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.

Burning.

Disintegrating.

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.