Introducing Lenox Bear Mulliken, born Monday, May 13th at 4:00 p.m., stretching 21 inches and weighing 8.3 lbs. We are slowly catching our breath and easing into these tender days with droopy eyelids, sore muscles, and grateful hearts. Thank you for holding the space during this precious time. A fuller birth story to emerge in this space soon, and for now, some rest.
We love taking part in the ritual of posting a single photo (no words) on Fridays. One simple moment to savor from the week. Because sometimes one photo says it all….
We love taking part in the ritual of posting a single photo (no words) on Fridays. One simple moment to savor from the week. Because sometimes one photo says it all….
A few years ago, I got into the practice of keeping a gratitude journal. Have you heard of such a thing? I think there’s no real “right” way to keep a gratitude journal. Here’s how I did it: I decided it should be the last thing I do before I go to sleep, so as to flood my consciousness with positive images and memories and to allow my brain to purge whatever was lingering before I shut off for the night. I did this gratitude journaling just listy style for a good while, and I have to say, it was a wonderful ritual. It served me in thousands of ways.
As much as I loved (and reaped enormous benefits from) gratitude journaling, it fell by the wayside, as things tend to, when I had a baby. I think nursing or trying-to-keep-my-wits-about-me replaced journaling as my final to-do before bed.
Over this past weekend, as I faced my still-pregnant body in the mirror and thought to myself, “what should I do?” — gratitude journaling came to mind. Perhaps some gratitude for this 40+ week state I’m in could do this gal some good. I won’t lie to you — this waiting game is torturing me in some ways. But, when I really look at it, I must admit, there are some sweet things arising in these un-planned-for-still-pregnant-days.
So, I pulled out a notebook, and got some ideas down in my gratitude journal yesterday. I was not surprised to see that a few things were obvious (1. more time with just Orlis, 2. the opportunity to teach myself how to crochet a granny square, 3. getting a head start on May’s book club book, and 4. indulging in a few more episodes of Breaking Bad after Orlis goes to bed than I thought I’d have time for). Those rolled right off the pen as I perused my week in review.
But then, I noticed a few more ideas flowing onto the journal pages that sunk a little deeper in my heart, as yet another reminder that things happen in their own good time.
1. I do love the feeling of being “held” so closely in the thoughts of so many people I love and who love me. I’m reminded of this via text, voicemail, email, and phone call by many good people each day. There’s a lift I feel in this, like being suspended in the air on a big balloon. This feeling is so so very rich. I wish I could bottle it.
2. I am grateful for the opportunity to feel more empathy for the way this end-of-pregnancy period affects, I would guess, most women both physically and mentally. Having had Orlis at 38 weeks, I didn’t go through this last time, and I am appreciative of the experience this time around — specifically being with the not knowing; being so physically uncomfortable and also being with the gradual nature of birth; feeling pressure of all kinds. It’s its own special psychology, and knowing how universal it is makes me feel bonded, in some small way, to women everywhere, and from the beginning of time.
3. I’m glad to be learning, by happenstance, the way I think the other half lives. Which is to say — without so many simultaneous projects and lists and to-dos going all of the time. A week with not much planned at all and few goals — this is foreign to me. I wouldn’t want it all the time, but I’ll admit, I like it right now.
We love taking part in the ritual of posting a single photo (no words) on Fridays. One simple moment to savor from the week. Because sometimes one photo says it all….
These days…oh, these days. I am waking early and noticing, “hmmm…still pregnant.” These days are those strange and sacred ones during which I inch so humbly close to an elusive “due date” knowing, at any moment we’ll begin. It’s these days that are, I think universally, a challenge for many of us going through this rite of passage. The psychology is odd — yearning for something that we know is likely to be a bigger challenge and also a bigger joy than any we’ve known and not knowing how or when it will start, but knowing it will…it will…at just the time it should. It’s a peculiar place to sit for days on end.
Dearest friends and family are checking in, daily some of them, wondering if I feel anything. (ha! ”yes.” I tell them. ”I’m feeling every move my body makes with the most acute awareness. Who needs meditation practice when I have this waiting game on which to feast my every sense?”) Other dearest are, I think, deliberately not checking in, but I know the pins and needles on which they sit. There is just nothing quite like this anticipation.
Well, what are we doing with ourselves while we wait, you might be wondering?
*Playing with the neighbors. The youngest among us donning our bicycle helmets and going belly-forth on the skateboard. (The maternal among us holding her heart and breath with every such endeavor.)
*Checking and double checking the birth supplies we’ve organized. Appreciating how many of the things that are gathered in these baskets are homemade and handed-down and otherwise used and loved so well already. What better to wrap up a new baby in than an already beloved blanket that holds some legacy and embedded warmth?
*Making birth art. Toddler-style and mama-style. Loving the way watercolors work and move together.
*Fixing, fixing, fixing. Using our tools as much as we can.
*Ah! Enjoying bringing in the bits of spring that so abundantly grace our out-of-doors. And loving the streaming sunlight too.
*Just…waiting.
*Beginning, at friends’ insistence, some sewing projects that I know won’t get finished for awhile. Being okay with the idea of a long, unfinished project. Loving the challenge of sewing projects that are well beyond my skill level (and the knowledge, too, that my mama is coming soon and will know how to help me).
*Appreciating the thoughtful things I was mandated to include in the Mama Birth Supply Basket by the midwives. Oh, those midwives have mamas in mind all the time. I am so grateful for that.
*Staring dumbfounded by the amazing versatility of sticks. All day long we pick up sticks. I had no idea they were so very much fun.
*Applying bandaids where we have no ouchies and wearing them like costumes. Because what is more fun than bandaids to a 2.5 year old? (And what is a better lesson for this mama than embracing and loving our scratches, bruises, and scars?)
*Employing every natural induction method I can think of ….acupuncture, pineapple, wild dance parties. And doing as I’m told and making my way to Portland’s Mount Tabor Park (affectionately nicknamed Mount Labor Park to those in my situation) to walk the stairs.
*Bringing my sidekick with me.
*Imitating statues together and having a good giggle.
*And doing my very best to cherish this precious table for three — with hearty meals and silly moments and a bushel of lilac from our generous yard out back. We are in the business of falling in love here, I remind myself. And we don’t ever really get to know the precise moment that will happen.
We love taking part in the ritual of posting a single photo (no words) on Fridays. One simple moment to savor from the week. Because sometimes one photo says it all….
Readers: Thanks for visiting today! I just wanted to point out that some of the previous snags some of you were emailing me about on the blog have been rectified. You should have no problem seeing this blog now on your iphone and certainly no trouble leaving comments. You can click on that little green “dialogue” box at the top right corner of each post to leave a comment, or click on “Leave a Reply” at the bottom. Thank you for your comments – I appreciate each and every one, and do my best to reply to questions when they arise. Happy Friday!
This baby-in-utero has not, as of yet, sprung forth, but in the meanwhile, spring has. And oh, in such glorious ways. I’ll take it — all of it.
I’ll take these friendly and most perfect blossoms outside my window in the morning, and I welcome, wholeheartedly, the sun, yes Oregon sun, that pours in, rendering my own home almost unrecognizable. (Did someone accidentally leave the lights on last night? Oh, no, that’s the morning sun.)
I’ll certainly take the blue skies that beckon us, Orlis and I, outdoors to sit quietly together and make tools with sticks and rocks and mud and fallen dead blossoms. We can spend hours “fixing” the steps to our driveway and “washing” them with rock “soap” and brown, wilting petal “washcloths” and I’m floored by the way this enchants him. I see the imagination of my 2 and 1/2 year old exploding with the simplest of found-object “toys” and I’m so grateful to have stood my ground about keeping things relatively spare and simple in the toy department, even when it makes me unpopular with some well-intentioned gift-givers in our lives. Because nothing, truly, could be more engaging and engrossing than the mud on our shoes and the way spring, in particular, has offered us a little something new each day with which to make our world. I don’t always love getting my hands dirty but I adore seeing a little brain believe so wholeheartedly in the stories he creates.
And, I see nature offering me some very timely reminders that good things do happen in their own, sweet time. The faces of flowers emerge just when they are ready, and then, I notice, open so very wide I am amazed by their vulnerability; their unabashed showing of their true natures. These things, these offerings are not only metaphors for what’s to happen in our home in the coming hours, days, maybe weeks…but also simple gifts in their own right. Nature knows just what to do.
We love taking part in the ritual of posting a single photo (no words) on Fridays. One simple moment to savor from the week. Because sometimes one photo says it all….
Oh, my heart is full. I’ve been musing much these days about the most amazing weekend 2 and 1/2 years ago when many of the most important women of my life gathered in my honor for my Mother Blessing weekend. I was 36 weeks pregnant then, and at 37 weeks now, I am looking back at these photos and remembering (and still feeling) the strength of all we did that weekend to help prepare me for the end of pregnancy, birth, early post-partum, breastfeeding, and the unbelievable transition to motherhood.
That weekend — when women of multiple generations and from many corners of my history came in to be with me — reigns among (or even at the very top of) my favorite weekends ever. All weekend we picnicked and play games and gathered in different combinations. In particular though, what stands out still, are those handful of sacred hours when we gathered in my home for the Blessingway Ceremony, so thoughtfully curated by a few close friends and family members.
*we sang together; they sang to me
*we introduced ourselves by our matrilineal lineage, bringing in the presence and power of our mothers and grandmothers
*we revealed fears during a fear ceremony
*we honored, with ritual, the complexities of breastfeeding for the first time
*they pampered me, massaged me, honored me with significant gifts
*I offered a soliloquy ritual of my own, bringing in the aspects of these amazing women and declaring who I hoped to be as a mother
*we ate and ate and ate — beautiful, delicious, symbolic foods
*we wore white
*we wore crowns
*we cried a lot
*we made red and blue birth leaves for the tree on my wall — in the room where I planned to give birth
*we collaborated on a pregnancy silhouette quilt
*we were present for each other
*we made a phone tree and handed out candles to light for when I went into labor
*we were, unabashedly, women together — women supporting the biggest rite of passage for women: birth and motherhood
I still feel so intrinsically held by this circle — 2 and 1/2 years later and at the same juncture again (hours or days or weeks from birth). I feel strengthened by our collective creativity, by our vulnerability in sharing, and by our womanness, one and all. By this Blessingway, I still feel so very, very blessed.
