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.

Hunkering down to watch a spider waiting patiently on her web.  I can see his tiny hands balancing on his knees peaking out from his blue overall shorts. 

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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