The sky was bright blue as I walked across the golden grassy field to sit down by the river, where the cottonwoods grow tall and the northern flickers and magpies come to feast. But there was nothing pastoral about the wind. Gusts over 40 miles an hour buffeted me, causing me to lean forward to keep steady, and I found myself wondering why I hadn’t chosen a more sheltered location for this short walk and a sit.

This year’s Mother’s Day was epic. Somewhat terrifyingly so. I thought it was going to be a regular Mother's Day hike. A few miles. A few lizards. Lunch by the Rio Grande. But on the way back, quite a ways in the lead of the rest of the family, I walked right up to a rattlesnake, head raised, rattles a'rattling, ready to strike. I was just several feet away. With a baby on my back

My second son came into the world two months ago after a long, hard labor, dropping into my midwife’s hands as I knelt on my bed at home. This birth was a VBAC (vaginal birth after cesarean) and I have, in essence, been planning it for seven years, shortly after my first son came into the world after 54 hours with the help of a surgeon’s scalpel, much to my surprise and my devastation.

Today, I had an encounter that reminded me that our experiences of safety and agency are often being overridden by those around us and how that experience begins at a very young age.