One Year Ago Today

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.

Love,
Maman and Papa

La Commencement

We are thrilled to announce that the Little Funky Monkey is here! Jonah Niquen (named with a J after his Mimi) was born at home in the water on January 23rd at 4:23am weighing in at 7lbs 11 oz and measuring 22 inches. He is the most handsome perfect baby I've ever seen (not that I'm biased or anything), with a full head of long dark hair and super long legs (he will be tall like his father, no doubt).

His birth was beyond beautiful (I will write out his birth story eventually, because its such a wonderful story) and by far the most amazing moment of my life was when the midwife said "reach down and get your baby!". I loved the birth experience so much that a mere 2 hours after pushing out my little monkey I said "I can't wait to do this again!". Don't get me wrong, it was very intense (active labor, from 4cm to 10cm dilation, was only about 4 1/2 hours, which means that my body worked that much harder to accomplish that much more in less time) and even though Chanteuse said that I made it look easy, it was most definitely hard work. Its just that it was such a miraculous and spiritual journey that I cannot even match words to. And WB made me fall even deeper in love with him (as if that was even possible) by being there every step of the journey with me, in our loving cocoon that made me feel so perfectly connected and protected and loved. The LFM was birthed in the same way he was conceived- as an intimate expression of love and tenderness between WB and I, and I will always treasure that.

I can't even thank our midwife enough, except to say that she is a godsend. She is also clearly a mind reader or found the secret portal into my head, because she always said exactly what I needed to hear in the exact moment I needed to hear it, and has continued to do so in the postpartum period. Chanteuse, JunJun, and Doula Sara, were such perfect birth attendants as well...every time I opened my eyes in the tub and looked up I saw them looking at me with such warmth and love I felt so supported. And WB, well, that man is a miracle in and of himself.

And the LFM! All I could say when we found out we were pregnant is "Wow!" and that's pretty much all I can say now that he's here. With every passing moment I feel like I couldn't possibly love him any more or I will just explode, and yet with every passing moment somehow I do. He is my little bundle of blessings and I am so very proud that he chose us as his family.

Sadness and Joy

No baby yet, but it looks like a far closer race between birth and death than any of us would wish for. I'm pretty sure birth will occur first, but unfortunately the joy and sadness will be pretty intermingled.

They already are.

Mimi has agreed to go into hospice and hopefully they'll be able to make her very comfortable at home. She is pretty much no longer able to do anything on her own- last night WB and I had to run out there at 1am (she couldn't get my Dad on the phone, who was sleeping in the next room) to cover her with more blankets...blankets that are situated on a chair beside the recliner she sleeps in. That's about where we're at now, she can't even reach right next to her to get a blanket when she's cold. Sitting upright isn't even always doable- she's been doing the world's best leaning tower of Pisa impression lately. Dad says that she fell out of the wheelchair today and now needs to be strapped in. I don't even know what to say...its more heartbreaking than you could ever even imagine, and to be going through it while on the verge of becoming a mother myself...well, needless to say my emotional state is pretty damn fragile.

At the beautiful blessingway that was thrown for me last wed (which I totally wanted to get to write about), I feel like I created a space for joy amidst all the grief. It has been incredibly challenging to maintain that space and not let it be overwhelmed by grief and sadness. I don't want to birth my baby in sadness- I don't want his story to begin that way.

Fuck, I don't want any of this story to be happening this way.

I guess I don't really have a choice, do I?

Full Term, Full Tank, and Rearing to Go

I was 37 weeks as of yesterday, which is officially full term. This means we're good to go at any time, even though the due date is officially 3 weeks away. I'm voting sooner rather than later, though I'm not presumptuous enough to think my vote carries any weight in the matter really. As the food source both of present and to be, however, could my thoughts perhaps be slightly considered in the decision making process?

I have turned the corner into pretty damn uncomfortable territory, and it really seems to me by the pokes and prods I am constantly receiving that the LFM ain't but so comfy in there either. There seems to be a discernible lack of room for the both of us, and of course he's little so he always wins out. I'm also getting contractions all the freaking time, most of which are benign but just uncomfortable as hell. Yesterday I got the added bonus of the feeling of mild menstrual cramps and slight back pain, but it went away, so don't get all excited that anything is happening. Nothing is happening but awkward discomfort. Lots and lots of it. And as for sleep? That's most definitely not happening.

For the record: I still love love pregnancy. I absolutely adore being pregnant. I think its a beautiful journey and I think I'll actually really miss it when he's out.

Not that I don't want him to make an appearance...soon. As in before family flies in from all corners of the globe, so that we get a little time to ourselves, just the three of us before being overwhelmed and inundated by foreign languages and filial obligations. I'm a definitely finding myself a little anxious about the postpartum period. As if standing at the gateway of both life and death while learning how to be a new mother and breastfeed were not emotionally and energetically taxing enough, I get to do all that, with crazy hormones, no sleep, and company! Yay! Sounds like fun, doesn't it? I've always been a huge people person, but I find that the closer I get to birth the more anxious I am about protecting my space; defending my den so to speak. None of this may end up being an issue at all, and how I will feel is one gigantic question mark at this point, but for right now its a definite fear I'm trying to work through. I'm sure it doesn't help that I've never met WB's parents before. It also doesn't help that my Spanish skills have sadly not progressed at all during the last 9 months and his mother doesn't speak any English. It also doesn't help that my own mother is dying. Gee, why do I feel like the china shop itself watching a bull approach? Hmmm, can't think of any valid reasons really...

Speaking of Mimi, this is why I have not written in decades. To be very brief about it all, she had been falling a lot and was very weak and we brought it up at a doctor's appointment. They immediately did a CT scan and found 6 new brain tumors...and when I say new, these cropped up since the last MRI done in October. Yeah, fuckin cancer moves fast. When my parents met with the doc upon first finding out, he was all gloom and doom and basically there was a question as to whether or not Mimi would even make it to see her grandson born.

As she now tells it, when the doctor said the magic word, hospice, she suddenly burst into action. That was what she needed to hear to get her ire up, collect her inner resources, and motivate the troops to fight. She had gamma knife radiation, which they're hopeful has killed off the new brain tumors, is now on new meds and walking with help of a walker, and will begin a new injection chemo around the 11th of Jan to help buy some time from the 50 million other non brain tumors throughout her body. Its not only her choice, but now her passion to continue fighting with every ounce of her being. Her new goal is not the birth, but 2 1/2 years from diagnosis, which will put her at next December. She's a pretty stubborn lady- she just may make it! On a very selfish note, I'm so relieved not to have to experience both new life and death at the exact same moment. While it is clearly a very definite reality that she is dying, I'm so thankful that its not simultaneous to birth. Grateful for both of us.

So now you see why I have been away for so long...it really wasn't that WB's snoring finally got the better of me. Life's challenges and grief did.

In the midst of all that, I had two amazing and beautiful baby showers thrown for me by two very wonderful friends, and got to have just a teeny tiny bit of light amidst what was otherwise a bit of a dark time. I desperately needed that, and I thank you from the bottom of my being, Coco and Muffinface. Thank you as well to all our wonderful friends who helped make us feel so loved and supported- this monkey couldn't be birthed into a more loving environment.

There was , sadly, one very horrible snafu wherein a friend felt very hurt and offended that WB and I did not get to talk with them enough and did not introduce them to other guests (disclaimer: we didn't introduce anyone to anyone else, and as we had been through the emotional ringer the previous week, which had been shared with said guest, we were understandably more than a little overwhelmed). The manner in which this friend chose to share their feelings was cruel rather than constructive (I had two witnesses to the events and conversation who can attest to that) and the friendship has definitely been irreparably damaged, to say the least. That was a very heartbreaking and supremely disappointing turn of events, but I don't even have the energy to deal with something like that amidst everything else that is going on. Its not a priority, nor should it be.

For the present moment (and I can only live in the moment right now), my priorities all revolve around birthing my baby. We've completed and organized everything we need and/or want for our home birth, I'm ruthlessly nesting (when not horrendously uncomfortable) and we're just excitedly waiting. So LFM, if you're listening, you can come anytime...Maman and Papa are ready and waiting with open arms!

Taking Ownership of Our Birth Experience

My blood pressure is down. Way down. And in hindsight, it wasn't really that high to begin with, its just everyone overreacted and panicked.

I just thought I should start with that since I totally left on a cliff hanger and disappeared into the scary world of hospital panic never to be heard from again. Only that's not really quite how it happened. Its more like I found out the following Friday that I did not have preeclampsia and thus was given the all clear to fly to New York for a deposition that was scheduled for the following Tuesday. Which I did, the next morning. Yes, after a week of partial bedrest, I was then immediately thrown into the mayhem of last minute travel and four fairly nonstop days in the city that is determined to raise your blood pressure at any and all costs. Not to mention the stress of a 6 hour deposition followed by more scrambling to get to the airport and fly home. And yet, after all that, my blood pressure was significantly reduced the next day upon my return home.

So what changed?

Well, my attitude, for one. I decided to stop worrying about it, plain and simple. I think it also helped immensely that WB and I had decided to call the home birth midwife and just investigate our options.

This isn't something I've even written about here, because frankly I didn't want to hear any one's opinions on the subject (for the record, I still don't), but for a great majority of the pregnancy I've been struggling with this major decision between home birth and hospital birth and failing miserably at trying to come to a place of peace regarding a hospital birth. This is due to a great many factors including my great mistrust of the medical model of care (I was misdiagnosed with Graves Disease 4 years ago and was harassed and made to feel like a completely irresponsible moron for not agreeing to let them fry away bits of my thyroid with radioactive iodine when it turns out the whole time it would have been completely unnecessary as it was an erroneous diagnosis). But really the main issue here is rooted in the fact that we've spent so much time in hospitals over the past year and a half with Mimi, that we are beyond tired of hospitals. Hospitals are where you when you're dying of cancer. And I'm not dying of cancer, I'm not even sick. I'm just having a baby- the most natural thing in the world that women have been doing for thousands of years with their wise women midwives without the aid of technology.

So last week, whilst my entire brain leaked out through my sinuses (what fun, especially when 30 weeks pregnant) we took the leap and are now hoping for and shooting for a home birth with the legendary home birth midwife here in River City. This is what I have really wanted, at the core of my heart, for many many months now. In taking this step, I took ownership of my birth experience, and honored myself and my needs. And wow is it empowering! And relieving! I can't even begin to explain the euphoric waves of relief that poured over me once it was finally done. Am I a bit scared? Yes, of course, labor is hard work and it will be painful, but a home birth is far less scary to me than a hospital birth. So much fear and anxiety just simply evaporated once the decision was made.

There is still a chance that we will end up having to be transferred to the hospital, but we will cross that bridge if and when we get to it. And if that happens, I will trust that it was absolutely necessary, and not overreaction or mere protocol. In the meantime, we look forward to welcoming our son in the warm comfort and peace of our own home.

Our own home that I'm frantically nesting in.

Yup, the nesting instinct seems to have magically kicked in, with only 10 weeks to go and a huge laundry list of things I'd love to do. This week's fun has mainly consisted of asking WB to frame and hang artwork...about 10 million different times, since every position I vehemently insist upon then seems totally wrong to me and must be rectified immediately. I am very lucky that WB is an infinitely patient man. Luckily reinforcements are on their way, and Chanteuse will be coming in for a long weekend in early December. I'm already planning on putting any and all holiday decorating in her expert hands, as well as help with the nursery. Also coming up in early December are 2 baby showers. I'm fairly certain I'll end up offending someone, if not multiple people, by completely forgetting to put them on the list to invite...not intentionally, of course, but because I am just that scatterbrained these days. That is my huge ridiculous fear.

I am now 30.5 weeks....only 9.5 weeks to go! And I am uber emotional! And I am HUGE! Belly shots will be coming soon. Hell, baby will be coming soon too! Can you believe how fast the time has flown?

Speaking of time, I'd better get to bed. I need all the sleep I can get these days.