women and mothers and humans

a few days before this shoot, I was talking to Jenny on the phone and we were talking about how hard it can be to parent a newborn. she was mothering her three, including her five-week-old baby girl and I was mothering my newest foster boy. we were both exhausted, not sleeping at night, trying to find the rhythms that these seasons held. 

"we all need more support. women, mothers, humans need more support from our communities." 

yes, yes, yes to all of it. I echoed. 

she empathized with the first mother of my foster son and we talked about how *close* we feel to being where they are. 

if you take away the support systems we have and add food insecurity or chemical dependence or a struggle with mental health, it makes complete sense that families are hurting and children are landing in care. 

so, more support, she said.

this is hard. it's good and beautiful too, but the early days can be dark and we need each other. 

we need each other. 

(and, also, I need more of this family in my life.)

2017 | part two

Do you know what I was, how I lived? You know
what despair is; then
winter should have meaning for you.

I did not expect to survive,
earth suppressing me. I didn't expect
to waken again, to feel
in damp earth my body
able to respond again, remembering
after so long how to open again
in the cold light
of earliest spring--

afraid, yes, but among you again
crying yes risk joy

in the raw wind of the new world. 

Snowdrops, Louise Gluck