Water Words

So, the shower seems to be one of the only places that I get to be truly alone. I savor those 10, 15, and if I'm really greedy and irresponsible, 20 minutes of peace and quiet and healing water.

Our shower is one that is glass-enclosed. Through it I can see out our window and view our neighbor's bougainvillea moving in the breeze.

Yesterday, I noticed the way the steam was slowly veiling the glass. I saw my reflection. In an instant, I knew what I had to do. My fingers reached up to the steam covered glass walls of the shower and began moving, writing, dancing...

With tears suddenly in my eyes, breath deep down within me, and without thought, a poem arose... an open poem to my C-section. Yes, it made so much sense to scrawl it, furiously, in the steam...knowing the words would soon dissapate and I'd not be able to recall them exactly. It was freeing, liberating. Like the healing process of the Tibetan mandala...a work of art whose grains of sands are finally swept up and poured into flowing water...my words were to exist briefly, literally, within water. And then, they would be gone.

I wrote with a torrid pace on each wall of glass, from the top to the bottom, twice. Forming letters and words with just my fingers felt magical, powerful, wicked, and blessed. My hands moved without a thought and words flowed continuously.
And to cry in the shower is just as magical, powerful, wicked, and blessed. The tears were carried away, like my words, to never exist again. Indeed, I felt healed.

When my poem was complete, I stood back, like an artist studying her painting, and watched my words. Have you ever watched your words?... Slowly they melted, changed, dripped, and eventually faded. Like my pain, my scar. But two lines of my poem remained visible even after I stepped out of the shower, warm and clean, refreshed and renewed...

"...but in the end, you made me strong".

The Best of the Worst

The Best of the Worst

List-a-mania, as they call it, has set in for me. I blame it on laziness and an exhausted mental state. Here are some of my latest personal favs in the “Best of the Worst” department.

Best of the Worst…Fast Foods

• In-n-Out Burgers
• Wetzel’s Pretzels
• Sonic’s French Toast Sticks (with syrup!)
• Krispy Kreme warm, chocolate iced donuts (Folks, you get ½ dozen free donuts on your birthday. Plus a mug filled with your choice of beverage. Yep. I drove through three different KK locations last year. That equals 1.5 dozen free, gratis, greasy, warm, sugary lumps of heavenly treat. Guilt-free, of course, on your birthday)

Best of the Worst…Indulgent Foods

• Choc-o-diles (always priced at like .39 cents or something at the gas stations)
• Milky Way Midnight candy bars
• Paradise Bakery Chocolate Chip Cookies
• Thin Mint Girl Scout Cookies (duh!)
• E.L. Fudge Cookies (dipped in milk)
• Golden Oreos (very addictive)
• My own concoction called “Preggo Delight”: Rainbow sherbet w/gummi bears and peanut butter cups

Best of the Worst…Shopping Spree Addictions

• Fashion Q/Xi (so cheap, so trendy. full of strippers!)
• Ross Dress for Less (designer purses and shoes for a steal. Great maternity too)
• Last Chance (Nordstrom bargain designer clothes – ya gotta hunt-n-peck. Don’t go on Saturdays unless you want to battle or arm wrestle)
• Ann Taylor Loft (classy, simple)
• Old Navy (fun, so much variety, comfy maternity. Plus, baby clothes!)

Best of the Worst…Bad Habits

• Chewing fingernails (stress reliever)
• Not refilling the toilet paper roll (sometimes, it just feels good to half-ass things)
• Consistently underestimating arrival/departure times (a.k.a being late)
• Stashing unfolded laundry (dirty or clean) away in my closet, in a basket (a big “F-you” to household chores)
• Removing my shoes in random spots…and leaving them there (pure laziness)

Best of the Worst…Reality TV Shows

• American Inventor (laugh your butt off)
• American Idol (particularly the early auditions)
• OK, I just realized I actually don’t watch enough TV to really be able to elaborate on this topic

Best of the Worst…Excuses to Blog Instead of: Go to Bed, Pay Bills, Clean the Kitchen, Change a Dirty Diaper, Go #1, Got #2, Eat for the First Time All Day

• It’s therapeutic
• I can wallow in other people’s problems
• I can live vicariously through other people (gotta check in on my girly girls)
• “It helps me to sharpen my saw”
• Too lazy to call everyone who I’d like to update on my boring, crazy, lovely, wouldn’t-trade-it life
• I might garner a compliment…or not
• “I’m documenting Kaia’s life!”

Best of the Worst…Things I’ve Said Out of Frustration and Impatience Lately to My Dear Husband (all of which I immediately apologized for…or soon thereafter)

• YOU try working from home AND taking care of a baby twice a week! (pity party)
• At some point you really need to decide to stop working and spend time with your family on Easter! (which he did)
• Sometimes I feel like a single Mom! (ohhh, that was uncalled for)
• …Sure, just like you try and put the dishes away in the dishwasher when you are done with them. (When he kindly asked if I could try to put my shoes up when I take them off)
• Shhhhh, don’t wake the baby! (repeated Every. Single. Morning. while I’m still in bed. He has never complained)

Best of the Worst…Excuses for Being a Homebody

• “I’m an introvert”

@#$%^&@!!!!!

An entire post, lost with one fell keystroke! It's too late for this! I'm too tired to try again. So, here's my post instead.

@#$%^&@!!!!!

Some Bunny Loves You!

Switching Blog Sites!

UPDATE ON NEW BLOG

Ok, so apparently my new blog site at Wordpress.com is freezing up eeryone's computers. Oops! Not sure what's going on, but I'm contacting Wordpress.com to find out. In the meantime...stick here!
---------------------------------------------

So, based on boredom, inspiration from Jeanette's newly designed site, and the desire to keep everyone crazy, I've switched to a new blog website.

Visit me at My New Blog. Let me know what you think. Bookmark it if you please. I promise I won't switch on you again any time soon.

Until I get bored again. Or inspired.

for jason, twenty-eight

upon pulling back

the edges of my heart

the revelation was that

you were always there

deep down

tunneled and safe

knocking, knocking

i knew this

when I was in high school

with stringy hair

and combat boots

and so many poems

i could drink them

for days

when she asked me

“who would you marry”

and I answered

immediately

unremarkably

without hesitation

you

like the worry stone

whose edges are smooth

from rhythmic touch

from ages, from love

so, too, my heart now

smooth, from love

from 120 moons

i get it now

it’s not that you complete me

as much as you

make me remember

who I am

when I’m alone

with the dark moon

so bare, so tiny

intense

like a child

destined to birth

like her

destined to be ours

on this day

yours

*** on jason's 28th birthday, 4.11.2006

Blogs Shmlogs

Holy Cow, don't ever go checkin' other other peeps' blogs at 11:30 at night. Not only do you realize that the blog world is truly a web, but that web grabs ya and reallllly doesn't want to let you go. Nope. It wants you to sit and read, read, read until you get too tired and BAM - down comes the spider. Eats you alive with incredible words. Hilarious, sarcastic, honest, edgy, wailing words.

A few nights ago I became engrossed in a few blogs and finally had to go to sleep. I left my computer screen feeling like an utter amateur...like a fifth grader writing a 3 paragraph essay on the disappearance of dinosaurs.

Ya know the saying "Well, there's always someone worse off than you". Well, in the blog world, there's always someone "much better at writing than you"! Much, much, much better. Start to read blogs and you'll be amazed at the talent out there. True talent. Word-smiths. Analogy queens. Masterful picture painters (with words). Insightful story tellers. And people who have an awful lot to say about poop.

Our Kai-Kai at 9 Moons

- Finally crawls
- Has 2 top teeth and 2 bottom teeth. Teething has recently been a bear. Knows the sound of dispensing teething tablets.
- Is a chatterbox. Grams swears she said "March Madness" and Jason heard her repeat it a few hours later. What the...?
- Accepts that her binky really is her best friend
- Shows off and smiles for other babies and kids
- Clap, clap, claps her hands
- Devours black beans, Grams' yogurt parfait mix, and Cheerios
- Threw a real, true blue, diva fit because I wouldn't let her grab the glasses off my face. She's a pistol.
- Favorite toys include: teething tablet bottle, diaper creme bottle, IKEA froggy sippy cup, wipes, banging two binkys together, cell phone
- Favorite TOY toys include: links, Oscar the Grouch puppet, stacking rings, Binky Elmo (what have we done??!!)
- Sits up in her crib and plays...or holds on to the crib rails like a monkey and cries to be released
- Still doesn't sleep through the night (how long will this be on my list???)
- Still nurses
- Is tickleish on her back and neck and chubby little thighs
- Has crazy bed head hair when she wakes up
- Wants to eat whatever we eat
- Adores her puppy and kitty and recognizes the sound of their jingling collars
- Jabbers on about "Da da da da" and "mom mom mom" and "guh guh" and "buh buh"
- Discovered the lip puckering, raspberry blowin', spit flingin' thing with her mouth (what do you call this? Sorry, it's almost midnight!). Loves to do it with her mouth full of food.
- Holds her breath when really upset (like I did and my Mother before me did when we were tykes)
- Protests a dirty diaper
- Has a great memory/remembers things you show her after the first time (like sticking her finger inside Pop-Beads, knowing how to get her toys to make noise, etc)
- Smiles when she first sees her babysitter Kimmy
- Is mastering the cute lil' pincser grasp
- Splashes in the bath
- Grams says she has "chubby insteps"
- Sometimes sweetly pats my back (like I do to hers) when she lays her head on my shoulder to go nitey nite
- Loves to hear her voice echo loudly
- Digs peek-a-boo
- Loves to stand on her tippy-toes
- Figured out how to get her arm out of her sleeve
- Has started to understand the concept of putting things in my mouth after I put something in hers (like her binky)
- Has pooped in the bathtub
- Never fails to make me overflow with gratitude and love and helps me remember what my real priorities are

Lessons from Strangers

So on this overcast afternoon in Anthem, while at Wal-Mart (Jeanette says that I really shouldn't say that "W" word around crunchy folk), I found myself in the checkout line with Kaia perched on my hip. She had become a wee bit grumpy from my usual lack of focus in such a huge store. So, on my hip she sat while I sorted through my cart and, one by one, bent over and tossed the items on the checkout conveyer belt...diapers, mangos, laundry detergent, pomegranate juice, a new bra, some donuts (ooops, you didn't see that), peaches, yogurt...I heard a mama in line behind me mumbling quietly to her son, but kept my head down in the cart while I concentrated on the task at hand. And then, the boy with the little round glasses and sandy blond hair stepped closer to me and gently asked "Can I help you with anything?”

My heart instantly leapt in pride for this Mama's son. I grinned, looked him in the eye, and said "Oh, no thank you, but that was very sweet of you!” He stepped back as I continued unloading the cart and clutching my girl.

And, as only a parent would do, I immediately began to second guess my response. Perhaps I should have said "Yes, please, that would be very helpful" so that he could have learned the brief, but important, life lesson his Mother was urging him towards. Or, I should have responded with "Oh, no thank you, but that was very kind of you!” Yes, kindness is what I believe is so important to instill in our children. Not sweetness...kindness.

Of course, in the scheme of things it doesn't matter what my response. The fact that he confidently offered to help a stranger (at his mother's beckoning) was indeed...kind. And kinda sweet.

P.S. Oh please, please for the love of Pete, someone beam a Trader Joe's or Whole Foods or Sprout's into Anthem!!!

On Pain

"Suffering has been stronger than all other teaching, and has taught me to understand what your heart used to be. I have been bent and broken, but - I hope - into a better shape." - Charles Dickens

As of late, my journey of pain and healing surrounding Kaia's birth has been challenged by others. "Why are you STILL in so much pain 9 months after her birth? Shouldn't you be over it?”

I'm not sure why I am so shocked at this sentiment, seeing as through our society views emotional pain as shameful or a weakness that must be quickly conquered. And it seems as though the emotional pain from a birth experience is one in which our culture has the shortest amount of patience for. To utter this phrase to someone who has lost a loved one, been victimized through violence or rape, or has simply has fallen on tough times would be seen as rude and unsympathetic. But to say "just over it" to a Mother, violated during a fragile and vulnerable time in her life...to say it to a Mother who, while being violated, could only think of the safety and well-being of her tiny child...to say it to a woman who was asked to quickly concede with a decision that would impact her future births, her health, and potentially her life...to say it...seems unforgivable.

To say "get over" or "you shouldn't still be in so much pain" is similar to reducing a major life experience to the bad luck on a lottery scratcher ticket. It is to assume no soul searching has occurred, no surrendering realized, and that no gratitude has surfaced. Simply, it is to assume no process has taken place. Just as one doesn't "get over" a mountain by simply walking, the challenge of pain is that it indeed becomes a journey: complete with rocky paths, stumbling, moments of rest and rehydration, stops to assure direction, strength, agility. And in the end, a feeling of achievement, renewed appreciation, and a priceless new view of the world. Like the mountain climb, the process of pain isn't easy. But, go through it time and time again with intention and you will become better at it, notice more, learn, and reveal and understanding that the process is what made it so worthwhile.

It's why we celebrate icons such as Lance Armstrong and Erik Weihenmeyer (first blind man to climb Mt. Everest). We recognize them not simply because of their feats, but because of the seemingly insurmountable adversity they overcame (i.e. the process) in order to achieve them. We can relate to them. It wouldn't be very engaging to her Lance say "Well, I won the Tour de France seven times. And I beat cancer". We want to know how he did this, what he went through, where he found his strength...we want to know that in a small way, we can be just like him. So, why do we silence women who have experienced traumatic births? Why don't we beg to hear their stories, learn from them, seek to relate to them? Why does it bother us so much to sit with their pain? Why do we ask them to stuff their pain deep into their souls, as quickly as possible, only to know it seeps out their entire lives? Why do we ask another being to feel very alone?

On a physical level, we understand that pain is necessary. Without it, we would not survive. It is our body's reaction to a problem which requires immediate attention. So, too, is emotional pain a necessity for our body and hearts and mind. Glossing over it, not giving it the attention it deserves is like trying to cover a gaping wound with a flimsy band aid.

We must learn to honor pain for the lessons it reveals. When we choose to be open to pain, we become more connected to ourselves and to those around us. We find we are resilient and that we are capable of even greater love than we thought possible. Pain opens us up. Let me clarify that pain and suffering, while related, are different and I do not propose that our world must suffer. However, I have often used the terms interchangeably since they are related. Sylvia Boorstein explains that "...Suffering is what happens when we struggle with whatever our life experience is rather than accepting and opening to our experience with wise and compassionate response. From this point of view, there's a big difference between pain and suffering. Pain is inevitable".

Talk to people who lived years, lifetimes, without honoring their pain. They will tell you how it almost destroyed them, how they felt so alone, and how they never realized their true inner strength until one day, the pain exploded within and they were forced to either drown in it or paddle hard to stay afloat. Eventually, if they paddled, they found stable ground.

My wish list is simple and three pronged:
1. Recognize and accept that pain is a normal, healthy, and necessary life process that provides insights (i.e. Pain doesn't always mean one is depressed, downtrodden, faithless, or ungrateful)
2. Allow others (and one's self) their own path, journey, and timeline to healing
3. Talk about it!

Philosophers and scholars of all backgrounds and faiths have discussed pain and suffering and many have accepted its importance in our quest for love, spirituality, acceptance, and healing:

• "Whatever you do, don’t shut off your pain; accept your pain and remain vulnerable. However desperate you become, accept your pain as it is, because it is in fact trying to hand you a priceless gift: the chance of discovering, through spiritual practice, what lies behind sorrow. Grief, Rumi wrote, can be the garden of compassion. If you keep your heart open through everything, your pain can become your greatest ally in your life’s search for love and wisdom. " - Sogyal Rimpoche, renowned Tibetan teacher
• "I suggest to you that it is because God loves us that he makes us the gift of suffering. To put it another way, pain is God’s megaphone to rouse a deaf world. You see, we are like blocks of stone out of which the Sculptor carves the forms of men. The blows of his chisel, which hurt us so much are what make us…perfect." - C.S. Lewis, Christian author
• "Everything dear to us causes pain." - Buddha
• "Grief knits two hearts in closer bonds than happiness ever can; and common sufferings are far stronger links than common joys." -- Alphonse de Lamartine, poet
• "The capacity to give one's attention to a sufferer is a very rare and difficult thing; it is almost a miracle; it is a miracle." -- Simone Weil, moral and political philosopher
• "Character cannot be developed in ease and quiet. Only through experience of trial and suffering can the soul be strengthened, ambition inspired, and success achieved." - Helen Keller
• "Deep unspeakable suffering may well be called a baptism, a regeneration, the initiation into a new state." - George Eliot (a.k.a. Mary Ann Evans), poet
  
• "The deeper that sorrow carves into your being the more joy you can contain. Is not the cup that holds your wine the very cup that was burned in the potter's oven?" -Kahlil Gibran, author and poet
  

I hope for my Kaia that she will understand that honoring the pain I experienced along with her birth was because I loved her too much to shrug it off. Through Kaia, through her birth, through my pain, I have been able to see the world even in the moon's dark light! What a wonderful, wonderful world.

On My Mind Today

A few things that have been lolling around in my mind today (that's me with a lolling mind. whatever. it's me after I got my haircut a few weeks ago.)...

The memory of my brother in law's ex-girlfriend, Liz, when she birthed her baby at 17 young years of age. This was almost 2 years ago, before my Kaia was even a sparkle in my eye. Liz is a tall, sweetly naive, partly mystic Romanian-American young womam who is proud and resourceful and has a fierce fashion sense (complete with BCBG, D&G taste). I recall that on her 9 month pregnant belly, she painted a bright, yellow sun at her swim birthday party. She always carries herself with such grace and ease...almost makes you forget her young age.

We arrived at the hospital moments after her sweet Emma Elizabeth was born. There was Liz, a brand new Mama, smiling brightly with wide doe eyes, and holding her babe close. The room was quiet, the air bitterseet. Liz laughed, shrugged, and told us what a breeze labor and childbirth was. In the middle of the night, sharing her hospital bed with my brother-in-law Jeremy, she told me how she breathed through her contractions by counting in Romanian and clenching Jeremy's hand. It was her way of relaxing and maintaining focus. She would sleep in between contractions and awaken to continue the counting. Then, "Leigh, ust a few pushes and she slid out, no big deal at all. No pain". Liz had refused an epidural and other medical interventions and birthed her baby girl the way her body intended. I will never forget the look in her eyes when she told us this: strong, centered, proud, bare, primal yet serene. At 17, she suddenly had the look of a "mother", a sage. She was still in "birth world" - not quite yet connected to this Earthly place and still reeling from the intimate connection and experience. I could almost taste the birth high in the room, and in a sense, seemed I was imposing on sacred ground. At this point, I had just began my research into natural birth and was so touched by Liz' calm demeanor. After the birth, I asked her to recount her experience a few times, just so I could hear it. Just so I could confirm what I had always known deep withing: birth is normal, birth is natural, women are capable. At a mere 17 years of age, Liz taught me so much and was my first inspiration for natural birth.

I'm thinking about spaces. Spaces = life force. We met with our landscape architect today and I'm reeling. Two and a half hours later, I left his 600 sq. foot bungalow, built in 1935, and felt a renewed sense of excitement for our project. Our ideas meshed, he presented new options and creatively challenged our thoughts and plans. He totally "got" my passion for native planting and understood my desire for outdoor spaces that engage exploration and imagination while providing simplicity and serenity. I know this home in our minds will become a place of healing and cleansing for me. I await with great anticipation the first moment in which my bare feet sink unto the desert ground, smell the wet plants, and gaze at the outline of the trees through the moon's shadow. I am ready for new spaces. I welcome new life force.

I'm thinking about familiy. My Mama leaves Phoenix to head back home to Indiana after 10 sumptuous days here. My heart is breaking. How I wish she could be here every night when I came home from work. I'd give anything to be able to eat dinner with my Mama whenever I wished. Much like me, my Mama is a homebody at heart. She cleaned my house, washed and sorted my laundry, organized Kaia's room, got stains out of the carpet, made baby food, mopped the floors, and helped amuse and nurture our baby every single day. She watched TV with me and we made fun of commercials and people and topics. We shopped a little, ate a ton, and generally tried to solve all the world's problems. My Mama is a "doer", full of energy, but knows the value of a great nap. She raised 4 kids by herself and infused our childhoods with boundless fun. It's nice to know that I don't ever have to worry about my Mama skills, because she instilled the best in me. I want to sit on her lap and feel safe, the way only Mama's can make you feel. At times, I hold my dear, teething, sobbing Kaia and feel my Mama's love in my bones, my blood, my very cells. I feel reassured. Waking up the morning after my Mom leaves is always the roughest. I can still smell her clothes, her hairspray, her cooking, the smells of my childhood. I notice the way she put things away, folded clothes, and I try hard not to disturb them. She spent 10 days spoiling Kaia with love, love, love...and funny lullabies. I will miss her gentle, carefree spirit. I'll even miss her worrying...

I am thinking about friendship and how my concept of it has morphed over the years. And just recently. I marvel at how one can feel connected to faceless strangers and yet so distant from close-held friends. It isn't the years or the physical proximity that matter...there is so much more. Too much to write about at this moment. A topic I must ponder and explore. One that I always thought would truly be painless...

Lastly, I'm thinking about dreams. I had a recent one in which I was hangin' with my buds Gwenyth and Angelie (Paltrow and Jolie, that is). They were pregnant. Angelina began sharing some of her concerns and worries with me about her pregnancy and birth. She was quiet, almost meek, which shocked me. But the energy surrounding her was pure and loving. To ease some of her concerns, I suggested she take a look at her growing baby. With some "dream magic", I helped her gingerly pull her tiny, growing baby from her body, still connected to the cord. With tears on her face, she held the baby in the palm of her hands and looked up in sheer wonder and relief. "I can't believe how perfect she is...fully formed and alive. She is healthy." She brought the baby close to her cheeks and held it there for a few moments. I smiled and gently suggested we return the baby back to her protective womb to let her grow. Slowly, carefully, Angelina did just that and hugged me with intense gratitude. I told her "what a cool gal" she was and how I was so glad to know her. I awoke from the dream glowing. I still recall seeing that little baby in her hands...the skin was almost translucent and every body part was miniature and pefect. On one hand, I was scared to see this seemingly fragile being outside of it's world. On the other hand, it felt like we were given the chance to peek inside a secret world and experience a miracle. Dreams. Strange and wonderful, exausting and exhilirating. Why Angelina? Why this little baby? What could I possibly have to teach Angelina?

On my mind...sleep...