Countless early mornings and late nights, I’ve sat down to type out what has been on my mind lately in feminism and midwifery, how I’m pondering current events and what’s to come, and new parallel thoughts on how much I love my work and how much I struggle with its boundless opportunities for change. I miss doing all of that. I miss writing and the processing and growth this blog affords to me, and recognize that others miss what it brings to them as well.
Many are reaching out to ask about the break in writing that I have seemingly taken, noting the lull in new content and pause in regular series topics. I appreciate this check-in and acknowledge that this is a nod to the community this blog creates for myself and for others.
I have entered a stage in my life wherein events feel swirled in a perfect storm. Ending a relationship and a moving out of a physical and emotional home I created with love and care. New job and expanding midwife role into regular preceptorship. Volunteer and leadership activities all escalating time requirements based on unexpected events. An evaluation of what in my life I have intentionally chosen and what has unintentionally “just happened” as time moves forward and events run their course. An investigation into some grand questions that feel both cliché and unanswered: who am I? what do I want? what can I contribute to the world? and how am I representing those questions with my life and my work?
Writing, in and of itself, often calls me to question the level of narcissism in assuming others care about what I have to say, even when it’s specific to the topics of this blog. With all of the personal aspects of my life feeling unsettled, unbalanced, and teetering on failing, my personal writing offline has focused on my own introspection and has importantly, vitally, been on the topic of “me.” I continue in my volunteer and professional life to care fully for others: every other moment of my personal life is focused on either trying to stay afloat or taking time to process key moments of life to not let them woosh by.
This is all to say: I’m not gone. I’m thankful to have this community to check-in on me. I’m cognizant that this writing fulfills me and others, and I will be back to it when I feel strong enough to do so, and am thankful to know that time isn’t far off. I’m thankful for therapy. I’m thankful for community and friendship and strong arms who helped me move and strong minds who help me think deeply and strong hearts who welcome me to share the load. I’m thankful for cushy slippers. I’m thankful for my dog. I’m thankful for the release in crying. I’m thankful for the people who let me into their worlds and honor me with the opportunity to care for them. I’m thankful for house plants. I’m thankful for the silent and slow falling snowflakes that slow time. I’m thankful for sales on furniture. I’m thankful for ice cream. I’m thankful for female authors. I’m thankful for old friends. I’m thankful for my physical health. I’m thankful for the new Lisbeth Salander book. I’m thankful Nurse Jackie is now on Netflix. I’m thankful for coworkers who tell me I look amazing when I’m wearing the same shirt day after day, but just in different colors. I’m thankful for hot showers. I’m thankful for poetry on Instagram. I’m thankful to begin teaching and lecturing. I’m thankful for my windows facing the Chicago trains. I’m thankful for my midwife life. I’m thankful for my parents. I’m thankful for nail polish. I’m thankful for new Serial podcast. I’m thankful for care packages. I’m thankful for laughter. I’m thankful for this blog and community.
And, like never before, I’m thankful for coffee.