Mother, I lost it all, of the fear of the Lord I was given

I have to write about my blessingway because the baby is coming soon, but I’m still reeling with such euphoria that it’s hard to collect my thoughts! I want to say most of all that I am so grateful, so appreciative of even being able to have such a thing happen in my life and to experience connection in sisterhood this way. 

I had such a harrowing emotional journey the week before the blessingway. My primitive nesting instincts drove me back into the depths of my high school/middle school/college junk-memorabilia boxes and I actually managed to throw about half of it out (finally admitting to myself that it’s not really ever going to be fun to read over my notes with Amber about ____ and ____), but in order to get to the discard stage I had to actually look at all of it. It took a lot out of me, emotionally. There were some sweet memories that resurfaced, but I was also confronted with my own shallowness, my hypocrisy, horrible privileged things I wrote and thought, and the sad, sad truth that the journals I spent hours writing when I was younger contain very little of the real me, because I wasn’t able even “alone” in my journal, I had so many narratives in other voices that influenced me and I couldn’t admit any part of my shadow, of how desperately lonely and not tough at all I felt, so my voice isn’t my voice, and it’s painful to read affectations. I felt sorrow too for the lies I told myself and the guys I dated. I am so sorry for the way I used them to work out my own issues; better stated, for the way I infected them with my nameless fears and manipulated them into trying to convince me I was loveable instead of just owning my stuff. Telling them my heart was too heavy to lift and then letting them throw out their backs. Why didn’t I worry more about the heaviness in their hearts? I enacted vengeance upon them for the lessons I had in young women’s, for the way the foul guys in my high school talked about sex. It was so unfair and I am so sorry. I miss what those friendships could have been if I hadn’t been such a coward. I wish I could do it over again and do it right. Anyway, these boxes, they were sort of eating my soul and I went to my midwife appointment feeling so vulnerable and then I fell so hard on the ice on her porch, it was humiliating, and of course that jarred my broken pelvis into more horrific pain so that by the time work ended I couldn’t take a step without crumbling. I was so sad, so sad, I thought I would never feel okay again. I was so totally broken. Jonathan snoring felt more personal than ever, so I finally got up and trudged back to the boxes at about 3 am and worked until 7 AM. I was of course flooded with more woeful thoughts in those dismal hours. I found pictures of my father’s parents and marinated in the futility of it all…a cold heart, my own place in my childhood that maybe was never real at all, my lost youth and my lost loves and the eventual lost babyhood of my children, plus my eminent lost alone time with Chai. I grieved and suffered for the dense and self-absorbed person I have been, for how ugly I was when I was a young teenager. I’m glad now that I went so low, because somehow even after four hours of sleep, Chai patting my head was welcome and okay and when I opened my eyes again the sun had somehow come back out. And it was the day of my blessingway!

This experience, really it is too full and too bright for me to put into words. It was like a dream. It was what every single human being deserves and too few experience. Getting friends together for a party is thoughtful, making preparations for dinner and planning activities is thoughtful, but the insight, wisdom, and kindness that went into this particular celebration was magnificent. I know I’m going to be throwing superlatives out way too lavishly as I write about this, but what do I have other than my words? You all saw my tears. This is my heart. What I came away with most was that my dear friends had spoken my language, used my symbols to strengthen, support, and love me. I know that many of my friends who came to the blessingway didn’t know what to expect and perhaps even felt a little out of place or uncomfortable, but they focused on me and being there for me and put aside their insecurities and told me how much they loved me. 

My friends went to so much work and created a thoughtful, intimate experience that embodied all my symbols. It was like someone speaking to me in the private language of my soul. They created an altar which was a visual representation of all of the things that have helped me and inspired me during this pregnancy--they had little birds fleeing a cage, a mirror shaped like a sun that represented my affirmations about "January babies bringing the sunshine" and "be here now" (!) a dragon that represented being the "Mother of Dragons" (a game of thrones reference that really speaks to me) and a beautiful, thick old "book" that is really a box you can open, which represents my daughter being "unwritten" and the promise of her own story. I was told I could give her the box and let her fill it with her own treasures when she was ready.

Katie Rasmussen MADE this birthing goddess out of clay and painted it herself!  It's even more breathtaking in person (not the Seinfeld breathtaking, but really!)

Birds. Birds are hugely symbolic to me--of survival, flight, connection to the divine, hope. Laurel even remembered about the yellow bird and mentioned it while she was presenting the altar. 

It is known.

We started the blessingway by feasting (on homemade Cafe Rio!) and then created a circle where we wound yarn around our wrists as we introduced ourselves by telling stories about our maternal ancestors and then when we had all spoken we cut the yarn, and everyone will wear it to remind them of me and to send me their energy and good wishes until I have my baby. I LOVED LOVED LOVED the storytelling part of the blessingway because the women in the circle were so honest. I was blessed by the stories of the ancestors, blessed by their courage in giving voice to what they admire and what uplifts them as well as the traces of pain in those matriarchal lines. They told stories that inspired them (like their mother running around in the backyard with a white sheet, pretending to fly) but also alluded to their stories of pain. Some of them had mothers who rejected or abandoned them, and they talked about what they had learned from them and how they had struggled. Some didn't know their grandmothers and talked about old birth stories that were passed down by others. Almost everyone referenced birth and how the past had influenced them so directly. I loved to think of those women, in our season, in our place, with new bellies and new babies and what they must have thought of. It was such a beautiful, human experience. When it was my turn, I said I feel it's important to share those stories because that is how everyone begins, "mother, remember the blink of an eye when I breathed through your body?" And it is just the blink of an eye, but when it's you and your baby it means everything, when it's you and your mother, it means everything, and it's not ordinary, it's the most important, powerful thing in the world. I talked about how we need to tell the stories because as mothers we suffer for our children, and as daughters we suffer profoundly for our mothers, and it's something that connects us as women. 

During the introductions, my friend Rachel painted henna on my belly. We had a cool experience because the baby was moving so much--Rachel said that the design ended up much different than she had planned but she felt like the baby was drawing it with her. 

Putting on bindis--over our third eye chakra

 I was blessed by the quiet presence of every woman there while we did a brief guided meditation with Laura that encouraged us to become aware of what is holding us back in our lives. Afterwards we each took a pinch of herbs that represented the fear we had identified and took turns releasing those fears into a bowl of sea glass and salt (so beautiful, thanks to the immensely talented Katie!) We laughed about having PTSD over the exploding glass bowl last time.We had the choice to speak our fear out loud or not. Everyone was so much like themselves during this part, I felt honored by their genuineness. For me, what was weighing me down and holding me back was clear—my fear and worry over being evaluated negatively, that people will think poorly of me literally does hold me back from becoming who I really am and from loving as much as I should. 

After we released our fears, Katie gave me the blessingway necklace that she had created with the beads each woman in the circle had brought. It is such a brilliant, gorgeous, holy thing! Each piece of it is so precious to me because of the relationships and support it represents. It makes me feel like I have mattered in the world. I don’t think I have ever owned anything so sacred. Wendy explained that now each woman present would take a moment to come up and sit with me, talk to me and the baby, and explain why she had chosen the bead she had and give us any good wishes she had for the upcoming birth/life/journey. This is what healed my soul and filled me with hope. I was given so much love, the gift of seeing their tears, crying so hard as Melanie read the baby a list of “fun things to do with your mom.” It meant so much to me that several women told the story of Chai’s birth and how it impacted them. They expressed love for my boy and for my Jonathan. It meant so much, so much. My sister in law Aya spoke to my baby in Japanese. They talked about ways I have been kind, empathetic, and understanding, and expressed their hope that even though we won’t get along all the time, my daughter will be able to feel some of that from me. There was such confidence expressed in my ability to give my children goodness that I felt light rising from the darkest part of my heart, the part that feels resentful and wants to run away sometimes from the enormity of all of it, and I felt that I could do it, and I will, and it will be painful and joyful, and an adventure. I fell in love with my life again while all these women were speaking, the ghosts that rose out of those ancient boxes earlier in the week and tormented me fled. You can do so much good by just saying what is in your heart. I’m aware that I’m not super close with everyone who was there, others have known me long and had their frustrations and tensions with me, but that night everyone just reached out to me and gave me pure love. Thank you, thank you, you don’t know what it means to me. 

 I don't even have words to describe what these moments were like. It was an absolutely sacred experience.  When they talked to the baby they put their hands on my belly, and she was moving and moving and I loved her so much and they said such beautiful, kind things, like I won't ever put her in a box, but that she will be free to become who she needs to be, and even though we might not always get along perfectly, they hoped she would feel some of my understanding and my validation that they said had helped them. They talked about how they can't wait to see her (Wendy said she couldn't wait to see the "girl Jon" with Jonny's lips and my ears) and that she would have a place in the circle. There were some things shared that are too personal for a blog, but trust me, I remember and my soul felt them. It made me feel absolutely amazing. I felt such joy in my existence. The thing is, that everyone deserves that, everyone deserves the people who love them to look them in the face and tell them what they mean to them, but we so rarely have moments like that. Maybe sometimes with family, sometimes with a lover, but not with a circle of women like that. I'm so grateful to everyone who was there, for every word, and also to those who were not present but wanted to be. 

Talking to my baby--I told her I don't know everything but that she can be herself and teach me about her, and I will let her fly. That she doesn't have to relive my history or heal my hurts, she will be enough, for herself. I told her about her good, kind, wise father and sweet older brother and that I'm excited for her to know them. I got lost in speaking with her, I felt so connected to her. 

My beautiful friends! I wish so much I had a picture of everyone who was there, but I'm glad to have these gorgeous pictures thanks to Cara Dahlquist. 

My blessingway necklace--is full of rose quartz, birds, birth goddesses, bright turquoise with flecks of shadow, safe places, wings for exploring the world. It is intuitive and lovely and I think it might actually be magic. 

 After everyone had spoken to me and mi hija, we took a short break for dessert and I got to choose a palette of colors for my birth art—there was an easel and canvas set up for everyone to paint on and create something together (it turned out amazing, I wish that I’d been paying more attention to who painted what! If you read this and remember what part you painted, please tell me, I would love to know!). 

It was also time for the pampering stage—everyone took turns rubbing my hands, feet and back and playing with my hair. I was dying. All I ever want is rubs, at any time, and it’s my sad lot that Jonny Strange (who really is idyllic in practically every way) tends to be a little noncommittal about rubs. It felt soooo good, especially since they were using Katie’s lotion (she is an archmage and makes her own!). It was an incomparably lovely sensory experience. During that time I got to visit a little with some of my friends, but not as much as I’d have liked….that’s the only sad thing about having so many people you’re obsessed with in one room at the same, you can’t talk to them all as much as they need to be talked to!

We reconvened and the wood nymphs gave me a “nursing box” for Chai that everyone had contributed to—the idea is that it is full of special toys that he gets to play with while I am nursing the new baby, so he has something to entertain him, and hopefully that time can be positive and fun for him instead of lonely. I am so appreciative that they thought of my sweet boy. Wendy shared the story of the “elephant doulas/midwives” that Jenny had told us at Wendy & Laura’s blessingway. She had also written a really clever rebuttal to a repugnant article some of us had read on facebook, “7 Reasons I’m Glad I Have a Daughter,” inspired by Zoe and her adorable ways. Katie shared some thoughts about having sunshine in the bleak midwinter, which tied into her telling me so many months ago that “January babies bring the sunshine,” which became an affirmation for my entire pregnancy. She had also created a really beautiful book out of the same paper she used for the blessingway invitations and filled it with poems, songs and mantras about birthing.

 "Created in heat

Growing in Light

From the warm earth

And Lit from Within.

With her Sisters,

The Sun, Moon, and Stars

A body of Light

A body of Creation

A body of Earth

She radiates.

She twists, 

suspended in the glow.

She comes into flame.

Through the fire.

A Rush of Light

into

Love.

The truest heat

never cold or dimmed.

She illuminates

She shines

She comes into flame." --K.R

 Those of you who were there, you can’t know how much your words meant. That you could see so much light and power in me made me believe in my own life and in my ability to become the person I was meant to be, believe that I am more than equal to the task of this next adventure. I felt the way I should have felt, the way I wish every single woman on the planet could feel before taking a new step on the mother journey. I told someone right after everyone had presented their bead and spoken to me and the baby, when I was choosing the colors for the birth art, that I felt like I was glowing, like post-mortem Obi-Wan Kenobi. I felt like every part of my soul was alive and responsive and full of light and hope. You did that for me! What a gift! 

 These are my friends, the "wood nymphs" who planned and orchestrated the blessingway and I wanted to specially thank them--Katie made everything SO beautiful. She is truly gifted! From the rocks in the bowl to the birth goddess figure to the rose water to the gorgeous elephant necklace she created for me to the earrings to the yellow open vase she described wanting to get at Hobby Lobby to the poem she wrote for my baby to the lotion she made herself so that my friends could rub my hands and feet, she shared SO many of her talents and really put her heart into planning this!  

Wendy had some creative ideas that brought so much power to this ceremony. It was her idea to share the stories of our mothers, not just their names. Wendy is a powerful presence; she is simultaneously hilarious and also very brilliant and wise. She speaks with such confidence and sureness that I always remember everything she says.  

Laurel...Laurel is the friend of my heart! She was the one who "interviewed" me about my symbols and I couldn't believe how perfectly she chose the pieces for the altar--it was a visual representation of the feeling of being understood, which was miraculous. I looked at it and thought, "Oh, they get me!" What Laurel said to me during the blessingway is one of the highlights of that night and made me love her so much! I know I'm not even aware of all the work she really did, but I appreciate it! 

Laura impressed me so much with her confidence and graciousness that evening (she will know what I mean).  She talked about raising her boys to be “intactivists, lactivists, activists and feminists” and how she feels compelled to share her knowledge about birth with women in the community. She really has generated so much energy, passion, and healing in so many lives. I feel grateful to be a part of that and to have felt that energy in my life. I needed it, I can’t pretend it was any small thing, because I didn't have anyone except for the Lowe girls my first time around, and I would be so different without the support they gave me..

I tried to thank my friends who had organized the evening and I told them there was nothing I could say for what it did for me. Wendy said the only thing you can do is pay it forward...and she is right.  

 We closed our circle at the end with the statement, “this has been a powerful night,” and I want everyone who came and contributed to know that it was so true for me. I felt strength, hope, and healing during this experience that has stayed with me and imbued me with insight and energy. I could not be in a better place to birth my child and begin this new path. It is well with my soul!
Photo credit: http://dahlquistphotography.blogspot.com/

Blackbird singing in the dead of night, take these broken wings and learn to fly

Is this really happening? I’m almost 38 weeks pregnant! My baby is LOA! And I feel amazing! I’m like a snowball [cut out of the mountain without hands] tumbling downhill now that the holidays are over. I know the shape of the land is going to change so much over the next month or so and that this little bubble of equilibrium that we’re enjoying so much will pop and we’ll have to stumble around a little before we find steady footing again. So I want to record all the details before that happens and we shed this skin, walk out of this year’s Eden.

Lo fisico: Weeks 30-35 or so were marked by some kind of pelvic disjointedness that was really painful, sometimes every step was excruciating, and made me feel elderly and feeble, but other than a slight twinge now and then it seems to have resolved itself. And hopefully whatever was going on was happening in preparation for baby to have an easy passage. Every few days my back will hurt and I’ll moan to Jonathan, “I’m such a pregnant Racher!” but most days I slip through feeling really normal, good energy, high spirits. Spry! It bothers me a little when people at work rush to do everything for me, even though I know they’re trying to be sweet. I’ve been having more practice surges than I did with Chai, but they’re not super frequent, maybe one a day. I’m 37 weeks and I’ve gained 20 lbs so far, which I’m also really happy about (and I didn’t start out heavier than last time). I had already gained 40 pounds by this point in my pregnancy with Chai. Last time toward the very end I remember feeling like an elephant seal, so swollen, and now I feel more like myself.  I feel lucky to feel as good as I do. I feel so lucky to have a partner who is so kind to me and tells me that he loves me and loves the way I look every time he sees me. It’s not a placating, “I’ll compliment her extra because she feels grotesque” kind of thing either, it’s more of a marveling at how incredible it is that I can grow another human being inside my body. We are both in awe that we get to experience this together. I feel like I really do have a beautiful body. I am so appreciative of how wise and functional it is, even though no one can call my intake choices heroic.   

Lo emocional: I don’t sleep perfectly but it’s my thoughts more than my body that keep me awake. I wake up around 5 or 6 in the morning and my mind just races. I play out the birth in my mind, I anticipate all those wild and wonderful feelings and I welcome them, whatever the universe has to teach me this time. I feel like I should be terrified, but lately all I feel is excited. I think pregnancy offers a peaceful measure of denial…like Allen said once, “When they’re out, they’re REALLY out.” I can have my hands on my expanding belly and feel my thumping, jumping, bumping raptor-child but I won’t believe it in the same way I will when I see her and hear that heart-wrenching bleating baby cry.

I was telling someone the other day that I don’t think I have a significant pre-birth intuition about my babies the way some people do. I love being so connected and sharing those months of secret pre-life, but I don’t “sense” things about their personality or future, I think of them sort of as mythical creatures and presents that I get to unwrap. (I guess that’s not completely true, I do have a feeling, maybe just from how calculated her movements seem, that this baby is very, very bright. But that’s written in her genetic material, have you met Jonny Strange?) I think I felt very fond of the idea of Chai before he was born, and I definitely had intense emotions when I met him, but it was getting to know him and caring for him over the next weeks and months that made me absolutely adore him. I am so eager and excited to have that experience again, to get to know this new person whose life will be entwined with ours (not enmeshed hopefully) forever.

 I’ve been able to alleviate a lot of my girl-terror (for now) through hard introspection, therapy and art and writing out my pain and absorbing wise words from friends. I’m grateful to everyone who has listened to me and especially those who have told me they think my baby is lucky to be with me because of my concerns. That means so much! It has helped to think of her as “unwritten” and remember that my job is to let her write her own story, not to scribble doom ahead on the pages. I’ve connected with a lot of symbols of hope for her that give me courage.

I am still worried about Chai feeling lost or dismayed. I look at my sleeping boy in the mornings and feel so sad for him. I acknowledge those sorrowful feelings, but then I paint over the sadness with images of him being delighted every time he sees a baby, remind myself he will have a place in my arms as long as he wants it, that I’m adding another ball to the easy juggling routine we’re used to (okay, or sixteen new balls) but I’m not abandoning him. I’ll get smart enough and strong enough to figure this out. I cling to all the comforting words and stories I’ve heard from others and I’m giving myself freedom to write a good story for us, too. We’ve been watching birth videos together and he pays rapt attention and gets really excited pointing out the baby at the end. I showed him the unedited footage of his own birth and kept telling him how happy I was that he was born and how much I loved him. I think, I hope, that he does feel loved. He’s still so little and so innocent.

Planes futuros: Last week we had our home visit from our midwife! Doug and Emily helped me beautify my house beforehand and we made some changes that helped give our living space some good energy. (That sounded so dorky, but all the tech piling up and some particularly oppressive furniture was giving me EMOTIONAL varicosites ). My midwife is a lovely person. It was so fun talking about plans to pick up the birthing tub (it’s a trough this time instead of a kiddy pool) and going over details of my hopes and fears for the birth and how I want to be supported. My biggest hope for the actual physiological process is being able to go super slow during crowning and pushing and really listen to my body instead of forcing the baby down. (I know that’s totally easy to say while I’m not in the moment, but I still think I can do it!) Last time, I thought tearing was no big deal because it seemed to happen so often and no one really talked about it. I didn’t make any effort to stop it from happening. That part of recovery was tough for me and giving my body more time might be really hard for a few minutes but if I can save myself a couple of months of anguish later it will be totally worth it.

I also told my midwife that I don’t want any cervical checks unless I request them. I have witnessed what a poor predictor they are of actual progress in labor; they are intrusive and can be immensely discouraging. I didn’t have more than four in my labor with Chai, but each time it was awful to have to get on my back and it threw me off my rhythm. I probably will ask to be checked at some point (I don’t think I’ll be able to help myself) but I’m hoping to get pretty far into active labor before doing so. I love that I get to choose whether or not I get checked and that it will be only a person that I selected and trust performing them, if I do decide I want to get them. It feels good to know that my provider cares about my bodily autonomy and respects my feelings.  

We talked about who I have invited to the birth and what everyone’s role will be, what our plans are for Chai. (Chai is not coming to the birth. If it happens at night I’ll just leave him sleeping; my brother has agreed to watch him otherwise and take him off the premises. I like the idea of having him present, but I know he would be a distraction for me. I want to see him immediately when I’m done, though!)

 I really want to create an affirming environment. I told her that one of the most important things is that I don’t want people to feel sorry for me or make comments about how hard it is. Birthing Chai was the most consuming, exhausting physical experience of my life and it was HARD, but it was so good. I remember being there and surging away and thinking that if I spoke the words “This is hard,” “I can’t do this,” “It hurts so much,” etc that absolutely nothing would change, no one would step in and do it for me, but that I would feel weaker and let self-pity creep in and that my resolve would deteriorate. So even when it was extremely intense and part of me was wondering how much longer, I said, “I can do this! I know I can do this!” and thanked the people around me for their kindness and loving support. They kept telling me “perfect” and “you’re doing beautifully” and “you’ve got this” and in the middle of that inner tsunami it felt so good to be affirmed like that. I felt like I was winning. I told my midwife that and she beamed. She told me the story of another of her clients who decided she was going to express her love for the people in the room every time she had a really difficult surge. So it would come and she would start telling her husband and doula how much she loved them, and the more she did that, the more peaceful she felt and even though labor got more intense, her endorphins were surging too and she was able to stay in control. I thought that was lovely—it might seem cheesy, but our minds are so powerful and our thoughts are so connected to what our bodies are experiencing, it makes sense that expressing love would create a different sensation than being angry or trying to “run away” from what the body was doing.

Some people have asked me if I’m doing hypnobirthing again. Technically yes, but we weren’t able to take a full class this time because of the timing of the holidays and of the birth of our instructor’s own baby. I wish we had been able to, and I wish I had been able to practice more. I’ve listened to the  scripts a couple of times, but I can’t really get in any kind of zone when Chai is awake and if I do it at night I just pass out and don’t really work at it. We took a refresher course the other night and I was obsessed with it. Laura went over the breathing again and most of the time was focused on teaching the birth support how to attend to the mother, but we did a fear release that really spoke to me. (It was so fun to have Jonny, Doug, Emily, Mary, and Laurel all there with me too!) I’m hopeful that where not having practiced as much might be detrimental to me, having more experience than last time will help compensate. And really, it was the doulas and my husband that made all the difference to me last time, and I am so, so unbelievably lucky to have most of them back for round 2 (plus some other rockstar support). I can’t wait for that! My friends, my sisters, I’m so grateful to you for willingly and happily coming to travail by my side. I love you so much. I am looking forward to my blessingway on the 18^th, and after that baby can come anytime [before Katie leaves for Iceland please bless]!!!! 

32 Weeks, before the snow came.

34 Weeks at the Pace "Night in Bethlehem" Christmas party. We were supposed to be shepherds but secretly we were Dothraki. Don't tell!

36 Weeks, right after New Years

Sometimes, just being in Ogden makes me do this in pictures. 

"It must come true, sometime soon, somehow"

Christmas Eve was so peaceful and lovely this year, I felt like we were floating like the wispy snowflakes that fell all day. Our house was filled with music and the glowing, spicy-smelling tree that Jonathan surprised me with. It’s so beautiful even though all the ornaments are plucked off of the bottom half. We couldn’t stop smiling at each other. It was one of those days that you think your life will be like in the future when you are the most dreamy and hopeful. I had this sense of being separate from everything dark and coarse and just existing in this sphere of expectancy and memory and love for my Jonny and my baby. We went out to breakfast and Chai was more “autonomous” at the restaurant even than usual—we watched him, amused, as he hurled napkins, straws, and silverware on the floor and then howled when we wouldn’t let him throw our plates. He spit everything out; it seemed, out of spite that we were restricting his freedoms. He ran away in the parking lot. For some reason with the snow swirling outside the window even his challenging behavior seemed charming. Jonathan said, “You’re just a little ray of sunshine, aren’t you?” and we laughed. All of our movements and words seemed sweeter, more significant than usual. I think Christmas really did get into our blood. We held hands in the car driving home through the white sky and drank hot chocolate. This year, it really did feel like magic, just being us.

I loved scurrying around town on my own finishing up surprises and being able to listen to music by myself and really feel it. I miss that so much; in fact it’s been so long since I really listened to certain songs with an undivided mind that the intensity made me cry.

The kindest employee at Allen’s Photo worked a Christmas miracle for me by photoshopping something on his own laptop that I hadn’t been able to do on their company’s website and wasn’t skilled enough to create on my own. He told me he loved my idea, that it sounded like it would be super easy, and created it for me even though they were swamped with orders and it was in no way part of his job, and I was only spending $3.17 on having it printed. It was so terribly nice that it warmed me all the way through my body. I went to the dollar store to get some little things for Chai and saw families shopping there for their entire Christmas, which made me feel cold and cheap like the little plastic toys they were pulling off the shelves. Going to the mall immediately afterwards (for Teavana) was like being pummeled in the face with the privilege it is to even be able to shop there, and it solidified why I despise the Santa myth, it is so cruel. I’m grateful to be able to conjure some tiny Christmas magic tricks for my little boy. I think the “joy of human love” is just as magical and lovely as believing that elves in the North Pole know your name and planned it all for you, and I hope as Chai gets older he will appreciate that excitement that comes from being thoughtful and preparing heartfelt gifts too.

It was fun being resoundingly pregnant this year at Christmastime and gave me a lot of creative energy. It felt so good to wrap secrets and anticipate their revealing, and to remember that after Christmas we still have one more “present” to look forward to. Christmas Eve night, we each opened one present and sang a couple of Christmas songs in Spanish. We held onto each other. Those were such dear and loving moments. I didn’t realize how fulfilling it would be to celebrate with just our little family—I thought I always wanted to be surrounded by a thousand people and that having Christmas alone would make me feel old. It didn’t. I felt the most childlike wonder and happiness. 

While Chai was running around squawking and waving his cheerleader pompoms, I told Jonathan a story about the first Christmas we were dating and how vivid and bright my thoughts were, and how I felt like I was alive for the first time, and my yellow-bird dreams. He told me, “We always belonged together…right from the very beginning…didn’t we?” Sometimes it seems crazy that we’re really doing this…that we have this life together, that we have an exquisite child that we take care of together, that we’re about to have another one…my friend Wendy said once, “How has no one figured it out? Don’t people realize we’re just KIDS?” It’s not “ending up” maybe because so much of the story is left unwritten, but we do belong together, and that’s the most beautiful part of Christmas or anytime is belonging. The rest of the holiday got a little complex, so I want to always remember this Christmas Eve and how sweet and soft it was. I’m grateful for the beauty in my life and my relationships.

(This was my Gift of the Heart for Jonathan that the Allen's Photo employee magnanimously helped me create!)

Christmas night, it clutched the light, the hallow bright

This last week I felt so much. For most of the week it was disgust with the haters on the Wear Pants to Church Event. I thought the event was a little convoluted from the beginning but the more I read the reactions of the zealous, the misunderstandings skewed sixty directions like a many-pointed star, the energy of judgmental indignation, the banal blathering of churchy platitudes over and over and over again, seeming to have completely absorbed what I see as transparent, cobwebby excuses, the more revolted I felt. It was infuriating. I didn’t engage, but I read like a crazy person and read Jonny the “best of the declines” out loud until it started making me dizzy sick and effectively (for now) made me feel loath to engage in conversation about anything related. This is my tribe?

And then yesterday…there were some fb updates about another school shooting, but I didn’t realize until I was listening to the radio on the way to postpartum group that it was little children, that it was a kindergarten class. I thought of 5 year olds in their little hats and little mittens, talking about Christmas at breakfast that morning, and how frightened they must have been, how they must have hurt. Their poor parents who were waiting at the fire station, who thought their little children were still alive, and no one came running. Their families brought Christmas presents for them, maybe already wrapped, and Christmas morning will come with those kids missing and nothing will ever be okay again. It’s too brutal, it’s too horrible. I’m so sorry! I started crying in the car, I couldn’t stop thinking about their bewilderment and the hideous pain their parents must be feeling. I don’t think I would want to survive if someone hurt my Lolly, if he were gone, just gone because someone decided to harm him in the ultimate way. I don’t know what I would do that first night, how could I bear him being gone? So much trust, sending a kindergartner off to school before they understand any of the ugly. As I was crying, a white dove flew past while I was at a stoplight. I couldn’t help noticing how beautiful it was and the gracefulness of its body as it flew. I thought, how can this exist at the same time I’m listening to someone talk about murdered kindergartners? How can there be a dove in this same world? Everything was so fiercely contrasted yesterday. The life and vitality of my little boy and even the little girl who we don’t know yet squirming under our hands. Being able to speak with and touch the people I loved. Chai’s violent affection with the postpartum kids. The Christmas music playing on the radio seemed so haunting. I kept crying all day. It was frustrating to see so many posts on facebook crying for gun control and announcing their plans to homeschool. Don’t you get it? Those won’t save you, nothing can save you, they are only illusions of control. We just hope and hope that we’re not in the building when the bomb goes off. That a predator doesn’t pick us or our little ones, but picks someone else. That we’re not in the lane when the car next to us loses control, that our bodies don’t turn against us, that we make it through without becoming victims. Those with intent to harm and nothing to lose will find a way to do it. There is no deserving, we are all so vulnerable. Ransom captive Israel.

That night we went to the MoTab Christmas concert with David, Laurel, and my parents and there were so many moments that were merry and jovial and fun. I kept wanting my mind to relax and go to this Christmas place where I could just enjoy and feel like a happy child and believe none of it was real. But instead, everything lovely and powerful about the concert seemed to highlight the pain and loss of innocence. For me, every moment of the concert was about those kids. Alfie Boe was amazing and even the cheesiest song he sang made me sob: “I’ll be home for Christmas, if only in my dreams.” Little children who should be home, who should be safe and loved, who will never be home again. I kept thinking about the parents who would give anything, anything to have those little ones home for Christmas like they should have been, but now they have this grief to carry around for the rest of their lives. When he sang “Bring Him Home” it destroyed me, and I’m sure many others there felt similar emotions. It was so beautiful and so heartbreaking. I felt that the room was reverberating with grief. It felt good to participate in a moment of silence with so many hundreds of people; in a wretched way it felt good to shed so many tears from deep pain in my heart.

I don’t know if I can say that I’ve suffered for this, because what is my suffering if I cry holding my little boy safe in my arms? Yesterday I told him that someone had hurt some kids and that I was so sorry, and that I would try my best to keep him safe, but that I was scared. He looked at me solemnly with his blue eyes, touched my face and said “Soft!” which is what he always does when someone is crying. I’m just so sorry, I am aching on behalf of the families. I keep thinking, that’s exactly the way I should feel. In the midst of it I felt disgusted with myself because cognitively, I know that so many children suffer from even darker horrors every day, something like 21,000 children somewhere in the world greet death every 24 hours, but I don’t weep every day for that. I grieve for what is laid out in front of me, what I am most heavily forced to witness, hear about or know of. What does that say about my compassion? Today I forced myself to acknowledge that many times when I have spoken of a relationship with Jesus Christ, my own or encouraging others to create one, my ideas have been centered on avoiding pain, taking off the edge of the hurt, filling a troubled heart with comforting images that speak of a purpose in the madness and chaotic anguish. Isn’t that exactly what Marx meant by an “opiate for the masses?”

I read this on CNN’s belief blog: “Some religious leaders argue that modern American life insulates much of the nation from the kind of senseless death and suffering that plagues much of the world every day.“Most of the world, for most of the world’s history, has known tragedy and trauma in abundance,” wrote Rob Brendle, a Colorado pastor, in a commentary for CNN’s Belief Blog after this summer’s deadly shooting in Aurora, Colorado, which left 12 dead.“You don’t get nearly the same consternation in Burundi or Burma, because suffering is normal to there,” wrote Brendle, who pastored congregants after a deadly shooting at his church five years ago. “For us, though, God has become anesthetist-in-chief. To believe in him is to be excused from bad things.”

I'm wandering in this quagmire of my own privilege. Most of the time I am cheerful and I love my life and my family and I laugh and listen to music and even grant myself ample space to feel sorry for myself often. What I typically perceive as painful is such a light stripe. I don't think it is moral to use God as a way to be "excused from bad things", but even as I express that I know I haven't really known "bad things," so how sincere can my mourning really be? I keep thinking that maybe what I was meant to understand from Jesus is that I was NOT meant to numb out because of assurance in a divine plan, but I was meant to weep and weep hard. I’ve written blog posts before about the saddest things and I usually ended them tied up with balloons of hope, but today allowing this to float away on some naïve imagined string of reconciliation seems too heavy in and of itself. I just want to say that I’m so sorry, for the lonely boy as well as the lost children, and that I’m grateful for my life and for having experienced as much love as I have. I don’t want to anesthetize myself anymore. And after my eyes clear, I will remember the dove.

Joyful and Chai-umphant (18 months)

Chai turned 18 months old on December 7th. He, like Pearl Harbor, will live in infamy. My obsession with my baby boy has surpassed all reason. He is my funny, dear little friend and I love him. Jonathan and I were watching videos not even a year old of Chai when he was a fat, gormless bald baby and we couldn't believe it was him. We thought we adored him last year; now we keep telling each other, this, this is the true Chai! I don't think it would be possible for us to enjoy him more deeply. I appreciate his loving nature and all the beautiful things about life that he brings to my awareness. Here are some things I want to remember about my tiny good man at 18 months:

*He is a wonderful dancer! Whenever he hears music, at the store, in the car, and even during a movie or TV show, he bops around, tiptoes, waves his arms and shakes his shoulders and booty. He is able to recognize tempo and when it's a slow song, like Christmas music, he closes his eyes and sways with long, graceful arms. We always say he is "feeling artistic." It is hilarious and as Jonathan says, he "charms the pants off everyone." I wish I had some great video of his dances but I have this condition where I'm scared to delete anything off my SD card so whenever I record video it's only a few seconds' worth. But Chai dancing is pure joy to me. He is so expressive and so sweet and funny. Lately, he does this little celebratory dance whenever we come home from work, he starts rocking out and yelling when we walk in the door. I DIE every time.

*Chai is incredibly affectionate. I love that he is so active and independent but also so cuddly. He loves to sit backwards in my lap and rest his head on my chest. He always joins in whenever someone is rubbing my poor aching back and he will come rub my back on his own if I ask him to or if I'm ever kneeling down. 

 I can’t get enough of his deliberate, wild hugs and his sweet-smelling face and his trotting steps and his mischievous smiles. He is also great at giving kisses when the desire strikes him. He puckers his huge lips and leans in very slightly, about 5%, the recipient has to go the other 95. When he decides to kiss someone he typically kisses everyone in the room. Sometimes when he is feeling particularly benevolent he will pucker up to cashiers and the like. On mornings when we sleep in, (that's right!) he crawls over to me and will fall back to sleep with his hand on my arm or chest. 

*Chai loves aunties and uncles. His auntie "Moh" lives with us right now and every morning when he gets up he goes to look for her. If she is home, he runs to see her and calls her name over and over while his whole body shakes with happiness. If she's gone to class, he waves sadly into her room and says, "Bye...bye...Moh!" She is such a kind and playful auntie. She lets Chai wear her jewelry and indulges his demands to ransack all her possessions. She is always willing to take him on walks or dance with him in her arms. Chai has become really close to my brother Doug and his wife Emily lately as well. They come over once a week for our Wednesday "dinner party" and Chai loves having them around and falls into despair when they leave. He knows that they are the owners of "Pie" (Chai's name for their dog, Penny) and if we ever say their names around him he begins to yell for "Pie" and look around as though she might suddenly appear. I want my siblings to know that I'm so grateful for their kindness to my little boy and I don't take it for granted. Every child deserves lots of people that love them and I'm so happy my baby has that. 

*Chai loves ice. Jonathan always feeds him tiny pieces of ice from his own mouth, like a baby bird, and Chai beams and is generally full of glee. It's like his favorite treat. The first time it snowed, we gave him a tiny icicle to suck on  and he went mad with happiness. He kept crying to go outside for more until all the icicles were gone. 

*Chai is a little word sponge. I can't even keep track of all the words he can say now, and he surprises me with new ones every day. Some of the new words from the last two weeks or so are "up" "wash" "toys" "cow" "monkey" "mokey" (milk) "tankoo" (thank you) "Pie" "dance" "winky" "booger" "clothes" "book" "down" "pretty" "lights" "baby". He learned to ask for Yo Gabba Gabba and does so often: "Gabba gabba gabba!" He can identify all the parts of the face and make dog, kitty, bird, and cow sounds. He likes to name the animal immediately after making the noise, like "Hohohoho!" (barking) "DOG." He also talks in his sleep. He will roll over, sigh, and mutter, "Chai-Chai-Chai" or "shoes!" Last night he laughed in his sleep. 

*Even though it's gotten colder, Chai is still obsessed with taking walks outside. We've had so much fun with him the days that it snowed. He gets so excited when we put on his shoes that his whole body shakes. He asks to go outside constantly, even when it's freezing or late at night. He loves exploring.

*Chai is obsessed with taking baths. A few times a day, even if he's had a bath only hours before, he will become frenzied with the idea, look at me all wide-eyed and say "Bath! Bath bath bath bath!" run to the bathroom and knock on the door (which we try to keep shut all the time because of Chai's penchant for throwing things, like his bottle, into the toilet), all full of hope. If I tell him the bath can't happen right then, he collapses with despair against the door and weeps, "Bath! Baaaath!" When he actually does get in the tub, it's a serious business. He's figured out all the ways to stay warmest--huddling up against the  running faucet, or, when it gets deep enough, floating on his stomach and blowing bubbles. He also enjoys throwing all the shampoo and body wash bottles into the tub with him, and then out of the tub on the floor, and attempting to drink bath water out of various cups. 

*Chai loves to pinch us when we're feeding him a bottle. We always try to ignore it, but he gets the smallest amount of skin possible and twists. Sometimes, he also pinches in vengeance. Sometimes we call him "Pinche Chai" :) 

*Chai, like most of the good people on Reddit, likes to watch videos of kittens falling asleep and doing other cute things. Sometimes we use kitty videos as a distraction if he is getting cranky or demanding an inopportune bath or walk and it works every time. 

*Jonathan is always buying and selling tech parts and building computers. Chai loves to copy everything he does. He pulls tech parts out of boxes and blows on them and loves to "fix" computers with tools whenever he can get his hands on them. 

 *Some people have asked if Chai is aware that another baby is coming in a little while. He has started calling my belly "baby!" and he definitely knows what babies are, but I'm not sure he's put it together yet. However, he has been more attached to me lately and always wants me to snuggle and comfort and feed him (before he was less discriminating . I don't know if it's an intuitive awareness that things will be changing soon or if it's a developmental stage, but it means so much to me to be able to have extra closeness to honor the time we have left together, just us. I am so aware all the time that one day the little boy I know now won't exist anymore, he will never curl up in my lap and gently pat my face and my hair again. There won't be as many kisses, he won't always stretch his arms out to me with pure delight. Hopefully we can have a different kind of relationship that is also sweet and fulfilling, but I know I will miss my sweet baby. I remember it every time I hold him. He has my heart.