To Dread and To Savor: Mothering in Real Time–Feminism and Religion Post
It happened in the blink of an eye. So much of how we got here is blurry. I try to parse out the moments that came together to add up to this many years. I pause to absorb fragments, moments of the past.
Driving to baseball practice forty minutes from our house and realizing he doesn’t have his shoes twenty-five minutes into the drive. I hate the sound of my voice yelling at him in the car.
The crisp clear day driving home from the hospital twenty-four hours into his life in the world. He only needed a light blanket over his car seat. I narrated the path the car was taking. “Here’s the park where we’ll walk. Here’s our street where your house is.” I could smell him and felt a growing sensation that he needed to nurse soon. I cared about little else than him.
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