Gentle Birth

For nine months, I did the pregnancy in my own way. I took a very “this is mine, everyone else can eff off” approach to it. It sounds very selfish, but *I* wanted to get pregnant, carried her in my own natural way, went to the midwife that I was most comfortable with, and even selected the type of birth I wanted and paid quite a bit of money for the chance. (What I wouldn’t give for a birthing center in our area! Why are our options so horribly limited?)

What is crazy is all I want is everyone to go away and leave me alone to have a sacred, quiet space. That doesn’t sound like a lot to me…but as I found out, it seems damn near impossible to have happen. It’s a different story, but I will say, I was nearing the end of the time, walking laps outside, crying the ugly tears in the rain, cursing everything that exists that I was three days overdue, tired, hurting, upset, and just.plain.done. and add to that the need to still protect my space…It was one of those nights that epitomizes “The Dark Night of the Soul.”

The waiting, the uncertainty, being on a timeline, spending second after second for two weeks wondering “is this it?” It was enough to shake my sanity and my dear husband had to sit up with me in the middle of the night, watching “Extreme Couponing”, to keep depression at bay. And then, Sunday, the cloud lifted. No one was coming to town, it was sun-shiny and gorgeous and I sat outside for hours, just basking. I came to peace with still being pregnant and remembered that my body will do things at the right time for the best outcome. And if it didn’t, we have the technology and all will be fine. I was glowing, basking, still completely effing done, but I learned to surrender and trust.

Around 10 pm Sunday night, I was unable to sleep and decided that if I was going to be uncomfortable anyway, I might as well walk. I did laps in my backyard, enjoying the privacy fence, just walking clockwise, then counter-clockwise, back to clockwise…for about an hour. I think the pressure helped jump start things and if nothing else, helped me burn off some steam and get good and relaxed and even sleepy. About an hour later, I decide to get in bed, just to get right back out and by 12, I start having actual contractions. Because SM missed early labor with both the other kids, I woke him up right from the start to get to experience the uncertainty of “is this it?”

By 1am, I was sure it was. By 1:40, we told the midwife to make her way here. By 2am, I needed help with the contractions and SM was pressing on my back and things were picking up. People started arriving and I was still having strong/weak/weak contractions with breaks in between. Within an hour (3am) the pattern changed and I was needing help with every contraction and starting to fight my way through them. I was breathing heavy, moaning, etc. Although it worked, and I was *making* it through, it was awful and painful and, well, everything they say “labor” is supposed to be. It was hell.

Everyone was here, everything was set up, things were quiet and settling down, except for during the contractions. My dear friend, Anna, was pressing her fully-certified massage therapist hands on my back during contractions and it was becoming unbearable anyway. I asked the midwife to check me and I was at about 5 cm. I was glad things were happening, but *hating* how much longer I knew I was going to have to do this. The midwife said the tub was ready and that I could give that a try. Once it was decided SM was going to join me, to press on my back, we climbed in.

The difference was immediate. I relaxed in the warmth, rested my head, and started to feel slightly positive about it all again. We fought through a few more contractions, but they were slower in between. I remember asking the midwife about it and she said to enjoy the break while I can and that they’ll pick back up soon. So I had some water and a snack, cheered the break, and breathed for a few minutes. I felt *good* again, if only until the next contraction…a little while later...maybe 10 contractions, I had a thought that would change everything.

                What if I don’t fight it? What if I go against everything I’ve ever known and just LET IT HURT?

So I decided to try an experiment. On the next contraction, instead of moaning and moving and getting through, I was just going to *try* to relax and let it hurt and see what would happen. The experiment was amazing. I felt the contraction coming on, felt the hurt and what I would usually call “pain” and just LET it hurt. I quit calling it “pain” and instead encouraged it to be strong and do what it needed to do.

In that moment, the whole experience changed. I was able to breathe through it, feel it, acknowledge it’s hurt, and just Let it.  I had a contraction, without making a sound. I went from fighting to allowing, and when it was over, I was in awe. I told my best friend, Alice, that I had just had a contraction and I don’t know what the hell just happened, but I’m going to try to do it again. Sure enough, I made it through another four or five that way, and although it was hard concentrating, hurt like hell, and was physically intense, I learned to surrender and came through each one relaxed and calm.

For the next 2-3 hours, I rode the contractions, letting them hurt. How odd to not let someone know when they’re coming. How odd to simply breathe and be without making a production of it, sometimes without even making a sound. Yet the contractions were more productive and still at about 4 min. apart.

It was completely quiet. I could hear the crickets in the back yard. Even through the contractions. Quiet. Calm. Peace.

SM was gently rubbing my back, pouring water on my shoulders, helping me stay relaxed. Alice was sitting near my head, keeping me grounded, calm, focused, energetically present, validating my experience. Anna was putting hot towels on my back, keeping me physically relaxed, the assistant was occasionally checking the heartbeat, and the midwife was asleep on the couch.

Yep, you read that right. It was so quiet that she fell asleep. Now, don’t go getting upset at her or thinking she was not doing her job. I was quite happy to have her stay out of the way and let me do my thing…plus, she had just gotten done with a 2.5 DAY marathon birth and was only home for a few hours before getting my call. All was well.

Except that my feet kept falling asleep. So I had to move, and then get back relaxed before the next contraction, then move my feet, etc. Plus, things were really picking up and I was beginning to moan and sway *while* letting it hurt. As I changed positions again (damn feet) SM accidentally moved down while I moved up and “OW! DON’T PUSH! DON’T PUSH! OW!” I was slammed out of relaxation mode and jolted and fought the contraction through. The midwife heard one word: “push”. And bounded faster than lightning to my side only to have SM explain what was going on. The damage was done, my body was jolted into action. Within 3 contractions, I was in transition and shit got real.

I had to bite into the towel to relax below. Stretch the towel with all my might to relax below. Trying not to get loud, trying to breathe, starting to bear down a little. Asked the midwife to check me, 8 cm, fully effaced, head ready. Soon, very soon. I’m not quite sure how many more contractions I went through, but each one was a struggle for release, for surrender. A new headspace, a huge intensity rise, and something doesn’t feel right. I needed to get out of the tub. I don’t know why. Primal urge took over. Get out of the tub. As they got me out of my wet clothes, I looked at the window and saw that the sun was just coming up. Wow. Morning already?

I got on hands and knees in the living room but couldn’t support my weight with my arms. I leaned against Alice’s arms and as she snuggled me, I felt comforted. SM became my table and I reached my arms around his sides and leaned against him, bearing down. I did this about 5 times, these mostly-pushes-but not fully committed. The midwife said I could push, but it didn’t feel right, yet, so I would bear down a little and let up, still in not-knowing-how-to-deal-with-this-pain feeling. I panted through the next contraction and the midwife told me to use that energy to push with instead. My body said it wasn’t time to push, so I didn’t, but instead reached down to feel what was going on. Yep. I touched my vag (what? It’s not like it’s the first time) and there was swollen tissue from where I was overdue with a baby in my pelvis. I pushed the swollen bit out of the way and felt her head slip past and then *boom*, yep, I’m gonna push.

Next contraction, I dug into SM as hard as I could, pushed until it hurt and then more and collapsed when the contraction was over. Then again and the baby came down. Once more and out she came out. The midwife told me to “get your baby” because that’s what women like to do. Not me, I was still in pain, still pushing, leaning in a way that meant there was no way to reach down. So she caught her head and SM caught the baby.

To be honest, I was completely disinterested in the baby. I kept saying “but it still hurts! I’m not done!” and then *whoosh* and fluid came out and then _______________________ . Nothing. Pain over. I reached down and pulled up my baby and held her so close. It was done. It was over. I was holding my baby and it was the most amazing feeling in the world.

She’s calm and gorgeous. I had all the time in the world to nurse her, to hold her, to gently stroke her face. The candles lit, the prayers said, the blessings and poetry. I’m totally in love and not rushing this time at all.

No rips or tears, no pain or complications. Just learning to surrender, learning the amazingness of how birth can be quiet and gentle, even if everything I ever heard or seen says it is impossible. It was beautiful and primal, hard and intense, hurting yet allowing it to hurt. A child born quiet and relaxed, peacefully learning the loving world around her.  Quiet, calm, crickets chirping.

Welcome to this world, Kaeli Alys Wood. I cherish the bond we forged together  through this pregnancy, birth, and babymoon. You are perfect and wonderful, just as you are, I honor you.

8 lb 6 oz, 21 in. long

Born at 7:01 at sunrise. Love.

My final "Lesson" from this whole experience

Wed- full moon, 39 weeks, sunny and cool

Short update: My post yesterday ended up being like a bucket to-do list... totally unexpected. I spent the day tearing up at singing "The Little Drummer Boy" with my son. Giggling wildly over my daughter's antics. Seeing the divine child, the light of the world, the hope and love and spark that resides in every child, and feeling overwhelmingly blessed at being able to take part and nurture that spark. Physically, I feel good. Huge, crampy, but rested and content.

__________________________________

This is not the blog I intended for today. Brigid blessed me with insight this morning and by the time I reached the end of my writing, it was not at all what I had sat down to write. Sometimes the best things go kinda like that.


Three words of the wise:

• What will be will be
• Gratitude
• Feel, experience, let go

These are hard for me, as they all tend to work in the Water area, of which I have...difficulty.

Knowledge (Air), leads to physical doing (Earth), leads to letting go (Water), leads to passion (Fire), leads to Transformation (Spirit). This works in transcendent drumming, spiritual ecstasy, trance, orgasm, and as I was led this morning: in childbirth. They don't always happen in the same order, but to "achieve" (not the right word, but it's what we say...) that place of being, of transcendence, of what the Pentacostals would call "slain in the Spirit" and Witches would call "Ridden by the God/dess", at some point you have to go through all four elements and reach Spirit.

I've taken care of my body and baby (Air), I've conceived and carried and given of my body (Earth), now I'm sitting in the Water, learning the three words above. Fire will come during childbirth, as will Transformation, Transcendence, and Spirit. If you end up with a C-Section or a miserable birth experience, fear not: Spirit can always be found in the baby's first cry and the light in their eyes.

One day, I hope to even find Transformation and Transcendence to help people who have the worst of experiences, like a friend of mine who had a baby born Still at 42 weeks. I can't dwell on that now, as it would not be beneficial to my own birth experience, but one day I will. It's there...I can feel it...but not. right. now.

Where does that movement through the elements and Transformation through Spirit lead us?

If it all starts with the act of lovemaking and the carrying of a baby (with all of the giving-stuff-up including one's body) is surely an act of love, as well as the gift of Mother Nature to empower women to step into the unknown, to surrender to the birth process, then it's all about Love.

Then to care for that helpless, crying, drooling, screaming little one in the middle of the night=Love. To see the light and spark within them=Love. To accept them as they are, to love them because of who they are, rather than in spite of it=Love.

It all leads to Love. Earth, Air, Fire, Water, Spirit. Love. Divine Spark. God. Goddess. Deity. Connection. Love. We are the Weavers and the Web. Be fierce. Stand up for what's right. Surrender. Feel Love and give Love.

I hope women, their partners, and/or their lovers can make informed choices, move through the elements, reach Spirit/God/Divine through their birth experiences, and become the parents that find the peace and joy the spark of a child can bring. To show honor to our children, to treat them gently and with respect, guide them-firmly at times, but fair, True, and with Love. These children will go on to (hopefully) do the same for others. Then we will have Peace on Earth, Goodwill for all, and Love will be in our hearts and lives.

Therein lies the meaning of having a baby at Yule.

Always look on the bright side of life *whistle*

Tuesday-cloudy, cold, hot chocolate kind of morning

The kids' bags are packed, everything is ready, I can't think of anything left that I said I'd do later. I'm at 39 weeks tomorrow, which doesn't mean anything at all, really. For the last two days I've been feeling like it's time, my head full of labor-land, cramps at night which could go either way, with essentially 8 to 14 days of just. waiting. for. it. It can be maddening and I'm kinda getting into "eff it...whatever..." mode. Next up will be "crying...can't be pregnant another day...I AM SO DONE!" mode, probably about a day or two after my due date ;)

Last night, I stared into the fire as it was Brigid's night to tend, which usually brings a message or thought of some sort. I wasn't disappointed. I could see in the embers, clear as a painting, a woman nursing a small baby (with facial features, even!) as a boy looked on. The way the small logs were stacked even created an ambient feeling of a manger or cave or temple space. It was a good reminder of *why* I need to wait until the baby and my body are ready. It felt...nice. Like a warm hug.

Useless Anecdote: Anyone that knows me knows I am not patient. When I decide "hey, let's go on a vacation..." or whateverthehell, it's going to be this weekend or next week. Same with starting a project or a craft or updating the kids' school records.

I'm gazing into the embers and trying my damndest to listen and be still, but all I can think in my mind, my brain, my being is PLEASE HURRY UP AND LET IT BE TONIGHT!!!!!!!!!! No, really, I know that I can't hurry it and I should just find peace and wait. TONIGHT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Pleaseeeeeeeeeeee!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Then the unthinkable happened. The log crashed down and decimated the entire scene. Make of that what you will, but I'm going to say that it was a pretty clear indicator that my impatience is ruining the last bit of pregnancy. There's so much to enjoy and feel warmth over still and I'm trampling the flowers to get to the river. I really have no reason to not enjoy this last week...I'm mostly comfortable; I have a decent back-up sleep plan for when I'm crampy and unable to sleep. I'm just...well...not good at waiting.

So here's a short list of things I'm going to try to think about when I get completely batshit crazy impatient:

• It's the last bit of time I'm going to get to be just me and youngen 1 and 2 during the day. We should paint or color or stitch or something.
• I get weepy every time I hear a song about child being born. Um...given that I *lurveeeee* Christmas/Yule/holiday music, it's just about every 3 minutes. This is a fantastic time of year to give birth and I haven't explored the 10th of what it all means. I'll probably blog about this later, when I've had more time to consider it...
• Giving birth by the tree-light is going to be awesome.  (Not that thinking about it helps my patience at all.) Decorating is a good distraction.
• The only expectations of me are those I place on myself. The house stays mostly clean, we homeschool for pete's sake! so the requirements are as low as I choose to let them be. Quite literally, I could lay around, watch TV and eat bon bons all day and everyone would say "well done! You stayed off your feet!" *eyeroll* 
• My wonderful husband has stepped up his game in the cooking/cleaning/helping/etc department. I think he's about as ready as I am and even less good at being patient, which is comforting in its own way. What woman would turn down an involved, caring, sympathetic husband?

and my favorite:

• When the baby's moving all around, I can just ignore it, roll over, and go back to sleep. Won't be able to do that in a very short time.

How did I miss this?

Sunday-quiet, chilly, calm. Grey, overcast, breathe.

First, an update: Those wonderful hormones, Relaxin, that make your muscles and joints turn to jelly so delivery goes easier backfired on me this week. I pushed the dutch oven with my instep and as Newtonian Physics would assert, my hip went in equal proportion backward, and with those lovely jelly joints, I separated my pelvis and popped the cartilage.  The good news is: it went back together. The bad news: it's sore. Walking sucks. It's been nearly a week and I can only get around for about 15 min. before I need to sit and get the 6-7 lb baby off of those muscles.

I hate to sound like a whiner, but it certainly sped up the "I am so done with this" sentiment. BTW, I totally hate that I can't be honest about how I'm feeling without people shutting down as soon as I mention I'm in pain. I won't go on a rant, but our society has little patience for weakness, pain, and hurting. Find yourself in the electric cart/buggy at the grocery store, thankful for the technology, and just *see* the way our society looks down on it. It was all I could do not to start crying, wanting them to understand that I'm 9mo pregnant with a separated pelvis, instead of the looks of complete disdain I got for daring to be weak enough to be one of "those people."

For a little positivity, I've purposely switched from thinking about my due date as being 2.5 weeks from now and instead thinking that I have 17 days left. The larger number has made me less anxious and I can focus on *not* going into labor during Thanksgiving ;)

The blog today is very Goddess heavy. Fair warning.

And now for the music:

Nine Months
Three Trimesters
Neatly sliced and dated

That's not quite true
Dates are irrelevant
1st Trimester=getting adjusted, hormone change, uncertainty/worry
2nd Trimester=the good life, baby moving, nice pretty baby bump
3rd Trimester=uncomfortable, uncertainty/worry returns, shuffling walk

Yet another glorious display
Maiden, Mother, Crone


...
 I came to this realization when I was behind an elderly lady with a walker, going down the ramp. Her friend, a more mobile, elderly woman looked at me like she half expected me to go around, to be impatient...as we young folk tend to do. I smiled and said, "I'm not getting around much faster these days." She laughed and (of course) asked me when I'm due. I have a hard time answering that...so I laughed and replied, "not nearly soon enough." She wished me well and we went our ways. But in that moment I realized how similar those last few weeks waiting for the transformation through life are to the transformation through death.

I spend most of my day wondering when I'm going to go into labor. Curious if it'll be today, or weeks from now. Very much like elders have told me (and you, as well) in the poignant statements of "it may be my last birthday" or "When you get to be this way, no one comes to visit anymore..." They recognize that they're approaching the end, they've made peace, they're in pain, yet after a few visits, people don't want to hear that they're in pain, no one understands the uncertainty of not knowing when this inevitable thing is going to happen. So they (and I) distract ourselves with TV, books, activities, chatting, while trying to take it easy, not accidentally pull a hip apart, effing tired of laying on the couch and sitting around.

We fill calendars with things that happen at specific times, yet birth and death, the ultimate transformations, give no RSVP.

With this, you can see how easily the rest of the Trimesters line up with the Maiden and the Mother. The cycle repeats yet again. As the moon phases, as the life grows, as the crops are harvested, so is She in all of the cycles.

...
If you made it this far, you deserve a funny. I told Spanish Moss about how *everyone* asks me when I'm due...

Me: Today the lady at the commissary checkout asked me how much longer until I have the baby.
SM: You should have told her, "Aisle 7"

Setting Boundaries...Or: Why I'm an A**hole

Friday, Cold in the house, I might go out and get more firewood

I'm feeling great, y'all. Thanks for asking. Here's your update: So far, for every 2-3 nights that I get no sleep, I get a respite and sleep really great for a night. The baby has been low and (mostly) out of my ribs. I've had energy the last few days and have been very thankful for this time with my two youngens to appreciate and enjoy being the "four of us" before adding another child.

I was feeling so good last night, I cashed in my one and only "go get me whatever I want to eat, no matter what time it is." Last pregnancy, it was a banana and mayo sandwich (stop judging!) at 3am, so SM was more than willing to go out for wings ;) It felt so amazing to be out and about in town while feeling good and motivated and energetic. Even if we go out on the town again as a family before the birth, I think I'll remember this one as our last outing as a family of four. It was that wonderful.

So, why I'm an a**hole...

Back in the day when I was a first time mama, I had lots of people come over after the baby was born. Co-workers, family, friends, all meaning well and wanting to bring me flowers and visit for a bit. Odd thing was, the *last* thing I needed was people to clean for and entertain, germs in and out of the house, worrying about providing dinner if it was getting around that time, feeling awkward breastfeeding and now having to get up and go in a different room and try to hurry him through, which just made everyone frazzled.

My second child could not have been more different. We were in Ohio, far away from everyone. I only had a couple of visitors and they always came bearing frozen lasagnas and toys for the *older* kid to keep him occupied. My BFF came and stayed for a week and it was amazing! She cooked and cleaned and helped with everything so that SM and I could just enjoy settling in to having a newborn and I could lay on the couch, breast out, doing what needed to be done, sleeping mid-day when needed.

Here we are again, this time back in NC, where friends and family are. And of course, I get the call two days ago telling me (yes, telling, not asking...grrrr) that they're all coming on the 9th, which for those keeping count, is 3-4 days after my due date. If it were not for one of them flying in from out of state, I'd tell them to stuff it for another week. I *do* want to see them, but I'm squigging out over having them here overnight, so soon after birth.

Here's where the boundaries needed to be set. At the risk of being talked about for years and pissing everyone off, I set rules (gasp!) for their visit. I talked to all of them individually and laid it out, nicely, tactfully, but quite firmly.

• I need help, not visitors to entertain
• Boobage will be everywhere
• If I'm just laying around on the couch, or sleeping upstairs, just accept it and I'll be up within 2 hrs to nurse again anyway
• You will be feeding me, not me feeding you
• No germs. If you're even sniffly, come back in a few weeks when you're well
• Pitch in and take out the trash, wash some laundry, take the kids to the park...something. Anything.

You know what's crazy? Everyone sounded like they totally, absolutely got it. I set the boundaries clearly, they agreed emphatically, and the worry is gone. It's much harder to do with family than it is with friends, but friends are more likely to be timid and even less likely to just start throwing dishes in the dishwasher. Except for BFF's ;) They get that shit, lol.

This setting boundaries thing is nerve-wracking, but I've gotten much better at it. The worst that happens is someone decides I'm an A**hole and they don't want to visit after all. It has happened before... I'm really kinda okay with that.

Feeling the Shift

Tuesday, chilly, enjoying the fall weather/apples/fireplaces/cocoa

Last night, I felt the shift occur. The big huge mental shift from "yippee, being pregnant, growing a baby" to a sudden, almost shocking panicked realization of "OMG! I have only a few weeks left!!!"

It happened as I was enjoying a relaxing bath, thinking about what's coming up, holidays, festivals, and paydays, the midwife's home visit...good stuff, ya know? Floaty, chill, musings. A small jolt at realizing that car insurance is due next month on the 19th, and that's only in 2.5 weeks and then HOLY CRAP! I'm due 2.5 weeks after that! Instant electric shock to the psyche. Everything went from relaxed to panic in a nanosecond.

Today has been incredibly different from every other day in this pregnancy. All thoughts that have floated across my brain have been prefaced with "how close is this to 5 weeks from now?" Or random thoughts about the 6 week bleeding after (and the ban on sex) and that I have less than that to go.

I'm going to have a newborn.
I need to get everything together.
The crib is still in the garage.
Why the hell is the midwife's number not on a sticky note?
The LIST of stuff to get together! GAH!

Here I've been, chillin', drinking cocoa and cross-stitching and out of nowhere nesting came and hit my ass off of the couch with a broom. The time has come. The time is now. Thanks, Marvin K. Mooney, I got the hint.

Better go check the date on that infant car seat, like I've been saying I'm gonna do.

What is my umbilical cord today?

My husband did a recent post on his blog, http://witchingpath.blogspot.com/2012/10/the-center-of-devotion-home-altar.html, which got me thinking about our mental attachments throughout the day. I'm going in a totally different direction than his, but it did spark the original thought.

Here's what I've learned to be true and right with me:

• When the kids are little (read=toddler age and younger), I'm hyper-connected to them. Like there's a psychic/emotional/mental (I'm going to call this PEM) connection to them. I don't like them being far away and would feel extremely anxious if I wasn't near them for a period of time.
• Whatever I do first in the morning sets up my PEM umbilical cord. If I'm concerned with getting housework done, schooling the kids, devotionals, paying bills, XYZ that's important and coming up soon, it's where my awareness comes back to repeatedly. It can cause anxiousness, but it's also very important to actually getting the important stuff done.
• (don't read if you love your morning facebook addiction) When I get on FB in the morning, or blog, or post on social media in any way, it creates a tether. It sets my own PEM umbilical cord that *pings* me every few minutes. 

Here's the kicker...I'm finding them to be exactly the same. My tether to my altar and my devotionals. My tether to my kids and my awareness on them. My tether to "checking facebook." My tether to the list of what needs to be done. I can choose them or they can *ping* me against my will, but they're all powerful.

And further adding to that, there is one ring to rule them all. When I get into the mode I'm in right now...writing a blog, highly concentrated, all the rest get pushed to the side and even *irritate* me by their existence. No kids, I don't want to hear that you're hungry. I'm working on something that's SO IMPORTANT!

Holy crap.

I'll hit publish on this, go to do my housework and stuff, and I promise you that I'm going to be hyper-aware of the computer for the next few hours. *headshake* It's an amazing survival instinct for keeping our babies safe, a lifeline for the baby forming in my tummy, a great way to get every.thing.done.that.has.to.be.done.before.this.weekend. and so forth. But it is powerful and we create it more than we realize.

Where have you put your PEM umbilical cord today? Mine is, I'm ashamed to admit, linked into cyber-space today. I think a trip to the park, with the phone left in the car, is in order. If I can create this link, I also have the power to diminish its sphere of awareness within me. See ya on the flipside. I'm out for the day.

By Right of Blood

From the Mother flows into the Placenta
The DNA, the Code, all of history, lineage
Blue Eyes, Brown Hair, cool tricks of the tongue
Into the babe, nutrients, cells, Life

Through this, I Claim Blood Right
To enjoy the quirky way my son smiles
To bask in the sound of my daughter's laughter
To revel in the rolling of an elbow, of a child yet born

I Claim Blood Right
To the artistic and creative lineage of my Mother
To the philosophical and silly heritage of my Father
To the bond of blood, of Family

On back through the ages,
The Good and the Undesireable
I Claim it as my History, my Blood
My People and my Clans

Curtis, Martin, Kawa, Mann
And now Wood and Stevens
Marriages forged, names taken
Through it all runs the Blood

The Blood flows into the Placenta
Pulsing, nourishing the Code, Fertilized Egg
Passing on the DNA to the unborn
The Bond of Family and Blood

Indulging Selfishness (or Not)

Wed., cool'ish, lots of birds chirping outside.

I'm at 29 weeks today. Only 11 to go. Funny how what I was hurrying to race through, I'm now wondering how the time flew by.

Sure, I'm still eager to meet my little girl, to hold her, to get to know her, to love her. But there's just something about month 7 that makes you want to be pregnant forever (or at least in a time-suspension kind of way). I'm not uncomfortable, I get to feel every kick and wiggle, dreaming about what my butternut squash-sized baby is going to look like. And here's the kicker (see wut I did, thar?), I don't have to share her with anyone else right now.

Wait, what? That doesn't sound at all like me. I love sharing stories, info, thoughts, ideas.

I'm feeling a bit hermity about my baby. I know that in just 11 weeks, I'm going to have to share her with everyone. Grandparents, aunts, siblings, husbands. But for this short time, I'm indulging selfishness.

I'm a vessel, which grants me certain privileges.
I am a Mother, which creates a special bond.
I am a Spiritual Being, able to feel

Time is transient, time is now
In this moment, I choose to indulge selfishness
I choose to embrace this infinitely short time before she is shared with the world forever

Eleven more weeks. I'm sure that last week, I'll be bitching for this all to hurry up and be over...Mother Nature is kind of awesome like that.

Month 7 is my favorite for a reason. It's the most wonderful, transient, blessed time and I'm going to enjoy every last second of it. Perhaps that's not selfish at all. Are we not supposed to enjoy the wonderful gifts of our lives? If you don't see much of me in the next few weeks, it's because I'm preparing a nursery and embracing this amazing time that comes so very rarely in life.

A Swig of Felix Felicis

Sunday, Labor Day Weekend-sunny, warm, blue moon

For those that aren't Harry Potter fans (um...how do I know you, then?), Felix Felicis is a potion, called Liquid Luck, and it does exactly what you might guess. It makes you Lucky for a few hours, everything going your way; if you read more carefully, however, it mostly leaves Harry following his gut feeling and going with the flow rather than the "plan." After that, things go his way easily.

On occasion, I feel the same swirl of energy around me. Today, I was chillin' on the couch, almost finished with my embroidery project, when it just felt right to go to the craft store to get the next one, even though I'm not quite finished with this one. It also felt right to offer to go get beer and cheesecake for my dear husband since it's a cheat night from his diet *grin*.

Taking no kids with me and leaving my phone on vibrate, I set off with no rush and no intention other than going, seeing, getting some things. It felt like a perfect time to go with the flow, open myself up to what might be and just roll with it. Occasionally, I do this intentionally (I call it a "listening" day because I'm being actively passive rather than actively active)...sometimes it is fruitful, sometimes it bears no visible fruit, but it's always relaxing and enlightening. Today was probably the first impromptu "listening" that I've intentionally done just because it felt right.

Oh, you want to know what happened? Well, I found the embroidery project that I was looking for underneath four others on the wrong shelf  because I just happened to drift over to see some interesting rainbow yarn that I selected for the kids. Lucky I found it because there were none in the correct area. I found baskets for the baby's nursery in the perfect shade of pink and brown (at 40% off!) but was a little put out that they only had one of a particular kind when I would have preferred two. So then I wandered off to look at candles for my Brigid altar, and in the looking found the perfect twin for that basket, on a different aisle, tucked up underneath.

I found the perfect candle, lamenting a tad that it cost more than the cheaper, crappier ones, but knew it was the right one. Upon checkout the cashier missed it, so I went to the car without it, decided to go back for it and then she said "oh, well you walked all the way back for it, I have a 50% coupon off for it." So I got it for less than the cheap, crappy one. Sweet.

It's not all deals and tangible items. I could feel people's energies, sensing them the way some people see auras. There was one fella standing outside and I felt icky just walking toward him. Nothing I could place, exactly, but a feeling. Sure enough as I walk by he's telling another woman in a derogatory way, "she was just this black lady...so it's not like it mattered." Grrrrrrr. Yeah, dude. You suck. At least I was forewarned and avoided your eye contact.

The rest of the hour went on like this, finding just the perfect cupcakes for the kids and came home almost blissful. I was able to include my husband in this bliss with his beer and cheesecake ;)

Perhaps it was like Felix Felicis, Liquid Luck. Perhaps it was like the Secret, with the Universe conspiring for my well-being and I just happened to tap into it. Or maybe I was in a state of thankfulness and wonder, easily pleased and satisfied. It seems likely, to me at least, that since I was not on my own busy agenda, open to the possibilities, they presented themselves and I accepted their welcome. Next time you're out and about with no time constraints, maybe see where Felix leads you...

...And I got the first decorations for the Nursery in the right colors, sizes, numbers, and style for cheap. Liquid Luck, indeed :)

Physically Active, Mentally Relaxed

Wed., cloudy, warm, rainy--the kids started plastic canvas needlepoint yesterday

Believe it or not, I like having routines. Not schedules, but routines. Perhaps it makes sense that, because I consider myself a Hearth Keeper (some of you might prefer Earth or Kitchen Witch), I would see my morning/night routines as an active devotional. Much in the same way my husband says his prayers and lights his flames, speaking his words from his heart, I prepare the way for my family to have a clean, orderly, relaxed life. By spending just a few minutes doing the daily necessities of cleaning and planning, whether I feel like it or not, whether I want to or not, this simple act of devotion to my family and my hearth, creates immediate, daily magick for my family.

After three years of living this way, Brigid enlightened me to why it's important and even more why it is an act of love and devotion to myself, to my family, to my Deities, to the energies I want to attract and bring forth in our lives. I set the calm, peaceful, clear canvas so that my family, myself included, have the ability to paint whatever we would like on it, be it chaotic, fun, work, relaxing, whatever.

But what changed after three years? Why did something so difficult: keeping the damn dishes done every.single.day, washing all the clothes, the mountains and mountains of clothes, cooking yet. another. meal. become easier, more relaxed? Is it simply viewing it as an act of devotion? I think that's part of it, and a huge part at that. There's more to it, though, that has been eluding me even when the rest has come together.

It came easily, a whisper from Brigid, while folding some laundry. Physically Active, Mentally Relaxed. If I am doing exactly what I'm supposed to be doing and there's nothing else in the world that I can take care of rightnow so instead I can allow my mind to wander, relax, and just exist. I can complete the entire first half of my morning routine, all the crappy dishes and laundry stuff, in a sleep state, brain dead, not thinking it sucks, not thinking of anything really, except dream-state things. Once I start to wake up fully, if I'm doing a task, or listening to a kid read, or resting my hands on my belly to feel the baby move, it is completely acceptable, encouraged even, to not worry about the next task, to not stress over what is coming next or needs to be done, but just to take that moment and let my mind be relaxed. My hands are busy, but my mind gets a rest, to think idly, to not think, to wander, to meditate, to find stillness, to be in the moment.

"But there's so much to be done!" my brain starts shouting. I need to plan this, do that, get this done, etc. And therein lies the fallacy, the lie, the con of stress. With just a little routine, a little planning, no I do NOT need to worry about the next task. I know what the next task is because I've done it pretty much the same way, every day for three years. There's a freedom in that. A freedom to relax the mind and not worry because the dishes have been started, dinner has been planned, lesson plans are done, these are not things to stress over. Just complete this small task and if there's time, maybe another small task. Oh...that's the great thing about sticking with routines: Everything becomes a small task.

Well, except for those big tasks. But at least now I can look at those ahead of time and do them when I am ready and able. I can do just one a day. Or if I'm motivated, knock out four in one day. Or do no big tasks because I'm drinking tea and watching the birds. I'm also a thousand-fold more likely to respond without screaming when the cat knocks over a glass of water or listen more attentively to that story that my child wants to tell me. Why? Because the relaxation of the mind allows me to not freak out because I'm already stressing, instead rolling with the punches, taking care of things rather than reacting to stress.

In only 30 min. in the morning and 15 min. at night (and a few small things here and there), I am as free as a bird, mentally, to rest, enjoy, and be in the moment in my day. In small acts of devotion, morning and night, I become the Hearth Keeper, tending and nourishing the flame of my family and home. Allowing all of us to relax a bit and just flow with the day. They say "live in the moment" and "follow your bliss." My act of devotion, my purpose in life for this phase of my time here, is to set the stage so that my family and I are able to do just that. Mundane? Boring? Waste of my college education? Perhaps you might see it so. I see it as nothing less than the greatest achievement of my Motherhood career.

Addendum:

Morning routine:

• Get myself up, clean and dressed, teeth brushed, etc.
• Bring down a full armload of laundry and switch laundry over
• start coffee, start cooking if we're having a hot breakfast
• unload dishwasher (while cooking or not)
• have coffee and breakfast while "checking my stuff" (namely facebooking and email)
• Morning Brigid devotional while kids get dressed and brush teeth
• clear up breakfast, start with the school day

Night routine:

• All dishes in dishwasher
• laundry switched over, new load started?
• Kitchen tidied, living room tidied, pick up anything that goes upstairs on my way up
• Room tidied a bit, if needed
• Bed

Sunday:

• Lesson plans, school boxes (where all of their schoolwork is kept) prepared and ready
• meal plans, weekly schedule of events (including grocery shopping, major errands, etc.)
• Dear husband usually completes (and directs the kids in) some deeper cleaning on Sundays

Around the Wheel

Monday, dreary, rainy-first full week of school for the kids

An excerpt from my pregnancy journal:


We began trying for a baby at Imbolc and conceived at Ostara.
I'll carry you through Beltane, Litha, Lughnasadh, Mabon, and Samhain.
You will be born right before Yule.

So I conceived in late spring,
Carried you through summer, late summer, and fall.
We'll welcome you and snuggle you through the winter.

And you'll learn to sit up with the growing flowers,
perfect your crawling on the sand at the beach,
and walk on unsteady feet by the hearthfire.

When Emotions Collide

Friday, sunny, breezy, warm. Black Cat Awareness Day

Have you ever felt like you were riding the moon? So super happy and excited, your energy positive and radiant? I sure hope you have, and often. But if you're human, you've also had to deal with extreme lows, disappointments, betrayals, hurts, and sadness. The question is: What do you do when one of each of these occurs within a short time frame? How do you reconcile smiling, beaming at the good, while simultaneously feeling like your heart is being ripped out of your chest?

You might think I have an advantage at this, since I'm a Gemini and we're kinda crazy like that, but unfortunately, I think it just makes me acutely (intellectually, not necessarily emotionally) aware of these in the moment, making it that much harder to sort through.

Yesterday, we saw the baby on the ultrasound and I was weeping with happiness, seeing the little mouth open and close, little fingers extending and rubbing his/her face. I was elated, in joy, heart fit to burst with love and amazement. I've never connected with a baby en utero like this, so seeing this child thumping, while feeling it at the same time, was nothing short of a true awestruck, nurturing, Mother moment for me.

Just a day later, today, I went to a funeral for a dear friend, a classmate from kindergarten through high school, and even working together in college. We've remained friends throughout the years and his funeral was very difficult for me. I cried and felt like death itself, mourning the loss of someone who was only 32, watching his weeping family, feeling the loss deeply, as his shining light was felt radiating from another place, but certainly not from that cold, hard casket in front of us.

My collision occurred as we're sitting in the church service, mourning the loss of my friend, while the baby starts thumping around inside me, reminding me of the beauty of yesterday. Two extreme emotions and energies at the same time, both strong and in-themselves should be felt and experienced with plenty of processing and having time to be felt. Yet here they both are, pulling me on a rollercoaster.

How many times have you felt "I shouldn't be happy right now, it's not right to be happy when all this crap is falling down around me?" but inside you know that this is celebration-worthy and on any other day, you'd be dancing a jig. Likewise, we've all sought solace and comfort during the rough times, and sometimes found more joy than we expected any chance of having.

The opposite is also difficult...to be flying high awesome, just to have bad news that jolts you to your core, rocking everything and anything to chaotic dumbfoundedness. You still want to enjoy the good, but just can't now.

It eventually feels like you're emotionally exhausted, tired, numb. That, right there, is where I am now. I have had three of these huge life-changing, majorly important things happen in the positive, and three catastrophic-feeling, crushing, heart-rending things in the negative. All in the last four days. Each would be enough in my life to stand on its own and give enough to think about by itself for days and weeks.

It's not just because I'm a Gemini. It's not just because I'm pregnant. It's just life and sometimes you ride the waves as a surfer would, sometimes you are caught in the undertow, holding on for dear life, and sometimes, you would rather get out of the ocean altogether, just to sit on the shore and watch from afar. I'm tired from all the swimming, the good and the bad. I'm ready to just sit this set out for a few days...my arms are tired from too much paddling.

"I don't care how you get it out of me"

Friday, warm, sunny--finally got the Saturn all repaired and road-worthy

Last night, my aunt called me to "check up on me" and see how I was doing. She does this periodically and I'm grateful for it. We got to discussing my midwife choices, and surprisingly, she seemed to think that a homebirth with a midwife was a viable and safe (as far as birth goes) option. I'm thankful that her daughter, my cousin, seems to have influenced her knowledge and opinion in the matter. It also helps that my second child was born in the backseat of the car and my family knows I am "capable" because of it.

Over the course of the conversation, she was telling me about her birth experiences (which I welcome as my own mother isn't alive to tell me hers) and how traumatizing her first birth was--36 hours, ending in a cesarean that was poorly done, when they were still rather rare by today's norm.

She said that, when it came time for her second child's birth, the doctors told her she could try for another normal birth or opt for a repeat C-section and her response was "I don't care how you get it out of me, as long as I'm knocked out when you do it!"

...  ...

My first reaction was a deep desire to hug her and wish that she had never been through something so painfully awful. And then I felt sad that there are many women, all over the country, who also feel that birth is nothing more than a means to an end, and if you can skip it entirely, then why the hell not? The number of Cesareans is now at about 1 in 3 in the US and 1 in 2 in China and still rising. Given that doctors are less likely to allow women to try to VBAC (vaginal birth after Cesarean), combined with a pervasive ideology that women should just lay on the table and let the doctor (who knows best) tell her what her body is doing, it's no wonder we are starting to feel a backlash.

Women who have given birth naturally, powerfully, fully aware of their own bodies, are speaking out against the torrent of medicalized birth. "Of course, some women need Cesareans!" they shout, "but not all of them, not all of us!" Some of us would wish for every woman to experience the transformative, powerful, primal experience of natural birth, to feel they way the Mother felt as she brought into being from her own soul, her own Power.

When I was at the Christopher Penczak workshop, he started talking about how creating Magick is a lot like giving birth. We start with an idea, a desire, we act upon it, we draw the energies, form it, and after a lot of work, we send it out to do its purpose.

I began wondering about the reciprocal of this idea. Is giving birth a lot like Magick? Any woman who has done both will tell you with much head nodding and affirmation "YES!" I wonder what we are doing to our collective, and personal, psyche by taking the Magick out of birth. Will we discover in 20 years that our meddling in the affairs of Nature (on a whole and often without real need) has created a Magickal void? We know there are physical and psychological differences in a baby born by Cesarean and one born naturally, bacteria and hormones that are released only through the birth canal...wouldn't it stand to reason that Energetic changes also occur during this process, not only for the baby, but also for the Mother?

Any woman who has given birth naturally will tell you instinctively that the answer is definitely yes.

What saddens me is the number of women who are, and will continue, to dismiss this possibility completely, with no more than an "I don't care how you get it out of me." We should care. Mothers, daughters, Fathers, sons, Magicians, Witches, Shamans and everyone in between. Whether you've got kids or not, we should be advocating for a world that values natural birth, saving Cesareans for those rare, few times when they really are *needed* and I can assure you, it is much, much less than one out of every three births.

When the Wisdom of the Elders isn't there

Wednesday, cloudy, kids swam under water for the first time yesterday and it was awesome

If you were looking for an uplifting blog, today isn't it. In fact, this one is rather heavy, even for my tastes. I understand if you skip it for something that's a bit more skittles and unicorns.

We choose our friends, we follow our bliss. We meditate and center, speak truth and surround ourselves with those that uplift us and help us along our path. With how spread out our communities and families have become, it's almost too easy to say "you don't serve my highest good." *snip* Person cut off, de-friended on facebook, oops I missed your call while I was looking straight at my phone and decided I really just don't want to talk to you.

So we surround ourselves with those that bring us closer to Divinity, those that we enjoy the laughs and the company, and if we have a falling-out, we know we'll patch it up and have a stronger relationship on the other side. Or we won't. And *snip*...or *drift*...we'll just eventually stop talking and go do our own separate things.

The exception to this is, of course: family.

I'm not talking about the crack-head mother that steals from you or the psycho aunt that you cut completely off, without second thought. No, much more subtle than that. I'm referring to the cousin that you don't like to talk to because their prejudice offends you, the aunt that can turn what you say back around on you and make you feel like shit, the family member that gossips like hell behind everyone's back, but sees it as her solemn duty to make sure that everyone in the family knows what's going on with everyone else--for the highest good of the family, naturally.

It's these people that are forever, chosen before birth, for whatever challenges your Highest Self thought you would need to learn. Or perhaps you were really just supposed to get that mother and father, but the aunt happened to come along with the package deal... I'm just speculating...

We're supposed to look to our Family Elders for advice, unconditional love, and support when needed. But what happens when you grow up and realize that you're a part of a family that's used in "Breaking the Cycle" videos in low-income high schools?

For me, it meant going off to college, changing my whole view of Deity and "religion," getting handfasted in a park without inviting anyone that I didn't want there, planning births with midwives, in short--life was hunky dory and I cut away that which did not serve me. I "broke" the cycle. I wasn't living with alcoholics, no one was fighting, I was rising out of the hate spiral of fundamentalism, I was creating the life that I wanted. I was following my bliss.

Funny thing happens when you start having kids. They need to see their family, the aunts start coming around to visit "the babies," you end up spending a hell of a lot more time with family, in addition to weddings, funerals, Christmas, and sickbeds. One of them moves close to you, or you to them, and then you see a hella lot more of them.

I see wisdom in my elders. I don't agree with how they raised their kids (myself included), I have a very different vision of parenthood, of enlightenment, of Life...but I acknowledge that there is wisdom in their years of experience. They have seen many things. However, after the passing of my grandfather, I don't see much Wisdom in my Elders (with some exceptions...my dad can really get my goat some times, but behind the joking, there is much Wisdom, if I'm lucky enough to understand his euphemisms and analogies. He reminds me of the dad in Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs with the fish analogies).

So the problem is: when do you include them in your Journey and when do you deny them access? When do you tell them that you'd like to plan a Sacred Homebirth, attended by a midwife, a spiritual counselor, a husband, and no one else? That, um, no I wasn't going to have a Baby Shower at all this time and instead I'm going to have a Belly Blessing that might make you more than a little uncomfortable...what with all the Goddess invoking and pregnant belly dancing. How do you have conversations about the amazing spiritual transformation you had when your daughter was born in the back seat of a car with no doctors, drugs, or even guidance...knowing that all you get in return is snide comments about how no one would be stupid enough to willingly fore-go the epidural.

I've been meditating on this for a long while and I had some clear ideas during the Christopher Penzcak workshop and I've been counseling with Brigid in my daily time with Her. The answer for me lies in the Fifth Word of the Witch: To Keep Silent. My Journey is my own, as is theirs. I can't pull them along their Path, no more than I would allow them to pull me off of mine. Nod, smile, have fun, shoot pool and go to the beach. But when the questions about "so are you gonna breastfeed this one after they've got a mouthful of teeth?" start, know that Your Path is Your Own and you have the right to Keep Silent. Center, ground, release, and maintain your Power.

Seeing pregnancy through Priestess glasses

Wednesday, cloudy, feeling mentally creative, physically inert.

The most amazing thing has happened in the last couple of weeks. The baby has started to respond to outside stimuli. This means two things: 1. I can't rest the sharp corner of my book on my tummy anymore. 2. Dear Hubby is going to be extra annoying poking, smooshing, and prodding my belly in hopes of feeling the baby move.

In all sincerity, it is a small price to pay for the amazingness that is feeling the baby jump when my ankle suddenly pops, feeling the roll to the right when my other children lay against my left, holding my hand on my belly so that I can feel the baby move from the inside *and* on the outside. This is my absolute favorite part of pregnancy. Laying for what feels like forever, with SM's hands on my belly, asking him "did you feel that one? How about that one? What do you mean 'no,' that one was super strong!"

I think this is also where not having a midwife or OB, yet, is to my advantage. Or perhaps is has to do with having a mostly-unassisted birth in the back of the car last time. Ever since then, I have been completely changed when it comes to feeling with my instinct/awareness. And there's no one "official" to tell me it's stupid or not real. What the hell am I talking about? Well...

I can usually tell you where in my body the baby is laying without touching with my hands to find out. How? I dunno. I just kinda stand there and sense for a moment and I can picture it in my third eye and almost invariably, if I use my hands to smoosh my tummy, I'm spot on. I can also sense when the baby is more "present," like his/her soul is more awake and aware of the body its in. Usually it's a few moments before the moving starts up, but not always. And the crazy part is: sometimes I feel that I'm calling to the baby's spirit, that part which is higher self, flitting in and out of the baby's body while en utero. The same way you would call to an ancestor or a deity. More often than not, within seconds, movement picks up, or I feel that sense of awareness right back at me.

Then there are long stretches where I don't feel anything really. I don't feel pregnant; I could just forget altogether if the stomach wasn't in the way when I go to sit up. In those times, I think the baby's soul is present, of course, but actively elsewhere...joined with its higher self, dreaming, even looking at our family, wondering just as we are...

It is a completely different pregnancy, when looked at from a Priestess perspective. Soon, very soon, SM and I are going to have a ritual of sorts, adapted from How to Uncover Your Past Lives, by Ted Andrews, where we are going to welcome and intentionalize (it's a word, now, lol) with the spirit of the baby that is within me. I'll let you know how it goes ;)

"But she said the wrong thing!"

Tues., Cool'ish, severe thunderstorm kept everyone awake last night

I took the kids to swim class today. Other than being rather cold after getting out of the water, the kids did well and enjoyed themselves. Right up until the last 2 min. when the chair A. was playing with squashed her little finger and cut into it a bit. The expected howling ensued and I was calming her (to good success) when a tween came over to try to help. Don't get me wrong, I'm not knocking this kid for trying, but unfortunately, well...

Tween: Little girl, can I tell you a story?
A: um *hides face*
Tween: A few years ago I broke this wrist and it hurt so much, a lot more than just a little finger. You don't even have any blood. You're okay. You're going to have lots of things in life that are going to hurt worse than that.
A: NO! But this hurts so so so so bad!

Me: A, it's okay, yes, it hurts, this girl wants to try to help you feel better, too.

Tween leaves.

And now I get to try to help A sort through this strange thing that just happened. A keeps telling me "but she said the wrong thing! It does hurt! It's not just a little finger, it's *my* little finger and it got smooshded SO bad!" I helped her to understand that the tween meant well, and yes, your finger hurts so so bad and so did her wrist when it got broken, but she's all better now and your finger will be better soon...when we get home, we'll put some ice on it and a band-aid..."

It really got me thinking about the "one-ups" that we do and how much easier it would be just to affirm the person's pain, give comfort and assistance, than to deny that pain, to tell them they're "okay" (who the hell are we to say that?!!), and then to add insult to injury with the oh-so-common "but at least it's not this..." "I've had much worse than that..."

Why am I adding this to my Birthing blog? Because all too frequently, that's where the all in all line is drawn. I've heard it from men and women, from those who have never given birth and those who have birthed with and without pain meds. In our society, it is the ultimate "you ain't never had it *that* bad..." You know what's different about birthing pain? It is one of the very few pains that has a happy ending, a goal, a purpose that is good and wonderful and amazing.

No one with a cracked rib ever went home with anything other than some crappy meds and a paycheck's worth of doctor's bills.

If anything, let us cherish our birth stories and not use them to degrade and belittle the pain of others.

Need for Control

Wed.-- Summer Solstice, Gorgeous outside.

My brain has been spinning around this "control" thing for a few days. It seems to be that the longer we know someone, the more we finally see their "control" buttons. Some are more obvious than others: those in-your-face pushy and annoying people. But I think most people you have to get to know for a long while before you see what they really feel a need to have the ultimate say over.

Since I'm a Stay at Home Mom, I know these wo/men pretty well and have seen their control buttons. Try telling any parent, particularly those that build up their lives around their kids, that you're going to do something against their "philosophy."  I mention this because there are women that are subservient to their husbands, show no need for any control over hardly anything, who meekly do everything, willingly, gracefully, and quite contentedly, that will bitch-slap their own mother if she tries to give the kids a cupcake with food coloring in it after the mom has said "no."

Other people are different. Some don't really feel the need to be involved in the small details of their kids' lives, yet are loving and caring parents. It's not something they feel the need to control for as many reasons as there are people in the world. There are others (parents and childfree) who may spend more time dictating their business lives, the cleanliness and details of their car, or their free time and their friends. For many, their religion is something they control. Anything someone is passionate about can become something that they are just. not. willing. to hand over to someone else. That is completely OKAY (you know, with some balance and harming none and that other stuff).

We all need anchors and strongholds. We need those identity ties and those parts of our lives where NO ONE in the world can tell us what we have to do and fuck them when they try. This is my house, my family, my car, my life, my _____.

So what happens when you can't control something that is a natural anchor for you? You feel a need for a well-organized, clean house, but you work so much that you're never home to do it, or are not making enough money to afford to even replace that nasty sofa that you hate. What happens when you can't control something that you've succeeded at for years? Like a teenager? Well, in the old days, disobedient kids had their ears boxed (gah!) and in the house of my pre-teen years, my mom would punch you in the stomach while drunk.

Which brings me to an answer. When people lose control over those anchors, when they feel life rushing past them with no means of securing their own identity, their own importance, their own self-worth, they get depressed, they drink, they fall to addictions, they try with varying degrees of success to gain that control back, sometimes by very drastic means.

I've felt very out of control of myself the last two weeks of pregnancy. I started to get pretty damn depressed and negative. The long list of "can't do" weighs over my head. One of my anchors is my adult autonomy and pregnancy bites deeply into that. Wanna know why I feel the need to get the hell out of town and go on family vacation every few years, with very little fore-warning or planning? Because I have to be able to. Wanna know why I dyed my hair blue last night? Because I have to be able to say "this is my body and my expression of self." And it looks pretty ;)

Control is fluid, an illusion. But to follow your bliss, you have to identify those areas and learn to live in harmony with them.

Treating People How You are Treated...

June 7--Warm, sunny, 2 days past Venus Transit

My birthday was 2 days ago. It was a fantastic, wonderful day and as usual, it brought tons of phone calls from family and friends. One of those in particular is a mixed blessing...

I have a male cousin that was difficult to like as a kid. He was a bully and liked to make fun of people, didn't care if he hurt them or made them cry, hit them in the head with hard objects, shot them in the ass with a BB gun. And still, I feel bad for bringing these instances up, like I'm a whiny brat just for saying what kind of kid he was. That's what happens when someone hurts you until you cry and then makes fun of you for crying. So, anyways, he's an adult now and he's chilled out a lot, and has even been helpful and nice to me when I visited. But some things don't change...he's got an opinion about everything and can be brutal in his "joking".

When he called me for my birthday, we got to talking about my pregnancy. He had a comment about "yeah, just make sure you know when to stop! [having kids]" (insert raucous laughter here) and then it hit me: If he can be sarcastic about how many kids we have, our choices regarding breastfeeding, birthing, discipline ideas, etc. then why should I give him a straight answer about anything? What gives him the right to an honest, caring answer from me, that reveals my heart and my desire, my soul and my emotions?

So I threw it right back at him.

"Just make sure you know when to stop!"
     ~"nah! We can't stop until we have at least 20."

"Don't have this one in the car...get yo ass to the hospital!"
     ~"Oh, come on! We wanted this one in the back yard with a sprinkler"

"Don't be like one of those (profanity) women that has a kid hanging off her tit. Like some broke (expletive) that can't afford to feed 'em real food."
     ~"Nah. I'm gonna feed them fried chicken while we're still in the hospital"

On and on and on...

Why should I open my heart to him? Care what he thinks about our plans? Just because he's family doesn't mean I have to include him or ask his opinion. I'm not going to agree with him or change my own plans anyway.

I'm beginning to think that it's completely fine to pick and choose who I want to be close to and who I most certainly don't. That doesn't mean I can't be nice to him or talk sometimes, even laugh and visit. We're just very different and I recognize that he's not someone I would choose as a friend. It's okay to prune away, guard yourself, put up an intentional wall, as long as you also know when to take down the wall, clear your aura, and be comfortable with being your true self.

Appearances

May 30-Wed. Tropical Depression outside. Lots of rain and wind.

It's that awkward stage (13 weeks) between looking pregnant and just looking fat. I have never been one to really care or worry about what my weight is or what my tummy looks like...the one time in my life when I did, after my second child was already a year old and I still had most of the pregnancy smoosh, I started kickboxing and working out to get toned up. Here's the rub: I feel that way right now and I can't workout or do crunches. I can't tone up or slim down. I'm pregnant and starting to show, but for now, I just look like I've gained weight and there's nothing I can do about it.

It shouldn't matter to me. I shouldn't care. I should just be happy and thrilled to be carrying a child. Yet again, I find myself wanting to skip a few weeks forward until I'm obviously pregnant. What is it with me and wanting to skip forward? I waited and waited to be pregnant and now I'm finding that I just want to skip through the first five months--not really savoring the moment, is it?

While meditating, I've discovered this is a larger pattern in human life in general. Kids want to be older. College students count down to graduation. Workers count down until retirement. We anxiously await vacation, summer, holidays, the upcoming move, wanting to even skip weeks at a time, just to get to another milestone, which will invariably turn into another count down.

It ends here. This is where I am and today will be the day that I stop counting down and start embracing. Today I am starting to show, looking kinda bloated and fat, and I'm going to stand in front of the mirror and take a picture. I'm going to fix my hair, put on an outfit that I like, and embrace my image. I am turning into the full mother again, but for now, I hold within me a baby the size of a peach, a uterus the size of a grapefruit, and because of it, I am beautiful.

Trust

Friday, May 18. Still rainy and dreary--5 days now.

It's a good thing I'm not a worry wart or a hypochondriac. There are enough twinges, cramps, pulls, and aches in pregnancy to keep a woman worrying about everything all the time.

Instead, I've had an inexplicable peace, a very relaxed go-with-the-flow, everything is going to be fine attitude. Pregnancy is natural, birth is natural, and even if something did go wrong with the pregnancy, at this point there's absolutely nothing I could do about it anyway. So I'm just chillin' back and enjoying the ride.

There's only two options: trust and worry. I choose Trust.

I think I'll be ready to fully commit my heart, emotions, and self much later in the pregnancy...it's coming, I'm sure, but for now it's just too early. However, at least when I feel the twinges and the cramps, I'm able to breathe, relax, and know that it's all normal and everything is fine.

Big Brother and Big Sister

May 17-dreary, last day of auditions at the high school

My dear sweet children were finally told last night that mama's pregnant and going to have a baby. Boy child was over the moon, really grasping what it means that we're going to have a baby brother or sister. He's thrilled, elated, and overall super stoked. Girl child doesn't really understand but she's super excited to help pick out names, like Helepsipa, Limma, and Beana (for boys).

I never realized how much I would enjoy sharing it with them, although I should have. These two kidlets are so important to me and I spend so much time with them, I should have known that their expressions and joy about the baby would make it even more enjoyable for me. When I was pregnant with #2, #1 wasn't old enough to truly understand...he was all of 2.5 when he became a big brother. We were doing good not to have him smoosh her head and hit her with blocks. This time around, both of them will be old enough to feel the baby move, be there right after the baby is born, get excited about names, outfits, etc. And yes, old enough to fetch me a diaper so I don't have to go searching during a blow out ;)

It really feels more like "we" are having a baby...as a family. I may be the one to carry it, but it will be their sibling, too. The added layer of complexity and interconnectedness, bringing forth another child, but also adding to the kid ranks, was an unexpected blossom of awesomeness.

Brigid's sentiments: Allow yourself to enjoy. Embrace the smiles and laughter of your children, know that you'll have to help them when they're upset about the new baby, but also know that their lives will be richer for the experience and the addition.

Sharing the News

Tuesday, May 15, Sunny then stormy then sunny then stormy

I shared my news of pregnancy this weekend. Finally, after two and a half months, I got to see faces light up, people smiling and happy for us, sharing our joy. It was amazing and fun and I felt very, very special and loved.

I've always liked spreading good news, coming up with ideas that people like. It's like a spike to my "approval" junkie system. They like me! They want me to be happy! They're happy right along beside me! I had my few months of contemplation, quiet, and early pregnancy. It sucked and I'm glad it's over. I'm so much happier being an extrovert, interacting with others, sharing jokes, love, joy, and friendship.

Thank you all for making my announcement special and important.

Now I get to all the fun of being pregnant, instead of just being an airheaded lazybutt that's gaining weight ;)

Quickening

May 8-sunny, breezy, weather perfection

Finally, the nausea won. Twice. Also, the exhaustion and lackadaisical self is also winning. Motivation=0. But enough of that.

I felt the baby move two days ago. At 9 weeks five days, it should be impossible. The earliest I've heard of people feeling movement is 11 weeks, which is still early. But it was unmistakable after already having two kids, both of which I felt early as well. Since then, I've felt movement a few more times, never for more than about 45 seconds.

Certainly, there is magick in Quickening. In *feeling* that baby's first recognizable thumps and wiggles. Those feet that will eventually kick soccer balls letting mama know for the first time that there is absolutely life within her, stirring and developing. From what I read, the fetus's brain isn't really connected to intentional movement at this point; it's mostly neurological impulses setting up their pathways and testing them out. I'm okay with that...I mean, it's better than thinking baby's first instincts are to kick the hell out of me ;)

It was amazing to lay on the bed at 1am, feeling the little bumps, waiting on the next one, wishing it would continue for longer. Then the next night, willing the little thing to start thumping around, only to fall asleep having felt nothing, knowing there will be a time when I'll feel them every night.

I think *this* is what I've been waiting for. Sure it's fantastic to get to tell everyone, to get the baby bump, to not just look pudgy. But really, those first feelings that I'm not going to miscarry, that this baby really is in there and will be a part of our family soon, come with Quickening. It's when I, as carrier of this life within me, feel a response from the other part of this amazing bond.

Amazing what a few tiny thumps can do.

A few hours of normalcy

Wed, May 2, beautiful outside

Last night, around 8pm, I walked outside to greet my parents and let the kids give good night kisses. With delightful shock, I felt *normal*. I didn't feel like I was in a haze, or like something was pressing on my insides, no nausea...I felt like moving and being and dancing with my kids.

Today, I felt sick all morning, but for about 3 glorious hours this afternoon, I felt like cleaning and playing, which is so much more how I *like* to be. It makes me happy to be bustling about, watching my kids laugh, while wiping a counter or a dirty face. It's amazing how quickly you can forget what normal feels like when you don't experience it for a while. For 3 weeks now, I haven't felt like standing, much less cleaning or tidying anything and I began to think that I really was just lazy and a slob. I imagine that's what depression does, or alcoholism, or sickness, or any number of things that stays and drains somebody for weeks on end without stop. It becomes a new normal.

It's now time to cook dinner and my window of normalcy has passed. I feel queasy again and dread cooking, and even more, eating.

Which brings me to the second human attribute that supersedes all others: hope. With just a few hours of not being sick to my stomach, I'm already hoping that this was a sign that the worst of pregnancy sickness has passed and is a window into what's to come. Namely, more and more hours of not feeling like this.

Brigid's advice (as I tend her flame today): Take advantage of the hours when you feel good, work hard and play hard while you can, because you may not be willing or able to do it later.

Cruel Twist

Tuesday-Beltane, sunny, 80 deg, bowling/commissary day

I think Nature had a cruel sense of humor when it came to 1st trimester. Make the woman as tired as absolutely possible, then make her adverse to the smell/taste of coffee, and then sit back and watch.

I'm practically falling over, yawning, droopy-eyed, and I can't seem to get down a lick of caffeine. Oh Caffeina! My wonderous Lady! How I miss your presence and your energetic blessings! How I...wish...for...zzzz...

That's all. My eyes are refusing to stay open... -.-

Motivation. Or the lack thereof.

Sunday-cloudy, Cullen's last soccer game was yesterday

I have a confession to make. I have done the bare minimum all week. The least amount of dishes/laundry/cooking possible, had the kids reading and working in workbooks instead of hands-on activities, and my house looks like hell.

Don't get me wrong, we still went to park day, library storytime, etc. But I know good and well that every free moment I had was spent re-reading a 12 book series and certainly was not used to wash dishes, some of which have been sitting in there all week. Gross and true. I spend my early mornings reading, my mid-mornings doing school with the kidlets, afternoons feeling queasy and reading, and evenings scraping together something for dinner, feeling like I'm going to chuck, and reading, and then staying up rather late reading because I know I won't be able to sleep anyway.

After a few days I began to wonder "Why?" Why would I suddenly be completely unmotivated, uncaring, and lethargic? Why this obsession with reading for days on end?

Last night it hit me. I'm literally escaping, carving time out of this pregnancy. 1st trimester feels so unfair. No one gets to know I'm pregnant, I feel sick all the time, I'm tired and unmotivated, so let me just cuddle here with the book, try to forget how I feel, try to forget how much time I still have until I'll be showing, until I can feel the kicks, until I get to *enjoy* what little bit of pregnancy is enjoyable.

Funny thing is: it worked. I've missed an entire week of my life, barely scraping enough highlights together to fill perhaps 10 hours. I've essentially jumped from week 7.3 to week 8.3 without even realizing it. It didn't feel like a week had passed; it felt like I read some books, took time for my kids, and read some more. I didn't notice the nausea as much because when it got really, really bad, I would distract myself with reading and a chocolate popsicle.

So it worked and I'm now at 8.3. Everything we ever learn tells us to enjoy every minute, be productive, work hard. Yet, other than feeling a bit embarrassed about the state of my kitchen, what's wrong with escaping for a time, whether it be reading, watching a complete series, fishing, playing tennis, etc. Now that I'm feeling a bit more motivated (thank you NKOTB webstream), I'm going to clean my kitchen. Once my house is back together, no one will be the wiser. In fact, this week might be more memorable than others 10 years from now, simply because I existed and the world did not fall apart. "They" say you have to work hard all the time...I'm beginning to wonder if that's really true.

Then again, I might just be lazy and irresponsible and a slob. For an entire week out of 31 years? I'm okay with that.