like light

One is a firecracker 

The other a firefly

And I

I will dim into darkness

Until I learn

How to balance

Their light

With mine 

And trust that after all

I will not lose my light 

And when the time comes

I will shine 

A constant burn

A star

An anchor 

The way home 

For all of us. 

dinner

I wait until dinner. So I can blame it on the onions. 

ox mama

They talk about birth bringing out the mammal/animal/beast. I have heard women mention wolves, and tigers, and bears. Fierce and strong and feral. 

Birth was three weeks ago, and I was a lion. Today, through the bone-tired, body broken, brain wasting that is post-partum I am still a beast. I put my strength to the plow and push through. I lower my head and plod on. Back and forth, the mind numbing and endless tasks of new motherhood are completed and begun again. I do the work. Ox mama. 

milk and blood and tears

They say that with the milk come tears. 

Baby was born 5 days ago. I roared her into the world in pain and water. At home. When we would usually be eating breakfast I birthed her and then everything changed. 

There is no usual any more. There is no we anymore. Patrick and I. With so much to do in the care of ourselves and our family, words of love and encouragement are sent room to room by text message. Hannah and I. My girl, and her mama. I miss her with an ache that goes as deep as anything I've ever felt. And I've felt a lot of deep aches this week.

The baby is beautiful. Calm. Perfect, except for a lip tie that makes feeding her excruciating. A deep toe curling sear that really cannot be described. Or helped much. 

The process of pregancy and birth can be described as a labrynth. A long winding journey through pregnancy into the tight dark spiral that is birth, and then an even longer, slower unwinding back out the other side.  There are no dead ends, but there are blind turns and dark corners and so much trust that goes into taking the next step. The promise of a labrynth is that there is always a way through, we just have to keep walking the path. 

Deep breath. One more step. 

full and empty

My due date was yesterday. Come and gone and nothing is different today except the feeling that I'm getting further away from something important. I keep catching myself looking out the window and checking for messages, as if somehow the baby is going to arrive that way. Except I'm not sure it's the baby I'm looking for. 

I am trusting her to come when she is ready, and my body knows what to do. I am uncomfortable and tired, but okay to wait for her. To wait with her. 

That, I think, it what I'm looking for. Someone to wait with me. My husband has an endless list of projects to complete and work to be done, and his own waiting to do. My daughter is three and doesn't know what waiting is. They are my heart and my world, but they cannot sit and wait with me. 

I have a list of people who could be holding this space with me. It is just as long as the list of people who aren't. And it's hard not to be a little broken hearted. 

celebrate

It happens every year, but I managed to hold it back until just before dinner this time. The tears always come and I feel so petty and selfish and silly. But there it is anyway. 

I have this aching longing to be special and celebrated, and every year, when my birthday is just another day it breaks my heart all over again. What a thing for a grown up to cry about. But, it's my birthday. I can cry if I want to. 

a lot to learn.

She is learning her strength and how to be a big sister. He is learning his capacity for compassion grows with practice. I am learning to slow down and hold on and let go.