mother’s day

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I found her under a gooseberry bush, which is a euphemism of course for a labour so painful I really-actually thought I was going to die.
I did not find childbirth spiritual or beautiful. Instead, it found me, violent & terrifying; a trauma so gruesome that under any other circumstance you’d be given a week in bed, flowers & an appointment with a therapist. But this is an everyday trauma; sitting in cafes, I stared in wonder at all the other women who has been through the same. A room full of car crash victims, pulled fresh from the wreckage and handed a tiny, helpless being to care for, even before the bleeding had been stemmed. Everywhere, these incredible strong women, carrying on.

He asks me, sometimes, will we have another? And I laugh this funny laugh that doesn’t even really sound like me, and say, sure, but it’s your turn this time.
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To split yourself in two is just about the most radical thing you can do, & I’d be lying if I said I understood it, even now. But I understand that mothers -whatever their story- are fierce, & awe-inspiring, & just a little bit magical.

So happy mother’s day, mamas.