growing pains

it is quiet here this morning.

ruby is taking her short morning nap & my boys are with my parents for the day. they spent the night with them last night, the first time since before ruby came to join us, & i thought i would relish in the quiet. in not having to convince my five year old to go back to bed time & time again. to not have to get up to get my three year old a sip of soymilk in the middle of the night. to not have to wake matthew so he could go & lay down with both of them because they're up again, & i'm nursing ruby.

instead of basking in the quiet last night, i felt awkward. not sure what to do -- do i paint? do i sleep? do we just hang out? we opted for sharing dinner together & hanging out, a low-key evening that was definitely enjoyable & lovely.

but i kept waking up. at 3AM i toyed with the idea of just staying up, but i knew if i did that i would be a mess by the time i got to work tonight. so i just welcomed the waking, said a prayer for my boys, for my Love, for my little girl, for myself.

i ask, i always ask, for more patience, more kindness, more self-control, more Joy shining through my face. do they know i enJoy them? or do they only see my frustrations? do they know they make my heart sing songs i never knew it could sing? or do they only see my tired eyes?

i am enjoying, basking in the quiet today. i am praying. a LOT. i want them to see the joy in my heart every day. i want them to know in their deepest place that i love them completely, unconditionally, regardless of the days events. regardless of my exhaustion. in spite of my brokeness.

what a beautiful, growing gift my children are to me.

i am learning to welcome the growing pains.

ruby, 10.5 weeks

sunrise

You can
die for it--
an idea,
or the world. People

have done so,
brilliantly,
letting
their small bodies be bound

to the stake,
creating
an unforgettable
fury of light. But

this morning,
climbing the familiar hills
in the familiar
fabric of dawn, I thought

of China,
and India
and Europe, and I thought
how the sun

blazes
for everyone just
so joyfully
as it rises

under the lashes
of my own eyes, and I thought
I am so many!
What is my name?

What is the name
of the deep breath I would take
over and over
for all of us? Call it

whatever you want, it is
happiness, it is another one
of the ways to enter
fire.

(mary oliver)

pulling away

i'm a bundle of emotions lately, as i always am a few weeks before i return to working outside the home. i am only gone for twentyish hours a week, but it weighs heavily on me, trying to always strike that balance. for me, it has always been good to have a little work-time away from home. i'm a little more sane. but it is exhausting, & i am tired already, though not as tired as i thought i would be. during this time especially, i feel a great need to stay away from the computer, to not squander my time away during the day doing anything other than Being with my children, even if we are all cranky because it's super hot & has been for awhile. how do you cool an old house down, when it's 88 degrees inside in the middle of the night with the air conditioner on & fans going?

i pray for rain. and lots of it.

noah is five.

So may the sunrise bring hope where it once was forgotten
Sons are like birds, flying upward over the mountain
(iron & wine)

noah was two days old when he heard this song; it was part of our routine, to put on a record when we were rocking him or when i was nursing him. & when he was a little older, i would swing & sway to whatever we put on, standing close so he could watch the record spin. today he is five & still completely absorbed in records. he has more vinyl than i ever did; & while there are some he doesn't listen to really, most of it he does. i gave him two more apple 45's today, & i don't think he's put them down yet.

i can't believe it's been five years already. five years since i counted his fingers & toes a million times. i was such a nervous new mama, & definitely passed along some of my anxiety to him. but each day, each year, he is growing in his confidence. he is smarter than i ever imagined a five year old would be. his ridiculous, photographic memory can be intense sometimes. he is headstrong & obsessive about what he loves, and his laughter makes my eyes sparkle. he is such a joy. a hard joy, sometimes. but a true, honest, gritty, messy, beautiful joy.

i am so, so lucky.

hair.

my hair tries to teach me things, spiritually.
i'm serious!

but i don't listen much.
or try to hear other things.

it's all vanity.

the house is a steady 81 degrees at night, maybe dipping a few degrees lower just before sunrise. fans in strategic windows to pull in the cooler night air, giving thanks for this weather even though i haven't adjusted to the heat yet. little ruby gets prickly heat on her neck, face, arms, as the days get warmer & warmer. i was the same way, and still turn every shade of pink & red during the summer months. maybe a dozen more freckles, maybe my hair gets a little lighter(grayer?), but mostly i'm just pink.

i've got a handful of little notebooks going, one for this & one for that, trying to get stuff out of my Head & at least onto paper. from there? who knows. i write down what i eat, craft projects, goals, mothering things, spiritual things, menus, thoughts... it's getting more complex than it should be, probably, but putting all of this information in one journal just isn't making sense to me right now.

& we have a resident cardinal, "red" is his name says noah. he sings to us all day & hangs out on the porch railing a lot. we need to get more birdseed out.

half of my maternity leave is over already, & so i must start thinking about my return & what that means & getting a stash of milk going in the freezer. all of that good stuff. there is always transition, always change, always something going on so that i never get too comfortable.

new beginnings, starting over, everything's new, everything's the same, there's nothing new under the sun.

pilgrim eyes.

i feel so full lately. i try to sit down to write in my paper journal or Here, and i just feel too full & like i'll explode into a million little pretty pieces if i actually write it all down. it's a weird & good feeling.

there are these little(big) things, like how i've noticed the subtle changes in Noah's face... how he's growing up & gaining confidence in himself & there are these moments where the joy in his eyes is almost too much. he will be five(FIVE! 5!) in just a few weeks & it's safe to say i'm pretty shocked this time has gone so quickly.

& jonah, he's my own billy eliot & ridiculously funny & very,very stubborn & headstrong. he's taken to asserting himself pretty strongly at times since ruby was born, & we're still trying to figure out the best way to deal with that.

ruby june, who taught me so much about patience while i, while we, waited for her, sleeps through all the noise two little boys make & squeaks, purrs & hums when the house is quiet. she has this amazing smile where her half-moon eyes close & turn up & her mouth opens into a half-giggle half-smile, and she sleeps so well i don't even want to talk about it. but after having both boys that were up every two hours to nurse, and especially jonah, who nursed every two hours through the night until he weaned himself this last fall, i say a grateful prayer every time ruby snoozes away for anything more than two hours at a time.

matthew, whose steadiness guides me along when i'm having a particularly emotional or hormone-driven crazy day, who keeps the diaper laundry going (& there is so much diaper laundry right now with two in cloth), who always asks me what i want to eat & makes sure i'm getting good foods in my belly... his smile really does just make everything better. there are days when i count the minutes til he gets home, and it's not just so i can have a break with the kids. i really do miss him, he brings so much joy inside, we are a team & we work best when we work together, i think. of course we are all still adjusting to the new Newness, to yet another transition, to the heat of the impending summer, & many other things, but we are in this together & there is not a day i don't give thanks for that really huge detail.

& the peonies, how they filled my home with the most beautiful scent. how i want my arm covered in peonies & maybe in a few months i'll sit down for more tattoo work, to finish what i started. peonies & lillies & st. john the baptist & his gnarly hair, feet... that charley harper hummingbird & maybe one of his owls, too. how Divine, truly, the breeze is at night, coming through the windows. how i'm glad i don't have everything i want. how things keep breaking, like our sink & our toilet & the downspouts & my teeth & how the porch roof leaks & how none of this matters. it's all still beautiful. it all gets fixed, or not. & life is still beautiful.

& sometimes my days are all about survival. sometimes my voice is louder than it should be. sometimes i talk too much & pick at my children as if they were my peers & Not My Children, my precious gifts that are just that, gifts. sometimes i have to ask for their forgiveness more than once. sometimes mama needs her own little break in the bathroom or on the porch to get herSelf Together. & yet their eyes still melt my heart during those times, and they accept my apologies with a divine gentleness & a Knowing...a knowing that i hope is a buffer from my brokeness, sometimes. we were given to each other, we are in this together. they are more my teachers, my guides, than i feel like i could ever be for them. but that is what i am called to be -- their guide, their teacher, their Mother, their mama.


& this is life, this is Love -- this is Messy. & it is beautiful.

& i am grateful.

these days.

life is really hard & really wonderful & full of tears & full of laughter & even though sometimes i'm totally overwhelmed by it All -- the good and the bad, i wouldn't change it for anything.

ruby's birth.

i had just gone back to bed after getting up to use the bathroom & get another drink of water. i was a bothered because i *had* to pee again! so, i rolled out of bed again & as soon as i stood up, i realised i didn't have to pee; my water had broke! i did a quiet little happy dance all the way back to the bathroom to check & see if there was mec in the waters or if it was clear, & when it was clear i did another little happy dance. it was 2.30 in the morning on friday, april 23rd, and i was 42 weeks & 5 days pregnant.

i gathered myself a bit & woke matthew up, telling him my water had finally broke. he hopped up & started sweeping the floor. (for some reason i asked him weeks before that when i told him i was in labor it would be awesome if he would sweep the floors!) i called grace, my midwife, to let her know. (she was pregnant too, & ended up having her own little girl five days after i gave birth. the night before, we had discussed a ton of different scenarios, and what we were going to do about them... if she went into labor when she was attending my birth, if she had her baby before i had mine, etc etc...) she did a happy dance too! we talked for a few minutes & i told her i would call her back when things started to pick up.

matthew & i hung out, got some things together for the boys, made coffee, did some dishes... just sort of puttered around the house a bit for a few hours. i sat on the balance ball a lot, & was having contractions that seemed regular, (we haven't *timed* contractions with any of my births), but they weren't too intense. finally though, around 5 am, i decided to call my parents to come & pick up the boys. as soon as they were pulling out of the driveway with the boys, the surges definitely got more intense. i called our doula around 6, and grace again around 6.30.

matthew turned some music on (of course i didn't want the birth mix i had worked on, now!) & i set myself up in the dining room, sitting on the ball & leaning onto a stack of pillows on the table. matthew sat with me, holding my hands, through each contraction. it was really divine, to have a little bit of time to labor with just matthew. we would talk or just look at each other in between the contractions, & it just felt very sacred.

i didn't hear eileen come in, but she put her hands on my back & helped release my hips a little during a contraction. it was great to have her here; she has such a gentle voice & a very mother-earthy-lovely presence about her. she was a little more chatty than i expected, but i knew that my senses were extremely heightened so it didn't really bother me. when grace showed up, she just sat across from me at the table, holding the space & observing while i was working. i was very quiet & wasn't being vocal throughout the contractions this time, even though they seemed
to be just as intense as they were when i was birthing jonah. i was really, really focused on my breathing & praying through each surge. i stood up once for grace to get a listen to ruby, and noticed my legs were shaking. i thought maybe i was in transition but then thought there was no way; i was too lucid & things weren't that intense yet.

around 9 am, i got up to use the restroom & when i came out eileen & grace were putting the kettle on for tea. we all talked for a few minutes about tea & i said i was hungry so matthew gave me a granola bar to munch on. we walked around the house a bit, trying to decide what to listen to, & just chit-chatted for a good twenty minutes. i remember looking at the clock & seeing how light we were all being & thinking that i had at least 3 or 4 more hours to go... & then, at 9.30, i sat back down on the balance ball & the next contraction was much more powerful. i wasn't comfortable sitting so i stood up. grace asked me where i wanted to have ruby & i said the living room (we sleep on the futon there), & so she said it'd probably be a good idea to make our way there. i kind of laughed at her, thinking there was no way i was close to having ruby, i mean i couldn't *feel* her the way i had felt jonah moving down... & things just didn't feel heavy enough. (& we didn't do any cervical checks because i was group B + & didn't want to have any unless grace felt it was necessary). but anyway, i took a step towards the living room & had another intense contraction -- those lovely double peaks with little recovery time -- & with every step another surge came. it took me almost an hour to take 10 steps!

once i reached the bed, i tried sitting on my hands & knees but wasn't comfortable. i leaned over the ball on the bed, but wasn't comfortable with that either. i told grace i wanted to lay down, and eileen sat at my feet & had me put one foot on her shoulder. immediately my body just started pushing like a mad woman, & i started screaming (grace, eileen & matthew all say i wasn't screaming, but just sounding really primal & really serious about birthing ruby. but my voice was hoarse the rest of the day!) in one push i could feel ruby come down & eileen mentioned she was going to support my perineum with some sweet almond oil on a washcloth. grace sat up right beside me. with the next push i felt ruby's head come out, & just then eileen said i had pushed her out to her cheeks. for some reason, this really freaked me out & i closed my eyes & i must have looked upset or scared, because grace very gently told me to open my eyes & to look at her; that ruby was fine & with the next contraction she would be out so to just focus on that & not worry about her. (i had asked grace to keep me present when i was pushing ruby out, because with jonah i was still so torn about the women i knew who had lost their babies during childbirth that i just Wanted Him Out & pushed with the mindset that i needed to get him out so that i knew he was okay... & i wanted to let that go this time & trust God & my body that ruby would be how she was supposed to be, whatever that looked like.) grace's words definitely grounded me & with the next push ruby was here. it was 10.55. she didn't make a sound, just looked around & i just sat there for a few moments talking to her & touching her, asking her to stay in her body, & then i picked her up & brought her to my chest. her cord had been wrapped loosely around her neck once. about 20 minutes later i pushed the placenta out. it had a few very large blood clots in it & a few calcifications. (grace was pretty certain the clots were formed after
i had birthed ruby). after another hour or so matthew clamped & cut the umbilical cord & grace prepared my placenta so i could make placenta smoothies everyday for a few months.after that, she prepared the most wonderful herb bath for me & checked me before i went to soak; no tearing! i had tears with noah & jonah & was shocked that i didn't tear this time. i also had a cervical prolapse with jonah's birth, and this time there was nothing like that.

i took my bath, fell asleep in it for about half an hour, got out & dressed & went back to bed with my new & perfect little girl.



She is more precious than rubies,
and none of the things you desire can compare with her.
Long life is in her right hand;
in her left hand are riches and honor.
Her ways are very pleasant,
and all her paths are peaceful.
She is like a tree of life to those who obtain her,
and everyone who grasps hold of her will be blessed.

proverbs 3:15-18

happy mother's day

TO WASH A CHILD
by Pablo Neruda

Only the most ancient love on earth
will wash and comb the statue of the children,
straighten the feet and knees.
The water rises, the soap slithers,
and the pure body comes up to breathe
the air of flowers and motherhood.

Oh, the sharp watchfulness,
the sweet deception,
the lukewarm struggle!

Now the hair is a tangled
pelt criscrossed by charcoal,
by sawdust and oil,
soot, wiring, crabs,
until love, in its patience,
sets up buckets and sponges,
combs and towels,
and, out of scrubbing and combing, amber,
primal scrupulousness, jasmines,
has emerged the child, newer still,
running from the mother's arms
to clamber again on its cyclone,
go looking for mud, oil, urine and ink,
hurt itself, roll about on the stones.
Thus, newly washed, the child springs into life,
for later, it will have time for nothing more
than keeping clean, but with the life lacking.

i have found such joy

I have found such joy in simple things;
A plain, clean room, a nut-brown loaf of bread
A cup of milk, a kettle as it sings,
The shelter of a roof above my head,
And in a leaf-laced square along the floor,
Where yellow sunlight glimmers through a door.



I have found such joy in things that fill
My quiet days: a curtain's blowing grace,
A potted plant upon my window sill,
A rose, fresh-cut and placed within a vase;
A table cleared, a lamp beside a chair,
And books I long have loved beside me there.



Oh, I have found such joys I wish I might
Tell every woman who goes seeking far
For some elusive, feverish delight,
That very close to home the great joys are:
The elemental things-- old as the race,
Yet never, through the ages, commonplace.



(Grace Noll Crowell)

nine days.

she's been here nine days & it's as if she has been with us always, well, because she has. & of course there are growing pains with every transition, with every new being under the same roof, sharing the same air & spoons & attention... but so far it has been a relatively smooth ride. i see in her a tenderness, a wisdom, a peace. & the amazing ability to sleep through all the noise her brothers can possibly make.

so everything's new again & everything is the same.

& it may be a little too early to say for sure, but i think all the waiting, the longing... & waiting again for her arrival gave birth in me a new found pocket of patience.

or maybe it's the placenta smoothies.

ruby june.

born at home
april 23, 2010
10.55 am
8 lbs, 22 inches

a little dress for ruby

dear ruby,

i bought this dress for you last week. i fell in love with the colors & even though you don't need another dress, i just had to buy it.

please come soon! i love carrying you inside, but i am growing impatient, wanting to kiss your little fingers & nurse you. i am ready for all those sleepless nights again.

love always,
your very most extremely pregnant mama
(42 weeks, 4 days)

in the meantime...

dear ruby,

i mopped the floors this morning.

i love you!
please come soon, otherwise i'll have to mop again.

love,
mama

40 weeks, 7 days

attitude

“The longer I live, the more I realize the impact of attitude on life. Attitude, to me, is more important than facts. It is more important than the past, the education, the money, than circumstances, than failure, than successes, than what other people think or say or do. It is more important than appearance, giftedness or skill. It will make or break a company... a church... a home. The remarkable thing is we have a choice everyday regarding the attitude we will embrace for that day. We cannot change our past... we cannot change the fact that people will act in a certain way. We cannot change the inevitable. The only thing we can do is play on the one string we have, and that is our attitude. I am convinced that life is 10% what happens to me and 90% of how I react to it. And so it is with you... we are in charge of our Attitudes.” (chuck swindoll)

the wish to be generous

ALL that I serve will die, all my delights,
the flesh kindled from my flesh, garden and field,
the silent lilies standing in the woods,
the woods, the hill, the whole earth, all
will burn in man's evil, or dwindle
in its own age. Let the world bring on me
the sleep of darkness without stars, so I may know
my little light taken from me into the seed
of the beginning and the end, so I may bow
to mystery, and take my stand on the earth
like a tree in a field, passing without haste
or regret toward what will be, my life
a patient willing descent into the grass.

-wendell berry-

39 weeks, 6 days.

dear ruby,

are you waiting for me to mop the floors before you'll come? i know i promised mopped floors, but i keep forgetting or just don't feel like it once everyone is in bed for the night. the house is clean, we've got lots of food around, the birth pool is in the kitchen if we decide we want to use it, & i love you. we love you & can't wait to see your beautiful face! & fingers & toes & bellies, too.

love always,
mama

waiting.

Waiting

Dear Baby, here beneath my heart,
I thought that you might come today;
The timing seemed just right.

But the stars are out
And the moon is high
And sheepishly I wonder why
I try to arrange the plans
Of God.

For now I know
You will not come
Until the One who holds eternity
Rustles your soft cocoon
And whispers in tones that I will not hear,
“It’s time, precious gift.”

“Now it’s time.”

-by Robin Jones Gunn




:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

i did not think ruby was coming tonight, but i've entered that state of waiting. of doing the dishes, and waiting. doing the laundry, taking walks, playing, coloring, sleeping, bathing, cooking, eating, praying, and waiting. it is a holy time.

sabbath VII

The clearing rests in song and shade.
It is a creature made
By old light held in soil and leaf,
By human joy and grief,
By human work,
Fidelity of sight and stroke,
By rain, by water on
The parent stone.
We join our work to Heaven's gift,
Our hope to what is left,
That field and woods at last agree
In an economy
Of widest worth.
High Heaven's Kingdom come on earth.
Imagine Paradise.
O Dust, arise!

wendell berry

it all muddles together

up & being silly with jonah & noah at 430 this morning, waking matthew up so we can take him to work today. feeling good, feeling Very Pregnant in every way, feel sort of productive even though my day seems to have slipped from me & i barely accomplished the things i wanted to. i put ruby's carseat in the car, and boy it is snug but the boys will just have to adjust. trying to feather my nest a little bit, get more mentally focused for the coming of this little girl. the thunderstorms bring on contractions, and so do the late nights at work. ((well, i guess 8 o'clock really isn't Late, but when you've been up for 14+ hours and you're just about 37 weeks pregnant it definitely feels late.)) curious why brita doesn't make a glass pitcher, why my aunt doesn't want me to use a rocking chair that's been sitting downstairs since we moved in, why anything i drink gives me heartburn, if dreadlocks would really work in my hair... i could go on & on & on. it's an intense time of year, we are in the middle of lent, & a day doesn't pass that i don't feel the pulling, the darkness that comes before the Light, & that these are the final days of this pregnancy, & that there is so much work to do. inside, outside, Inside, Outside.

& how i've come to the conclusion that my all-time favorite flower is the peony. & suddenly i want to plant my entire front yard in them.

PEONIES
by mary oliver

This morning the green fists of the peonies are getting ready
to break my heart
as the sun rises,
as the sun strokes them with his old, buttery fingers

and they open ---
pools of lace,
white and pink ---
and all day the black ants climb over them,

boring their deep and mysterious holes
into the curls,
craving the sweet sap,
taking it away

to their dark, underground cities ---
and all day
under the shifty wind,
as in a dance to the great wedding,

the flowers bend their bright bodies,
and tip their fragrance to the air,
and rise,
their red stems holding

all that dampness and recklessness
gladly and lightly,
and there it is again ---
beauty the brave, the exemplary,

blazing open.
Do you love this world?
Do you cherish your humble and silky life?
Do you adore the green grass, with its terror beneath?

Do you also hurry, half-dressed and barefoot, into the garden,
and softly,
and exclaiming of their dearness,
fill your arms with the white and pink flowers,

with their honeyed heaviness, their lush trembling,
their eagerness
to be wild and perfect for a moment, before they are
nothing, forever?

35 weeks

the forty days.

i have entered the overly emotional, overly analytical, overly tired, overly thirsty, pants-are-no-longer-comfortable phase of pregnancy.

my apologies to everyone in advance.

& i just ordered two skirts with express shipping. as soon as they arrive i don't plan on wearing pants again until well after ruby june is born.

trusting the snow.

two minutes after leaving for work i knew i probably shouldn't have been on the road, the snow was so thick & our roads had not been plowed yet. but, i made it to work & it only took a few hours for me to convince ruby that all was well & mama just needed some tea. came home early, same crazy drive home, same small test for me in truly trusting God, in truly, really, giving Him my worries & my concerns & letting that be It... letting them be His & resting in the peace that Is. it is a small thing for some but a huge thing for me, wrestling with total trust when it comes to some things. i often see problems that aren't even there, that just may Happen To Be. i tend to visit the worst case scenarios First, and then work my way backwards. i internalize other people's realities sometimes & let that affect the perspective of my own. so today i am praying that i get over my fear of my due date, which is the same day that a good friend lost her own little one in birth. i don't believe the day to be jinxed or to be anything other than Her day, really. i don't want to touch that sacred time. so any day other than that one, i ask ruby, i ask God. but the day & the time is Their decision, not mine. i am merely supposed to be present, to be open, to embrace the process & to Trust. & to once again remember that my children are not My children, they are God's.


Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.

You may give them your love but not your thoughts,
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow,
which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them,
but seek not to make them like you.
For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.

You are the bows from which your children
as living arrows are sent forth.
The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite,
and He bends you with His might
that His arrows may go swift and far.
Let your bending in the archer's hand be for gladness;
For even as He loves the arrow that flies,
so He loves also the bow that is stable.

(kahlil gibran)



& how heavy, how thick the snow is outside. more snow than i can remember over the last few years, maybe even since we've been here. grateful for matthew being home this week, for mySelf not having to go to work tomorrow, for hot coffee & warm dinners & for singing my babies to sleep.

& so grateful that each day has enough worry of its own, & how i am learning to rest in that, in being Right Here, in being as present as i can, for whatever the day brings. & allowing tomorrow to be tomorrow.

mindful.

Every day
I see or hear
something
that more or less

kills me
with delight,
that leaves me
like a needle

in the haystack
of light.
It was what I was born for -
to look, to listen,

to lose myself
inside this soft world -
to instruct myself
over and over

in joy,
and acclamation.
Nor am I talking
about the exceptional,

the fearful, the dreadful,
the very extravagant -
but of the ordinary,
the common, the very drab,

the daily presentations.
Oh, good scholar,
I say to myself,
how can you help

but grow wise
with such teachings
as these -
the untrimmable light

of the world,
the ocean's shine,
the prayers that are made
out of grass?

~ Mary Oliver

thirty two weeks.

tunnel vision

it is so hard to juggle parenting my lovely little boys & being a wife, a friend, a co-worker, a daughter, a sister, etc.... when all i want to do right now is talk to ruby & think about our upcoming birth & scrub the bathroom tiles with a toothbrush. this tunnel vision always comes, as the end of my pregnancy nears, & i find myself feeling both extremely selfish & like no one could possibly understand this mindset; even though it's the state of pretty much every mama's mind near the end of her pregnancy.

so, there is a daily, hourly, moment-by-moment practice of Getting Over Myself. & trusting that hey, this is the third time i will be giving birth & while every birth is it's own journey, i have a pretty decent track record.

i am at once amazed at the thought of having three children, scared to death, delighted by it all, feeling so lucky to have such a wonderful husband, to have dear friends that understand how we Try to parent & raise our children, our Selves.

there is so much known & so much unknown.

& that is what it's all about.


"At times, my invisibility feels like an affliction. But it is not a
disease that is erasing my life. It is the cure for the disease of
my own self-centeredness. It is the antidote to my strong,
stubborn pride. I keep the right perspective when I see
myself as a great builder. As one of the people who show up
at a job that they will never see finished, to work on
something that their name will never be on.
The writer of the book went so far as to say that no
cathedrals could ever be built in our lifetime because there
are so few people willing to sacrifice to that degree.
When I really think about it, I don't want my son to tell the
friend he's bringing home from college for Thanksgiving, "My
mom gets up at 4 in the morning and bakes homemade pies,
and then she hand bastes a turkey for three hours and
presses all the linens for the table." That would mean I'd built
a shrine or a monument to myself. I just want him to want to
come home. And then, if there is anything more to say to his
friend, to add, "You're gonna love it here."

As mothers, we are building great cathedrals. We
cannot be seen if we're doing it right. And one day, it
is very possible that the world will marvel, not only at
what we have built, but also at the beauty that has
been added to the world by the sacrifices of invisible
women.

May the passion of your building be fueled by your
faith that the eyes of God see everything."

(my cousin sent this to me in an email several years ago. this is just an excerpt)

small graces

thankful for our middle of the night amnesty policy, erasing my grumpiness for having to roll my round belly out of bed a few times. i still find myself catching my breath a little, when i hear his voice wake me in a whisper, with a touch on the shoulder. & how we have the most joyful boys in the morning, when we wake them to go take a ride in the dark. they are full of excitement, chattering back in forth in the car about how the man in the moon is following them, coming With them, and that he is yellow. and the stars! look at the stars! and how the frost was so thick as we got close to my parents house that it looked like snow, everything icy & muted, the sunrise hardly seemed real; very sherbety colors, just hanging out behind the icy air. & how i came home to an empty house, just ruby in my belly, & we took a sweet nap together. some thursdays are just for us, to rest, to talk, to figure her way out. & how grateful i am for this time, even if it is once every several days, to just spend time with her & to rest with her. she will be here so soon; everything will change again so soon.

& a snowstorm this weekend, they say. i dream of enough to keep us inside, to snack & play & paint & draw & nap & cuddle & just be.

here we go, again.

(our first picture of all of us since christmas 2007~!)


& so it goes, it is time for something new. a new phase in life. i hope to use this space with intention. i hope to write down what i'd like to remember. i have hope!

& the sunrise is gorgeous this morning.