I wish I had something profound to write in this first blog or at the very least an introduction that encompassed my thoughts and hopes. Words are difficult for me to find these days and sometimes I dream that I could go back to being the girl who wrote for hours in her bedroom while listening to cassettes and eating grapes. My outlets have transformed to downward facing dogs, snapshots, splattered paint, and connections that can't be shaped into letters. The picture is me and my nephew Owen. This was taken on February 8th, the day after he became a big brother. That day changed him and me. On the night of February 7th, my sister went into labor. As my brother-in-law and I packed up things to head to the hospital, my sister took a shower to relax. Within 15 minutes, the three of us were in the bathroom and my sister delivered her baby while the midwife told me what to do via the phone. It was the first time I saw life come into this world and it inspired me to become a doula.
Our bodies are incredible, intelligent, and creative. The first time I became mesmerized by the body I was watching my sister dance. It was not long after that I slipped on ballet slippers and fell in love with movement. From plies to birth there is a beautiful connection between the body and life and words can't quite capture it.
