THERE YOU ARE

…on holding your heart in your hands at the table

*This is a post for my paid community. If you are not a member and would like to join it’s a great time. Annual subscriptions have been reduced by 20% and Founding Member fee is down a third too. All founding members are invited to join my upcoming Spring Workshop — ‘The dandelion lights its spark’—for free. *

As may be the case for a while, this piece touches on baby loss. It also talks, though, about the unexpected miracles loss delivers. Holding you all, especially those for who this is particularly difficult. X

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2025.

I had so many beautiful, healing, transformative plans.

This was going to be the year that, for the very first time since I became a mother—actually, for the very first time since I became a writer— I was going to give myself some time off.

Time to process all the change, so much change, these last years have held.

Time to think and dream and read and grow.

Time to allow my wee creative bird back in close.

Time to breathe, quite simply.

Time to light the stove in the morning, and to have no other responsibility outwith keeping the fire burning.

Time to allow myself to step outside of the constant need to reply and reach out and follow up.

Time to stop worrying about money and figures and stats and the future.

Time to be.

We had even factored in my partner having some time off too.

Time to be together, and to dream and laugh and drink coffee like we used to.

But life had other plans than the plan I had.

Another plan I had for 2025 was to finally meet our second baby.

The wee one for whom I’ve been hoping and praying to Mother Earth, for so, so long.

The wee one I’ve met in dreams, in songs, in fields, and lakes, and books and more.

We lost that wee dreamed of one at the tail end of 2024, and the losing of our baby changed the entire shape and colour of