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?

Ramblings.

Reflections.

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. 

Uncomfortable. 

Bloated. 

Itchy. 

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?

Surrender.

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.

Who knows!

The ship may well go down, but as a self-proclaimed poor sea woman I will remain next to the helm, listening to the captain for the next best step.

It’s the only chance I have.


only love - k

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

I continue to speak with fierce honesty about my human experience because it is healing for me to share and I kid you not, every.single.time I share the shadow side someone reaches out and says "me too."

That someone who says "me too" usually failed to have the vocal ability to share their experience - out of shame, fear, guilt.

It is almost as if it is only acceptable to share our human journeys if they are tightly wrapped in a bow if they are easy to be shared if they ensure the comfort of all who bare witness. We seem to only be allowed to share the experiences that fit the model of how we "should" feel - grateful, happy, lovely.

My truths are raw, they are often deeply uncomfortable to share + to hear; I know my truths make others squirm. I also know that my truths are the same truths so many others have, I just happen to be born into a soul that refuses to stay quiet - I seem to have been programmed to share.

Yesterday I used the word 'hate' to describe my feelings toward the experience of pregnancy.

I know, I know, the world thinks 'hate' is awfully strong, and the world likes to tell us to 'tone it down', 'make it easier to hear'.

This morning a woman suggested that I walk through the neonatal unit, she suggested that 'hate' is a strong word and that although she admires me, she was praying that 'my mindset changes'.

Nothing like a good dose of shaming our fellow humans for the truth they experience.

If I am at the dinner table and I am full, me choosing to ignore my human experience of 'full' to 'eat my plate because there are starving children in the world' makes no sense. Me being full does not take away from my compassion for others, or my gratitude for what I have on my plate.

Me hating the experience of pregnancy doesn't take away my connection to god, it doesn't diminish my value as a woman and a mother-to-be, and it certainly doesn't negate my gratitude.

So here is the thing:

We all walk a human path, and that path is not always lined with ribbons, and cotton candy, and sweet little elves of positivity. Sometimes our path is shrouded in darkness, pain, despair. Sometimes 'hate' is a perfectly perfect way to describe the path.

Please do not sit back on the throne of your own values, hopes, fears, experiences + self-righteous attitudes and judge someone else's human experience.

We all have a right to feel exactly as we feel and the level of shame for one another's human experience has got to diminish if we are to heal as a whole.

I stand by 'hate' as my current experience, and I am here to tell you that when I 'love' I will stand by that with just as much fierceness. It might be dark right now, but that doesn't mean I need to shrink my experience to make you comfortable.

This is what my human path looks like right now.


only love,

k



1 7 w e e k s

Acceptance doesn’t mean we have to like it, in fact ‘liking it’ has nothing to do with it.

We can hate it + still find grace;

we can loath it + still find gratitude.

We do not need to pressure the self to wrap uncomfortable human situations in pretty little bows + tell ourselves to “enjoy the ride” because ‘others think we should’.

That’s not real, not authentic, not self-loyal.

There is nothing wrong with you for not liking pieces of your human experience - nothing al all.

We can accept that which we do not like; we can care for the self through the trials and tribulations;

we can remain self-loyal in the face of discomfort + pain.

Pregnancy, for me, is hell.

Its shit.

I talk about it because this is what’s real for me, it’s my true experience.

I don’t have to like it,

or pretend to be in love with it;

I’m not.

I hate it.

(& yes, I am aware that ‘hate’ is a strong word, and I feel fully truthful in the use of this strong word).

Not all human experiences are fun for all humans, and the truth about this one for me : it’s kicking my ass and testing my faith.

I’ve been sick af,

and hormones are making me actually question my sanity.

I’m losing it.

Legit.

I feel like a bad woman for feeling this way - like something is wrong with me - it’s not how I “should” feel, it’s not how “mothers are”.

And no one talks about the shadow side, and so I feel deeply alone.

If I feel alone, I know so many others are suffering in silence.

This reality is not only my truth, others feel the same!

For all you humans that feel “less than” because you are not emotionally responding “positively” like society says you should ... I see you,

you are not wrong,

or strange,

or weird for how you feel.

The way you feel is right,

it’s right for you.

I’m not ‘less than’ because my experience of growing a human inside of me feels saturated in pain.

And you are not ‘less than’ for experiencing pieces of your life how you feel fit.

We’re all different.

We’re all just trying to human the best we can, and sometimes it’s a treat, and other times it’s shit.

Wherever you are is right.

only love,

k


welcome

Pregnancy is supposed to be a  'magical' + 'wonderful' time of a woman's life, and while it may be for some, my experience teeters into the shadow;

I am failing to meet the 'standard expected emotion' a woman 'should' have.

I am not gushing over the baby growing in my belly, I do not feel emotionally connected, I have been sicker than I have ever been in my life. I don’t care to post baby bump pictures, or plan a nursery. I’m not rushing to the store for cute baby stuff, nor do I find any form of solace in the week-by-week-app-updates that tell me how bing this foreign invader in my body is.

My reaction to this new’s - after being 6 days late for my expected moon blood, and even though this was a thing I wanted and we had in fact been trying for - was one of fear, instant regret, overwhelm, and panic.

A baby? Me, a Mother? How in god's name will a baby fit through my vagina? And what about my life…. is it over?

I thought it was meant to be a time of deep joy?

I thought the tears after seeing the “yep, you’re pregnant” on the pee stick would be tears of great relief, enormous excitement - after-all, this was planned, this was what I wanted.

Why was I so filled with emotions that mismatched the ones all the world always told me I would feel?

Instantly, from the moment I reacted the way I did when i saw the pee-stick-results, I felt as though something was deeply wrong with me. I felt uncontrollable shame + guilt.

2 days later pregnancy symptoms hit me in ways I could have never prepared for. I was bedridden. I was too sick to eat, but too anxious not to eat. The panic I felt was indescribable - not panic about having a baby, but baseline anxiety panic, like the sensation of depression, mental illness, insanity. I was unable to leave the house alone due to crippling anxiety, constant nausea, and the feeling of the worst flu I had ever had. It took me until last week to even be able to enter a grocery store due to the intense smells, all of which made me gag.

I could find almost zero resources that normalized how I felt, that acknowledged the pain I was in. Thank god for my best friend, she went through this very thing, and so I knew deep down I was not alone. But, I also ‘knew’ (because the world insisted to me that this is a magic time) most women - although ‘morning sick’ - continue to work and uphold their daily responsibilities - there was no way in hell I was capable of working, absolutely no way, which made me feel even more guilt + shame.

I am 17 weeks and 1 day pregnant and I still feel horrible. I can not eat vegetables, I am raging with hormones causing shocking waves of unpredictable emotions, I am watching about 5-8 hours of netflix/day, and only last week was I able to start going to the gym. I feel insane, emotionally unstable, unable to get through a day accomplishing any form of ‘normal tasks’, and I’m struggling deeply to find the magic in this all.

It’s been hell.

That’s the truth.

I struggle to find the space to voice these opinions, I struggle to find women who share this experience - and yet, every time I post about it, each time I voice it, women write to me and they say “me too, thank you for sharing, I was too afraid/could not find the words”.

There is just so.much.shame directed at humans for not experiencing life in a way that society says we ‘should’, and this reaches far beyond pregnancy. Life is not black and white, we live in a grey zone and our lenses and experiences vary from human to human - and all of it, every experience, every viewpoint is valid.

I’m here on my blog to document this experience, 1st and foremost because it is healing for me to give it a voice, it’s helpful for me to name my emotions, write about them and place them into the universe. 2nd, I write because I know I am not alone.

I am blown away by the pressure from society that tells women that pregnancy ought to look one particular way, and if we fail to fit into that box, our voices are shamed and shut down.

“Just enjoy it while it’s here” negates another humans experience, shaming the use of statements like “I hate this experience” diminishes another human beings journey. Can we not just find it in ourselves to sit back and curiously, and compassionate hold space for the wide array of human emotions + experiences to be shared, experienced, and communicated?

Pregnancy is not my jam, it’s been one of the hardest experiences I have ever had. But that does not take away from the amount I know I will love this baby, it doesn't make me less of a woman, and it certainly doesn't rob my abilities to be a good Mother. Just because my experience has been dark does not mean I am not also in gratitude, grace and acceptance. My truth, my shadow experience, simply doesn’t make me less than - it’s just an experience, thats all.

Not all experiences are wrapped neatly in a tidy bow; human’ing is tough stuff, and it's dark, and messy, and wild. It doesn't only have to look like rainbows to be valid - shadows, nightmares, discomfort is real, valid, and just as magical as the flipside.

I can't find the resources to normalize my experience, so I am making one.

I know I am not alone.

I am sharing - with radical transparency - what this journey is for me, I am voicing the shadow, breaking the stigma, making room for authenticity.

Thank you for being here.

Only Love,

-k