Friday, September 16, 2016
Friday, June 3, 2016
Noah
Birth 2
Unlike the 24 hours of intense labor that prelude the welcoming of our first son, I labored for only 6 or so hours- most of which were at home picking strawberries, squatting down to pass the contractions and walking through the garden with Pine.
When I was checked at the hospital I was already 9 centimeters dilated and the rushed me off to a delivery room while Ben scrambled to keep up. The midwife and I decided to manually break my waters, and only then did I ever let the feeling of helplessness rush in. Pushing a 9 pound baby out proved much harder than the 7 pounds of my first born. I know I looked wildly into the eyes of my husband with an expression he had never seen. But he was the only one I would have wanted to be in those moments with me- someone who knew me through and through and saw a strength in me that only he knew. One last, horrific push and the warm body that used to be part of me was laying on my chest, and I loved him so much.
No epidural, no pain killers, no meds.
I think if we were all forced to have babies naturally there wouldn't be as many children. Life would be understood in a different manner. I am not here to sit and judge the freedoms we enjoy in this country, or to put others down for their decision to take advantage of them. I will say that I think women are more capable of magnificent things, and birth, true, real, raw, life-moving, painful, and transformative birth is something special that only women get to say they have experienced. So why numb that? There is but one life. The darkest moments of solitude are what make the brightest days even brighter. Not to mention that parenthood- especially motherhood is a continual snowball of sacrifices. So why not start on day 1 and get used to the fears and torments that will haunt you through the years to come? My babies are beating hearts that were literally once a part of me- sent off into the world. I would do ANYTHING for them. Anything.
Anyway, Noah is almost 2 weeks old and sleeping like a champ at night. I feel blessed and completely in love with him. I mourned my relationship with Pine- it has changed and will never be the same. But I have let go and allowed my faith in life to take route, guiding myself and sweet boys on a new journey that will sew us all into a unit- breathing and moving as one complete tribe. I look forward to the years of my sons and learning so much about the world with them.
Sunday, October 19, 2014
Midnight Pitch
More of night, this time of year. Mornings are stark, warm covers lifted, and chilled hustles to the kitchen for coffee. Outside we yearn for rain. We dream of grey skies behind bare black oaks and mossy forest floors with sorells and turkey tails. We come home to sweet crackling wood and the plumes of smoking cedar rising from the chimney fill the air in our little hollow with the heaviness of autumn. We love autumn and her lovely season of decay. The breaking down so as to build up one day again. The unraveling and letting go. The black and burgundy and burnt oranges of her time of year marked by costumes and hauntings and wind whistling by. The garden is transitioning to a solemn place, forcing the last fresh blessed parts of our meals out on the vines before surrendering to the frost. It is a time for so-longs as we sit in the glow of the final warm sunsets, leaving behind the sands and boats and sunflowers of summer. But also of oh-hello's to the cheer and merriment of gift wrapping and hall decking. This year I want to take it slow. I want to walk through winter with a deliberate gaze on what means most through each holiday. Family. Looking forward to traditions with our little man and living vicariously through the wild wonder of childhood.