Stay Curious.
Dig Deeper.
Nurture What Matters.
Be BoldHeart.
Enjoy Your Life.

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The BoldHeartMama desires to enjoy living out the choices that she’s made for herself and for her family. She is a relentless learner: curious, inquisitive, and open to the possibilities of her life and of the human condition. She understands that there isn't one right way—she asks questions that dig deeper to make sense of it all and to find her own path.

She pays attention to and nurtures whatever it is she really cares about, letting go of the rest (for now) knowing she can't do and be everything all at once. She embraces her imperfections in favor of "good enough"—her imperfect self, her imperfect home, her imperfect mothering, her imperfect desires—and she never stops evolving as a woman and mother. She is a BoldHeart, authentic and true to herself.

The BoldHeartMama knows there is only this one life and she's all in. She is present and engaged and making things happen. Her intuition is her guide. She seeks to be inspired and relies on her creativity and her resourcefulness to solve the big and little challenges that she and her family face together as they navigate their relationships and their world.

The BoldHeartMama is willing to take calculated risks to make her biggest dreams come true. She is living out her BoldHeart in the moment, making small moves and taking little steps that add up, and she's cultivating a good life for herself and her family in the process. Read More!

Thursday, September 8, 2016

Winslet's Premature Birth: Was I Ready to Let Go?

I haven't published here in a while, though I have been writing all these months mostly in small snippets posted to Instagram or captured in notes on my phone. It's always tough to come back from a long writing absence, especially following a time when there was so much to say. I'm posting tonight a vignette from the evening Winslet was born back in March. A birth photo from the kindest soul, Patience Salgado, serves to jog my memory.  

Winslet’s birth was for me a curious entanglement of dread and utter relief. It was a journey we made together with my mind half in and half out of my body. Surreal, calm. The context was disorienting. Contractions weren’t quitting. My cervix was dilating. There was nothing more they could do but remove the cerclage then wait and see. A magnesium drip was started to protect her tiny brain from bleeding, and the stitch that had gifted us six weeks—enough so she could have a chance to live at all—was cut and pulled from my body. 

That was the scariest moment. I feared for what would come next and I hoped to my core that my cervix wouldn’t open up right there and she be born, too fast to feel grounded in the triumph of laboring her down and pushing her out. A warmth crawled through my body from the inside out as the magnesium took effect and I closed my eyes and pleaded please, at least give me that. Let me have the privilege of doing the work to bring her earthside.

I appreciate birth for it’s purpose known and unknown, for it’s raw intensity, the power shift, the love and tenderness, and for the pain. Oh the pain. To surrender to that depth and to lean in to ourselves, to feel it all, and to such a lovely endthe experience is wholly enchanting. 

But this would be my second birth where our story's timing was all wrong. 

Despite what appeared to be true, a piece of my mama heart remained to believe I could carry her longer. Was there not more I could do?

My doula arrived and took hold of my arm confidently, firmly. She looked into my eyes and pulled me back into the moment to face the darkness. She asked me, truthteller: “Ok, but are you ready to let go of her?”—this when my body was leaving early labor and the pain was ramping up, contractions coming longer stronger and closer together. The tears came then because my baby wasn’t ready and so neither was I.

At 25 weeks there was so much more I needed to do for her. I wanted to keep her protected and the thought of letting her out of my body made me feel helpless and dark and yet I also wanted the pregnancy to end because everything about it had just been so hard. To release her would end bedrest, end my hospitalization, reconnect me to the daily lives of my other two children. The waiting for the next thing—come what may—had been emotionally exhausting and painful for all of us. Still, I wondered if I was I trying to hold her in, and if it even made a difference—maybe so. For weeks I had been holding on for her dear life.

I don’t remember if I reasonably said yes, or truthfully answered no, but in that moment I knew our course was set.  

What would she look like? Would she live? Would she be damaged because life outside of me would be so unkind?

I wasn't ready to find out but I wasn't alone.

Photo Cred: Patience Salgado


  1. I missed your blog posts! Beautifully written as always :)

  2. So beautiful! Your post brought the tears! Thank you


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