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bathed in full moon light.
her power swelling. building. shifting.
casting a magic glow
greeting me as we reach halfway… twenty weeks.
a blessing.
so in love every day… so blissed out and in tune. so in the moment, cherishing… honouring. soaking it all up.
i was introduced to her months ago… through one of my tribe. over here at glow in the woods
scrolling down, you can listen to Lhasa tell this story.
(if i knew how to embed it myself.. i would. it's worth listening to in her voice…)
the idea of it moved me so much, i had to write it…
it feels so real. so right. so honest and true about life and death.
it feels like that…that is the obvious answer. that it is the simple truth..
and it sounds so beautiful to me.
Lhasa De Sela –
'This is a story about my father, because my father is a very philosophical man and he always has an idea going ‘round and ‘round and around in his mind and each idea that he has, its orbit takes several years to go around.
And when he’s really gone all the way through, then he has a new idea
These days he has a new idea
His idea is that when we’re conceived we appear in our mother’s womb, like a little. Tiny. light. Suspended in immense space and, there’s no sound it’s completely dark, and time doesn’t seem to exist. It’s like an ocean of darkness…
And then, we’re growing and we keep growing and growing and as we grow… slowly we begin to feel things touch things and, touch the walls of our world that we’re in
And then we begin to hear sounds and feel shocks that come to us from the outside then as we get bigger and bigger the distance between ourselves and that other outside world becomes smaller and smaller
And this world that were inside that seems so huge in the beginning
And so infinitely welcoming, has become very uncomfortable
And we are obliged to be born. And my father says that birth is so chaotic and violent that he’s sure that at the moment of birth we’re all thinking ’This is it. This is death. This is the end of my life’
And then we’re born and it’s such a surprise because it’s just the beginning..
And in the beginning we’re very small and the world seems infinitely big and time seems infinitely long,
Then we keep on growing and we learn how to use our senses. We learn how to touch one more time the contours of the world that we’re in
And sometimes mixed in with the sounds and sensations of this world, we hear sounds and feel shocks that come from yet another world.
And that other world follows us our whole lives long, as if something is happening on the other side of a very, very thin wall
But we can forget about it for a long time, and then all of a sudden it comes again, and then at the end of our lives…
we’re obliged to die
And at that point, my father says that then we think we’re really smart, and we think- this time, we know for sure that this is death and that this is the end… because everybody knows that.
But my father thinks that, that’s not the end either…
It’s just the beginning of something else. '
*****
i want to keep this piece with me forever… because it feels so honest and true… like everything has been stripped down, and we witness the bare, naked truth. a truth that cocoons me, feels so safe and sweet to me.
…the silence from within has passed, and daily- i am feeling kicks, turns, twists.. from inside a world i cannot see. from inside a world i trust fully… from inside a world that is mysterious and beautiful. an honour to behold.
and so i dance my fingers against, and my deep belly laughs jiggle…and i rest my husbands head against my stomach to listen…
and as this baby grows bigger each day and week, each milestone. it begins to feel and hear from the outside world.. something bigger than itself. something it cannot possibly imagine.
this whole circle.. and cycle. and mystery. this journey of being born, and born again…
i feel honoured to be let into that little secret of lhasa's father's philosophy.
a confidence that buds within me…
one that is revealing itself, growing stronger with time.
week 17-
silence, and cramps.
before i go to bed, i search through the bedroom window, looking for her… my moon. the sky is dark and empty, she must be hiding… maybe there’s clouds.. maybe it’s too late and she’s made her way past the roof tops… i climb into bed to go to sleep…
feeling uneasy, unsure… wanting reassurance. knowing *knowing* that everything is fine, but still… wishing for some sign.
seeking advice and love from a kindred spirit, who answers back in the most magical way…
week 17 is right on the cusp… between feeling baby move, and that silence and stillness within. like a new moon, dark and mysterious, shrouded in question. but like the moon, her bright, full face will return shortly and bathe you in light and newness.
and how much more magical…did i realise that when i wrote this, when she answered… when i felt unease… it fell on a new moon…
i’m learning to honour these transitions… honouring these questions that come… these stretches and cramps within that ebb and flow like an oceans tide. honouring this mystery that twists and grows inside, randomly filling me with a zen calmness…its blue aura engulfing me.
week 18-
squidgy. that’s the only word i can use to describe the first real feelings of you. during one of these cramping achy moments, i sit with my hands pressed to my belly, seeing if there is any way i could feel you. wanting that reassurance that these cramps are from your world expanding… my pulse beating from my palms, pulse beating through my sides.. too *loud* to be still and silent enough to feel a tiny flutter.
and then suddenly… from my side, this squidgy movement. as if you were rolling. a few more times you rolled, just enough to tell me… and then you became a mystery again.
cramps have eased up, now at least i feel like i know what they are from… ebbs and flows of an ocean tide. needing more room to expand and grow, by all means…
yesterday a sharp pain in my back. like a pinched nerve in the base of my spine, crippling me to walk hunched over… unable to get up gracefully, unable to bend… move.
and so i danced and moved… swaying my hips in big circles and curves… belly dancing with you, calm fluid motions. breathing and exhaling, in the same way i know we will dance during labour… making my hips loose and wide, breathing you down.
and just like that, the pain started to subside into a dull muscle ache… and by the next morning absolutely perfect.
–
this transition has been a beautiful one, fluid…some days i feel connected, and other days i feel like i harvest a mystery. i am so thankful for each step. … my life feels like its changing direction in so many ways. exuding more positivity. banning negative energy and people from my life. surrounding myself and my family in healing, positive light…
trusting my body and my intuition…
knowing that this babe has its own intentions for me, for it’s life…how it came to me, how it decides to be born… it will be my greatest teacher. bring me to new worlds and back again… strip me raw, leave me with bare minimal… teach me new things about myself- show me how strong i can be, and how fragile. how capable, and how chaotic.
finding comfort in kindred spirits. regardless of babies born in heart, or womb- women who surround me and remind me that i need not seek answers- but listen to myself… listen to what feels right. trust the wisdom that is inside each of us.
our greatest gift.
since this little blue light found its way beneath my heart…
i’ve noticed how gently i’ve been letting go of negativity… whether from my own mind, or those around me. pushing all of this unconstructive energy out, cleaning and keeping a pure light surrounding me. allowing myself to stop, breathe… and remember namaste.
"I honor the place in you in which the entire Universe dwells,
I honor the place in you which is of Love, of Integrity, of Wisdom and of Peace.
When you are in that place in you, and I am in that place in me, we are One."
i don’t practice any form of religion, politics, or exercise in dedicated meditation.
i practice in being a flawed human being. and reminding myself of namaste reminds me that we all are practicing being flawed human beings… together. and while i think some get lost on the way, lose themselves on their true purpose, or what their heart really believes… it helps to remind me that we are all made of the same… that we may not agree, see eye to eye… but the blood from my veins runs deep red, as the blood of yours.
namaste… because we all have this light inside us, that is good and pure. that has no limits… and in rare moments, we find ourselves in that light, recognize it… know it. engulfed in it.
the unbreakable bond and love of a mother for her child, washed over and sunken in a devouring…heart breaking love. so raw and overpowering.
letting go of yourself and your body while making love… feeling hearts beating, seeing the electricity and energy surrounding your two bodies… your souls dancing in rhythm.
recognizing yourself in the mirror… beyond ego.
pure and primal. the truth from within ourselves without inhibition.
—
namaste. even if the words you speak are from a place i cannot relate. namaste, even if your ideas turn my stomach. namaste, because i know you are better than that, and your actions/words/opinions will not make me lose faith in humanity.
spring has come to greet us, the fleece blanket thrown off the bed… window open all night to let a cool breeze in. birds singing their morning songs before the sun rises…
it all makes me want to dig my hands into the earth and plant something… let the soles of my feet get dirty and black from walking around in the soil and grass… alas. we live in town house, surrounded by concrete.
i only discovered that spring was such a yummy season in ireland, last year. mmm it was so yummy. sweet little colourful buds making their way out of the mossy clover grass. (the baby lambs have always been a favourite)
only this year, i haven't actually gone out to discover spring yet. i feel so silly.. so lazy. so…uninspired. like a pencil, camera, paintbrush are all so foreign- and i'm having problems learning how to use them again.
learning that i need to listen to, and honour my body. these past weeks full of aches and cramps. stretching and pulling… only getting worse the later and later i stay up past when i've already said i was tired. but… just not ready to go to bed. wanting to stay up and refresh the same boring nonsense over and over… because sleep just means the day is done. …anyway. lesson learned. somewhat. babe is already dictating what i can and cannot do. go to bed now. do your kegels more often before the allergy season begins-or you'll end up wearing diapers, keep that bottle of water by your side, don't exercise if you feel sick, a little ice cream never hurt anybody. ;-p
ooh ooh, but i am in the process of starting a new little thing. not like it's a big deal. just… inspired by a friend. sorting loose papers together and twirly thoughts in my head. envisioning the images i can pair with words…
hmmm also. i really need to sit at the computer longer (ouch. that computer chair hurts le hips) and re-do the background. so sick of seeing these colours. need something fresh and lively.
sitting on my birth/yoga ball. bouncing away. thinking about the bed i should be getting into.. oy vey.
oh…my goodness….
are we really back? is it here again?
holy crap that sucked. server down for a week. no access to website or personal/business e-mails. sooo super delightful
and in the meantime, i was itching to write… and so i did. chicken scratches everywhere (what does that even mean?)
will get to sharing as soon as i can actually go through and make this nonsense sound more…uhm. i dunno.
la la laaaaa
let's eat some muffins.
i have scars that welcomed me into womanhood. at first they were deep purple, stretching down my thighs, up my hips. across my breasts.. even through my stomach.
i was ashamed of them… the only stretch marks i had known were the ones on my moms belly, and hers were beautiful to me. running my fingers across the silvery ribbons, when i’d lay my head on her belly and listen.
i knew they were her witness to carrying three babies. and they were real… and they were ‘mom’.
for a long time i felt like i had a body that looked like it’s already carried a baby. a poochy belly with silver ribbons. and feeling like that was just more ammunition to hating my body for deceiving me. for not being fertile… for looking like a mothers, instead of a young woman.
it’s only recently that i don’t mind…that through my fertility journey i had to start accepting who i saw in the mirror, and be as loving and gentle with her as i could… not send her so much negativity that she was already dealing with. knowing that, my body image should have been the least of my worries- but i only tallied it on to being a failure..
and how wrong was i, how wrong are we?
i can now look at my silvery ribbons with some compassion, knowing that they started to creep up at such a gentle time for a young woman… knowing that that was the beginning of my self-awareness and let down of confidence… and that’s just so sad to me.
i wish that i would have realised at that time that coming into womanhood meant that my body will give and stretch to a new life… that i was joining this emotional… empowering.. sisterhood. that, instead of such an embarrassing nuisance- i was beginning a journey of discovering myself, of learning wisdom. of learning the balance and art of being a woman, sister, lover, friend… and learning that i’m important too. that i need to take time to nourish myself, and to learn to love myself.
and so now i stand in the mirror and look at these silver strands that wiggle up my hips, up my stomach, thighs, breasts.. and i am so in awe of them. in what they represent for me in that transition of my life, and knowing that i’ll have new scars that welcome me into motherhood.
and they will be the same story as my mom’s scars were for me….
(in)fertility. i took that usage of the word from my sweet friend, denise.
i fell in love with it immediately, because it wasn't a definition. it wasn't a neat little category where things all fit into. it wasn't hard. it wasn't solid.
infertile (adj); not fertile, unproductive, sterile, barren.
uhm… nope.
i don't care what any doctor says. no woman (or man) is infertile. it just simply isn't true… and casting that name. judgement. across yourself says this is the end of the road. there is no more. get over it… you will never…you admit defeat when you have only just begun.
fertility is always more than sperm and egg…
fertility is…a state of mind, a yearning with your heart, reaching with your soul.
an (in)fertile couple yearns for their babe… and their babe will find them by whatever means it can. it will always find them..
i realised that the heartache it takes to get there is necessary… i found a tribe of beautiful, amazing, talented women. with such compassion and big hearts. i found a way to help other women just discovering their own grief.. i found a way to help myself… to appreciate more. to not take for granted. to let go of jealousies, and be more grateful. daily. learn from this experience… be given wisdom from a place that i never wanted, but am also appreciative of. like it was destined to happen… to be a voice, or a hand, and know how to hold the torch for others in need.
one of my favourite words is prolific. and living that way… being prolific in all that you do. in your art, in your passions… with your heart. does that make sense?
–
i feel torn…
while i sit and celebrate and feel so joyous in finding my spirit baby… actually, him/her finding me.
i can't help but feel like i'm also being insensitive to those who are still on the path.
.. i don't believe that a positive test is the end to my fertility journey. (nor a negative one..) it just feels like the next step. like a transition. like the same transitions i was finding ON the (in)fertility journey. the anger, and hurt, and jealousy, and mourning. finding light and positivity, finding myself.. and this just feels like one more step in that process.. that will continue to go on.
i feel torn because…
i know that feeling of being punched in the gut when i found out a friend, or fellow path walker found their babe.
and i also know the feeling of celebrating with women found theirs, and i felt blessed to be apart of their new story, and genuinely excited and proud of them. wanting to know every last detail.
–
so many of these torch carriers for me have children of their own, some walked a delicate fertility path, some are still on it, and some have never had to endure it.
and a lot of times those women say 'i don't know this pain you're in'
and i guess i understand… because i look at girls who just happened to lay down and get pregnant. without a second thought. without wanting. without yearning… but i suppose that's their lesson to. they have to find wisdom on that journey, just as i had to find mine.
… i know that i'm not getting out what i'm wanting to say.i don't know if i really can.
a friend of mine mourns an early miscarriage, and while she can't be around me right now. i tell her that i understand, and acknowledge her pain. and want her to understand that even though i have not lost a baby, i felt untrust, disbelief, disgust, and death.. in my body. for two years. and that i feel like i can understand where she is coming from- without really knowing that painful grief as my own.
but maybe i'm wrong.
my heart feels heavy today. with her grief. and with my own delicate fears throbbing in the back of my mind.
–
this all fell apart at the end. i don't know how to eloquently put together what i'm trying to say… i don't know how to be as gentle and warm as denise is when she talks about this delicate line…
i just want anyone that has followed my journey… who is on their own path- to know that i understand if you can't celebrate with me… and understand when you need to ignore me.
and i'm sorry.. especially if i have been insensitive.
the weather has been a fabulous tease. bright blue sunny skies as far as the eye can see… you'd want to open the windows and clean everything out. make it smell fresh and alive in the house. put on a skirt and go for a walk.. only… it's still quite chilly. the frost creeps up the windows at night.
lying as silent as i can, anticipating a flutter that i felt at our last 16 week scan. a tiny little pit-pat pit-pat with your fingers… suddenly i felt it last night, only a few times. makes me cry and smile and… fall in love with steven all over again.
so beyond excited about travelling home in may… a long, tiring journey to get there.. but to see my momma and papa on the other side, waiting in the airport.. and my little furry babies as well. excited to breathe the thicker air… feel the suns warmth on my face. (eat pickle-o's.. please?)
living on a new staple of 'i'm hungry all the time…but nothing really sounds good, or tastes as good as i expect it to' diet of pasta with butter, salt and pepper… plain. but somehow simply divine…
dreaming about fresh strawberries… ooh.
wishing i had a little garden to plant lavender.
hoping to find the perfect home to cozy our new family into, come august.
thankful for technology, keeping me close to my friends and family spread all over the globe.
so in love with my husband every day…
i'll stop here before i start mentioning more food on my mind… like muffins… did i just say that?
mmm i'm dreaming about summer… about summers. nostalgia sweeping me away…
stubbed toes on the side walk, running barefoot- the sound of laughter filling the air…
little thighs stuck to the pleather seats of a moving truck. the sun pouring directly in, hum of the engine lulling you to sleep for a few sticky hours.
the general store with the tall indian totem pole that sells orange cream sodas in the bottle.
reminiscing with a friend the other night… back to such simple sweet little memories. nothing about them extraordinary- but thinking about it all makes your heart swell and puts this happy.. drunk. goofy grin on your face thinking about how simple it was…
scratching mosquito bites, sitting on the side walk. smell of chlorine in your hair and tight on your skin. hot cans of dr.pepper.
asking her- why are all of our yummy memories in the summer? why are they so simple.. the long. hot. drive for the family vacation- and picnics on the side of the road more memorable and a yummy memory than the actual vacation spot itself. why were they all free or cheap? scrounging up pennies under couch cushions- so you could ride your bike to the rooster crow general store to get a bag of chips, and maybe a sweet. more satisfying than trips to mcdonalds and playing in the in-door play gym.
sigh…
thankful for all the places i grew up… wide open fields and mountains. freedom to roam and just be.
i wonder if my kids will have the same memories. surely… since we all seem to. : )
what is one of your favourite childhood memories?
i could really go for a bottle of orange soda, and share a bag of jelly beans with my papa.
