Four -The Birth Story

Next Sunday I will be the mama of a four year old.

What an amazing journey this boy and I have had for four revolutions around the sun.

It's a time where I reflect deeply on how much has changed and how much change there is to come for that beautiful boy, and myself.

Last night he asked me to tell him the story of his birth.

This has made me quite uncomfortable in the past, because my the births of both of my boys surrounds me with both love and darkness.  They were both caesarean sections.  I induced with Z, at almost two weeks past due, out of fear, and not having as big of a support system that I do now.  I didn't know then what I know now.

So instead of let this be something to tie my stomach in knots and place a lump in my throat I dove in head first, lighter than ever.

"Well, you stayed in my womb for a long time!  You must have been pretty comfy because you didn't want to come out!  (He laughs, that big belly laugh of a four year old)  So I asked the doctor about you and he said maybe we should try and get that boy to come out!  (He laughs more)  So they gave me some special medicine one night, and you sure must have thought it was more comfortable in there, because at first you just stayed put.  Then you wiggled, and twisted, and pushed, trying to come out, and my body tried hard to help you come out, and the doctor tried hard to help you come out.  But you were just too comfy I guess!  So the doctor said, "Mama, are you ready to hold your boy?" and I told that doctor, "YES, I am ready to hug my boy."  So he had to give me a little cut on my belly here (I show him my scar), and helped pull you out into the world.  We were so happy to see you we just cried, and cried, and everybody was there to meet you -Grandma, Grandpa, your uncles, and aunts, and cousins, friends, everybody!  You are the most beautiful special thing that ever happened to me, and I love you with my whole heart.  Then Daddy helped weigh you and measure you, and they brought you back to me and you nursed and nursed and nursed, and I never wanted to put you down.  Everyone asked me, "Mama, are you ever going to put that boy down?" and I'd answer, "Nope.  I love him.  And our hearts belong together."  And that's how our story began."

It was the first time I had ever told him our story without tears of sadness, guilt, or shame.  There's obviously a lot more to it.  I had a horrible, gut wrenching, scary induction, and caesarean.  But that's not important anymore.  I don't need to re-live the trauma.  I've done that too many times to count.  He doesn't need to hear that, especially at four years old.

There sure can be a lot of those emotions around non-natural births, and as one beautiful soul said, the "dogma around natural birth".  I am blessed because here at home, and through Momma Zen, in the Autumn SouLodge, I have met a group of beautiful supportive, unconditionally loving, amazing, mamas and women that know how to make a sister feel loved and whole.  I have finally, in the last year, sought out more and more support from friends, mamas, and communities of Soul Sisters.  I have told my husband how I feel, really feel, and he is beginning to get it.

I have met so many beautiful mamas with opposite experiences from mine, and some of the guilt, shame and sadness crept in, some told and some untold.  I've also met a lot of mamas, in real life, and some online in groups, that made me feel that their way of giving birth was superior.  But really, it's not.  We mamas have to stick together and be there for one another, support one another, and share stories, and experiences, no matter what they are.

Then I finally built myself up to it, and watched The Business of Being Born about a month ago.  Something shifted, and I cried and cried and sobbed like I can't remember.  I thought, "Why didn't I see this five years ago?"  But then it hit me over and over, and I realized, that I can't change my past, I don't need to change, or make my story better or worse than it is, it is my story, in my voice.  I didn't write it all, it wrote itself in a way, and that's fine.

I have put a lot of thought into it all.  I feel like I am in the final throws of letting go of the negativity.  I am sick of judging my story as bad.

My boy is about to be four.  That's a lot of time to carry around such unnecessary harmful judgements that serve nothing and no one.  I will deal with the feelings as they arise.

If you met us you would have no idea that I had such emotion surrounding our birth story.  Truth be told, the moment I held him, my world shifted in a way that is nearly unexplainable.  I fell so deeply in love, like never before, and none of it mattered until some moments where I sat alone and over-thought the tragedy around inductions and caesarean sections, and not having the birth I had dearly wanted.  We are deeply close and attached to one another, in such a special bond, and isn't that all that matters?

My boys are happy and healthy, and so am I.  This story can make me stronger, not weaker, I just have to let go of some of my ideas.  Not feed the negativity, but not ignore it, and in time it weakens and subsides.

Something has also been shifting in me in the last months.  Between Bodhi's first birthday in July and Z's fourth birthday, which is a month before mine, I feel that I am coming to see things for what they are, more than what I make them to be.  I am paying attention to my heart and intuition more than ever, and more than that, being okay with it and trusting it.  I am learning to follow that which matters, and let things that no longer help or serve me fall away.  Layers are shedding, shadows are being explored, with less judgement, and I am opening up further.  I am holding fear's hand, treating it tenderly with love, instead of letting it lead and break me down.  And it feels good to have a community and a practice, which supports not only the light but the dark.

It feels beautiful to be a woman and a mother.  More now than ever before.

I have also realized that I don't have to feel guilty about staying at home.  Like I need to be doing something more. -these unfortunate feelings creep in from time to time.  I'm learning to tell it like it is.

I am thinking about how things happen in time, in my own pace, and how I can't push the river.  I am not behind on  my path.  I am on my path.  I don't have a lot of time for my own work and creative journey, but little by little I am exploring it more.  An hour here, 15 minutes there.  Sometimes I just have to ask for space, and not feel guilty!

The wheels are cranking in my own creative work, thanks to my Creative Courage course, Ordinary Writing Prompts, and of course SouLodge, among other amazing people in my life that are following their hearts and living their dreams.  I am blessed to be right here, right now, at this time in my life.

I took these courses, and tasks on, to remind myself that it's okay to think about what I want to do in life, even if I don't have time to focus on anything for myself too hard or long right now.  I am learning some new tools on how to ask the right questions, and explore things deeper.  I am learning how to make the most of my space and time, and not just spin my wheels, and procrastinate, some days doing what I feel is a waste of my time -worrying and thinking without action.  It's also when I know that I need to sit on the cushion more!  Sometimes I need a little structure to guide my tired mama brain, without making me feel overwhelmed.

I also just read these beautiful words and feel that they are perfectly fitting.  Thank you, Stacy at Clover and Sage.  Yesyesyes!:

Vision (soil prep|seed planting) 
+ Action (cultivating|nurturing|weed pulling)
+ Trust (Harvest|Gathering|Bounty) 
= Living your vision (restoration|nourishing|reflection)

So this was a lot, a lot to set free, out of my mind, and into space.  Kind of a double birth story.  The one of my sweet boy, and the one of a mama coming into herself.

I am eternally grateful for my path.  As long and hard as it is.  Because it has made one strong mama with a ton of love in her heart.

I am grateful for my support, and my two little teachers.

xoxo

At Peace

Lately, I have been strangely at peace with the chaos around here and in my soul.

It's not that I don't get overwhelmed, or feel behind, or busy, but these days, it's as if I am finally happy with my place right here, right now.

I am learning how to find the balance in our family, for everyone and myself.  It's myself that's been the hardest.  With two young boys at home, they are always priority, but I'm learning how to fit myself in the picture, without putting others out or feeling guilt.  My rituals and intentions are a huge part of it.

This is huge to me.

I have no idea exactly what the future holds, but that's really okay.  Today is all that matters right now.

I am building connection, and community, on a whole new level, more than ever before, and it feels good.

I am a Mama, a homemaker, an artist, a gardener, and I love to write.  These are the only things I have ever felt a peace, to say that I am.  So I'm just going to come out and say it, and wherever it takes me, awesome.

A drawing

Some stitchin'

Lily love in the works

Tally ho!

The Answer Game

I knew Z wouldn't be tired at bedtime.  We had spent the morning playing at the park.  He played with some new friends, and after our friend left, we hung out eating pink bubblegum and pistachio gelato and picked out a few groceries.  On the way home he fell asleep, next to his brother, and took a nice afternoon nap.

When the bedtime alarm went off, I gave him a few more minutes, and started the dishwasher.  Then we headed off to start bedtime.

I could tell by his energy that he wasn't going down easy.  I understood why.  Instead of being frustrated, I surrendered.  It's always better when I surrender.

We read stories from our old fairy book, and talked about how awesome it would be to find one in the fairy house we built.  We talked about how easily they are disguised in nature and we hope to see one some day.  We discussed how different they all were, and how fun it would be to fly with the birds and dragonflies.  We love fairies!

He told me one of his awesome imaginative stories, and then I thought I should just go to bed too.  I was tired, and 9:30 was approaching.  Why not go to bed at a descent time?  I ask myself this nearly every night.  I asked him to wait until I got ready for bed and I'd come right back.

I returned quickly and scooped him up and took him into our bed, next to Bodhi, who was soundly asleep.  We told a story, and just when we were getting ready to shut off the light, he asked, "Want to play the answer game?"   I knew it was another way to prolong going to sleep, but I was intrigued by this game.  The most special moments happen when you least expect it.  I also know what it feels like to not be super tired and be laying in bed with an active mind.  "Sure.  We can play it for a little while.  What's the answer game?"

Z said, "Okay.  Here's the answer game.  You give me all of your answers, and I will give you all of my answers."

I smiled in the dark.  "Well, do you want to ask me a question?"

"No.  Just give me all your answers.  You have more answers than me."

I laughed.  "Well, you're pretty smart and you have a lot of answers too!  Usually, when you ask a question, someone can give you an answer.  How about you ask me a question."

I thought, you really do have as many answers as me, about the important stuff.  All the rest will fall in place, when you're ready, sweet boy.

"Well, you have more answers than me.  Okay.  What's steam?"  We had been talking about steam lately.  It started when we put an ice cube in some hot soup a while back and he said it was smoking.  We've also been doing a lot of science experiments lately.

"Steam is water vapor.  When hot meets cold, the water steams, and rises like smoke.  It's like when we put a piece of ice in hot soup."

He listened, asked a few more questions about steam and smoke, then told me to ask one.

"What animal do you love?"

"Shadow.  She's my friend.  And P. Pat."

We each asked a few more questions, then he seemed happy and more relaxed.  We fell asleep shortly after.

He always amazes me.  I love his games and questions.  I love his imagination.  I love to know what he is thinking.  I love to listen to him.  I love to learn what meant something to him, and what he remembers.  I love that he is a sponge, and it reminds me to watch every single thing I do and say.  I love watching his mind and heart expand.  I love to see his eyes open.  I love to see creation stirring.  I love the beginner's mind in action.

I also think it's sweet and cute how he thinks I have so many answers and trusts me to know everything.  I will always answer his questions, or we find an answer.  It's such an amazing journey with children, learning and growing together.

I am eternally grateful for my little teachers.

Perfect Fit

It's amazing how mamas and babes' bodies are built to fit one another.

No matter how I carry Bodhi, he fits perfectly in my arms or on my chest.  They are meant to be close to us.

During the day, when Bodhi calls for milk by tapping or biting at my chest, I scoop him up and his little head nests in my arm as our bellies connect.  The bigger he gets, the longer his legs extend, but our bellies, heart, and breath are always connected.  

He gazes up at me, and around the room, as I push the hair out of his eyes and we reach for each others hands.  His tiny fingers touch mine, sometimes seeking a pinch of the boob or a grab of my mouth.  Then he smiles, and his eyes light up and we laugh.

Every night when I snuggle up to Bodhi to nurse him to sleep, I am amazed at how his little head fits perfectly under my arm, like a mama bird tucking her babe under her wing.

His warm little belly presses up against mine.  Our breath rising and falling, intertwined peacefully.  One heart, in two bodies, beating next to one another.

That extra fat below my belly seems to be there for a purpose -to give him a cushion, which his knees push inward, wrapping around my tuft of belly perfectly.

I rise out of bed when I hear his breath slow and his grip loosen or let go.

When I turn in for the night, I lay down and he automatically reaches for the boob, where we fall asleep together.  Connected and comfortable.

It's up to him how long this ritual lasts, but every time is as special as the next.

It's pure love and comfort.  A perfect fit.

Mama and her little nestling.

Listen

Yesterday was an epic, repetitive battle of the butting of heads for me and Z.

It began when I woke up and realized I forgot to buy coffee for the morning.  That's pretty much a tragedy, which started the whole day off on the wrong foot.  (Damn you, coffee addiction.)  It didn't help that Z just wanted to mess with Bodhi while I fixed the snack they wanted, which pretty much nixed me doing any morning Yoga at all.  Strike two for me.  I had to almost drag Z into the truck for a coffee run.

As soon as I had my warm soothing sweet mocha in my hands, I asked Z if we could start our day over.  By then I guess I had been so much of a jerk, that his reply was an automatic and stink-eyed, "No."  I took responsibility for my jerkishness and decided I wasn't going to let our day continue like that.

I am not quite sure where things went wrong, but through out the day, we kept butting heads.

He'd knock Bodhi down while looking me in the eye.  I'd respond all wrong.  He'd do it again and I'd yell.  He wouldn't get ready for the pool.  I threatened not to go.  Wrong, just wrong.  Over and over.

My poor mom was there to witness our mini-epic battles of our wills.  She had packed such a beautiful lunch in a cooler for our pool trip, so I was determined to go enjoy the day.  Attitude be damned.  Or so I thought.

We got to the pool, and being 100 degrees outside, I was hot and flustered and still annoyed.  At least I'd have help and he'd get to play with Grandma, while I wandered around with Bodhi.

I swear, between the heat, and our strong-willed nature Z and I were just not seeing eye to eye.  It's supposed to be me who lets it go and does the right thing.  You know, the whole "be the change you want to see" attitude.

The whistle blew and it was time for a break.  He knocked his brother down for the last time, I had decided.  I took the opportunity to pack our stuff up and leave.  We'd been there for hours, enjoyed our picnic, Daddy was about home, and honestly I was done.  He didn't want to leave.  By then I was afraid if I didn't go the day would end worse than it began.

We got to the truck, and he started saying bad words, just to piss me off.  I responded by screaming at him.  I was so angry I didn't care.  It wasn't about power, it was about pure unadulterated anger, seething, with the hundred degree weather adding to the steam under my collar.  We yelled in the truck as my mom tried to make the peace.  I almost wanted to yell a her to stay out of it, but I looked back and saw her heart breaking.  By then, all thoughts of peace were a distant memory.  I decided to try and be quiet.

Gladly, the ride home gave me some time to simmer down a little.  I promised him food, we sat down to eat.  Grandma headed out and I took the boys to the bath.  By then, I was trying my hardest not to be fake, but also not to be a jerk, so I said as little as possible.  He felt me, steaming, and didn't even mess with his brother until we got out of the bath.  I asked him to sit in his room, okay, I made him, before I lost it again.  I was determined for us to cool off.

Finally, he came downstairs, and I went to take his brother to bed.  The whole time, I was dreading putting him to bed.  Then I walked out of the room and saw that Daddy had beat me to begin putting him to bed.  Whew.

He called for me to read him a story.  I decided to take my armor off and surrender.  I lay down and we made eye contact.  We both felt the sting of our tired defeat.

I asked him, "What happened today?  How can we make this better?  What did I do wrong?  Be honest.  Tell me the truth, please."

He replied very quietly, "You didn't listen to me."

I asked if he could tell me how.

"You make me drink water when I'm not thirsty.  You made me go when I didn't want to go."

Tears swelled in my eyes.  He was right.  Not only did I not listen to him most of the day, I didn't trust him to meet his needs.  I wasn't showing him respect, and he wasn't showing it to me.  Many moments of how I didn't listen flashed in my mind.  (Well, besides it being a hundred degrees, and wanting him to drink water, that was a talk for another time.)

I asked him if we could hug and kiss and start our day over today, and tomorrow.  He smiled, hugged me tight, kissed me, and all the frustration melted away.  I should've done this earlier, I thought, but anger can get the best of me sometimes.

I told him, "Let's work on using the word listen with each other.  If I'm not listening, please remind me.  If you're not listening, I will remind you.  Let's make it that simple.  Okay?"

"Yes."

We picked up A Light in the Attic, and read poetry until his eyes got heavy.  We said goodnight, and I sang and tickled him to sleep.  By then, I wasn't angry, but felt remorse.  I watched him sleep a while before I slipped downstairs to watch a movie with Daddy.

Today is a new day, and we've begun again.  We've already reminded each other to listen, and I've written the word on my hand.

The least I can do is listen, and really pay attention to him, and my anger when it arises, and let it burn off appropriately.

I am grateful for his honesty.  I am grateful that we can talk.  I am grateful for this beautiful growing boy, that teaches me to pay attention and listen, even if it takes me all day.

What Gets My Attention?

I have to pick myself up and dust myself off.  Sometimes, again and again.

I've been in a funk lately and having a hard time pulling myself out of it.

There's no time like now to ask myself what needs to change.  Some things take a ton of my time, some only a little, but lots of little things can add up to a lot!

Lately, most days I feel pulled in a hundred different directions and spreading myself thin.  I'm not a great multi-tasker.  It does no one any good.  How can anyone give their full attention to more than one thing?  It's hard with two children.  Harder than I ever imagined.

I also get overwhelmed when I think of all the different hats that I wear.  Sometimes I feel like I'm wearing 20 hats at once.  That's enough weight to pull anyone down.

I am working hard, paying attention to where my energy goes and what matters.  If I add the right things to my plate the rest won't fit.

Noticing it is the first step...

I'm pretty good about following my daily rituals.  My little pauses bring such gratitude to our day.

I'm always learning how to connect with and guide Z, and Bodhi, and give my full attention.

I'm trying to breathe and think before I speak or yell.  Sometimes it happens so fast!

I'm getting my butt on the cushion every day.  Even if my name is called, I figure five minutes is better than no minutes.

I want to make a little art or create something fun everyday, with myself and with Z.

I'm slowly taking more time for myself here and there.

I'm slowly learning how to ask for help.

I'm slowly learning how to let go more and more of the things that don't matter.

I'm slowly diving further into the things and people that do matter.

I'm slowly learning how to let go of others' judgements, sooner than later.

I'm unsubscribing more and more.

I'm checking Facebook and e-mail less and less.  

I'm leaving my phone inside or in the other room.

I'm stopping reading so many damn parenting articles.  (By the way, up yours, Time Magazine.  I am just a mama.)

I'm going back to reading more offline than online.

I write only when I have something to say to or remind myself.

I want to write more letters.

I want to journal more.

I'm thinking about who I spend my time with.

I'm working out ways to spend more time with each of the boys alone.

I'm thinking about how to spend some time alone with Daddy.  I can't even remember the last time we hung out without the kids.

I'm my harshest critic and I need to be more kind to myself.

In the words of the beautiful Karen Maezen Miller, "Attention is the most concrete expression of love.  What you pay attention to thrives.  What you do not pay attention to withers and dies."  

What are you paying attention to?