onwards

I thought finding time to write before was tricky. (Insert hysterical laughter for 1 million years) The only creative outlet I've had for the last 12 days is riffing on various ways of calling bubs a bubble/poop/groany monster/Pee Wee Herman impersonator and taking pictures of her when she looks like a dork. And, fair enough this may not be considered "creative" per se, but I can now feed her while simultaneously taking a bowel movement. I choose to believe the look in her eyes was pride and respect not loathing and disgust. My birth story and the way life has completely surprised me and my nipples coming soon...