The tiny seedlings emerging from the new garden quickly became a metaphor for my early pregnancy. As they grew, so did I. We were surrounded by the lush growth and rich colors that nourished our bodies and souls.
There’s a wild sense of empowerment in turning hoards of fresh produce into batches of soups, stews, and diverse, colorful, nutritionally-packed meals. But more than that, I’ve taken on the household tasks of meal prepping and cooking as moments of meditation and prayer, weaving intention into every ingredient I choose. It’s almost like a witch casting a spell over her cauldron, except… that’s exactly what it is.
Laughter is my drug of choice. If you’re asking me, I’d say that where you can find humor, you can also find a shred of joy. That makes sense, right?
Pregnancy is hard. When you hear women joke about their “tapeworms,” usually it’s a lighthearted way of describing a rather cumbersome reality – feeling like all the energy, motivation, and nourishment is being literally zapped right out of your body. Now factor in raising an infant and working full time. Suddenly, things seem more grim.