I love to write and this is an ode to all the families I'm blessed to have worked with + all the families I've yet to meet (like yours) ♥️
i don’t know that there’s anything better.
i don’t know what else i could be doing or would be doing or should be doing.
late night texts, early morning phone calls.
“my water broke!”
“my water broke?”
“... my water broke.”
“my water broke.”
“my water broke...”
every combination of feelings.
every facet and colour and volume of feelings.
“i can do this!”
“i can do this?”
“... i can do this.”
“i can do this.”
“i can do this..”
loud and clear, i hear them all.
i hear them and i hold with them with nods and mhms.
i hear them, i hear their babies, i hear their ancestors.
legacies of power built on bravery fuelled by love.
“i can’t believe i did that!”
“i can’t believe i did that?”
“... i can’t believe i did that.”
“i can’t believe i did that.”
“i can’t believe i did that...”
silent support, quiet recognition, gentle love.
i hold their hand, give it a little squeeze, and smile.
i try not to let the tears drop that have welled up in my eyes, but sometimes i can’t stop them.
i cry in awe, i weep in amazement, i sob with them.
we press our foreheads together, laughing-crying.
“you did it,” i always whisper.
“and you were amazing,” i add after a second.
and then i get to hold their babies.
i get to hold an entire universe in my arms and shush and sway and snuggle and smooch them to sleep.
i get to tell them about how incredible their mothers are, how kind their fathers are, how loved they are.
i get to remind them that they’re perfect, that they’re welcome, that they belong here.
then, alwaysalwaysalways, their little hand finds my beating heart and my heart gets to tell them all the things there are no words for.
and i shush and i swing and i snuggle and i smooch and i hold space for this little one to share me with all the secrets of the universe as they drift off.
“goodnight, little moon,” i say.
and with one last tug on my heart, they sleep.