Love set you going like a fat gold watch.
The midwife slapped your footsoles, and your bald cry
Took its place among the elements.
Our voices echo, magnifying your arrival. New statue.
In a drafty museum, your nakedness
Shadows our safety. We stand round blankly as walls.
I'm no more your mother
Than the cloud that distills a mirror to reflect its own slow
Effacement at the wind's hand.
All night your moth-breath
Flickers among the flat pink roses.
I wake to listen: A far sea moves in my ear.
One cry, and I stumble from bed, cow-heavy and floral
In my Victorian nightgown.
Your mouth opens clean as a cat's.
The window square
Whitens and swallows its dull stars. And now you try
Your handful of notes; The clear vowels rise like balloons.
Morning Song by Sylvia Plath, via 1
Vintage Stretchy Black Dress: from a charity shop
Green Sequin belt just seen: from a friend
Earrings: from Accessorize
I've not been online or blogging much recently, and now you can see why.
I've been working on a particularly happy, important and taxing project: that of growing two babies inside me!
This multiple pregnancy will (fingers crossed) continue to take up much of my energy in the coming months, and future years of mothering, so I'll be blogging less frequently, but still hopefully about once or twice a month from now on.
Photos taken a few weeks ago when I was 18 weeks pregnant with twins.
Hoping you're all well, looking forward to catching up soon.