I'm slowly detaching myself from breastfeeding. It's a hard thing to do. Were at the 50/50 mark. I think by 8 months my cub will be completely off of breast milk.
It is bittersweet. I am exciting to care about myself again, to be interested in what I wear, in reading and writing and learning, in art and music and culture. In the things that I love.
I'm thinking more. Not just desperate thoughts, but really productive thoughts. I'm wanting to write more. I love to write, I crave it in fact, like a drug.
So a journey begins. Into a new phase of life. Out of the cocoon of child bearing and infant coddling and into the world where I can be both Mom and Woman.
I want to sit at a table and sip cappuccino, feel the crisp newspaper on my hands, the slight tackiness of the fresh ink on my fingers, feel the clicking clacking of the keys as I type, feel the cool breeze, the smell of the world around me.
I'm ready to embrace my life and move forward. After seven months of feeling like a fish out of water, dealing with the ups and downs of depression, having forgotten who I am, I'm rediscovering myself, my passions, my motivation. I can feel God again. His presence, His energy.