Thursday, January 22, 2009
My sweet monkey,
One year ago today I woke up at 5:30am and knew that your journey from the dark ethereal comfort of the womb had begun.
One year ago today I began my own journey to say goodbye to my mother, your Mimi.
One year ago today I called the midwife, worried that I would have to miss my mother's funeral and wept as she assured me that Mimi was holding you in her arms and wouldn't let you go until the time was right.
One year ago today your father stood behind me in support and love and held my hand as I spoke at Mimi's funeral.
One year ago today the contractions were stronger in the car, and weaker during the hardest parts of the day. Thank you for that.
One year ago today my mother's sister, Tati Jo, stood in for my mother, anxiously holding my hand and simply asking every once in a while how I was doing, knowing in the way that only another mother that has traveled this path knows.
One year ago today in completely synchronicity my mother's body began its journey down into the arms of mother earth at the very same time you were making your journey into the arms of your mother.
One year ago today I drank wine and did polar bear exercises to slow the labor as friends and family gathered around in a protective loving circle, oblivious to the work you and I were doing.
One year ago tonight I celebrated my mother's life, knowing yours was about to begin in earnest.
One year ago tonight your father and I drove home with Maren Julia to our sweet little apartment, still decorated for the holidays with soft lights and a lovely coziness.
One year ago tonight I took a bath and tried to sleep in preparation for the hard work of your arrival, but that's when the contractions took off at warp speed and we were on the ride, you and I, whether we liked it or not.
One year ago tonight your father made a sweet safe cocoon of us, filled with yogic chants and shared breath, and so much love the room seemed the vibrate with it.
One year ago tonight I slow danced with your father, spiraling my hips to the ebb and flow of each seemingly endless contraction.
One year ago tonight in an endless night I was "working hard!".
One year ago tonight the midwife entered the room in a perceptible energy shift and a calm ocean descended over the room.
One year ago tonight I was 7 centimeters when the midwife checked me, and I was so proud that we had worked so hard and accomplished so much together, you and I!
One year ago tonight I stepped into the heavenly warm waters of the birthing tub and thought "there's no way any one's getting me out of here!"
One year ago tonight I had to have silence and journey so deep within my self in order to do the work I needed to do to birth you.
One year ago tonight I was so utterly focused, and all that existed in the world was the grand triumvirate of you, your father, and I, working together in common purpose.
One year ago tonight Maren Julia boiled water, Tati Jun Jun massaged my back (well, tried to at least...sorry Jun Jun.), and Doula Sara took pictures as Nancy the midwife guided us with love and such gentle nurturing, saying exactly the right thing at just the right moment.
One year ago tonight, whenever I opened my eyes and looked up, I saw a circle of women holding me up with their supportive energy. Whenever I looked within I saw such love and light, as it was only the three of us, so intertwined, so connected, moving and working together in complete wholeness.
One year ago tonight I fell even more impossibly deeply in love with your father.
One year ago tonight we protected each other as a family, even before we knew your huge brown eyes with their sweeping lashes.
One year ago tonight the waters broke and I cried out in great surprise (and maybe a little relief) "I'm pushing!"
One year ago tonight I withstood the ring of fire 4 times.
One year ago tonight in the wee early hours of the morning, with calm breath and while being held by the strong arms of your father, I pushed you out into the warm water, first your head and then the great slippery surprise of your body.
One year ago tonight you floated up out of the water and into my waiting arms as the midwife uttered the most beautiful phrase I've ever heard: "Reach down and pick up your baby!"
One year ago tonight I held you to my breast and cried tears of pure joy.
One year ago tonight, the greatest love story every written was begun, between you, your father, and I.
We love you, sweet Jonah Niquen. You are such light, such blessing in our lives.
Maman and Papa