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.