🧿 @palebluenot - Tumblr Blog

Hilma af Klint, Series VIII. Picture of the Starting Point, 1920

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Is it possible to miss the void?

idk who’s still here but hi i love you 🩵

zegalba

Owls create snow angel imprints while hunting in winter when they swoop down to catch mice or squirrels.

Thankful, for my son, the love surrounding me, my life, my home, and excited for all things to come. 🤍

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Tonight my son fell asleep as I softly stroked his cheek. He reached for me when I moved to get out of bed. He smiled at me when I sang to him. He danced with me. He saw a balloon pop for the first time and cackled. So many other moments captured, and not enough words. My heart is full.

I turn 34 in 2 weeks. My son fell asleep on my shoulder after our walk today. Tomorrow is a sweet song.

Motherhood has made me softer, rounded my edges, opened my heart. I didn’t know how much I needed this.

palebluenot

I see a sentiment shared by many new mothers online—a possessiveness with regard to their unborn or newborn child, a sadness that comes w the understand that once the child exits their body, they are no longer solely possessed by the mother. Suddenly the child is no longer “theirs,” and the bond between mother and child is somehow fractured bc the child exists outside of their form. And there’s a mourning that comes w this realization, and I get it. I can sympathize w that loss.

But I can’t say I truly empathize bc to me, this child inside me has never been “mine.” It doesn’t belong to me. Yes, I created this being, my body nourished it, it exists bc of me and I am responsible for its mental, emotional, physical, and spiritual well-being, but that doesn’t mean I own it. It doesn’t owe me anything. The child comes through me but it is not me, not mine.

All I feel is this bubbling excitement to meet and get to know this person that’s been living beside me for the past 9 months. Who are they? Will I recognize their face immediately? Will they recognize my voice? Yes I’m nervous, but I’m not sad. Maybe I’ll understand eventually but for now I’m at peace knowing we’ll soon be separated and I’ll be able to gaze upon someone so special and new.

palebluenot

Yeah I’m full of shit lmao this did not age well, my baby is MINE and I’ll fight anyone who says otherwise!

The essence of the post is still true but… whatever he’s *my* baby 💕

Postpartum things I’m looking forward to that have nothing to do w my baby:

Runny eggs

Alcohol

DENIM

Sushi

Retinol

Painting my toe nails

Cured meats

Deli sandwiches

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Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.

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“vintage wet seal”

zeewhatiwrote

José Olivarez, Citizen Illegal | Rakhi Narang | Nikki Giovanni, Habits

untitled-1991

harley weir emilie kareh more or less magazine issue 6 2022

I see a sentiment shared by many new mothers online—a possessiveness with regard to their unborn or newborn child, a sadness that comes w the understand that once the child exits their body, they are no longer solely possessed by the mother. Suddenly the child is no longer “theirs,” and the bond between mother and child is somehow fractured bc the child exists outside of their form. And there’s a mourning that comes w this realization, and I get it. I can sympathize w that loss.

But I can’t say I truly empathize bc to me, this child inside me has never been “mine.” It doesn’t belong to me. Yes, I created this being, my body nourished it, it exists bc of me and I am responsible for its mental, emotional, physical, and spiritual well-being, but that doesn’t mean I own it. It doesn’t owe me anything. The child comes through me but it is not me, not mine.

All I feel is this bubbling excitement to meet and get to know this person that’s been living beside me for the past 9 months. Who are they? Will I recognize their face immediately? Will they recognize my voice? Yes I’m nervous, but I’m not sad. Maybe I’ll understand eventually but for now I’m at peace knowing we’ll soon be separated and I’ll be able to gaze upon someone so special and new.

jareckiworld

René Magritte (1898-1967) — The Heartstring [oil on canvas, 1960]

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Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.

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Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming

Another day, another daydream about tequila…

Most of the time I don’t miss Miami at all but sometimes I do

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