love-points (what’s floating my boat)

  • the full moon, illuminating my wooden living room floors.
  • all three babies, asleep by 8:15.   two cozied in warm pajamas and one stark naked.
  • chocolate chips melting on my tongue.
  • a stomach bug, thankfully only residing in my body for less than 24 hours and very mild at that.  thankful for elderberry, emergen-c, quality prenatal vitamins, homemade veggie soup with loads of healing garlic, stale but effective ginger ale, a hot Epsom salt bath, and a mug of peppermint tea.
  • how he always puts the toilet paper on the roll for me.
  • this yoni tree, opening to give birth to something wild.

  • a connection forged via words and wishes, finally made real in-person.  the first and last hug.   her incredibly flowing and calm mama-energy, which has inspired me to slow down and listen and tone down my voice.
  • oh this weather; this beyond-explanation concoction of breeze and sun and perfection on our faces.   the way it allows for wallowing for hours upon end in parks with friends,  eating crusty bread with smooth cheese, and savoring apples.

  • so many dear clients who are expecting again.  the remembrance of the way they sounded during transformation, the way their hands gripped mine, that primal and turbulent and damn-solid look in their eyes.  the way their entire being and body softened as they held their fresh babies.   it is honor heaped upon honor to be asked to bear witness and hold space again as them embark on the spiraling journal of pregnancy and birth again.
  • the expansion of kaia’s five year old mind.  the insightful questions.  the musings.  the drawings.   her perceptions.   i hope to forever be in love with my daughter’s curiosity.
  • my fifth birth missed in a row.  the wondering, the mystery, the questioning.  the holding of some knowledge, as i peel the layers of it back to expose more and more and more.   i acknowledge, yes, i do, that i am being called to stand quietly….away.   to hold that space with my breath from a distance.  to love and cherish the process regardless of physical presence.   but i’m lying if i don’t say it’s hard.  so, so hard on a selfish level.  wanting to watch and behold and cry with them.  knowing, more deeply that i ever have before, that these births are the ones that are reminders:  i am not needed.  we are not needed.  women take into their hands the births they are given, the births that unfurl like flames before them.   so much healing has happened during these births in which i am not present in body.  so much mourning and grief too.  the juxtaposition of life and birth and death.   and here i sit, upon the blanket of birth’s ashes, called to nod and listen and remember.
  • my ergo carrier, covered in drool and spit up.  it cradles him and he is instantly happy.  the way i can see easily kiss his head while he rides along, his now-hazel eyes peering into mine.
  • this son of mine brings me to tears.  of joy, of joy, of joy.   he is so attached to mama and reaches his little arms out for me if i dare leave his eyesight.   seven months is killer amazing, his personality brimming from his heart.   he rolls around, dabbles with a semi-inchworm-crawl, and likes to have me support him to stand.   he wants every bite of food he sees but his belly isn’t ready.   the bananas and yams and even rice cereal we tried a few times didn’t agree with him one bit.   mamamilk will suffice just fine.  or, the apple that i let him suck on.   the comment i get most often about him: “is the always this happy?”.  yes, he is.  unless he’s tired or unless he can’t see me.  he’s that happy.   i feel like i hit the jackpot with this sweet guy.  lyric, thank you a million billion times over for choosing me.  for choosing us.  i look forward to your gummy smile first thing in the morning.  you’ve keep me floating, my baby, high as a kite.  you are scrumptious.

  • my messy ways came to the rescue as lyric rolled off the bed in the middle of the night.  two fluffy pillows, thrown randomly on the floor, buffered his fall but his scared cries were enough to break my heart.  i scooped him up in a nana-second and he nursed back to dreamland instantly.
  • the way indigo and lyric interact, giggling at each other and reveling in tenderness together.   they have known each other before they chose this earth-time, it must be a fact.  they stare at each other, blinking slowing, and something beyond words is exchanged.

  • text messages.  photo texts.  videos from friends, near and far.  when we need it, technology is a goddess-send.
  • feeling rooted as i stir and pour creosote salve.  thank you, ancient and healing native beauty of the desert.
  • taking on the challenge of drawing something artistic for the first time in my life.  breathing through the frustration and difficulty of knowing it’s not perfect.  laughing at the outcomes.  appreciating the true talented soul behind the encouragement and the way she always finds something constructive and sweet to say.
  • skype.  enough said.
  • finally fitting into pre-pregnancy jeans.   unbuttoned sometimes when i sit, but still…
  • watching my husband’s correct project go up;  the slabs poured, the masonry tall and proud, the walls raised, the metal retaining wall that he personally worked on stuck deep into the earth.   i am beyond proud of his vision come to life.
  • goofin’ on webcam, taking snapshots as we sing “i’m yours” into a glass bottle.

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