So many Birth Days going on here…
On each of these days, I celebrate and remember the moment that I was re-born as my children emerged. Birth Days for all of us.
Transformation from on realm to the other, from one body to another. A baby slips into this world, exiting a dark and warm world. A mama’s belly swiftly deflates, her body beginning it’s Return. For a short time, two bodies are still connected by one life-giving line. The severing occurs and mama and baby are no longer linked in the Physical.
I really mourn the Physical nature of pregnancy. I grieve the swollen belly that dances with each baby movement. I miss the way pregnancy makes me feel more alive and vibrant and sexy and connected and authentic. And yes, tired, overwhelmed, heavy, achy, and hungry.
And so I give my babies nourishment from my own body, tender moments of reconnecting physically, of easing the transition for both of us.
I choose to ingest chocolatized, ground up bits of my placenta, (Organ of Life, so incredible to me that our bodies grown a new one with each pregnancy) as medicine, re-centering and balancing the primal post-partum hormones and emotions.
I sleep with my son between me and my husband, within a hands reach, so that I can hear his grunts and breaths and spit-ups and so that I can touch his fuzzy head at night. And so that I can nurse while snoozing (it doesn’t get better than that).
When I can, I wear him in my wrap, his ear to my heart and his cheek sweaty against my chest.
All of these I do only because they feel right and natural to me and my baby. Precious. Sweet. Easy. Mellow. Right.
That’s not to say he doesn’t have some time in his swing (ahem – like now when I’m writing), or nap froggy-style on our bed while the rest of the family eats lunch.
The Balance of Mother. The Juggling Act of Motherhood. The Make-The-Right/Best-Decision-In-The-Moment Style of Motherhood. The Be-Gentle-On-Yourself Kind of Motherhood.
So, Lyric joined us and he is the one that melts me and turns me giddy. Hawthorn. A tree. My Grounding Earth.
Lyric, so much about you is still a beautiful mystery. How your pregnancy, and birth, and time with us here has powerfully changed me (is that POSSIBLE after having three kids? to feel so transformed yet again?). You are quiet, mostly, absorbing the circus around you. You have slid right into place in our family, completing it as of now in a satisfying and blissful way. Lyric, you are a little elf, as soft as the dewy earth, with searching eyes the color of a blue thunderstorm. I have this intense need to tuck you so closely into my heart, almost cradle you into the caverns of my body and rivers of my veins so that you remain with me always. I want to keep you close. But I felt this about you even when I was pregnant. My little secret, my son, my Lyric, my Gemini boy. Oh, how I love you.
11 days after Lyric was born, my Indigo Sol turned three. She is the one that invokes my fire but also soothes the flame. Sol. Sun. My Warmth.
To articulate you are so Big in your Tinyness is impossible. There is nothing that isn’t purely genuine about you, my Indi…Every explosive emotion and tantrum you display, every juicy and big-lipped kiss you dole out, every shake of your booty to the rhythm of song, and in the way you gleefully (eventually) share toys and food and your SuperFuzz blanket. And are no words for how it feels to watch you LOVE your brother. You are a tender mama to him already. Indigo, today I held you and you fell asleep in my arms as you do on occasion. And your limbs, now feeling as long as a year, were heavy and soft. I kissed your golden hair and felt the incredible connection and bond between us. As unbreakable and real as the day I first felt you skin to skin. Every day with you is like opening a gift because I actually look forward to getting to know YOU more and more, every little bit. Even when I don’t understand you. You guide me to Truth always. I am in love with your Youness.
13 days later, my Kaia Marin turned five. She is my mirror, the one that reminds me to flow. Marin. Of the Sea. My Ocean.
Oh my Kiki. Impossible that we’ve witnessed five years (and two other siblings) together since you first made me a Mama. And soon, you’ll be beyond my reach a bit more as you start school. I am not prepared, not ready, to face the days of not having your mile-wide grin beside me every hour. And yet, like all of the challenges that have come and gone in these past five years. we’ve made it through and shape-shifted to fit through any obstacle. You remind me that Possibility exists around every corner, between every word, and underneath every breath. Kaia, I am stunned daily by the honor of watching your personality unfold before me. Curious and inquisitive, with a memory as sharp as a tack. You are my go-to person for giggles and for sharing stories because you are always willing to listen, to indulge me in my silliness, and to remind me that the heart is MOST important. Thank you for leading our family deeper into Love.
I look around, into the eyes of each of my children, and think “How did I land such a perfect gig?”. Amidst the days of sibling fighting, the hitting and tantrums…admist the nights of bribery and 11 o’clock bedtimes and cereal crushed into the carpet…admist feeling boxed into parenthood, needing to come up for air…admist all of this is a thread that weaves through this family’s blood that stops me dead in my tracks and whispers “Never, ever, ever take this for granted. Cherish. Stop. Breathe. Smile. And for crying out loud, never, ever, ever stop hugging”.