February 07, 2018
The Sling Diaries, Volume VII. A photo-documentary chronicling the art of baby wearing in the lives of families around the world. Over the course of six months, Sling Diarists will create their own Sling Diary though a series of diary entries interpreting a unique theme given to them each month.
Meet all of our Sling Diarists here.
It is 7pm and the sound of laughter shakes the walls in our home. It has become our nightly tradition say goodnight to our home with James before he goes to bed. We say good night to the kitchen and the hallway, to his Dodger bobblehead collection and the old porcelain owl I found at a thrift store when I was 19 that now lives on our little boy's wall. He shares a silly goodnight kiss with his dad and I always get the final snuggle and "two kisses for mama" -- a line from one of our favorite bedtime books. His giggles continue as I put him into his bed and he answers our "I love you's" and "good night's" with an enthusiastic "HAPPY HALLOWEEN!!!" – his nightly send off to us as we shut his door. He doesn't care that it’s February and I love him for that.
Our love is silly.
It's a warm weeknight and we laugh over a quick bite to eat before seeing an 8pm showing of 'Lady Bird.' We walk hand in hand to the theatre and I am overwhelmingly happy to be here, in this moment, with him.
Our love is simple.
The lights are off and it's quiet. We listened to The Zombies on the drive and I can still hear the lyrics to "A Rose for Emily" in my head as I anxiously attempt to get comfortable in the hospital bed. Emerald, a midwife from Dominica, cares for us and allows us to rest. We take a few moments to process that we are about to become parents again. The hours fly. John cracks a few jokes and I am awestruck that we are about to meet our baby. The minutes move slowly and quickly at the same time and in the most peaceful and perfect moment, shortly after the sun greets the sky, our sweet Sam makes his debut. I am euphoric as I hold my newborn babe on my chest as he takes his time finding the perfect spot to rest his head. I am floored by how much I already love this little creature.
Our love is extraordinary.
We’re at a birthday party a few weeks after Sam’s birth. The numbness of postpartum depression has started to break into our lives and I’m sad, anxious and angry. I am scared. But on this afternoon, in the warm Laguna Beach sun, I have my little boy wrapped against my chest in the softest linen and I breathe him in as I watch John and James dance and laugh. For a moment I feel that everything is going to be ok. It’s fleeting, but it’s there and I am grateful.
Our love is hopeful.
Love is unpredictable. It bursts into your life in a flash. It can slowly weave it’s home over time, each thread unique and spectacular in its own way. Our love envelopes us, protects us -- it is home. It can be simultaneously simple and complicated. It is healing; it rejuvenates the soul in ways that words cannot adequately describe. In my darkest times, our love has been a beacon, always guiding me home. It is always constant and it is ever changing. The evolution of our love inspires me and I find myself searching for ways to express how motherhood has shaped my life in the most beautiful and surprising ways. I don't know if I'll ever be able to adequately articulate the love I have for my sons; what I do know is that I will spend my days making sure they know that they hold my heart, forever.
Our love is ours. And it's everything.
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