Tonight as Holdyn was beginning to succumb to slumber for the very first time in a very long time he gazed so, so deeply into my eyes. I could feel my heart swelling to his beautiful gaze, and then a tender caress of my face by his slender 3 yr old fingers just melted me. Since the day he was born my breast, my arms have been his main source for food & comfort...now at 3 he nurses a few times a day...and I can sense his self weaning will soon lead to just a snuggle in the night. When I take the time right now, to reflect upon the likely 1000's of times he has nursed and we have been so close, loving each other and slowing down to just be together I am so humbled. How darling, how precious, how fortunate to spend this special time together for as long as we both feel the need.
In this nearly 23rd week of pregnancy (surprise!) for the 3rd time...I continue to nurse my toddler, which at times is a challenge due to my own discomfort because my breasts are so sensitive (more at night than in the day!), I still find nursing an older child valuable for so many reasons, but more than anything, at this time and place, it is such a beautiful mothering tool to help check in with my toddler, to help sooth and or smooth some rough feelings and to reset and start over.
Truth be told, I don't know how much milk is present at this stage of pregnancy...but as we discussed at the last local LLL meeting, it's not about the milk anymore (though the antibodies are a huge plus!!!), it's about the relationship that I have with Holdyn...an incredibly close relationship that grows deeper and deeper every day.
I fucking LOVE my boya.
Monday, October 17, 2011
Thursday, March 03, 2011
Maybe the quiet space here has been so quiet because it seems impossible that 4 years have passed...so quickly. I can't wrap my head around it, nor have I been able to muster up the tears that are right there at the edges of my eyes. My eyes well up and then, I don't know. As I was telling a close friend who asked about how I was feeling about today...I WANT to go THERE. To THAT space in my mind, within the emotions that still stir there. I WANT TO FEEL the pain, the despair, the darkness. I want this for myself because it brings me backwards, it brings me back to her. Back to those moments when we had her body still there with us. We had here there, in the hospital room where we could gaze upon her beautiful face, hands, finger, toes and touch her soft skin...her hair. All of this was so important, it is still important. No, I don't want to avoid those hard places, I want to welcome them back and feel them fully. But, with these years comes a softening of one's heart, with the blessing of a miracle, a sweet subsequent one who made it here earthside, my heart has welcomed the softness.
And so I will open her "memory box" today. I will touch the small tiny fingernails, the small whisps of her strawberry blonde hair and I will look through the collection of photographs.
Birdie o Birdie we love you so! More and more with each passing year.
We love you, we miss you.
Twinkle bright my little star, watch Holdyn from afar.
And so I will open her "memory box" today. I will touch the small tiny fingernails, the small whisps of her strawberry blonde hair and I will look through the collection of photographs.
Birdie o Birdie we love you so! More and more with each passing year.
We love you, we miss you.
Twinkle bright my little star, watch Holdyn from afar.
Saturday, February 05, 2011
Thoughts on My Mothering Journey (as I embark upon the journey to become a LLL Leader)
My mothering journey began nearly four years ago on March 3, 2007 when my first child, Birdie was born still after a 24 hour labor at home (for a planned homebirth) turned emergency and an emergent c-section to try to save her life. I had read so much about breastfeeding on various natural birth blogs, breastfeeding blogs, the Sears books…I knew that it was going to be right for me and my baby and for our family. Then, after the death of our daughter, when her milk came in and immediate steps were taken to make the milk go away, something within me awoke, even at the beginning of my grief journey, something deep inside my soul drove me to believe that someday I would have a living child to nurse, someday the precious milk my body was very capable of making would nourish a living child.
It was around day four after arriving home from the hospital with no baby that I noticed that there was some milk present and quietly pooling within my breasts, it leaked just enough that I reluctantly and desperately opened the package of “organic nursing” pads that I had received as a gift at our baby shower months before my due date. (Baby shower’s to me now feel very uncomfortable until one’s baby is in fact earthside, alive & breathing)
I was told not to take a shower that would be too hot, that the hot water if it got upon my breasts could cause the milk to come out. I headed this warning, though there were a few times when in my deep grief I stopped caring if the milk poured forth and made damn sure that my breasts, my nipples felt the hot water. I wanted to know what my babies milk would have looked like, what did it feel like? Taste like? I can remember the homebirth midwives telling me “ You look like a milky mama”. I felt that I was meant to be too, with all the weight I had put on. Pre-pregnancy my body is petite/slender 115lbs, during pregnancy I put on 60-70lbs. As it turns out, I grow really big babies! Birdie was 9 lbs 5 oz and 22 inches long! So, I can only guess how her milk would have nourished her to grow and gain quickly.
Losing Birdie lead me to lose myself for a time. I became very enthralled in the darkness of my grief. For a long time I couldn’t stand to be near pregnant women, babies, families. It all made me sick. I turned inwards, I let go of my hopes, my dreams to be that natural, lovely breastfeeding mama that I had envisioned for those 9 months. My world was turned upside down, my heart shattered into millions of pieces, my soul blackened, and my hair began to gray. For a long time, it was all too much. So, I stepped away, but I started to “journal” or “blog” about my very different mothering experience. It was all I could do most days, for months but to write out what was inside my heart, my heart that still held a beat, but probably skipped from time to time when all I could do was think about how much I loved and missed my girl so desperately.
(more to come)
My mothering journey began nearly four years ago on March 3, 2007 when my first child, Birdie was born still after a 24 hour labor at home (for a planned homebirth) turned emergency and an emergent c-section to try to save her life. I had read so much about breastfeeding on various natural birth blogs, breastfeeding blogs, the Sears books…I knew that it was going to be right for me and my baby and for our family. Then, after the death of our daughter, when her milk came in and immediate steps were taken to make the milk go away, something within me awoke, even at the beginning of my grief journey, something deep inside my soul drove me to believe that someday I would have a living child to nurse, someday the precious milk my body was very capable of making would nourish a living child.
It was around day four after arriving home from the hospital with no baby that I noticed that there was some milk present and quietly pooling within my breasts, it leaked just enough that I reluctantly and desperately opened the package of “organic nursing” pads that I had received as a gift at our baby shower months before my due date. (Baby shower’s to me now feel very uncomfortable until one’s baby is in fact earthside, alive & breathing)
I was told not to take a shower that would be too hot, that the hot water if it got upon my breasts could cause the milk to come out. I headed this warning, though there were a few times when in my deep grief I stopped caring if the milk poured forth and made damn sure that my breasts, my nipples felt the hot water. I wanted to know what my babies milk would have looked like, what did it feel like? Taste like? I can remember the homebirth midwives telling me “ You look like a milky mama”. I felt that I was meant to be too, with all the weight I had put on. Pre-pregnancy my body is petite/slender 115lbs, during pregnancy I put on 60-70lbs. As it turns out, I grow really big babies! Birdie was 9 lbs 5 oz and 22 inches long! So, I can only guess how her milk would have nourished her to grow and gain quickly.
Losing Birdie lead me to lose myself for a time. I became very enthralled in the darkness of my grief. For a long time I couldn’t stand to be near pregnant women, babies, families. It all made me sick. I turned inwards, I let go of my hopes, my dreams to be that natural, lovely breastfeeding mama that I had envisioned for those 9 months. My world was turned upside down, my heart shattered into millions of pieces, my soul blackened, and my hair began to gray. For a long time, it was all too much. So, I stepped away, but I started to “journal” or “blog” about my very different mothering experience. It was all I could do most days, for months but to write out what was inside my heart, my heart that still held a beat, but probably skipped from time to time when all I could do was think about how much I loved and missed my girl so desperately.
(more to come)
Monday, January 31, 2011
"Mortal beings. We are here but for a moment. We disturb the waters with our presence, rings round us form…… like a stone thrown in. When we leave this dimension…soon the water smooths and it is as if we were never here."
My dear blog friend Mere Mortal Mama recently wrote a post about death and mortality that has been sticking with me, prompting my last post regarding my feelings of isolation and foreboding. The quote above came from her papa who commented on her post. His response is beautiful and loving.
---------------------------------
There is so much stirring within me, most prevalent are thoughts death (of course). Dark as this might sound to some who don't know me well enough to understand why I think of death, and in some ways feel a kinship/comfortableness with death. How could I not? I was "there" when my baby "flew" from my being, and I felt her slip away, she helped me to see her flight and gently guided me back to my body.
Some do not know that I almost left this earthly life with my little bird. For I saw a light, a bright white light, and I could feel my mind flashing backward and forward. I was scared, but also comforted...and then I took a breath, and then...
I awakened into silence. No living breathing baby. Only a still, silent baby (still pink and warm from birth).
Nearly 4 years out everything about this horrific experience reels within me. However, I can sit with death and feel comfortable with it (maybe because I believe in reincarnation?). It is this comfortableness that I try to think about and live as fully as I am able. Lately though, things have become emotionally jumbled/confused around here and it clouds my judgment at times causing me to question myself much more than I usually do.
But when I look at Holdyn and his beautiful FULL explorations of life/thoughts/movements/creativity/Joy I rejoice in his every moment, his every breath. He is just so FREE! I want to be that free. To let go of all this stuff in my head and just BE.
My dear blog friend Mere Mortal Mama recently wrote a post about death and mortality that has been sticking with me, prompting my last post regarding my feelings of isolation and foreboding. The quote above came from her papa who commented on her post. His response is beautiful and loving.
---------------------------------
There is so much stirring within me, most prevalent are thoughts death (of course). Dark as this might sound to some who don't know me well enough to understand why I think of death, and in some ways feel a kinship/comfortableness with death. How could I not? I was "there" when my baby "flew" from my being, and I felt her slip away, she helped me to see her flight and gently guided me back to my body.
Some do not know that I almost left this earthly life with my little bird. For I saw a light, a bright white light, and I could feel my mind flashing backward and forward. I was scared, but also comforted...and then I took a breath, and then...
I awakened into silence. No living breathing baby. Only a still, silent baby (still pink and warm from birth).
Nearly 4 years out everything about this horrific experience reels within me. However, I can sit with death and feel comfortable with it (maybe because I believe in reincarnation?). It is this comfortableness that I try to think about and live as fully as I am able. Lately though, things have become emotionally jumbled/confused around here and it clouds my judgment at times causing me to question myself much more than I usually do.
But when I look at Holdyn and his beautiful FULL explorations of life/thoughts/movements/creativity/Joy I rejoice in his every moment, his every breath. He is just so FREE! I want to be that free. To let go of all this stuff in my head and just BE.
Friday, January 28, 2011
isolation.
These last 10 days or so have been filled with much tension and isolation as we received an enormous amount of snow, were then without the papa of the house for 5 days and I was the only active parent. It was intense, but we made it through (and it went much better than anticipated).
But still we are isolated. There has been an sense of foreboding in this house as of late between the adults in the house. It feels as if this winter is suffocating our abilities to speak in coherent sentences to each other.
Of course it’s not only the snow piled up around our doors that brings us to the place of isolation, it’s also the lingering of death. Where almost 4 years ago, death was creeping, making it’s way (secretly) to our doorstep.
It’s heavy. Death is heavy in my heart…I am remembering these last days of my life nearly 4 years ago. I am reminded of my immortality. Everyday, I am reminded. So quickly we can go from such joy and certainty to such dark sorrow, such tremendous loss. So quickly our hearts can become shattered and our lives violently shaken and spun.
We are merely mortal. We are not forever. We are here for a time, then we are gone.
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
Sunday, January 16, 2011
I cannot find the right, appropriate words to express my confusion, anger and sorrow for the tragic sudden death of our former midwife's son. When I spoke over the phone with Matt (who is away on a film shoot) about the death of T's son, he was beside himself. We are both beside ourselves, and I want to claw my way to her and cradle her in my arms the way that she cradled me and loved me after Birdie died. I am left with a tremendous feeling of guilt for having pushed her away after so many months. Things just got too hard, and she had been too close to what happened. I knew damn well the good person, the beautiful woman, the good friend that I shut out. It was just too hard, and I was furious that she could continue on helping mama's give birth to their babies safely at home. Too close. It was all too much.
When I found T on FB I friended her, and casually would say hello. Curious about her, and her lovely family who live out in the beauty of nature. I wondered about her, pondered making plans, but never followed through. I was scared.
About a month or so ago, I was looking through photos on her FB profile to "check in", to see how her children had grown. I commented about how beautiful her daughter is, with an offer to photograph her and her daughter. Never hearing a reply, I figured she was not interested.
This last thursday, when I learned of her son's death, I was so caught off guard and realized how much of her life I had missed out on these nearly 4 years.
What can I do for her? It's like I am a stranger with this distance of time.
Fuck, I remember so clearly EVERYTHING that she did for us. She stayed by us, she stayed by us.
When I found T on FB I friended her, and casually would say hello. Curious about her, and her lovely family who live out in the beauty of nature. I wondered about her, pondered making plans, but never followed through. I was scared.
About a month or so ago, I was looking through photos on her FB profile to "check in", to see how her children had grown. I commented about how beautiful her daughter is, with an offer to photograph her and her daughter. Never hearing a reply, I figured she was not interested.
This last thursday, when I learned of her son's death, I was so caught off guard and realized how much of her life I had missed out on these nearly 4 years.
What can I do for her? It's like I am a stranger with this distance of time.
Fuck, I remember so clearly EVERYTHING that she did for us. She stayed by us, she stayed by us.
Thursday, January 13, 2011
There's a Zephyr Moon Tonight.
When I heard the terrible news on this 13th day of January I was stunned, instantly numb and confused. Someone whom had been such an intimate participant in the birth of our Birdie, someone who really and truly with all of her heart and soul understood us in our journey to give birth...and then after Birdie's death she stayed by our side trying to make sense of all that had transpired. She never left our side...until it was too hard for us all.
Today, we learned the terrible news that her son had died unexpectedly. Her sweet and talented Zephyr.
So tonight I am filled with thoughts of her, a loving mama who's son has left this earthly life too soon. Tonight I hold thoughts of her Zephyr so closely to my heart. Sweet mama, I am crying warm tears of love for your loss. I am so sorry, my heart is open and ready to embrace you when the time is right. All love to you and your family.
There's a Zephyr Moon Tonight.
When I heard the terrible news on this 13th day of January I was stunned, instantly numb and confused. Someone whom had been such an intimate participant in the birth of our Birdie, someone who really and truly with all of her heart and soul understood us in our journey to give birth...and then after Birdie's death she stayed by our side trying to make sense of all that had transpired. She never left our side...until it was too hard for us all.
Today, we learned the terrible news that her son had died unexpectedly. Her sweet and talented Zephyr.
So tonight I am filled with thoughts of her, a loving mama who's son has left this earthly life too soon. Tonight I hold thoughts of her Zephyr so closely to my heart. Sweet mama, I am crying warm tears of love for your loss. I am so sorry, my heart is open and ready to embrace you when the time is right. All love to you and your family.
There's a Zephyr Moon Tonight.
Tuesday, January 04, 2011
In Absence Of So Much
It's become a terrible habit of mine, leaving this blog silent for too long. The stretches of time in between my writings harp upon me every single day, yet still I have been finding it most difficult to return to this place. A place that has been so therapeutic for my heart and mind...
So much has been happening in our house, our sweet little devine one is becoming a little boy. At 2 he is nothing short of amazing (he has ALWAYS been amazing to us!), he has mastered the english language, truly, seriously, to listen to him speak blows our minds! Holdyn had some kind of epiphany of sorts back at the end of October where he was riding his (borrowed) trike around the house full speed back and forth and all at once began sputtering off words and sentences and it sounded like his brain was exploding!
It seems that every few weeks, sometimes months Holdyn seems to turn another corner, his horizons expand and her personality blossoms even more beautifully.
I am inspired by the beauty and curiousity of his heart.
For a good long time now after Holdyn's birth I have been riding the "high" of the miracle that was his birth. Only recently have I started to stumble a bit, feeling ashamed of my failures to continue to write regularly of my first little sunshine, my bird.
I harbor great guilt within me, that I have begun to not forget her...but then again yes, "forget" her. My bird is not at the forefront, my grief, our loss of her, her death...I STILL need to feel that darkness, my heart shattered, my body numb and useless.
It's become a habit that I don't take time for myself anymore, to read (loss blogs), to write in this space, to just sit and meditate, to just be in a quite space. More than anything I wish to, but more times than not I end up sitting in front of this computer watching TV to space out and melt my brain. This didn't used to be like me, but now it's become a habit that tonight, FINALLY I am forcing myself to break.
And now that I am starting to spill my beans...I am getting exhausted!
It's become a terrible habit of mine, leaving this blog silent for too long. The stretches of time in between my writings harp upon me every single day, yet still I have been finding it most difficult to return to this place. A place that has been so therapeutic for my heart and mind...
So much has been happening in our house, our sweet little devine one is becoming a little boy. At 2 he is nothing short of amazing (he has ALWAYS been amazing to us!), he has mastered the english language, truly, seriously, to listen to him speak blows our minds! Holdyn had some kind of epiphany of sorts back at the end of October where he was riding his (borrowed) trike around the house full speed back and forth and all at once began sputtering off words and sentences and it sounded like his brain was exploding!
It seems that every few weeks, sometimes months Holdyn seems to turn another corner, his horizons expand and her personality blossoms even more beautifully.
I am inspired by the beauty and curiousity of his heart.
For a good long time now after Holdyn's birth I have been riding the "high" of the miracle that was his birth. Only recently have I started to stumble a bit, feeling ashamed of my failures to continue to write regularly of my first little sunshine, my bird.
I harbor great guilt within me, that I have begun to not forget her...but then again yes, "forget" her. My bird is not at the forefront, my grief, our loss of her, her death...I STILL need to feel that darkness, my heart shattered, my body numb and useless.
It's become a habit that I don't take time for myself anymore, to read (loss blogs), to write in this space, to just sit and meditate, to just be in a quite space. More than anything I wish to, but more times than not I end up sitting in front of this computer watching TV to space out and melt my brain. This didn't used to be like me, but now it's become a habit that tonight, FINALLY I am forcing myself to break.
And now that I am starting to spill my beans...I am getting exhausted!
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