daphne-townsen

[daphne-townsen]

“Should we count her toes again?”

“And her fingers.”

“Look at her hair.”

“I told you. Just like yours.”

There’s a moment; a breath’s pause between Abram and I, where we look at each other in the shadows of the nursery. I’m on his lap and his arms are around me and in my arms is our daughter - Diana - and she is perfect, truly, gloriously, one hundred percent perfect, and I cannot believe my life is so full and that I have a daughter, that my husband and I made this tiny little thing with red hair like his and cheeks like mine. I can’t stop staring at her, or smelling the sweetness of her hair, or lightly tracing my fingertips over her lips and eyebrows and nose. 

“I love her so much, Abram,” I can’t help but to say, and my voice catches on his name. I feel his arms tighten around me, and his mouth presses against my neck. 

“I know,” he murmurs, “I love you both. So much.”

“I know,” I tell him, my lips curving slightly to allow for a little smile, though it’s hard to see in the darkness of the nursery. I curl myself even closer against him, turning my head to find his lips in the dark. At our feet, Harvey sleeps; he does not like to be parted from us and even more so with the birth of our daughter. I can’t help but to think of the future for a moment; Diana up and walking and Harvey chasing after her; of grass-stained chubby baby knees and kisses from Harvey, laughter and barking. Our life will be so wonderful. 

It already is. 

I lean my head back down to kiss Diana’s forehead softly. My love, my dream, my little soulmate. My mind wanders as Abram dozes off, his cheek settling against my shoulder. He snores a little, but I’ve never minded; never minded anything my husband does, and he has given me - us - the greatest gift; though he’d argue and tell me that I did. But it takes two, and I’ll happily take half the credit for the sleeping angel in my arms. 

“My girl,” I murmur gently, fondly, lovingly into her little ear, and she stirs slightly, her nose scrunching before smoothing out, continuing to dream whatever it is that babies dream. 

Selfishly, I hope it’s of me. I hope it’s of Abram and I. 

Lately, she’s all I’ve been dreaming about. Her delivery in particular…

TWO WEEKS AGO

“I still can’t believe how big you are.”

“Ruby.”

“I say it lovingly,” Ruby, my sister, says, holding up her hands in a placating gesture as she laughs. It’s morning. Abram’s working on something in the nursery with Killian and my sister and I are downstairs in the kitchen. I’m currently soaking up the last bit of toast in the beans Ruby had made - I wanted a traditional English breakfast that morning, something I normally can’t get away with if my sister isn’t around. 

Try as I might, there are some things my American husband refuses to touch, and this is one of them. When Ruby and her husband, Killian, arrived a few days ago, that was the first thing out of my mouth. Pregnancy has increased my homesickness tenfold, especially these last few weeks. I know it’s not necessarily for England so much as it’s for the feeling of home I feel when I’m with my sister, who is newly pregnant herself; though you couldn’t tell unless you knew her. Still, she’s newly taken to setting a hand on her bump and doesn’t realize she’s doing it. I’ve caught Killian catching her at it several times over the course of their stay, how he places both of his hands over hers, leans down to whisper something in her ear that makes her laugh and I can’t really describe what it is to see that Ruby and I have found our soulmates in this life, and that our happiness is multiplying. I’m just so goddamn motherfucking happy and knowing that Ruby is as well - 

“Oh my god, are you crying?”

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” I say, pressing my hands to my face. Hormones. This is probably the only thing I won’t miss about being pregnant; how nearly anything will make me cry at the drop of a hat. 

“Oh, you,” Ruby says, coming over to where I’m sitting and bringing a tissue with her. She hands it to me and I shake my head as I wipe my eyes, steadying myself with a deep breath. “What is it this time?”

“You,” I say simply, figuring there’s no point in lying or trying to hide it. “Just thinking about how we’ve found our own happiness despite the odds being stacked against us since birth. You know, normal shit.”

She laughs. “My beautiful sister.”

“Ruby,” I say warningly, balling the tissue up loosely in my fist. “Don’t.”

“I won’t,” she replies, though there’s a trace of mirth pulling at her lips and I know she’s working hard to conceal her grin. “In hopes that you won’t do it to me when I’m nine months and crying over a tea cosy.”

“Oh my god, that was one time -”

“So you’ve said.” Ruby pats my shoulder good-naturedly, but I can tell by her expression that she doesn’t believe me. There are worse things, however, so I return to my plate and eat the last bite, pushing it away once I’m done and setting both of my hands on my fully-rounded stomach.

“Where are our husbands to clean up after us?” I say loudly, and Ruby makes a shushing motion with her finger pressed to her lips. But she’s smiling. 

“Bonding over baby stuff and having two pregnant wives, I imagine,” my sister says with a laugh, and begins to clear away the plates. I instinctively move to help her but she whirls around so fast it hurts my neck to watch her and she points to my seat. “Absolutely not,” Ruby tells me firmly. “Not while you’re pregnant with my niece.”

“What is this, 1880? Ruby, I can manage to wash a plate or two. And also, you’re pregnant too,” I say, but I’m already in the process of sitting back down. Okay, and my swollen ankles. I won’t miss that, either. 

“Ow -” I press a hand to my lower back - or what I can reach of it, anyway, and Ruby looks over at me, concern pulling her brows together. 

“I’m fine,” I say, immediately waving her off, and for half a second, it’s completely true, I am fine, and then the next - 

“Ruby?”

“Hm?” She’s focusing on rinsing a pot and doesn’t look at me.

“I think - my water just broke.” 

She pauses for just a moment -

“HUSBANDS!!!!!”

It’s a little blurry after that, really, everything happened so fast and so quickly. My baby bag for the hospital had been packed for two months solid, so it was really just a matter of grabbing that, making sure everyone had shoes on, and then we were out the door, piling up into our Range Rover - Killian driving and Ruby’s up front next to him while Abram and I sit in the back. 

It’s a decently slower day at the hospital and Dr. Zamora greets all of us upon our arrival. 

“Ready to meet your baby girl?” she asks me after I’m wheeled into the delivery room and set up on the bed. 

“After the epidural, yes,” I say between one round of breathing exercises and another, and Abram, who of course has not left my side since the car ride, laughs. Ruby is also here, though Killian had stepped out for a moment to get me a cup of ice chips. 

After that, honestly, things do get blurry and sequentially a little out of order for me. I was given an epidural, which helped, but I ended up being in labor for something like twelve hours, and in that space of time I had told Abram to go to hell, threw a cup at his head and besmirched the good name of my sister and her husband. Allegedly. 

Naturally, I have no memory of any of this.

What I do remember, however, is helping Dr. Zamora pull Diana out. Her little cries, the blueness of her face and fingertips and toes before she took her first real gulp of air, Abram cutting the umbilical cord, how she fit perfectly against my chest. The warm, bright life of her settled right against my heart.

“Diana?” Abram was already crying, kissing my face and Diana’s repeatedly. Our tears mixed on my lips, got into my mouth, dripped down my chin and onto her perfect soft little head. 

“Diana Ruby Townsen,” I corrected him, and that’s when Ruby started to cry. Killian turned away from us and pulled his wife into his arms, muttering something about how bright it was in there and could they do something about that?

I leaned down to kiss my daughter’s head, as I’ve done one thousand times a day since her birth. My concern over not being a good enough mother instantly evaporated the moment she was placed into my arms. All I want to do is ensure her happiness, her well-being. Teach her how to be a good, kind, thoughtful human, how to raise her in love. How not to forget where she came from. 

Looking around me in the delivery room, surrounded by the kind of love I had dreamed about for so long, I know she won’t.

[daphne-townsen]

surrounded by so much love it takes my breath away. the tender care you take of me and our baby and harvey- how you have helped feather our nest, and loved me so good through it all. i will love you forever. my best friend, my muse, my favorite thing in this life.

working on my lullabies

[daphne-townsen]

a sweet from my sweet @abram-townsen

[daphne-townsen]

“Crisp scent of white narcissus: January, and full snow. (…) dreaming of sunlight,”

— Margaret Atwood, from January in “The Door”

[daphne-townsen]

@abram-townsen and i are like... a week away from meeting our baby girl 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

[daphne-townsen]

water, flowers, art, LIFE

[daphne-townsen]

mask up!!!

[daphne-townsen]

“I love you. You are closest to my heart, closer than any other human being. You are my extension. You are my prayer.”

— Anne Sexton - from A Self-Portrait in Letters (via watchoutforintellect)

[daphne-townsen]

dreamy mid century

[daphne-townsen]

familiarity

[daphne-townsen]

lil alien head

[daphne-townsen]

before leaving nyc what feels like a century ago. miss my favourite city but happier in California. also less than two months until we meet our best girl!!!

[daphne-townsen]

just obsessed

international language

[daphne-townsen]

world’s best husband @abram-townsen continues to shock and amaze his wife (spoiler alert: me) by setting up a little studio to take pictures of his two favorite girls. diana is growing and thriving in her first home ever (spoiler alert: me, again) and we are so excited to meet our littlest, tiniest soulmate. i’ve reached the stage of my pregnancy where i’m nesting so abram will wake up in the middle of the night to me looking over paint swatches and trimming on our pinterest account. i love this life and i love this love. holding my loved ones extra close to me while we sail into the new year and beyond. blessed. lucky. thankful. soon!!

[daphne-townsen]

“And isn’t love like that?—a shift / of attention the heart demands, a refocusing.”

— — Michael Torres, from “Horses,” An Incomplete List of Names

[daphne-townsen]

like we’re HGTV or something

[daphne-townsen]

husband appreciation post for the back rubs, and kisses and all the attention you give me every minute because somehow pregnancy has made me even needier.. who knew