When I was pregnant with my second daughter, I used to take a lot of baths with my first. We would sit in our little tub facing one another. Maya, a few months shy of three, would grunt unselfconsciously as she pushed the top of the soap dispenser down and covered her palm in lavender-scented gel. She’d rub her little hands together and then all over my giant belly. Sometimes she’d talk to her baby sister inside, “Hi Interstella! We can’t wait to meet you.”
Birth and Death in the Bathtub
Birth and Death in the Bathtub
Birth and Death in the Bathtub
When I was pregnant with my second daughter, I used to take a lot of baths with my first. We would sit in our little tub facing one another. Maya, a few months shy of three, would grunt unselfconsciously as she pushed the top of the soap dispenser down and covered her palm in lavender-scented gel. She’d rub her little hands together and then all over my giant belly. Sometimes she’d talk to her baby sister inside, “Hi Interstella! We can’t wait to meet you.”