love

You Are a Motherf*%$ing Force by Rebecca Tillett

As of today, it’s been one whole entire huge tiny long quick gigantic short surreal transformative passionate trying wonderful exhausting year since I first got to look into your big eyes, baby
I am still gobsmacked by the strange magic of it all. Strange, shiny, messy, beautiful, incomprehensible magic.

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There is Only Light by Rebecca Tillett

I am much more protective of my feelings on motherhood than anything else in life. I am still working on unraveling just why exactly. I suspect because they are not always overwhelmingly exuberant, which I feel mothers rarely see mirrored or represented outside the darkest recesses of our minds. We are inundated with nothing but the happy wonderfulness so there is a built-in shame in feeling anything but, perhaps.

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Moments of Doubt and Darkness by Rebecca Tillett

Lately I’ve drowned in thoughts and anxieties that shout the words: why-is-this-so-fucking-hard & why-aren’t-I-stronger into my own echo chamber and then I remember something I read recently that really resonated: Sleep deprivation is an actual kind of torture. It is. and needlessly, I had surrendered to moments of doubt and darkness about the strength of my family and our resolve and our indestructibility as a unit but especially about mine and my husband’s status as a team. But only because I did not truly respect the intensity of the obstacles we’ve faced. And cleared.

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Eternities Exist Between Dawn and Dusk by Rebecca Tillett

his sweet babe is 5 months old today. Time passes so quickly, I’m always left with the tragic relentless feeling that I’m not fully appreciating or as present for every precious moment as I should be. For her, the days are still long enduring intervals in which eternities exist between dawn and dusk. For me, it feels as if every morning I have awoken from a long coma and she seems so much older than the baby I put to sleep the night before. It’s one of the hardest parts of motherhood for me.

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Love in the Moon's Shadow by Rebecca Tillett

The trip was of course, wonderful, until the last 30 minutes of the drive home when Serenica's engine began stalling on us whenever we'd drop beneath a certain speed (hoping it's a minor fix!). Fortunately, after stalling out on several occasions and getting it restarted again, she died right inside our RV storage lot gate and wouldn't turn over.

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Her Graces by Rebecca Tillett

I think every woman has a dear friend who can't appreciate her own beauty. In fact, I think nearly every woman is a woman who can't appreciate her own beauty. How many women do you personally know like that? Even more important, how long have you been looking in the mirror and cursing what you see?

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Gratitude and Equanimity by Rebecca Tillett

I’m not sure I’ll ever forgive the 15 years of time that existed between knowing you and loving you; but maybe it’s hollow lamenting not-knowings, past lives you were only a part of in obscure ways, or distances we utilized as justifications to exist separately in the universe. It feels wrong indulging such a twinge in my heart over something that finally submerged me in much needed hope, happiness, love, and fruition, because I’m anything but ungrateful.

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Idaho (and a little Wyoming) by Rebecca Tillett

“When we get out of the glass bottle of our ego and when we escape like the squirrels in the cage of our personality and get into the forest again, we shall shiver with cold and fright. But things will happen to us so that we don’t know ourselves. Cool, unlying life will rush in.” —D. H. Lawrence

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