a recipe for my sanity slipping fast.

Please do not suggest to me that the darkness I am drowning in - that may I add, I cannot control due to the way my body reacted to copious amounts of hormones - is wrong, ill-worded, or ‘could be done differently’.

I hated it.

I was told that ‘hate is a strong word’, I was told that I ‘would be prayed for in order to alleviate me from the feeling of hate’. Wow, thanks for your prayers + judgment; how about instead of telling me that I am not correct in how I feel, how about offering an ear, reminding me that it’s ok to feel how I feel. How about you stop projecting your experience onto me and then judging my path when I fall short of your expectations?

I know you mean well, I can see that, but I’m here to let you know that anything other than listening to what an experience is like for another human isn't helpful. Devaluing a feeling, or asserting that your beliefs on ‘what is’ and ‘what is not’ an appropriate word to describe my emotions is unwelcomed, you don’t get to tell me that how I feel is too big, too harsh, or too wrong.

The more I talked about my dark pregnancy experience out loud, the more women who flooded in with stories that screamed: “ME TOO”. It blew.me.away. The shame, the trauma, the women with unhealed wounds because ‘she ought to have found the beauty, miracle, and connection’; in her pregnancy - but didn't, pained me. I was floored at the vast number of women who suffered in this supposed ‘magical time’, why are we not giving voice to the darkness? Well, I can see why… it’s a dangerous community to be real in, but I think it’s time to change that. There is beauty in the darkness, and amazingly enough, so many women struggle through this deep initiation, it is actually super dark for a lot of women. Could you imagine the healing that would take place if we held back on our “make it pretty” attitude, and instead shared the truth of our experience?

Our experiences in the journey of pregnancy are different - your experience doesn't have to be mine, and further - there is nothing bad, or shameful, or wrong about a dark and painful initiation into motherhood. Nothing at all. There is beauty in the light, and there is beauty in the dark.

It's a lesson for the humans who loved it.

It’s a lesson for those of us who hated it.

Do not tell me one is better than the other, do not tell me how to navigate my truth, or that my truth would be better if I worded it a little sweeter, if I quieted my voice, or if I kept it neater. I can roar when roaring feels right, do not tell me I am too loud.

Isn't growing a human natural for a woman? Why then does it feel like my woman body is failing to do her job, why is she in fight or flight, why is she wanting to abort the mission? Why does it hurt so bad? Why is it so dark? If this is natural, why does it feel so painfully foreign, so utterly wrong? My body felt like it was rejecting what was supposed to be a magical + natural experience. Maybe motherhood isn't for me. Maybe I was not meant to bare a baby. If I was, wouldn't it feel more ‘meant to be’?

But it didn't, it was like a parasite, it felt like I was dying, or losing my sanity, and all the while you reminded me over and over again that I should be finding the beauty, that I should try to enjoy it. You affirmed through your well-intentioned-unsolicited advice that yes, I was falling short, doing it wrong, failing to rise to the occasion.

Let me tell you what pregnancy has been like, now I know it’s not like this for everyone, I know I fell in the small percentage of women that got served this severity of symptoms, but I want to share with you exactly what this experience felt like.

For the 1st 9 weeks, I was 100% bedridden. I woke up in the morning with breathtaking panic attacks that would have me in uncontrollable tears for 1-2 hours. It wasn't because I was scared, it was hormonal and overwhelmingly intense. I did all I could to manage it, food, prayer, breath. I set alarms and woke up in the middle of the night to eat a snack to hopefully try to control blood sugar levels - nothing helped. After the panic attack would pass I would sit in the couch for the entire rest of the day - too sick to move a muscle. I was more nauseous than ever in all of my life, and yet the second my blood sugar dropped another panic attack would come. Breathless. Frightening. All consuming. All I could stomach was olives and sandwich meat, and that’s only if I could make it to the kitchen to get it. My skin was pale and almost grayish green, my eyes became vacant, I was just an empty, anxious shell of a human. I had no idea where Kori went.

I was reminded to ‘enjoy it’.

The world congratulated me.

And then I was told that I came out and told the world ‘too soon’; “don’t you know, Kori, that you should really wait until 12 weeks to share the news”.

Was I doing it wrong?

Telling the world helped me process the pain I was in, ‘enjoying’ the insanity of my mindset and the debilitating sickness seemed an impossible task.

Was I excited to meet this baby, feeling the rush of congrats from the people?

No, not at all.

I was scared shitless at how I felt.

I couldn't leave my own house - every km further away from home I got, the anxiety kicked in bigger, and deeper, and more enormous. So I stayed home. I couldn't work. I couldn't coach. I couldn't be around humans. Grocery stores - the place I usually find peace - were overwhelming, the smell made me want to vomit, the lights were too bright, the hustle of the people drove me over the edge, straight into the seat of panic. I couldn't cook because all the smells had intensified infinity and everything made me want to vomit.  

From week 9 to week 24 I started to be able to leave the house, which was a great relief as I needed to get to recovery meetings to try to maintain sanity. My slipping sanity scared me deeply, I have worked so, so hard to find an equilibrium in my soul and brain - did pregnancy destroy that? Would I ever feel sane again, or was this my new norm? I quickly slipped into some dark and all-consuming depression and uncontrollable anxiety.

To be totally honest with you (and yes, I know some of you will gasp in horror at this truth) I wanted to end the pregnancy. I felt with all of my heart that I was not cut out for this, the pain was too severe, I hated the human growing in me, and I hated myself for wanted to get pregnant - what a fucking dumb idea. I refrained from researching abortions until one day I found myself on google researching how late I could make that choice, asking the ultrasound doc what it would look like and confiding in my amazingly supportive husband that I really was not sure I was cut out for this.

Abortion. I didn't want an abortion, but the paralyzing pain of this was too much, or so it felt. I knew if I were to walk from this baby I would be haunted for all of the days left on this earth, I knew it felt wrong, but it also felt right, and also like the only way out. I felt guilty that I felt that way, I felt like a bad woman, a shitty mother. I knew this baby had a soul and I feared the feeling I was giving to her, I didn't want her to feel unwanted, and yet I didn't want this anymore, it was too much.

And then you continued to remind me how wonderful it is that I am pregnant, you reminded me, again and again, to enjoy it, that it was such a gift.

I know you meant well, I really do, but while you wished me well and pushed me to ‘see the joy’, I was completely unraveling in a world of hormones, pain, sickness, and guilt.

Was I the only woman on the planet that couldn't manage to do bare a baby.

Christmas came; we celebrated our city hall marriage; family flew in from all over the world, and what was a celebration I should have loved, I hated. I hated having people around and I felt so guilty at that. It was all too overwhelming for me, I smiled and tried to show like I was ok, but inside I wasn't and I had no idea how to navigate this tender, foreign, frightening space. We went to Vegas and nothing felt more horrible that feeling unable to participate - sure, I was there in person, but like swift disassociation, I was not there in my mind or soul. Vegas was hell on earth for me - a road trip which made me want to vomit -- malls, and bustle, and lights, and smells, it was just too much. It was a family trip though, and I had no idea how bad it would feel for me. I could not keep up energetically, emotionally I was off, mentally I was on another planet.

All the while you people continued to tell me ‘to enjoy pregnancy, it only lasts a short time’. I wanted to scream. I wanted to scream at you, at your well-meaning advice, at god, at the world, and my body. I just wanted to feel like myself, I just wanted to the darkness to go away - give me the sickness, I’ll take the vomiting, but please give me my sanity back, please tell me this will pass.

Nothing has scared me more than feeling like I lost my sanity again. After a lifetime of depression, anxiety, addiction, abuse, suicidal thinking, fantasizing about death, self-harm - finally - after seriously hard work - I was beginning to feel sane. Pregnancy seemed to have swept in robbed sanity from me, I was back to square one - just a crazy lady drowning in the abyss of darkness...again.

More truth you will likely gasp at: all I wanted to do was drink. Drinking in pregnancy is obviously not a good idea, and drinking as a recovering alcoholic is also a horrible plan, but I knew King Alcohol would ease the pain, I knew he would take away the darkness - at least for a moment, and a moment is all I wanted. Something deeper in me knew that if King Alcohol was invited back to my party he likely would appoint me as his slave, the darkness would triple in intensity and I would be a goner.

Pregnancy is magical and ‘hate’ is such a strong word, Kori.

Wait until the baby kicks, that will change everything.

The 2nd trimester is better.

Try to enjoy it, you will miss it when it passes.

Fantasizing about abortion, trying to steer clear of the urges to drink, falling into darkness as dark as I had ever known - this was my truth, and you insisted on trying to toss glitter onto a woman who was drowning in pain and struggling to hold it together.


Losing my mind.

I wanted no humans near me.

I fought with my husband, I was difficult to be around, I ached intensely on the inside.

I watched 5-9 hours of Netflix a day, I couldn't work out, or eat well. My diet consisted of salt and vinegar chips and french fries. I couldn't stomach my prenatal vitamins, vegetables were 100% out of the question, and I feared that holistic Kori had died and that I would birth a baby with severe nutritional defects. And even though I vocalized this, humans still persisted on with the reminder how how important good nutrition and hydration was, and how much my baby needed the nutrients I would get from prenatals; you don't think I fucking know this? I am aware, believe it or not, of what a growing fetus needs, I am well educated in human nutrition. I was keenly aware of what was missing diet wise, I was filled to the brim with guilt and shame at what had become of my diet, and the danger the world told me I was putting this child in. All I wanted was my usual healthy diet, but my body rejected it with nausea so intense that I had no choice but to comply. Salt and vinegar chips and french fries it was.

My sex drive confused me. Higher than ever one day and ‘get the hell away from me’ the next. I bounced around the scale emotionally, still totally unable to coach clients, to show up for work, the make it through much of anything in my days. I told all humans to stay away from our house - no more coffee dates here, no more Friday dinners, just keep away. It took a toll on our marriage, it was isolating, painful, dark, and it was all I knew to do to grasp any last straw of sanity still remaining. Making the bed overwhelmed me, walking the dogs tired me, and the world just remained black. I got tooth infections, ear infections, yeast infections. I had never had a health issue in my life and now suddenly I had all the issues.

But, aren't you so excited to meet your baby?

Make sure you take lots of bump pictures, you will want those one day.

Try to enjoy it, it only lasts a while.

Why can’t anyone see that I am drowning? Why do you keep telling me to enjoy this time?

Other pregnant women I know were so excited, they felt such a strong connection to their babies, they prepped nurseries and shopped. They felt a deep love and connection.

I didn't feel any of that.

Was I excited?

Honestly… no.

Not at all.

And that was my truth.

I felt horrible about it even without the world reminding me how I ‘ought to feel’ about it.

About 2 weeks ago something shifted, the world came into color, the panic lifted, the depression vanished. This week I felt my 1st real connection to the human growing in me - I felt love, like real fierce love. My heart softened. 2 weeks ago I fell into total despair on my couch, it had all become too much - what was becoming of me? Would this ever pass? Will motherhood suck, and now I am stuck with a human to raise?

Ever so gently one of my long time mentors reminded me that all things change, nothing lasts forever, and that my abyss of self-pity and fear was enormously selfish. Something snapped when she delivered that truth to me - something about her words, her love, the way she truly validated me and simultaneously pushed me to new heights directed me into the hands of acceptance, it was likely also much easier for me to swallow as her words had nothing to do with pregnancy.

This is my ‘pose’ right now, this is what life has for me. I can either resist it or surrender into it - that choice is mine, the pose, however, is not my choice. I am where I am, life has me doing what life needs me doing. I’m guessing that parts of why I was able to surrender on the couch 2 weeks ago as opposed to any other day in the past 6 months may have partly had to do with my own stubbornness + thinking, but also… hormones. I think this pregnancy and the death feeling of it all can be largely attributed to how my physiology reacted to the onslaught of hormones, and perhaps they shifted in these past few weeks enabling me to finally think a little clearer and see life in color again.

Perhaps it was a combo of the shift in hormones, the steadfast recovery work + prayer, the tough truths I got that afternoon 2 weeks ago, the “4th trimester” book I have been reading, or whatever the heck else it was, but something moved and changed and I was able to find some space for peace.

Today I feel acceptance, I feel excited to meet this human, I love baby kicks, and I am enjoying slowly by surely adding Brussels Sprouts and Kale back into my life. I found candy prenatals, and flavored omega 3’s, and I’m learning that flexibility right now is strength; I have to lean into what these moments are asking of me; yes the ‘usual Kori’ would opt out of candy supplements, but this isn't the ‘usual time’ and so flexibility is required. The more I can lean into what shows up, the greater peace I have. Things at home are smoother, I am more willing to be near other humans, and panic has not taken over me even once for weeks now. I’m ok with slow days, I have accepted that coaching clients and working is straight up on the back burner for now - until the universe gives me a green light again.

My focus is totally on leaning into what is true and real for me moment to moment.

And I can breathe again.

Today I am feeling grateful, scared to death of postpartum, and softer in all edges of my heart.

So here’s my point:  

If you want to be there for a pregnant lady who is struggling - or for any human being in any situation - do not tell them how to feel, just bite your tongue, keep your mouth shut, open your ears and just listen. Don’t tell her to enjoy it, don’t tell her that the moments are fleeting and should be remembered fondly, do not tell her that she is wrong in how she feels. Humans have the right to process life as they do, in their truth, as real and raw and uncomfortable as it may be to watch. Do not diminish a dark experience as if to say that only light has value - it doesn't, there are enormous gems in darkness and none of us should feel wrong when we arrive in the pits of the shadow. Pregnancy and the rite of passage from maiden to mother is deeply personal, it’s not roses for all of us, it’s pain, and goo, and torture for some of us. Some of us abort pregnancies over it, it’s that painful. Some of us lose our minds, or attempt to kill our babies in the postpartum - it’s powerful. If you actually want to be of service, if you actually want to be supportive and help humans along their dark paths learn to listen to them, stop telling them how to live their lives, and bite your tongue with well-meaning advice unless you have been asked.

To the humans of the world who are in pain, I see you.

To the women who have birth trauma, who have truths that have been buried away due to criticism from the human race, I see you. I stand with you. You have every right to process your life and your experience the way your soul needs to, and you have nothing to feel bad about.

2 5 w e e k s + 6 d a y s

I’m not sure what’s happening in my heart this past week, but I feel enormously tender, greatly in awe. I suppose a part of me feels grandly humbled by the finite nature of life - I’ve witnessed more than a few humans this past week lose loved ones - some were natural causes, some suicide related to addiction. I’ve seen humans who I care for flush their sobriety down the drain. It’s rattled me in a deep way - how come some of us ‘get it’ while others meet an early demise? What’s the golden ticket to a long healthy life? What does it take to get sober, to stay sober? It’s just so rare to get it, to keep it, to pass it on. I am reminded again and again of the quote, “But for the grace of God, there go I”; what does it take to live a long life, to remain sober, to stay connected to God consciousness?

I guess the golden ticket looks like luck, or whoever pulls the shortest straw, or maybe we could call it fate?

Regardless of what it is, or how we want to label it,  I am deeply moved this past week at the gifts of my life, my sobriety, the psychic change I have experienced. Why me? I don’t know. Why that window of willingness December 22, 2016? I have no fucking clue. Why did my prayer change from a bargain with God to the three simple and most powerful words I have ever spoken, “God help me.”?

I can not answer it.

Why did I walk into the realm of sobriety and furthermore, why the hell did I stay? What did life hurt me more then than it ever has in those days, and why didn't I want to numb? What made me surrender? Why did I choose not to scratch the itch, why did I profess to grief to ‘take me, use me, ‘teach me’? I don’t know, I just really do not know. But I do know that I am here, I am sober, I am more connected to spirit than I ever have been, I am capable of love in a way I never knew possible.

My entire outlook has changed, I do not know how to explain it.

Today I feel gratitude, my heart feels tender, I feel blessed, and I feel deeply protective of that which has been freely given to me. I do not know what got me sober and I am fully aware that it is not a free pass, I know that this disease requires me to remain diligent on an every-single-day-level to keep it by passing it on, by remaining in the heard, attached to the work, and spiritually fit.

I have learned in these past 845 days that underlying the irritability, the anxiety that touches into my fingers + toes, the restless nature of my mind lays 1000 faces and forms of fear; and today one of my fears has been uprooted in a frightening way.

I’m beginning to fall deeply in love with this child that is growing in me, I can not explain it, but I can feel her soul, I can feel this energetic cord attaching between her being and my heart, and I’ll be honest, it's beginning to take my breath away. This feeling scares the shit out of me, this love is so intense and it feels like there is so much to lose once the love threshold has been crossed. Pregnancy has been a solid nightmare and the gift in it is that I have been able to remain gloriously unattached to the truth of what is happening, but today shifts have occurred and I feel a deep love for this babe - love like I do for my pooches, and the husband I get to love. It feels very intense to me. I don’t know if it’s the death of my brother, or the death of my father, or the simplicity of how my brain is wired - but this level of love freaks me right the fuck out. And it’s like a landslide that I can not stop - not that I want to stop it, or would if I could, but I also kind of do - it just can not be stopped.

Today I know that emotions can exist without ruling or dictating the actions of my life, I can feel fear and move forward anyway. I can love deeply even in the paralyzing fear of potentially losing it all. Today I do not have to live in that what if’s of tomorrow. Today I know that I can experience the intensity of gratitude, the wild sensation of fear, the breathtaking beauty of awe all at once. I know I can voice my truths and yet they do not have to rule my life, or shape my reality. I can exist as a changing, ever-evolving, morphing, moving human who moves through emotions and faces all of the fears head-on.

only love, - k

2 5 w e e k s + 3 d a y s

So the human body is amazing. 
My boobs have quadrupled in size;
my belly is home to another human; 
hormones took over and I’m pretty sure tried to leave me for dead ... but they didn’t. 
I lost so much of who I thought I was, 
+ the unraveling continues. 
Stripped bare, right to the bones.
Peeled away like an onion - layer by layer. 
This process of pregnancy reminds me of the journey of sobriety, it reminds me of every dark night I’ve ever been through, it reminds me of what it’s like it’s like to burn to the ground + rise from the ashes. 
This is the journey that happens when the warrior answers the call; 
we 1st hear the buzz of the call, some may try to avoid the inevitable answering of the souls yearning, and then the stripping away begins. 
We lose what we thought we were, 
what we thought we believed in. 
We loose humans in our lives, 
the social structure changes, 
faith changes, 
perspective shifts. 
And alas nothing is as it was. 
All new. 
All foreign, and strange, and oddly beautiful. 
24 weeks into the hell-hole of a journey I think the gift of surrender hit me like a bazillion bricks across the head. 
No kori, it won’t always be this way - nothing in life is static. 
And also, 
Yes kori, this is the pose of the now. 
Today requires slowness, surrender, prayer. 
It requires nourishment and for me to let go of what I thought the journey should have looked like as I fall deeply into the realities of what it does look like. 
It’s the same as what sobriety was, 
it’s the same as what the crawl out of mental chaos and depression was, 
it’s the same process that I used to heal my heart after I was hit with the deepest grief. 
This is the journey of the death-birth-death-birth cycle. 
As I move through the intensity of emotional ups and downs, I find it utterly magnificent that my humans body continues to do what it needs to do: plumping boobs, growing baby, switching food cravings, dictating energy levels - all of this happened without my control. 
And that is a miracle.

2 3 w e e k s + 4 d a y s

It was a meltdown kind of day yesterday; the antibiotics, and the toothache, and the pain in my ear + jaw, the yeast infection, perpetual exhaustion, lack of motivation and will, inability to focus - yesterday it was too much.

I broke down,

the sky was falling,

or so it felt.

I wondered if this was a cruel punishment from the heavens, I wondered if I would ever return to a state of 'normalcy'. I balled. I wept. I obsessed over the yesterdays and fretted heavily over the tomorrow's. I could not see hope.

It felt like all was lost, it felt so big and so insurmountable.

And then the beautiful reminder came to me,

"kori, you know that this much fear is very self-centered, you know it's selfish, right?"

Ahhh, how true.

I was reminded yesterday - as I wiped tears from my face + simultaneously felt this baby kick inside my womb - that nothing stays forever, all things in are in constant motion, all things change. Today simple tasks (like making the bed) may seem wildly hard, impossible even. Today the couch may be my cradle, tylonal may be my superfood, and netflix may be my best friend. Today I may not be comfortable, I may not recognize myself, I may not like it. And that is ok, for today does not paint tomorrow; today has gifts that only today can give, even if it feels like a pile of shit.

I was reminded that my obsession of yesterday and 'what it was' was only serving me as a source of great pain, and further, that the only way through it was accepted into what is.

This is the pose I am supposed to be in, this is how it is meant to feel for me - if it wasn't, life wouldn't have me here feeling this way.

Acceptance is the answer to all my problems. Yesterday my mind tripped me, I forgot gratitude, I forgot to lean in, to breathe, to pray for constant grace. My mind tripped me into the future, into the past, and straight into self-centered worry.

Today I am praying for grace. I am remembering that life is calling me inward, the work right now is slow, it's soft, it's the divine feminine. Today I am focused on gratitude - the baby that kicks in my womb, the antibiotics that are wiping out all bacteria in my body, the husband I have that offers unconditional support, the couch that has held me for 23 + weeks, the food in my fridge, the women in my life, my sobriety, my god, my willingness to hear hard truths.

Today I know for a fact that this is where I am meant to be.

Like it or not,

this is right for me right now.

2 3 w e e k s + 2 d a y s

I wish I could sit down here at 23 weeks + 2 days and record feelings of bliss, excitement, and awe; I wish I could say that parts of me enjoy being pregnant; I wish I could say with honesty that I am not frightened to look back on this experience with regret, but I can’t. That’s just my truth at the moment.

It’s amazing to feel the little baby alien in my womb move and even more interesting to see my stomach flinch and move from the outside - I mean, something it literally growing in my body, and that never ceases to alternate between amazing me and freaking me out.

I spent all of last week on the couch again - exhausted beyond any words I can possibly use to describe, my motivation is non-existent, I have the attention span of a 2-year-old, or maybe less. I have had some glorious tooth issues and dental work done which has left my tooth in pain and my ear/jaw in strange distress. I am not on a round of antibiotics for this possible infection which is gloriously wreaking havoc in other spots on my body.

I just don’t feel like myself.

I feel out of body, confused, mentally foggy, energetically depleted, and like the person I used to be has vacated the earth - never to return. I know there is an element of death of the maiden / birth of the mother, and I know that I will never be who I was before this experience; but I am also hoping with all my heart that parts of this are just the rise and rush of hormones causing my balance to be off kilter and wobbly.

I hope.

I really am trying my very best to lean into this experience and in a lot of ways I feel like I am - I am resting a ton, moving slow, reading lots, breaking from social media, eating piles of fuel, drinking heaps of water, moving my body to the best of my ability - sometimes that's a workout or a run, other times it's just a roll on my roller and a small walk with the pooches - I am barefoot as much as I can, in nature, and focusing on getting to the beach. I talk to this babe daily, I focus on gratitude, and I am deeply interwoven into my recovery work as that is where I find the deepest moments of peace and connection right now.

But the truth about this is,

I’m struggling.

I really am. I’m finding daily tasks near impossible, I am totally freaked out at the onslaught of physical symptoms that have arisen in my body - so many appointments with my midwife, the doctor, the dentists. It feels like too much. This reality is frightening me and I feel myself in defense mode a lot of the time - overthinking, judging (myself + the world), disappointed that the script I had assumed life would be life isn't in fact what it is. I feel lost. It feels like a tall order and at times I wonder if I am tall enough for such big things.

And what I know to be true is that it is ok to feel the very things I am feeling. It is ok to feel lost, alone, frightened. I know how to move through this - breath, acceptance, surrender. I am tall enough, the order is not too big, it just feels overwhelming when I get ahead of myself. Just today, that’s the only focus.

2 2 w e e k s + 2 d a y s

It's been a few weeks since I've traversed the land of Instagram;

I've had lovely plated meals just to enjoy them for myself, I've seen the ocean and ran in the hot sun without broadcasting it to the world. I have freed up hours + hours of time from mindless scrolling and both unconsciously + consciously comparing my life to the perceived, photoshopped, highly edited + curated versions of another humans life.

Turns out I don't want to decorate my house all white + macrame like IG tells me is cool, turns out that without the constant bombardment of advertising I have other views, opinions, and desires.

Who knew!

My worth has not been measured in likes over these past few weeks, my sense of self is literally based on nothing more than how I feel day to day.

I miss writing + sharing, I do.

I don't miss the narcissistic component to it all.

Instagram is like monopoly money - it's not real, but hot damn does it ever feel real sometimes.

I don't miss the endless selfies, the fake newsfeed of a 'well-curated life', or this whole notion of self-appointed leadership, fame, and model-hood.

It's not all bad, not at all.

Some of my greatest healing has happened on that platform, all of my business was generated on that platform, and some truly wonderful connections were made in that virtual world.

Can I heal without it?

Who will read my words without it?

Can a business be run without it?

Am I willing to let go of the connections made?

I'm not sure.

I do miss the inspiration,

the raw truth,

and the selected human lives I enjoy witnessing.

I miss the small businesses, and the connection - or the perceived idea of connection - that IG offers.

I'm grateful af that that platform didn't exist when I was 15, I can say that without a shadow of a doubt, and I do wonder if I will regret what I have shared when I am 50 or 60 years old the same way I think I would have regret sharing my wildly ignorant ways of thinking when I was in my teens and early 20's. Thank the heavens that social media didn't exist then, wow! Our younger generation doesn't even know a world without social media, and I can not fathom that. I can not fathom jr.high or high school - a time that I already felt utter self-hatred, a total lack of self-esteem, and a definite feeling of being out-of-place - with the added pressures of social media.

Oh my god.

And now with a child en route, I wonder with even more intensity at the cost + benefits of sharing a life online, the impacts of social media, and what my kid will think when she is my age and reflecting on this very thing.

Do I raise a kid while showing their life on social media?

Is it appropriate to create content of this un-consenting human being on my own social media platforms, and what are my motives?

Do I create a hashtag for my child?

What's the implication of that?

We do not know the answers to many of these questions.

I am at a deep crossroads with Instagram and the little pocket of life I have built over there, perhaps writing on a blog or FB is sufficient, and even at that I sometimes wonder what's the point? I mean, for me, the writing + the sharing has been as key to my mental sanity as breathing air; but when does it cross over into dysfunction?

When does the very thing that fills me up backfire and begin to smother me?



Somehow everything I thought I knew or believed in seems to be up in question at the moment.

Not sure what to think, or where to place my trust. It's all all-of-a-sudden in commotion, in the shift, in diametric movement.

And that's ok.

Nothing to be figured out tonight, just awareness.

That is all.

only love - k

2 1 w e e k s + 1 d a y

I am really at a loss for words tonight, I feel like I want to write, but I feel like no words do what I feel any sort of justice. My mood can best be summed up by the fact that I headed out on a run (1st run in 21 weeks!) and the feeling was so brilliant, the sun was so lovely, the music was so good, the gratitude was flowing so deeply that I ended up running, and running, and running …. and forgetting to turn around + ultimately getting lost and having to be rescued by Pika. I mean, honestly by the time I saw his car pull up in rescue I had found my bearings and was close to home, but it was appreciated nonetheless, plus he showed up with chocolate.

My cravings for food have returned to something somewhat normal; like wanting chocolate and loving veggies. I’ve been enjoying cooking once again, and my mood for the past week or more has been elevated substantially. I’m officially in a spot of looking back on the 1st 18 weeks of this journey with a tinge of pain as I reflect on the depth that it startled and rattled me - truthfully the 1st 18 weeks of pregnancy sent me to such a dark and mentally unstable place (not to mention, brutally sick as well!) that I thought my sanity had regressed to where it was pre-sobriety + pre-therapy, and nothing scared me more. I am so grateful that today my thinking was more balanced, my outlook a little clearer, and my faith a little more rooted.

And another fairy cool thing - this babe has been bustin’ moves like mad for the past 48 hours. She is dancing, or flipping, or tossing out fierce little kicks all night long. I can feel it, Pika can feel it when he places his hand on my belly, and it’s just a wild feeling. I wasn’t sure I would like it, I wasn’t sure it wouldn’t just creep me out; but it seems to have the opposite effect on me, I like it, I feel like it’s playful, it’s connecting me more to this teeny tiny human.

That’s all I have today.

Nothing profound, just a pile of gratitude for such a brilliant run, endless mounds of chocolate and tiny little baby moves from inside the womb.

What a life.

only love, - k xoxo

20 w e e k s + 1 d a y

I find every single cell in my body shifting right before my very consciousness, I can not place light from dark, or up from down. I am at a total loss of who I am, or where I am going. I am feeling everything with more intensity than ever before - and that's a whole lot considering that I already feel enormously deeply. I can feel emotions ebb into my space these days that are straight up not mine, I can sense other human hearts, I can feel the emotions that they are experiencing. 

It's bizarre.

It's become clear to me that what I need at this time in my life is a period of intentional self incubation; I am doing far more than growing a new human in my womb, I am also becoming a new woman. This cellular recalibration commenced the moment I got sober, something in those early days kick-started a chain reaction deep in the core of my own being that began a wild process of death and rebirth at a cellular level; pregnancy has accelerated it. 

For 805 days now pieces of who I thought I was have been falling by the wayside, expiring, dying. 

For 805 days now new bits + pieces of information have saturated my cells, my DNA, and slowly but surely I am being born anew. 

I know it sounds weird, it feels weird, but it also feels very true.

Somehow I trust this process, I am not resisting it with every fiber in my being. I am a little more willing, I am a little more awe-stricken than ever before. Some days I feel in total surrender, I feel overwhelmed with gratitude + curiosity. And other days - like today - I feel a lack of acceptance. I feel impatient, worried, and like I want to reject the fundamental experience that I am having. 

I know I am pregnant, and I know that this incubation requires a different pace, I know I need to be slow + soft, I know that I am more tired than I ever have been in my life. Today I feel enraged by it. Everything makes me so tired. I painted a room today, and that was the extent of my entire day, I was lucky I managed to make myself lunch, and the pooches were lucky to get 15 min in the sun. Today I am frustrated at how many plans I have to cancel, I am freaked out by the lack of self-knowing I am experiencing, and the abyss of what my future looks like. I am future tripping, forgetting the here and now, and feeling so unbelievably uncomfortable in my ever-expanding body. Pregnancy doesn't feel like a baby growing in the womb (whatever that sensation is 'supposed to feel like'), but more like I ate 15 giant burritos and am so full I can not breathe. I just feel bloated, and tired, and all I want to do is watch shows and eat chips. 

Today that frustrates me. 

Today I am overwhelmed by the pain in the world - I am worried about the bee's, and the food supply, and the damage that Monsanto does to our earth and the humans here. Today I am worried about addiction and my heart aches for those who have not found the gift of sobriety. I don't love the politics of our world, I fear the ignorance of the human race is going to be our downfall. I feel overwhelmed by racism, misogyny, the lack of a compost program in the city I live in, and my inability to garden + live off of the land.  I worry that having a baby in an overpopulated world was an irresponsible choice, and I feel guilty bringing a child into a world that I truthfully barely trust myself.

What a rabbit hole of thinking. 

I'm itchy today, I'm just generally uncomfortable in my life - for today. I feel a heaviness in my heart, and the tears are just on the brink. I feel guilty that I want to watch more Netflix... well, I don't 'want to' watch more, I feel more as though I have no power in me to do anything but that. I slept in today and I have been beating myself up about it all day long. 

I'm at war with myself, obviously. 

I think it's ok to feel this way. It's ok that these changes have me a little creeped out, it's ok that I feel more like I binged on burritos and less like there is a human in my womb. It's ok that left from right + up from down feels confusing, and it's ok that my heart feels 22 times too big for my body. 

It's ok to feel it all.

And also... 

it's time to breathe, to come back into the moment - to March 12, 2019 - and connect with the right here and right now. It's time to notice the sunflowers in my living room, the sounds of the pooches eating their dinner, and the lovely conversation I am having with my brother about fermentation + kraut making. Breathing. Noticing. Staying present. It's lighter out now that daylight savings has passed, and yesterday I got to hear the alien's heartbeat - I mean, it's not a burrito in there, it's a real human being. I'm 805 days sober, I get to witness some of the deepest magic I have ever seen in the recovery community in San Diego, and you know what?? I may not have the energy to make dinner, but I happened to get lucky enough to marry a man who is lovey and I think I'm going to ask him to BBQ some chicken. So much to breathe over, to feel grateful for, to ease into the hear + now. 




Not liking today. 

And that's ok. 

only love, -k xoxo

19 w e e k s + 5 d a y s

I feel relief today and have felt this very lovely feeling for more than a week now. I still do not feel great physically, I can not keep up to the energy levels I had pre-pregnancy, I am still craving copious amounts of salt + vinegar chips, and I am still fighting bouts of wild nausea each day. My sleep sucks, I pee 1 million times/day, I'm riding insane roller coasters of emotions - at times I feel like puking, burning a village down AND having sex all.at.the.same.time. I'm confused about how to dress this ever-expanding body, and my boobs bounce when I workout ... a sensation a small breasted human like myself has never felt, ever. I'm still lonely in a new city, and I miss coaching lots of clients and building my food business, Farmapothique. My external world has not shifted too much, and yet, I feel relief. I think the one thing that shifted for me this past week is that I am no longer at war with myself.

I can not push myself. Netflix is a very real part of my life right now. I am tired. I do not love pregnancy, and I do not need to feel bad about that - it's ok. My diet is different right now, my energy level is not the same, my sex drive is new, my raging hormones have taken over, my body is morphing into something I have never ever felt before. And it's ok.

I found myself falling deeper into my more pronounced 'yang energy ways'; I wanted to find the solution, to fix the feeling, to create the action plan that would allow me to break through this pain and find the rainbows. I just wanted to feel productive, accomplished. I wanted to feel like I was not wasting my days away like my life was actually working towards something (I do see the irony in this. What is more productive than building another human being? Logically I 'get it', but emotionally I was unable to digest this change). As I grasped for any answer possible to escape from self I found myself totally engaged in dysfunctional habits, like numbing out on Instagram - comparing my life to the lives of others, spending far too much time falling into the vortex of other humans perfect highlight reels of life. Everything in my body craved solo time, water, meditation, slowing down. But I could not accept that, it didn't feel productive enough, I couldn't see how it would bring me any further in life, it all felt so backward. My will was running riot as I tried to overrule the reality of my life, my heart, my path. I got super tired of the battle in self, and as I did, it became all to clear to me what was missing...

the divine feminine principles of yin.

What was missing was exactly what my heart was longing for, it longed to slow down, it longed to dive into the painful magic at what is happening within my life and body. My heart + body are yearning for a molasses-slow life, they are yearning to find my own path in this instinctual (and larger than life) transition, they have been longing for me to put down my phone + stop comparing my life to the overly high pressures and demands of this odd world that we live in.

All over the place, I am being bombarded with messages that tell me to hurry up, that reminds me of how quickly I 'should' return back to my 'pre-pregnancy weight'. I am watching fitness professionals at 22 weeks of pregnancy post 'pre-pregnancy' pictures with captions claiming to 'miss her old body so much', and while I totally 100% can relate to the uncomfortable feeling of a body that is morphing right before my very eyes, I can not help but wonder how healthy a message that is to share with 300K followers? Yes, feel it! But, no, do not send the message out that it is 'normal' or 'superhero' to see how fast we can 'burn the wright off and get back to our lives'. We are missing the magic, we are skipping the birth of our own selves. I am getting messages that tell me that the way I feel about pregnancy isnt right, that it's not motherly or womanly, and it's all making me feel the madness. My pregnancy app even used the words "unfortunately some women will get stretch marks" - how is that unfortunate? How is this not just a beautiful part of the initiation? I'm so confused by the messages. How are we supposed to move through the transition of pregnancy and motherhood without enduring the pain, the upheaval, the reality of stretching bodies, sagging breasts, raging hormones, the loss of who we were, the grief, the pain, the agony, the magic? Are we really supposed to rush around and just of pretend this thing isn't happening? Are we supposed to tie into a pretty little comfortable box that is easy to look at?

The pressure.

The marketing.

The rush.

I can't stand it.

I have no idea what this baby in me will need when she arrives earth side, no idea at all. I see gadgets, and gizmos, and who-what's, and trinkets. I see messages that tell me alien will need nothing at all, but some love, a boob or a bottle and something warm to be wrapped in. I also see that alien needs a crip, a bassinet, a co-sleeping device, and extra bed next to my bed, and a portable comfy little "doc-it" to sleep in. What the fuck!

It's insane.

This is insane.

It's all too much.

This is what I do know though:

I do know that my life was made for this very moment. I know that this little soul who is living in my body right now and me, and her daddy will figure this shit out together. I know that my heart knows what it's doing. My heart tells me to swim, not to worry about the nursery right now. My heart tells me to shut off social media, Amazon registry ideas, and blog posts on "how to mother" and to get back into nature. My heart craves women, intimacy with my husband, and chips... so many chips. My heart is craving source, god, the divine more than ever before. I'm thirsty, and I am craving movement, yoga, and cuddles with the pooches.

If I can disconnect from the bombardment of societal messages, the chatter of my ego, and the loud pressure to run on the hamster wheel, and if I can simply connect into the beating of my heart I remember that I am where I am meant to be.

I remember that this child is going to be fine, and I will too find my way away again.

For 40 days I am off of IG, and I am plugged into changing, prayer, music, and time with nature.

only love, -k xoxo

1 9 w e e k s + 3 d a y s

19 weeks is almost 5 months, which means that we are about halfway there.

Oddly enough I have a few mixed emotions about it all.

Have I missed the magic? Have I had a poor attitude? Am I doing this all wrong? Will I look back and regret the way this unfolded?

When my thoughts go here I am reminded of the work I do with clients who are digging deep and evolving; I always remind them that they cannot judge their past ‘sick self’ from their newfound outlooks, if we knew better then we would have done better. This is where the work of self-compassion comes in, knowing that the way we show up in life is the very best way we know how from moment to moment, and as we know better, we do better.

I can also see that based on the way I am thinking and the worry about ‘missing the magic’ that I have taken a definite turn for the better in terms of how I am feeling. 18 weeks of hell, there was no way I was going to be able to ‘find the magic’, there was barely a way I could even find a single piece of gratitude - I was absolutely taken over by physical and mental upheaval.

HELL is a vast understatement.

But for a week now I have been delightfully indulging in salad bowls, water isn’t making me gag, my netflix time has halved, I’m walking daily + hitting the gym, focusing on words in a book doesn't bring me an overwhelming sensation to vomit all over the place. Last week I coached all my clients, and barley had to shift my schedule around. Not to imply that I am 'pushing it', because I am not - even if I wanted too, my body has taken over and is wholeheartedly demanding slowness, no matter how much I resist. It felt good.

I’m learning to tap into the alien in me, I’m practicing talking to the soul that has taken up temporary residence in my body, I am reminding alien that although this has been such a struggle, that is is not a reflection of alien, but rather a reflection of a physical torment of my personal journey into pregnancy. That practice helps, it connects me to the being in me, and the mystery of this existence.

With all of that being said, with all of the spinach + fresh California fruit I have eaten, with all of the deadlifts + squats I’ve sweat out at the gym, with all of the writing + venting + processing I am doing, and all of the words I've read, and slow time on the couch, I’ve got to say that this time of my life is absolutely terrifying. I’m not scared of having a child, I’m not even scared of the birthing part, what’s scaring me the most is the way that I can viscerally feel a deep death of self. I’ve heard this transition referred too as “maiden to mother”, and I can feel it - I can feel the death of maiden, the layers shedding, the lack of knowing who I am or where I fit in. I know that moving to California + being in such a time of unbelievable transition is adding to the sensation of this death, but it’s here and it’s very much alive for me.

Honestly, it feels exactly.the.same as early sobriety; they told me “not much has to change, just everything”, and that seems to be what’s happening right now. Everything is changing, there is no 'norm'. I can not decipher up from down, I am restless at times, irritable, discontent. I am overwhelmed by unbelievable fear at times - fear that truthfully has me want to run far, far away and never return. But what am I running from? Wherever I go, there I will be. And I know this. I have been down this dark night before, I know the pain and terror of it, I also know that the only way through is through - there is no other way around it. I know that the golden gems that exist in the dark night are the shiniest of diamonds in the rough, and I know - I know with every cell of my being - that this phase, this death, births the next phase. It is an ascension. It’s a right of passage. I have been here.

And as scary as it feels at times, as dark + miserable + downright frightening, I know what to do. I know how to ride this out. I know how to walk through the storm with faith, surrender, and grace. I also know with all of my heart that the clouds will part.

All of this feeling for me has me becoming increasingly interested as to what this experience must be life for the father - and from the few conversations I have had with the brave men that have been open enough to share, I am learning that this is not easy for them either. The men seem to report that perhaps this transition takes even longer for them than for the mother - they do not have the experience of the hormones, and the pregnancy, or the birthing, and breastfeeding. They are not said to have post partum, or have to endure the physical and psychological aspects of "motherhood", but for some men that seems to be a part of the struggle - it's all hearsay, they can not relate directly and the know nothing about how they are meant to fit into the picture. How does a man just become a father? I would imagine it is the same as how a woman becomes a mother - through a painful death of maiden, and an awkward and intuitive birth of the high self she is meant to become.

I am beginning to see that although dark + horrible for some of us, this experience is a birth.

It's a birth for the babe, it's a birth for the mother, and it's a birth for the father.

(Or a birth for 2 mothers, or 2 fathers, of whatever the family unit looks like).

It's messy, dark, hormonal. It's painful, awkward, and deeply trying. But I think... I think... that with surrender and trust - trust in the flow, trust in the cosmos, trust in life - that the incubation, the death, the shedding, and the rebirth give way to the very nature of what we are all meant to become.

A baby is born.

And 2 adult humans both die and are reborn in the process.

No wonder this path is painful, that's a tall order.

only love, -k xoxo

1 8 w e e k s + 2 d a y s

My mental health feels pretty balanced today. I feel good. I got up early - which has been happening for about a week now - coached 2 clients, made a delightful smoothie, went to a recovery meeting, and then hit up the gym. It was good.

I feel good, today.

Between 18-24 weeks of pregnancy they like to get you in for an ‘anatomy scan’ ultrasound where they basically take a detailed look at anatomy to ensure that all pieces are ‘in the right place’. Monday we hit our 18-week mark and so we became "eligible" to have the ultrasound.

We have opted out of a lot of screening that is offered (or rather… relentlessly pressured) to find out if the baby is “incompatible with life’, as they say. They screen for certain genetic disorders at which point the parents can make (deeply personal) decisions as to the route they would like to take with their pregnancy.

We didn't do it.

I thought I would want to, but as it turned out, I didn't. I didn't want the pressure of having to ‘play god’, I didn't want to be faced with an enormously wild decision about continuation or termination. I just didn't want it, and so we decided (after many conversations) to just let life be in control.

My older brother, Jamie was born with heart complications. He lived 3 years on this earth and ultimately made his transition to the cosmos after a surgery gone sideways. He was a gift, but he also lived a hard life. He died when I was 6 months old - I swear I remember pieces of him, and I certainly feel the depth that my Mum loved - and misses - him.

I never ever wanted children for this very reason.

I didn't want the hardship, I didn't want the pain, I didn't want to ever love something deeply and have it robbed from me. I know that pain from when my dad died, and as a young girl + young woman growing up with fear bubbling in my core, I just didn't think that I was willing to put myself in such a vulnerable position.

And now here I am, with a human growing in me that I will inevitably fall deeply in love with; I imagine I may even fall deeper in love with this human than I am with our dogs, and I’ll be honest, I fear their death daily. Every.single.day I fear they will die a horrific death in a fire, every.single.day I wonder how many days I have with them, and what will happen to me if they are taken away.

Fear doesn't rule me the way it used too, but it’s in me and it certainly tries to haunt me.

I know the deep seeded fear in my soul - the fear that tells me that ‘god takes all that I love’ - is a past trauma that plays on repeat, and yet knowing this is not enough to bust through the belief system that lays buried in the foundations of my psyche.

So here I am - baby in womb, not a clue if things will be ok, and yet somehow I am walking forward anyway, fear and all.

Anyway, we said ‘yes’ to the anatomy ultrasound - partly to know, and partly because I love anatomy and seeing it on a 4D ultrasound on a tiny human blows my mind to pieces and has me in pure states of faith. Alas, the anatomy scan was a-ok; this little alien has all fingers, toes, and organs. Alien has a heart, blood supply, a gallbladder, and sex organs. Little alien is laying in a breech position with the umbilical cord sitting posterior - all is well.  

And so, we move forward with fear and trust grappling around in my mind + heart; isn't that just the very nature of life?

That’s all I want to say today.

This week I will write a post to share with you all why I do not believe in a big ‘gender reveal parties’, I will also share with you why we are not announcing the gender of this alien (and yes we do know what assigned sex this little soul has been given), and why I honestly can't stand the question “do you know what your having?”

Stay tuned.

only love - k

1 7 w e e k s + 5 d a y s

I am living a life that is beyond what I could have ever hoped for.

I live in a beautiful city, I am married to the kindest man I have ever met + we have a highly communicative/open/honest relationship, I have two dogs who light my life, I have a healthy baby growing in my body, I am sober - after the dark nights that I have walked through, this is truly magic.

And yet I am bombarded with darkness as of lately.

I process it by talking about it, sharing it, writing it out. My words have been riddled with a tone that tends to make others cringe, and although the response from many has been an overwhelming “wow, you said what I wished I could have said”, I have had a pile of humans who wrote to me to remind me to ‘be a little more positive’; some have had the will to let me know that my verbiage could really use a facelift; while others reached out to inform me that ‘less is more is sometimes sexy’. People are writing to me to let me know their experience and remind me that ‘hate is never a word they used’, and that they will “pray for me”. People compare their experiences and seem to be urging me to be a little quieter, make it is a little sexier and a little easier to read.

All of which I think has really helped me over the past few days settling into the truth of where I am at. All of the toxic positivity being shoved down my throat has really had the opposite desired effect on me - I do not feel lighter, or more motivated to spread a message of rainbows, I do not feel enticed to quiet my truth to make a single soul feel more at ease. No, that’s not it at all. I feel like roaring even louder, processing my fear, grief, pain, turbulence with even more vigor.

I feel like a lion - unable to hear your judgment - roaring with the most heartfelt vocals that any right-minded individual will do nothing but stand by and allow my sacred soul processing room to move. Do not interpret the divine act that I am moving through. Do not tell me how I ought to feel, how I ‘should’ roar, or that my roaring, my tapping into my truth is ‘less spiritual’, ‘less grateful’ than had I chosen to do it lightly, with more polished, accepted dialogue.

Do not tell me that my truth is not enough.

Do not stand on the sidelines and assume that because I walk a dark night because I feel an enormity of shadow that I am not connected to spirit or aligned with faith. Because I am. Oh you better believe that there is a deep fire within my soul that is connected to source on a level that is visceral for me. I am in the shadow, I am amidst the fire of my life - again - I am burning to the ground. I am whaling. I am feeling every scorching moment of this fire as it takes me down, destroys the old, and burns way for the birth of not only baby kinstlich, but Mother Kori.

Do not fuck with my process.

Do not tell me it is not divine, because it is.

Do not tell me how I ought to do it, I know on a deep + cellular level what I am doing over here. You may not like it - it may be too loud, too sharp, too messy for you, but I am at peace with my goddess, my process, my faith. Walk the other way if this mess is not divine enough for you, clear the way, don’t distract me, spirit + I have work to do.

This has been one of the hardest experiences of my life. It’s pregnancy, I am blessed to be experiencing it. I have a man by my side that would do anything for me. The baby is healthy. Do you not think I feel guilty for how I feel? If I could switch it to live the life of that “pregnancy is supposed to be” do you not think I would choose that? I would. And so would every human being that has ever been or wanted to be pregnant in all of history.

We would simply be able to conceive, fertility would not be an issue. We would have no miscarriages, stillbirths or loss of babies. No one would damn us for our very personal choices around abortion. We would have pregnancies that matched what we have been told: a mother prancing through a field of golden lilies, naturally loving every moment of the change in her body. We would have women who had perfect births that matched her birth plan, there would be no trauma. We would breastfeed or bottle feed with ease, we would have no postpartum depression, no desires to kill our babies or end our own lives. It would look like Disney made it look. We have been lied too, and when a woman such as myself feels the need to express the truth of what this is and the humans of the world sit back in righteous judgment and let me know that I’m not ‘doing it right’, or ‘‘i should be doing it in ____ way”, makes me feel less than, belittled, shamed. It makes me question my worth as a woman, and as a soon to be mother.

Lucky I am a lion and I know how to roar.

I roar for all of my sisters that have walked this path and felt her story unravel in twisted ways, in ways that looked nothing like what it was “supposed to look like”.

I roar to remind you that the gems in the darkness are divine, that feeling the shadow feelings is a god given act of self-love. You are not less than because it doesn't look “positive”, you are divine just the same.

Walk your walk dear lionesses. Roar. Roar because it is the right thing to do, roar because the goddess in you needs to yell, to scream. And a deep + humble ‘good riddance’ to the onlookers who want to silence you; your roaring triggers them not because of you, but because of something deep within themselves that longs to roar as you do.

only love -k

1 7 w e e k s + 3 d a y s

It’s only 8 am, so I am not entirely sure how I feel today. I do know that after putting a voice to how I feel on social media, and hearing the responses of humans, I feel not only a whole lot less alone, a whole lot less crazy, but something in me simply feels softer.

I feel can feel what's under my rage + anger a little better; I can feel the fear thats bubbling, the 1000 forms of fear that lay at the base of my subconscious, the faces of fear that attempt to rule my existence, hijack my thoughts, and run my light into darkness.

When I get really honest about self, I am truthfully surprised at the amount of fear that resides in my core.

It’s the fear that tells me that God kills what I love; it’s the fear that tells me that I am not equipped for the level of love I receive from the man I married; it’s the fear that tells me I am not good enough, I will fuck it all up, and that this light is not the life for me. It’s a fear that tells me over, and over, and over again that my life is a mistake, that my purpose is meaningless, and that I will be a nobody for all of the days that I walk this earth.

I suspect that it’s the vast amount of change that has occurred over these past few months that has the ego part of self in pure panic.

I’m in a new city, and a new country - with a totally different climate. I am living with the man who I love, but we had a long distance relationship prior to the big move here - this is a wildly hard adjustment for me. I believe that pregnancy has thrown me for a loop - it’s new, frightening, and totally uncharted territory. All that, and I must reminder also that I am still only a little more than 2 years sober - I am still a toddler, I have no idea how to do this sober life and all it entails.

As fear bubbles on the deepest levels, I feel myself slip into a state of anger, rage, righteousness. I become sharp + spicy. I do not laugh, I can not find the magic. I can not stand who I become, and it seems that no matter how much self-awareness I have, I can not stop the spiral. It’s insane. I am insane. All I want to do when I feel this way is run for the hills.

My deepest programing tells me to ‘fuck everything and run’, that is my response to fear. I am learning to stay, I am learning to fall to my knees in prayer as I - sometimes gracefully and sometimes reluctantly - hand my will over to my higher power.  God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can and the wisdom to know the difference.

Everyone is always saying “it’s going to be ok”, but the truth for me is that I do not know that it will be ok, I really don’t. I have a baseline mistrust in the very fabric that this universe is made of, and I am working daily at establishing a connection with this universe, I am diligent in my pursuit to increase my conscious contact with God.

It’s a totally painful crossroads for me - I know that my will fails every single time. My will run riot, leaves me scheming and planning, it’s impodles in my face, it severs my connection to source, and it leaves me hopeless and disappointment. My will leaves me in a state of fear, followed by a brilliant parade of character defects like pride, anger, indignant attitudes, that I can not live by. My inner brain becomes an existence of hell.

So what choice do I have?


That’s it.

God doesn't play fair. Me playing God clearly does not work. So I just have to force myself to my knees as many times through the day as it takes until I find myself where my heart resides today - a little softer, a little more willing, a little less rigid.

These were the very teachings the cosmos had for me in early sobriety when the forest fire of my life lit ablaze and I had never experienced such grief in all my life. I didn't know in those days if it would be ok, I didn't know if I would survive, I wasn't sure if the pain would kill me, or if I would end it myself. I just didn't know. I didn't know how I would get through, I didn't know how I would stay sober, and I certainly didn't know how I would ever heal, laugh, or feel joy again.

So I followed the steps lined out before me.

I got down on my knees daily. I prayed. I said that damn serenity prayer 72 000 times/day. I stayed diligent and close to my sobriety work. I took the next indicated step and remained disciplined as to not future trip, or wander down paths of nostalgia. I stayed here in today. I stayed with the pain, I didn't scratch the itch. I was willing for grief to take me, to teach me, to kill me - I was wholeheartedly open to life’s lessons. I had no reservation of any kind. I knew it was do or die for me.

It took a long time before joy came to my life. It was many-a-day of grief stricken pain, pain with such enormity that I failed to see a way out. I didn't necessarily believe in the steps I was taking, I didn't believe that my higher power was a good one, but I knew that my will ended me up in the mess I was in. I knew I had to do it different.

Amazingly enough, the clouds did part. I gained a faith that was unlike anything I had ever known in my life. I found peace, and joy, and contentment.

I stayed sober.

And now here I am - different situation, same fucking fears! How wild is that? I think last time I had 2% faith, but life proved to me that this work works, life has shown me the way. Today I think I have about 17% faith (all 17% of it is being tested viciously right now) and so although this is wildly painful and uncomfortable, I know the path to navigate this.

It’s not about negating the pain.

It’s not about making rainbows when life is just stormy, the rainbows will come in due time, but 1st I must ride the storm, I have to sail the turbulent seas; for me that looks like handing the helm over to my higher power and opening my hands and ears to receive instruction from the captain. This is not my ship, I am not the captain, and I have no idea where we are going- but when I can surrender the wheel, when I can become teachable and willing, we sail to marvelous places.

I guess this is what faith means. I guess it means that when encapsulated in stormy seas, when one cannot see a break in the clouds or land in site that we do what we have been told: we surrender. I guess the works part in the “faith without works is dead” is just that - remaining open especially when the ship appears that it is about to capsize. I guess the down and dirty work is all about staying present to the storm, here in the today, and ever-connected to … source.

I don’t know.