Do you ever avoid peeking in on your blog because you are so embarrassed about being too lazy and tired and busy to post? I didn’t even want to post this today because I knew it meant I had to actually log in to my blog account. But as MB recently and wisely wrote about, I accept that I simply haven’t caught up with my life over the past few months. I accept that my blog will sit unattended for weeks at a time so that I can pick up pieces of my life and gently hold them in my hands, notice their textures and light, and place them in my heart.
So here is an update, in list form:
- Indi is cutting a tooth, which is why sleep has been manically interrupted and wildly unpredictable for months.
- I took on a heck of a lot of doula clients and have been driving across the clogged valley freeways numerous times a week for prenatal visits. On one hand, I revel in the kid-less car time, dialing my friends for highway chats. On the other hand, battling traffic when I’m trying to make it to appointments at least no more than 15 minutes late drives me bonkers.
- Two weeks ago: two clients in labor at the same time. Having to rationally and emotionally and logically choose which birth to attend – and which to send my amazing back up doula to – was heart-wrenching. Inevitably, I ended up at the exact birth I needed to be at, once in which I had summoned the universe for just a day or so prior. After 30 hours of induction, this tigress-strong mama birthed her baby without meds in the most peaceful, respectful, sacred hospital birth I’ve attended. I am processing the lessons learned from this experience, holding the space lovingly for my other client whose birth journey was challenging and full of unexpected turns. I wish I could have attended both births and yet have come to surrender to the unpredictable nature of Birth. Of Life. Of Love.
- I crave my tribe, my girls, my friends. Doula work has kept me conserving energy, on call and always waiting for “the call”, unable to stray far from home unless for prenastal visits. I will slow down on taking clients, having learned my lesson. I love this calling, I adore my clients, and cannot afford to burn out on it. So, during one singular hour long car drive, I managed to dial the following friends. I honestly, deeply wanted to connect to every one of them. In a funny twist of fate, not a one of them answered, except Megan: Kate, MB, Jeanette, Mani, Megan R, Tee, Brooke. I’d gotten a lovely surprise visit from Doulala and so didn’t feel needy enough to have to dial her. Later, I thought “I should have called Heather and Janis too”. I will do that soon.
- The body I knew 18 months ago is finally back. Sorta. In a very half-ass kind of way, which serves me right. This means saggier here, flabbier there, smushier everywhere. But I can finally fit into my old jeans and my body moves and navigates space easier. The weight of my feet on this earth feels lighter. Thank you, body.
- I still read your blog daily. I do. And it’s awesome. But between prying my older daughter off of my younger, and returning phone calls and emails from clients, and learning how to deal with another person (ahem, Jason) in the middle of my daily routine (hahaha), I simply can’t leave an intelligent comment. So here is my comment en masse: I love you, you are smart and witty and funny and heartbreakingly honest. Please keep writing and know I am one of those annoying lurkers who wants to have her cake, eat it too, and not leave a single crumb of evidence. And it’s damn delicious cake.
- Thanks to Kaia’s curiosity, I now type without the Shift key and Control key. Yeah, keys I not only use often but that require pressing another key at the same time. Just peachy.
- Indigo is mobile now, in her own funky half-crawl way. This means I can no longer ignore tiny pieces of bark, carpet fuzz, dog hair, food, dirt, and other bits on our floors. This means I am on high alert for electrical cords and Polly Pocket pieces. This means actually removing my ass from the crack of the couch and vacuuming regularly. Good thing I actually enjoy vacuuming; if only the toys and junk would instantly remove themselves from my path first…
- My Mom was in residence for a week, offering her amazing whirlwind services which combine house cleaning/organization/cooking/errand-running and babysitting. I guess you would call that a Nanny. Her energy supply never wanes, except for the moment our children are in bed. Then, her eyelids grow heavy and her blinking slows. She nods and smiles at my rambling as her body sinks deeper in the leather club chair. After 20 minutes has passed, she assumes it is safe to creak the door to Kaia’s room open and snuggle into the twin sized bed for the night. Most nights, Kaia stirs and Grams pulls her beside her until Kaia awakens earlier-than-normal at 6:30am. Their day begins together, which includes much whining (on Kaia’s end) and bargaining (on both ends), peppered with laughter. It’s been 13 hours and I miss her already, noticing the shoes and clothes she left behind. Only about 7 more weeks until we travel back the Midwest for another visit.
- Jason has joined the ranks of the laid off and unemployed. He spent the first few days moping and understandably dealing with the idea of two years of working his ass off only to be let go with many other co-workers. But then he remembered that this company paid to have him LEED-accredited and officially licensed as an architect. And that perhaps this was the jumping-off point he needed to start his own business, save a car payment’s worth in gas and the earth’s atmosphere by not driving 80 miles each day, and actually spend some flexible time with the family. And so, Aperture Design has officially been launched, tax id’ed, registered, and has contracts in waiting. Jason is a registered architect, working for himself. All before his 30th birthday.
- A few miles over the mountain lays a parcel of dirt, dense with cholla and staghorn, scrub brush, and some beautiful ocotillo. It is wide with azure skies and constant gentle winds. It is our slice of desert heaven and has been awaiting our dream home for two years. Not a masonry block has been stacked, nor a concrete pad poured. No solar panels installed or shiny bamboo floors laid. We stand with the girls on our hips, the rust-colored mesa looming nearby, and can almost smell the sawdust and low-voc paint. The rendered elevation plans seem to rise before our eyes; block by block, stud by stud, nail by nail. We are ready. But recent life changes, a doomsday economy, and an invalid medical collections claim are fighting against our readiness, stalling plans indefinitely. Thus begins our almost-as-difficult search for a new home, one not owned by landlords and blanketed by stained carpet. With a dedicated office for Aperture Design and Desert Moon Doulas. With a bedroom for Grams and Grandpa. And beautiful space and energy for another homebirth (no resident in womb, just future planning).
- Kaia’s almost-three-year-old attitude and um, disposition has brought on a new level of wild these past few months. We are working on taking turns, not throwing, being gentle with baby sister, and balancing “growing food” with treats. Quiet time has become a daily necessity. She has no desire for potty training, though her baby sister successfully uses the potty about twice a day. Her “spark” is intense and engaging; draining and frustrating. Her heart flickers with a unique flame and I work daily to surrender to its warmth and fire.
- I await the births of three April babies and the rebirth of their mothers. I ask for loving support and calm energy during these hospital births.
- I gently await the call or post from Sage Brooke, announcing the arrival of her beloved Lova and her emergence from their dual birth journey. I send her resilience and surrender and a big glass of wine afterwards.
- I await the bloggy news of Little Bit’s homebirth and Gearhead Mama’s homebirth. I send them both wishes for peace and beauty in their transformative birth experiences.
- Amid Mother Birth, I think of her sister Mother Death. A sibling rivalry so tangled that the thread between them becomes almost imperceptible. Until one journeys across that edge and our cells are never the same, perhaps never quite aligned the particular way they were before Death entered.
- I think of Birdie’s Mama and her heart-bursting news about growing another very loved baby. I envision her healing journey coming full circle – as it will circle forever – as her womb expands to nurture another life. A sibling for her Birdie who now perches on every branch outside every window, resounding with the song of the mama-baby connection she will always know.
- I think of my friend Janis and her grief-journey, her recent energy work, her constant hope and fortitude and strength. I think of her Ferdi, ardently traveling the cosmos for 8 months now, perhaps choosing and gently guiding another divine being into his mama’s womb.
- And I think of Kate, smiling up through the light and her shimmering tears at her bodhi-baby Liam. I imagine him in his super-hero costume he donned in one of my dreamy visions, his grin as wide as his tiny brother’s, his destination so clear: Home. His mama’s heart.
- I await the voice of MB, blissful finally in the house and community she dreams of.
- April is almost here and the desert dances under its perfect breeziness. As I type with the sliding doors wide open, I hear the distant chiming of the ice-cream truck, the motor of a Cessna, and the chirping of chatty birds.
- I await 2:00 pm, so I can go relax on Jane’s couch and eat some chocolate and revel in her endearing laughter and insightful stories.
All is as it should be.