I'll rewind, nine months and nine years. I found out I was pregnant. I was scared shitless. I felt I had lost control and now life was happening, but I wasn't in charge. My partner was happy, over the moon, I was afraid.
I would look at my belly growing and at the highchair in my kitchen and think of what kind of mom I'd be. My thoughts would dead end. I couldn't even picture her.
I'd cry when I drove past the hospital. I wished she could stay inside of me forever as I grew used to being pregnant.
Her due date passed. Two weeks. She must've known.

When I first saw her the fear paralyzed me. She was real and beautiful. I asked the nurse to take her. I didn't know what to do. I couldn't begin to extend my love to her yet. I was so afraid.

Everyone loved her when I couldn't. Everyone held her when I couldn't. Everyone was so happy when I was so afraid. I couldn't picture myself being her mother.

Months passed and I wasn't in the swing of things. I didn't even know I could set her down to take a break. For the first time in my life I was not able to think my way through it, my intelligence dead ended.  My mind was blank. My instinct was on vacation. I had no clue and the light at the end of the tunnel was clouded over.

Then, she was eight months old, I laid her on a blanket. The sun was shining into our apartment through a wall that was floor to ceiling windows. I loved that home. I walked away and when I came back she was sitting. She sat up all by herself. I started to cry and I felt a wave of relief, the light at the end of the tunnel was shining right down on me and her. Everything was going to be okay. She was okay. She was sitting. She can do things by herself. We were going to be okay. She smiled and so did I.

Now we race our bikes down the street and she can peddle so fast. Now we have conversations. Now we have bonded. Now my love has extended to her and has wrapped around her so tight. Now she can ask me about anything and I get to see her mind grow as I answer her. I get to introduce myself to her. Now I can picture her, now I see myself as her mother. Now I can tell her what I believe in and I can be proud of who I am and I can hope she is proud of me too. She can explore what she wants to believe in and I get to know about it. Now I can see the beautiful woman she will become and now my fear is all gone.

She is the love of my life. She changed my whole world. She taught me how to love. She was a gift to me nine years ago and she is a gift to me every day. She is friendly, willful, beautiful and smart as hell. She is an exact fifty-fifty of me and her father. I can't wait to see her grow and fly from my nest, sitting up on her own was just the start, the sun is shining down on us and I'm looking forward to being her mother.



My dear,

My dear,
You diminished my character and let me believe my goodness was bad, my concern was judgement, my kindness was weakness, my caring was free. You told me I was out of control, that I had no other options but to rely on another. 

You made me think I was crazy. You made me feel what you thought others couldn't feel. 

You've known me for years, yet you whisper to me that I'm running when in fact I'm not. I'm standing up for myself and demanding my freedom from doubt and fear. 
I'm demanding to be able to live in a way I desire, free from criticism and guilt. 

You try to convince me my choice to fall in love with the woman in the mirror is wrong, but let me be clear with you, I want to think about her. I am ready to love her. I am done being a stepping stone, an endless support, a blame, an excuse, a lover, a wife. 

I'm done covering for you when you're weak. I'm not afraid of you anymore. The woman in the mirror has my back. We are strong, even when we're broken. 


I've found someone else.

I've found someone else. We've dated for a few months now. We reach heights I'd never imaged. We scale mountains, even. We take long walks and have late night bike rides. Sometimes we fall into the dark places and spend a day on the couch with a blanket and a book. Some days, no book, just the silence. We move to the bed at night, usually for another round of reading. Sometimes for a round of crying. Sometimes, lately, writing.

We don't even leave the house some days, even though we planned to. Other times, we embrace not leaving and we try new recipes like Saag Paneer (for old time's sake-recipe post coming soon). We enjoy falling asleep to music. Whole albums. We wake to the music and let it play all day. We wander around this big house, the one built on a false foundation, we dream of the day we get to move. We write in a journal and other times we just laugh. Sometimes we cry, a lot. We think. We drink.

I am falling in love with her.

She is falling in love all over again with my kids. The way they talk about their day. The way they talk about their future. The way they pretend to be asleep but are definitely playing in their room trying to be quiet as hell.

She is magic, clothed in black, her past still hits her in waves. But she is so damn beautiful I can't help but look in the mirror and smile at her every morning.