On depletion, maternal burnout, and why we mourn brilliant women instead of nourishing them while they're alive — reflections after Dr. Carolyn Elliott's death.
I started instinctually swirling my hips. I told my midwife that I was feeling the urge to bear down and asked if I was OK to go ahead. She said if your body is telling you to then go ahead.
I knew at 6 weeks pregnant that I was pregnant with a boy. Maybe it was the masculine energy I felt from him, or the fact that none of the go-to names we had been sitting on for 5+ years felt right.
I loved calling all our babies “Thorpling” but calling our second-born “Thorpling #2” for the rest of my life just didn’t seem too appealing. My mom suggested naming our baby to help bring closure and healing in some capacity.

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