Treasured teacher I pray to you, give me the energy to let go of self-fixation, give me the energy to be free of need, give me the energy to stop ordinary thinking, give me energy to know that mind has no beginning and no end, give me energy to let confusion and ignorance subside in its own, give me energy to know that all experience is pure being.

(prayer from the Tibetan foundational practices)

Many Say It But Few Really Mean It

It takes a sudden traumatic experience to really feel close to the reality of death, and to truly, truly behold the fragility of life. To really grasp how fast our lives, and life can stop, how in an instant it can just end...quietly. The very recent death of a friends child, her sweet baby has brought me right back to this reality of life. This dear mama, who knew she would not have sweet bliss to kiss and kiss and kiss her babes warm lips. She carried her precious one, knowing he would not survive to live and breathe.

To those who have never walked this path...the path that has lead to bittersweet loss, baby and child loss...you can not know what this cliff of death and darkness feels like. You can assume to know, but you can't ever truly know. I wish I didn't know this path, or that dark, steep cliff...and then the silent place. The motionless child who's pink lips change to a deep hue of blue, then to black. The weight of my motionless, lifeless lovely girl... Only those who have faced this reality, this truth, the flip side of innocent everyday life, only we can really know how damn precious each and every moment of living is. I have come to know too many ways of pregnancy loss, I know far too many who have lost. It's so damn hard for me to meet an innocent pregnant woman sometimes, I always feel like I want to protect her from what "could possibly" happen to her baby. Feeling the need to implore her to not take anything about their pregnancy or her baby for granted, because, the reality is as many of us know, you may not get to take your baby home with you.

So much has been happening around here in our home. Difficulty and struggle, growing and changing...the waxing and waning of feelings and emotions. Truth is, when it comes down to the miniscule moments, it is always with me that things could just STOP. At any time, my heart could stop beating. At any time, this reality that we have come to know...5 years after Birdie's death could just suddenly cease.

We all get so damn used to what we "think" is our reality. Forgetting that we are just energy, we are just water and skin...here on this precious earth. We have built up our cities and towns, we merge everyday with the "realities" of others. We cross the street, we walk, stepping, stepping. Lifting one foot, then the other as we daydream about that delicious cup of coffee. We don't really stop to think, to really be in each moment. We don't stop to look up at the sky, to watch clouds pass overhead, to watch the way the birds search for worms along the ground. We don't just stop to experience our lives, our realities...

It's a struggle, to stop and slow down. We are moving too fast in this life.

In no way do I mean to imply that I am perfect at this either, but I try really damn hard to stop, to look around at the world, to look up at the sky, to really LIVE my life.


So, how can you really, truly know how precious life is, if you have never held a lifeless child in your arms? I don't know that you can.

Orri, this new babe from the land of miracles is now 10 weeks! WTF! How did we get here. Every week, at least a few people ask how old the babe is and it stuns me all over again. The weeks since his birth are going by so swiftly, it's like the pages of a book, the story of Orri are just turning, and turning before I get to read all the words on the page of "Week 9", and "Week 10".

SLOOOOOOOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWWWWWWWW DOWN!

Time stood still when Holdyn was born. I encased myself in a protective mama shell, and at first glance of my miracle was so high of him that for nearly a year I never came down from that high.

Of course life for us this time around is different, life with two living littles just moves along...not that it is rushed, or fast paced...it just moves in a way that allows less space for mama to take it all in sometimes, I mean really take it all in. I crave that space, I want to study every inch of this new babe's face, as I did with his big brother.

The first few weeks after Orri's birth were difficult for me. I was happy, but I also became incredibly sad on many occasions. It didn't help that Matt was not super sensitive nor understanding of my emotions. I couldn't control my feeling so blue. At times I was beside myself, and it was terribly hard to appreciate the gift I had been given, another living, breathing, beautiful baby. I felt so low, so terribly sad, lost, blah.

Fortunately, I has built around me a fortress (community) of incredible, supportive, loving mamas (and their families), and they came to my rescue. These amazing women, fed us and checked in with us those first weeks following the birth. What a blessing. I can't ever thank these beautiful loving women enough.

Now, 10 weeks out. Here we are. It's way too late for me to be awake, but Orri sleeps contentedly upon my chest, where he spends most of his days and nights. I wouldn't have it any other way. It feels like my truth to have him there, listening to my heart, so close to my breast, breathing in my smell. He like his brother is so happy to be in this space of my body...a fourth trimester.

There is a new little miracle here in our house. New joy, new love and new light.

Welcome Orri Kennedy! We LOVE you!

Orri, was born February 6th 2012 at 1:47 pm.

The labor was so intense, it slowly began around 2:30am and really amped up around 9am, by 10am I was MOOOOOOOOING like a cow to get through the contractions, by 11am we were heading out the door on our way to the birth center. After a nearly 12 hour trial of labor (I was planning a VBA2C) Orri was born via C-section (there were decels that indicated a possible cord compression), and you know I wouldn't mess around with that (and the cord was wrapped around his neck!), and I was only at 4 cm's with the contractions coming one after the other. It was so wild! He cried as soon as he emerged from me, he was SO alert, so beautiful...he was put right onto my chest and hasn't really ever left. Which is as it should be. (more details of Orri's birth to come)

It's time I start writing again...because it still brings me healing and it forces me to document my current parenting journey.

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.

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.

4 yrs.

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)

"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.

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.

In Vigil.
















many lights, hands, hearts and loving kindness for Zephyr's family.

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.

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.

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!

Her Milk.
(part 2)

Yes. YES. YES it would have been OK.

It would have been absolutely OK to have gently compressed my breast to release a single drop of colostrum. To watch it slowly come forth and then slowly release and drop upon her darkened lips...

Maybe there would have been, could have been some magical elixir within the properties of her milk to revive her stopped heart, something that science would not ever be able to explain to ever so gently rock and palpitate her blood...rushing surges of the life giving milk that was meant only for her. Perhaps as her mama, with the milk coming into my breasts there could have been a glimmer of miracle milk!

Many who know me now, as I am, as a Mama to my living child know of my loss but I don't know that they are fully aware or think about this part of my loss. I don't know that many people who knew me then, friend or family even gave a thought to the additional loss that losing Birdie's milk felt like. It was a double heart break, a second shattering of the future.

In hindsight it feels as though the importance of her milk was completely ignored because "they" were scared of allowing it to come. I don't know that I was. I don't know that I really thought about it until those around me were trying so many things to get it to cease.

NOW. I want her milk back. I want her milk to rush in, I want to know what that first experience of engorgement. I want her milk back.

OK. So, now that I have gotten here, now that I am in this head space knowing what I now know about Mama Milk and the MAGIC it really does behold I can share that there is a glimmer, a whisper of Birdie's milk that is still present, it is present every single time that Holdyn nurses from my breasts...as after each birth of a baby the Mama's breasts lay down more Oxytocin receptors. So, when I think about the loss of being able to nurse her, the loss of her milk coming forth, it comes forth now for her little brother and in a very generous way even now 2 years after his miraculous birth...her milk is here now in harmony with his milk.

Her Milk.
(part one)

I have been thinking about Birdie's milk a lot as my nursing relationship with Holdyn so lovingly continues on it's path. I have been thinking about Birdie's milk more after I took part in a SHARE parent panel that was speaking about baby loss to hospital staff/nurses/doctors/doula's etc. a few weeks ago. While I always truly love to speak of my bird, of course speaking about the experience of the events leading up to her death brings so much to the surface...emotions that now 3 years later, as Mama to a living child are quited a little.

It has been a long time coming for me to really speak to this. As I sit here now, quite in my home, on the couch...I think hard back to the talk, the chatter around me, the almost rush to protect me from the milk that would come. My little bird's milk, HER MILK. Milk that she couldn't suckle to remove from my breasts, and milk that I was encouraged to almost immediately to slow from coming if not stop it from coming. I asked one time if maybe I should donate my milk to help another, I was gently discouraged from this.

I wish that I had not been. I wish that I would have been told that that would be OK. I wish that our midwives/nurses/doctor would have had information about milk donation after a baby dies. In addition to the more than 100 photographs that we were blessed to be given by NILMDTS, donating Birdie's milk would have been an additional way to heal. It's only in hindsight that I see how cathartic it would have been.

I can remember the mention of Sage tea as a sort of "prescription" that I would drink to keep my milk at bay, or slow it down. Cabbage and cabbage leaves were in abundance in our hospital room, it was incredibly devastating to have Matt be in charge of making sure that I had cold cabbage on my breasts, changing cabbage leaves numerous times a day for many days. It was beyond sad and devastating to have done this.

I wish I had just let the milk come in as it should have, as it was meant to be there filling my breasts, ready to pour forth to my sweet smelling newborn.

But there was no baby to suckle at my breasts, no baby to give this incredible living food too. No.

I wish that I would have held strong to my instinct to see my breasts fill, to allow my body to feel what would have been, I SO badly wanted to see what my milk looked like, would it have poured forth as I took a scalding hot shower after scalding hot shower? Would it have been creamy white? Yellow?

Would it have been OK to squeeze some colostrum out and into her mouth...?

YES. YES. It would have been OK.

2 Years

My boy, sweet snuggly delicious little Holdyn is now a 2 year old.

How did we get here? I can still feel the surge of adrenaline and hormones rushing through my body when I recall his birth. I can still feel that insanely intense pull for want of my baby to be right there with me as his lungs were quickly checked by the pediatrician immediately after birth...I can feel that rushing of tears, hot tears, tears of joy, tears of a most tremendous love for the baby that lived, our baby. Our MIRACLE, our Holdyn.

This tremendous boy, this bright, compassionate and empathetic boy, he has grown. I see the evidence of who he will become. I am passionately and patiently encouraging a child of wonder and joy...the freedom of exploration is molding him into a beautiful person, a self reliant and self confident boy. He is a lover of nature, of animals, of books of music. Surely, Holdyn is nothing short of AMAZING.

There is so much love poured into each day with my boy. There is the tremendous love that I have for him, and in addition the tremendous love for my Birdie. All of this love is just so huge that my words here will never properly be able to express or describe the true nature and size of the love that I behold for Holdyn.

Does this make any sense? What I want to say is that because of my loss, because of my first experience as a mama that I feel a doubling or layering of love for my boy. There was so much love that I never got to give to my girl...

Oh, my Holdyn my beloved one. You are so trusting of yourself, and of your world. To watch you play and experiment in nature is so very heartwarming and lovely. Your curiosity is so free and seemingly endless. You are teaching me so much, you are teaching me to follow my curiousities and re-embrace creative endevours...your gentle way, your gentle soul makes me want to be a better person and strive to become only the best most gentle mama that I can.

Your ability to speak in complete sentences is remarkable, you can count 1 to 10 (and then some), you can say the AbC's (which you do randomly at your leisure)...you recite humpty dumpty and little miss muffett among other nursery rymes and snippets from books and songs. Your intelligence is very apparent and reafirrming to me that simple choices we have made in raising you are being realized through your nature, your personality, your bright starlit way about you.

You speak of your sister, you speak of her in gentle ways...
At random you spoke of her a few weeks ago, "Birdie died" you repeated slowly and lovingly as we cooked dinner together. My heart melted as you spoke those words, and then we talked for a bit about Birdie.

You are a wise soul. You are my world Holdyn (of course Papa is too!), but without you here, now, I don't know who I would be...if I don't know how I would have been able to carry on with the weight of your sisters death. You, little you, you have brought great healing and joy to our family. You are a miracle of life, you are a wonder that I will forever ponder, and I will continue to snuggle and nuzzle you as a mama bear would her cub for as long as you will let me. I love you forever sweet Holdyn, you are my greatest wish come true.

Happy 2nd Birthday my love.
Mama

The Magic Castle

Summer Love 2010

My Living Heart.

My Holdyn, my miracle whom I breathe in daily. How blessed I am (we are) to lay beside our little (big) bundle of love and joy. How much he has grown and changed. From a sweet and snuggly little bobbing nursling to a walking/talking and giggly little boy. Yes, my sweet miracle is becoming each day more like a boy...less and less baby/toddler. Though, I do not wish to rush him away from his toddler like mannerisms and behaiviors...he is finding his own path with our gentle eyes watching (not directing his every move), for he has the capacity, the instincts to do and learn as he needs to.

He is amazing in every way. As I write this I am giddy to head up to bed, to peacefully slumber and snuggle in with my dear one. To hold his sweet hand, to brush his hair ever so gently away from his gentle closed eyelids. I am savoring this all, these long nights, the long summer days of loving my dear boy, playing alongside him and following his lead, singing to him as he so beautifully nurses. It is all so delishous to me, it is all so lovely. Every word he says and how he says it amazes me. How is it that he can count to 10? How is it that he says some of the ABC's? I am amazed by my Holdyn's capacity to remember things he hears (repeating sentences from songs & books).

His love and enthusiasm of music is profound, not just listening but playing instruments. He LOVES drums & cymbols, guitar, piano etc. Any instrument he is near he is compelled to play it with gusto (we set up a snare drum and cymbal, as well as my guitar available for him to play). Amazing!

Holdyn makes me feel like I can do anything. He is pushing me to consider doing things that I had sort of "put on hold", like my artwork. He is showing me how important it is for him to build relationships with other's, something that took me a long time to feel OK with. Even now there are only a few who I am comfortable enough to leave Holdy with for an hour or so, and it's still hard for me to walk away...

I really don't like not being with him ALL THE TIME. There is so much love within me for my child, and I don't want to miss anything he does.