Becoming a parent is difficult to talk and write about, not because the words are hard to find (though they are), but because when you find them, they feel too intimate to share. The smells and sounds and stirrings of the heart are individual and holy. There’s a sense in which the universal experience is yours alone when the opposite is actually true. You hesitate to say anything at all, as if staying quiet better preserves the miracle.

more here

6 comments:

  1. This is so unbelievably beautiful. I've never commented here--I started following your blog after falling in love with your essays in Kinfolk. But gosh how this resonated with me. Parenthood--motherhood--is the bulk of what I write about. But this made me think of all the things I don't say, the things I don't share, simply because they are hushed experiences. It's like they are secret and meant only for me. To become a mother has awakened my soul.

    ReplyDelete
  2. That's still one of my favorite pieces of writing you've ever done. Have more babies.

    ReplyDelete
  3. this was beautiful in every sense of the word.

    ReplyDelete
  4. I love your essay. I hope you don't mind but I quoted from it on my tumblr (linking back to the essay, of course!). I am going to read up on Dr. Hélène Frichot - this is what I've been thinking about lately.

    I am not a writer but the way you write makes me want to try.

    ReplyDelete
  5. Your blog is wonderful. So beautiful. Please write more often, all though I understand your words, my baby girl is the same age.

    ReplyDelete
  6. Always such a pleasure to read your words.

    ReplyDelete