will never regret the time I spend with them, even on the hard days
Thank you for this reminder You are a beautiful giver of perspective
Anytime I’m at the end of my rope, I remind myself that I’ll miss this time one day. We mothers are so lucky
It had been two days since Angeni released the birth video, which was one of her most popular posts to date. Engagement was up dramatically. In forty-eight hours, the Mother Nurture account had gained ten thousand followers.
After watching comments come in on her latest post, she tapped over to check her email and saw that a literary agent had reached out to inquire about her interest in writing a book.The world needs content like yours, reminding all of us of the sacredness of motherhood in this wounded world.
Angeni had used those exact words before—the sacredness of motherhood in this wounded world. This agent had clearly done her homework. Angeni immediately googled the agent’s name—Elizabeth Conroy—and discovered she was quite successful and well known, representing a roster of self-help and nonfiction writers who had become household names. This wasn’t a scam; it was real.
A book.
Angeni Luna had considered a book, of course. While it was true that many people didn’t read anymore and Instagram would remain her main vehicle for communicating her ideas, a book would lend her a certain amount of credibility. A published book was evergreen, inarguable proof of making it in the world. Currently under her name on Instagram was the titlepublic figure. If she wrote a book, she could change that toauthor. That seemed more prestigious, more respectable. It would be a clapback to the haters.
Angeni was sitting in the rocking chair in their family bedroom, Freya on her breast. She tried to restrict her phone time to moments when Freya’s attention was on feeding and Angeni could hold the phone behind the baby’s head so she was blissfully unaware of the presence of this technology. To help protect against electromagnetic fields, Angeni had placed special harmonizing stickers on everyone’s phones on The Land. When she’d given one to Sitka, explaining that it was a requirement for their living situation, Sitka had looked as if she’d handed her bird droppings. She’d had to explain that the stickers wereinfused with semiprecious gemstones emitting negative ions to help balance out the positive ions from phones. Angeni didn’t know if it was perfectly safe, but it was safer than nothing. On her mental list of topics to bring forward on Mother Nurture, EMFs were near the top. She knew posting about them would get lots of eye roll emojis, but she didn’t care. People should know.
Freya turned her head, as if trying to see what was behind her that had her mother’s attention. Angeni put her phone down on the floor. At some point, Freya would become aware of the phone, of course. Angeni and Erik had already talked about how to navigate this. They planned to refer to the phone as a “work tool” so that Freya did not associate it with entertainment or stimulation.
“Sitka,” Angeni called out.
She needed to discuss this book possibility with everyone as soon as possible.
When Sitka didn’t immediately appear, Angeni called out again: “Sitka!”
As the last syllable was still vibrating in Angeni’s throat, Sitka appeared in the doorway.
“Yeah?” she said, eyebrows raised in expectation.
“Sorry, I’m just a little excited. Do you think you can gather everyone for a family meeting in the kitchen?” Angeni asked.
“Sure,” Sitka said. “Everything okay?”
“I have news.”
From the rocking chair, Angeni heard the sound of her people gathering in the kitchen. She let Freya finish, watched the nipple pop out of her mouth as milk trickled down from the corners. It was the most satisfying thing to see her daughter so satisfied.
She rebuttoned the opening of her dress and went to the kitchen, holding Freya against her chest. When she entered, everyone went silent, all eyes on her. They were all seated in chairs around the island. Angeni sat in her own chair, and Sitka approached.
“Do you want me to hold her?” Sitka asked.
Freya answered for them, smiling at just the sight of Sitka’s face. Her drowsy milk-drunkenness gave way to pure, ecstatic joy. Angeni nodded to Sitka, and Sitka lifted the baby against her chest. She started pacing the length of the kitchen, bouncing Freya in her arms.
“So Sitka says there’s news?” Aurora said, noticeably rising from her seat. Aurora was always so easily excitable. “It’s the birth video, huh? Did Oprah call you?”
Angeni watched Sitka pause her pacing to look at Aurora with the same pity or disdain she’d shown during the Abraham Lincoln debacle.
“No, not Oprah,” Angeni said with a laugh.
Sitka resumed pacing.
“But,” Angeni said, “I did get an email from a literary agent.”
Aurora nodded enthusiastically, likeAnd? And?
“That’s great, babe,” Erik chimed in.
“So great,” Matt added.
