On Becoming

Metamorphosis, stepping into motherhood and the next chapter of this journey...

Spring, I dare to say, has officially arrived up in my neck of the woods. I often say I am like a plant - going deep into hibernation over the winter months waiting for the air and the earth to warm before the blood in my veins truly feels like it is flowing again. This year, this rings especially true - not just because the winter itself has been grey and wet and dull and lacking the light that usually make those darker months more tolerable, but because in just a few short weeks my partner and I will be welcoming our first child!

On the subject of “perfectly imperfect” (you will see this is a running theme throughout) - quick, hazy, blurry shot of moi and my bump! (And yes, I know, it’s on the smaller side but I can assure you baby is strong and mighty! ;) )

I don’t think I ever really considered the complete and utter metamorphosis a woman goes through in becoming a mother. This winter in particular, a cocoon seems to have wrapped itself around me and I folded myself up inside it, letting the girl I was slowly transform into the woman I am to become. 

However much filled with love and excitement and joy and expectation, becoming is a very lonely journey indeed. You are taken to depths you did not know existed within you, overtaken with new instincts, new fears, new reasons to care and also new reasons to let things be. You become something more of yourself and in so doing, you also grieve a time, a person, a body, a life that will never truly be yours to hold again. In becoming more, we first have to become less, to shed the old so that the new, once spring comes around, can fully bloom in its place. 

This will be a June baby, born in a family of winter souls. I cannot help but feel some sort of fate in his coming at the time of the longest days, where the roses bloom and the trees have just broken into their leaves. June is my very favorite season of all - the light, the plants, the greenery, all so pure, cleansed by a long winter’s sleep - I sometimes feel my heart could burst.

I am also constantly humbled by the perfection of the life around me, of that within me, and I cannot help but realize my own sort of insignificance amongst it all - a perfectly imperfect part of the perfectly imperfect whole - both essential and beautifully inconsequential.

That is not  to say that we should throw our arms up in the air and say “what does it matter anyways?” but rather that we should walk and work and stretch ourselves in the service of that fire, that dark light that burns deep within each of us. To be strong and sturdy and worthy and to stay humble in our ambitions. To dream and to love and to strive and to stay loyal to that life that is only our own. To remember that we come from dust and that to dust we will return and to live every single day therefore as if we were eternal. 

Talk about finding balance... We have undertaken to replace the old chain link fence in the backyard with what will be a much more beautiful wooden one. I am learning to balance the dream with the reality, the iron will with the letting go, trusting in the process however messy it might get. There will be roses growing here and trees to espalier and in that far left corner, a cherry (or perhaps a crabapple?) tree....

I think we should all strive to exist within that liminal space a little bit more and I feel privileged, as a woman, to feel this new life stirring inside me and be taken on a journey so far beyond what might be seen by the naked eye. It is an arduous one, sure, but also a tremendously beautiful one and as I feel that new skin just begin to grow in the place of the old, I bury a wish in my heart that I might always remember that space of in-between we are given, as women, the chance to lightly tread. 

I have also had for some time the desire to make Cottage Kitchen a little more personal. My Instagram feed, while continuing to showcase sources of inspiration, will likely transition over to include more snapshots of my own life, however perfectly imperfect they may be. I will be more active on Threads, sharing more thoughts, snippets of life, little joys, pieces of inspiration, great (and small) discoveries (soon to come, a little more on the process of creating a wallpaper for the nursery!) and continuing to connect with all of you who see and seek the beauty in this (extra)ordinary life. 

Some Sicilian blood oranges I've been savouring, gorgeous akebono tulips I rescued from the garden and a The Fabled Thread embroidery in progress for baby's nursery (for the full picture, head on over to Threads!).

The shop will remain open until May 19th, at which point it will close to orders for a period of time yet to be defined as I welcome this new soul into my world - so get yourself those dishes and wares you’ve been eyeing before it’s too late! It’s spring and I feel my winter cocoon slowly, slowly, starting to unravel itself, readying myself for the next chapter of the story. 

With much, much love,

Camille