In my home, I have a ratty throw pillow that I’ve filled to the brim with old stuffing, pieced together from various things my dogs have destroyed. The pillow isn’t sealed. It’s ornate face looks out into the room, hiding its backside, where stuffing peeps out through a busted zipper. Every evening, when I come home from work, my dogs have removed this pillow from its perch and crafted a new concoction out of the stuffing. Most days I find… >> learn more.
In the past couple of years I’ve abandoned the pursuit of lusting after a normal life and embraced the birthing process of my inner wild woman. I made acquaintance with the woman I want to become, and in a way always was, and delivered her into being. Having served as a labor and delivery doula for many moons, I found myself pondering the essence of doula support and how it applied to my own birth—the birth of myself.
… >> learn more.