A place to start

I don’t know what I expected motherhood to be like, but I’m not sure it was like this. Not this heaviness – not heavy with dread, or sadness, or tiredness (though there is plenty of that), or displeasure, no, but a heaviness born out of love and a primal need that I can’t find the words to explain, but which I feel in my bones every time I hold the soft, round weight of my daughter. Through her I feel in many ways born anew, and yet never before have I been so aware of my own mortality and frailty, or of the passage of the earth around the sun, the year disappearing in a blur of days where happiness is an unexpected giggle and the soft hand of Lydia clutching at my side.

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