being pregnant is scarier than launching off waterfalls

this pregnancy has been so much harder. lau’s panza is so round and beautiful and good to touch, but still.

she doesn’t sleep. her tits are massively swollen and painful to touch. the midwife lives in another town.

we’re by our fucking selves.

that’s the reality.  there’s no support network around.

it’s all on the computer.

sometimes i make myself try to believe that being down in patagonia is this kind of access to something we wouldn’t get to access otherwise.

you can drink out of the rio azul.

but having a family with no other people around makes me question all of that.

those ppl that came across the plains that willa cather wrote about:  some of them lived alone and had kids with truly nobody helping them.

at some point there must’ve been a father back then who must’ve gotten up from where the newborn and his wife were there in bed. he stepped out for a second where there was nothing around but prairie and sky on all sides.

or what if it was all darkness out there?

i think it makes you a little bit crazy to be so alone there with your family.

this morning i saw the across the street neighbors’ maid leaning out the windows and cleaning them.

i thought ‘that’s what we need.’

but it’s not.

it’s so much fucking more than that.