This is not easy. But we knew that already. To hold a human child a handful of weeks old over your shoulder as you try to write. She sleeps soundly. So quietly you dare not disturb her. So instead of transferring her to one of the many nests, you let her snuggle and make a mental note that this week you really need that massage or see a chiropractor. It’s been too long. There’s nothing new here. A mother. A growing little human. And a promise to be present. A promise to be the best human possible, and be kind, compassionate, when you fail. Perhaps today will be the day you will go back to writing to-do lists, or returning emails, or making calls. Or perhaps today you will listen to the rain make its concert over your home and watch her chest rise and fall and tell yourself, yet again, she will never be this small, she will never be his little, she will never be this tiny, not ever, again. (at Mariana (Humacao)) https://www.instagram.com/p/BzNgSaKhrTSigjsmCQs1oE06bg16qWzpm7ocMM0/?igshid=83hxgtyjzy6d