This is a very interesting read
“Slow down,” my mother said, watching me gobble down my lunch. “You don’t have to hurry.” But in these handful of weeks – eight tomorrow since my daughter entered the world – I’ve learned to do most things at a run. My daughter Grace is very rarely at rest; right now she’s napping, but that never lasts for long, and even in her sleep she thrashes, purses her lips, stretches her small fat arms above her head. So although my dad had Grace on his knee, letting me for once have the use of both hands to eat, I swallowed down the meal as if poised once again for flight.
What turned out to be only a week before I gave birth, I wrote a blog post on the transitional time of late pregnancy. I wrote then, in reference to medieval texts of pregnant or recently postpartum women set…
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