I have no idea if I’m qualified to host a blog. I don’t know if anyone will read it. I don’t even know what to write, but I’m doing it anyway. I’m one who tends to get caught up in matters of credentials and I often crave external validation of my own capabilities and worth. So naturally, I’m asking myself “Who am I to blog?” Well, I’m Sarah. Hi and welcome to the Swaddled blog!

In my own experience talking to the worthiest of mothers, as well as in some of the stories within my book, Swaddled, women fret when pregnancy and childbirth don’t come swiftly or easily. And then they question things retrospectively. Of course they do! If one’s vision is to conceive a biological child, concern first focuses on how to get pregnant when the birds and the bees haven’t delivered on their promises.

I’ve always held a certain fascination of nests. I collect fallen nests, a framed pencil sketch of a nest cradling three eggs hangs prominently in my family room, and over the past couple of years, I simply seem to see them everywhere. Although winter in Chicagoland can be unattractive in a multitude of senses, the trees’ bare branches reveal the otherwise hidden homes of many.