8 days ago, I was writing a letter to my postpartum self.
Today, I have a 7-day old little girl. Our pink buddha. Our fraggle. I can’t stop inhaling her. I can’t get enough of her little squeaks, her tiny toes. She sneezes and the roof lifts and she farts like a trucker. We are smitten.
So…my little pickle’s birth story… Continue reading