Today I went through Sami’s baby clothes, trying to decide what to sell and what to give away. I catalogued each item, and will type it up into an organized post on Craigs List. “Expecting a Winter Baby? Everything You Need is Here!!” I will organize the onesies and the t-shirts, the gowns and the hats. The itty-bitty baby socks and the tiny shoes. I am releasing and letting go of the relics of Sami’s infancy. I don’t need the stuff to remember. Those days will always be a part of me — those extraordinary days when I was his whole world and he was mine. He is still my whole world, and will always be.

These days of staying home with him are unbearably precious. It feels so indulgent, yet so right, that it brings tears to my eyes as I type this. How many kisses did I plant on that sweet little face today? Kisses I never would have had the opportunity to give if I was working. We spent a lot of time doing absolutely nothing today, and it was delicious. My mind wants to continue to be busy, propelling itself forward as it always does: there is that thing I have to return to Target, I should chop vegetables for tomorrow’s lunch, I have these emails to respond to, these phone calls to return. But truly, I don’t care much about any of it. I just want to make up for lost time with my little guy. The past ten months have been such a blur and I have missed so much. Yet I know it is possible to be with my son all day and at the same time, not to be with him. My mind goes elsewhere a million times over the course of the day: this is natural. But it has been my practice to return to him as often as I can. To be present for us both. That is the best gift that I can give to us as this autumn unfolds, one day at a time.

There has been such a commotion going on in my head about wanting another child. Today I am teaching myself the art of being satisfied with what I have. Truly, Sami is and always will be enough. If I never have another child, I will always have the experience of being his mama, and that is the greatest experience of my life. This is not to romanticize parenthood. I am beyond exhausted as I type this. But I don’t have external work life to fall back on, and far fewer escapes to disappear into. Being a stay-at- home mother has a way of totally cracking me open. I feel that I am being stripped down to my core, to my essence. The excess is slowly but surely falling away. I am motivated like I’ve never been motivated to before to deepen my spiritual practice and to live in an authentic way. I do it not for myself, but for him. He encourages me to heal the brokenness within me.

I guess that’s what I feel like right now: I am coming home to my guru. We are on extended retreat together, and I am settling in.