Preparing for Sprout's Arrival...

"Being spiritual has nothing to do with what you believe and everything to do with your state of consciousness."

-Eckhart Tolle

Why do I allow myself to worry so incessantly? Anytime I am reading one of my favorite books, my anxiety tends to slip away as I become engulfed in the present moment. The specific titles that come to mind are "A New Earth," "Discover the Power Within," and more recently, "Spiritual Midwifery." These books are currently in a storage unit (along with my beautiful leather-bound journal...since I would never allow this blog to become a substitute for my journal, and since my journal is inaccessible right now, I have been keeping a lot inside...) I called the library this week to see if any of these books were available, and they are not. I went to the internet for inspiration.

What's been causing me stress lately? I could make a list with relative ease...or I could sum it up and say I didn't envision becoming a mom while still trying to get two feet on the ground. Parents (excuse the language and frank dialogue) always seemed to have their shit together.  Are we really ready to be parents at any given moment?

My present isn't what I thought my "future" would look like. I've been caught up in the timetrap. When things aren't going smooth in my life, be it a conflict at work or in a personal relationship, I aim at resolving it tirelessly. But right now, there is little I can do to have my "life in order" before little Sprout joins our family.

So with this realization, I am making more conscious choices. This didn't happen overnight. Actually, it's been a rough couple of weeks. Thank God for the endless support of my family, an impromptu girls night at Starbucks, and the unwavering love of my husband. I've had a few blessings come my way, too. Some might call them blessings, some might say I'm exceptionally lucky. 

Regardless, I had a realization that when I hear good news, my mood completely changes. Literally, from stressed-beyond-belief and teary, to an ear-to-ear smile and deep breathing. I can't allow my emotions to be swayed so dramatically by extrinsic factors! It's not fair to myself or those around me!!!! I've got to work on this! Remembering "this too shall pass," in both the good and the bad times. 

I've had fleeting moments of anxiety and happiness. But what I'm actively seeking now is inner peace. I must say, I already feel ten steps closer to that peace today than I did last week. FINALLY being on maternity leave (today is day one of forty-two) helps me tap in to the inner peace. I remember two of Tolle's quotes:

"Is there a difference between happiness and inner peace? Yes. Happiness depends on conditions being perceived as positive; inner peace does not."

"The primary cause of unhappiness is never the situation but your thoughts about it."

I also have been reflecting on some powerful words by Ina May Gaskin, before I embark on this journey of BIRTHING our baby! I am not afraid to go into labor. Sure, her size is intimidating...and I know it's going to be painful...but I am excited to be the vessel that allows a spiritual being to become her own physical lifeform. What an honor.

The following is a quote from Ina May in her book, Birth Matters: A Midwife's Manifesta:

For the birth, I have made a playlist of songs I think I'll want to hear. I have a wide range!!! I figure for the parts that seem like more of an intense workout, I'll want music to pump me up. I also thought there might be a part of me that would appreciate a laugh, so I've included some more humorous titles ("I'm Coming Out," "Drop It Like It's Hot," "Ring of Fire," to name a few). 

But there are also more contemplative, meditative songs, to help me tap in to the spiritual act that birth is. My midwife wrote me a letter after the rough week with the bloodclot, and suggested a song with Christian lyrics for my inspiration. Though I don't attend a church regularly, I can easily become attached to the messages in Christian songs, because I hear the words through my own filter. I think about what those lyrics mean to me, exactly where I am on my spiritual path. The song "He Will Carry Me" might sound like a regular Christian pop song to some, but as a woman about to give birth for the first time, and as a woman feeling deeply connected to Life around her, I hear a very powerful message that is telling me a Force greater than myself will help me get this baby out. I know that during birth, regardless of how this baby decides to come to us, I will be relying on God/Universe/Jesus/Holy Spirit. Call Him/Her what you will; language doesn't matter. 

Some songs aren't necessarily religious...but when processed through my filter, become spiritually uplifting. I used to like the Sade song "By My Side" as a romantic R&B track. Then, I thought it would be a fantastic song to add to the playlist, envisioning the lyrics coming through George to me. Then I took it to another level, and thought....there is a good chance George will think this song is cheesy or unimpressive (as he typically does, being the music critic that he is), and if he insults it while I'm expecting him to be practically DEDICATING it to me, it will tick me off. So I thought, why not dedicate this song, in my crazy little head, from God, to me? God won't criticize, critique, or laugh at the song. When I thought about this new perspective and heard the song again, I heard it like never before.

We are counting down the days for Sprout's arrival. I was hoping she would make her appearance with the BEAUTIFUL full moon last night. If she doesn't come by May 5th, I will be induced and see her on May 6th. Finally. While I don't like the idea of rushing Mother Nature, I can't afford to waste my days off without my baby in my arms. I need to maximize my time away from work, nurturing and loving on my baby. I need that, and she needs that. Then, when I return to work, I will focus on the importance of a strong work ethic, and how lucky women are to be able to work and provide a substantial income for their families. I will need to remember the Tolle quotes I mentioned earlier in this post, about being present, and tapping into inner peace rather than fleeting happiness. I must remind myself as I struggle to find the balance between working woman and a new mother, that I will make mistakes, because I'm human. But my daughter will have a leading female role model that gives her best in all areas of her life... and that is all I will ever ask of her. 

Sweet Sprout, you are already so loved.
Come and meet us! We are ready for you.

*Maternity Photos by Stephanie Rose Photography.

*The other photos are my own.

The Farm, The Clot, and The Due Date.

Before I was ready to have children, I watched "The Business of Being Born," a fascinating documentary about the medicalization of birth in this country. Ina May Gaskin, legendary midwife, was in this film, sharing her experiences with natural birth in her community, dubbed "The Farm." This community was founded in the 70's by a group of cross-country-caravaning-hippies from the Haight-Ashbury district in San Francisco. The Farm is much less populated today, but people still travel from across the country to see it, mainly because of the midwives. While the United States has a 30-35% c-section rate, The Farm has less than 2%. They have helped women birth over 2,000 babies in their 40 years of existence. The statistics are quite impressive.

I have been wanting to go to "The Farm" since the day I found out I was pregnant. I had dreams of visiting Ina May, her community, and having one last road trip with George. After a garage sale, penny-pinching, and random blessings falling into our lap, we were able to make the roadtrip happen. 

We left at 5:30 in the morning last Tuesday, and arrived that evening. Sweet George didn't even sleep until we were in the car...he worked until late Monday night, then when he got home, tidied up the place and packed. He's been exerting so much energy both at work and at home lately. He really sacrificed a lot to make this trip happen for us, even though it was mainly my prerogative to abandon responsibility for a few days and take a road-trip to Tennessee. 

I really loved driving east into the sunrise on Tuesday, and driving west into the sunset on Thursday. I turned my phone on Airplane Mode, and used the map I printed off prior to leaving. I had a playlist ready to go. I had been looking forward to this trip, unsure if we were even going to be able to pull it off, for months. The music in the speakers, combined with the sunrise ahead of me and my sleeping man beside me, brought tears to my eyes. After being on a stretch of highway for a while, and right as the sky was beginning to light up on the horizon, Animal Collective's, "What Would I Want? Sky" song came on. Sometimes, I feel like I'm in a movie, and the music playing at a particular moment is the most intricately selected soundtrack. This was one of those times.

Immediately after that song was "When You Come Back Down" by Nickel Creek. My dad wrote out the lyrics to this song in a letter to me, on the day I moved into my dorm. The lyrics put a lump in my throat everytime I hear them. This trip was no different. "You gotta leave me now, you gotta go alone, you gotta chase a dream, one that's all your own, before it slips away... When you're flying high, take my heart along, I'll be the harmony to every lonely song that you learn to play... When you're soaring through the air, I'll be your solid ground, take every chance you dare, I'll still be there, when you come back down. When you come back down." During this song, I began sobbing, feeling an intense array of emotions. Finally going to a place I've yearned to see. Having a dream literally come true. Knowing that when the trip was over, we were going to move in with my parents, and have our own little baby. Grateful for George, working to make this trip happen because he knew how much it meant to me. Grateful to my parents for keeping their opinions about this trip to themselves and allowing me, even as a grown woman, to learn my own lessons. 

*(Sidenote, little did I know, I was going to come back down. Two days later. To his and my mom's house, then to the emergency clinic, with a bloodclot in my right leg.)

"Orange Sky" by Alexi Murdoch was the next song, and that was literally when the sunglasses went on. The sunrays were bright, and I was driving straight into them. The summation of perfect songs and a rising sun was transcendent. George woke up shortly after, and we continued to drive through Arkansas.

We saw signs for President Bill Clinton's childhood home, and decided to stop and check it out. Maybe it's because we are desperately wanting a home to call our own, or maybe because we both are huge fans of Bill Clinton, but regardless, we loved that place.

His childhood bedroom

My favorite part of road-tripping is stopping randomly after seeing a sign for something (could be interesting/funny/random), and experiencing something locally, without a plan to do so. 

We got back in the car and kept on driving to Tennessee. 

Many hours, bathroom breaks, and windy country roads later, I slammed on my breaks and then reversed a few feet. The entrance to The Farm was so rural, so small, and so NOT advertised...I ALMOST PASSED BY!

"Tuesday's Gone," by Lynyrd Skynyrd, began pouring out through the speakers while the wind was pouring in the open sunroof. That moment was surreal. There was a big yard with a TON of roosters and chickens in many cages to the right. To the left was the Welcome Center of The Farm. There was also a warning that the cages to the right did NOT belong to The Farm, and a word of caution to stay away...that they would call the police. We heard a gunshot right after reading the notice! We laughed, got back in the car, and continued down the windy roads. It was awesome driving down the road into the community knowing that the roads, the land, the houses, the water towers...EVERYTHING here was made BY these people, FOR these people. 

Finally Made It!!!!!

Sweet little accents made our accommodation feel enchanting and welcoming.

We stayed at a woman named Linda's house. She rents out the lower level.

We unpacked our groceries, I made dinner (another huge perk, staying here meant a refrigerator, stove, and oven, so we were able to bring and eat our own food, saving us money, and keeping us healthy), and then we spent a lot of time unwinding, stretching, and relaxing. 

The next morning, I woke up shortly after the sun started coming through the window. There are few better things in life than waking up to sounds/sights of nature, rather than an alarm clock (or soon to be crying baby). I let George sleep, had some tea and cottage cheese, and read some Ina May (the inspiration for the trip in the first place).

We then went to our prenatal appointment. We waited for a bit in the waiting room, and met a nice couple from Alabama. Apparently, home births are ILLEGAL in Alabama?! Weird. So this couple came to Tennessee for all of their prenatal visits, and plan on delivering at The Farm. They were very friendly. While we were waiting to see Pamela, we looked around at the books, brochures, and general decor. We were totally diggin' the tie-dye hippie vibe, with the professional material and undeniable statistics. 

Not long after, we got to meet with Pamela. She is an absolute delight. So calm, so pleasant, and so naturally in her element as a Farm Midwife. She was also in the documentary I was obsessed with, and I read about her a lot in "Spiritual Midwifery," one of Ina May Gaskin's books. I read that as a teen, she was unfamiliar with midwifery (other than what her minister had explained to her), and very involved in her youth group. She strongly valued hard work, God, and family. Her parents sent her to San Francisco in 1965. She describes her experience, "There were hippies with flowers in their hair everywhere. They looked pretty and had fun and seemed to share a lot of the same ideals that were strong in my mind, so I became a hippy, too." (Pamela's Bio) Her story is so inspiring.

I instantly felt comfortable with her. We told her why we wanted to come, and she tested my urine, measured my fundal height, told me the position of the baby (head down, yay!!!), and listened to the heartbeat with the doppler. She measured me at 36 weeks, and told me I looked 'very pregnant,' more so than the 33 weeks I thought to be. We tried to figure out my due date based on my last cycle, but I just can't remember when that was. My original sonogram due date was 5/4, and it was 5/5 at 20 weeks. Based on when we think Sprout was conceived and my fundal height, things were starting to look more like end of April.

(Thanks to George for all these great shots!!! I loved my visit with Pamela!!!)

Later that day, I explored some more of the community. It was surprisingly quiet. I caught a sweet girl off-guard when I entered the "Eco-Village." Turns out, she's the "Winter Keeper" and the only girl living in this part of The Farm right now. I probably scared her to death! I asked her if I could look around, and take pictures, and she was very sweet and welcoming. We ended up talking for a while and became friends. Then she went on about her day, and I went on about exploring.

"The Wholeo" Stained Glass Globe

The next morning, George and I packed up and began driving back home. We wanted to take a more scenic route, and go through a few states we'd never seen. We went through Alabama, Mississippi, and Louisiana. We stopped in Tupelo, MS and got some Tupelo Honey. This was the last song we danced to at our wedding, so that was a fun and meaningful souvenir. We ate at a fun local diner, with pictures of Elvis everywhere.  We stopped a lot, actually. I drank so much water, and went to the bathroom often. I made sure to stretch my legs at each stop. 

I specify, because the next day (Friday), I was shocked I had developed a bloodclot in my right leg. 

I was shocked because:

(a) I'm generally very healthy. I've never had surgery, never been admitted to a hospital,

and

(b) I put forth so much effort in PREVENTING the bloodclot. I felt like most people wouldn't have been as conscientious stopping, stretching, heel-pumping, and water-gulping. 

But I had an epiphany, and it was indeed a great learning moment for me.

In order to "surprisingly" find out you're pregnant, you ARE healthy. 

And I know that the three BIGGEST risk factors for developing a blood clot are pregnancy (estrogen makes you clot...another risk factor is being on birth control), travel, and smoking. I don't smoke, but I had 2 of the 3 on board. I was in the car 12 hours on Tuesday, and 14 on Thursday. Getting the bloodclot didn't mean I wasn't healthy...it affirmed that I AM healthy enough to get pregnant, and I am NOT invincible to risk. 

I felt a pain in my right calf Friday morning. I went to my mom and dad's, and enjoyed coffee on the patio with my mom and sister. I told them about the pain, but as a few hours went by, I became more obsessive about it. I called my midwife, and she was out of town (bummer!!!!!!!), but the OBGYN on call told me to take an aspirin a day for a week.

What?!

My gut told me to go to the emergency clinic by their house. It would be $150 which would set us back financially, but I knew that if it was a clot, it could be lethal. I knew the exact test I needed, an ultrasound of my right leg, to determine if there was or was not a clot. If there wasn't a clot, it would be an expensive cost for peace of mind, but worth it.

After the ultrasound, the ER doc came in the room and told me it was a DVT, and I was being admitted to the hospital I plan to deliver. I was surprisingly happy at first, because I had a gut feeling and I listened to it, and I was right! But then I realized the severity of the situation, and became more concerned.

WTF 

There was a lot of miscommunication at the hospital. Another lesson I learned? YOU HAVE TO BE YOUR OWN ADVOCATE. Speak up. At all times. Otherwise you will end up paying more money... (I almost had to go to the ER at Lewisville Medical, but I insisted the emergency clinic had called ahead with a room for me as  a direct-admit. Had I not been insistent about this, I would have had to pay that $150 ER fee twice!!!)... and could potentially receive improper medical treatment.

The internist almost hung a bag of Heparin on my IV (the strongest anti-coagulant I'm aware of). Keep in mind I haven't had an ASPIRIN in 8 months for fear of what it would do to the baby. So this seemed very extreme, but I also thought at this point that I could die, and that was the main priority.

The radiologist had a different diagnosis than the ER doctor, and it turned out to work in my favor. The clot was superficial, not deep, so I didn't have to have the Heparin. I received a total of (3) Lovenox (blood thinning) shots. The next morning, they did a scan on both legs, and the clot was gone. The pain was gone, too. They also did continuous fetal monitoring and an ultrasound. Baby checked out good.

She did, however, measure at 5.5 pounds, and 35 weeks (instead of the 33 I thought I was). That meant if I went to 40 weeks exactly, the due date would be 4/20 instead of 5/5. I looked at a calendar, and there is a full moon on 4/25, so THAT IS MY OFFICIAL GUESS. April 25, still a Taurus, 10 days ahead of what we planned, and 1 month from now. 

So there it is. A super long blog post with a title reminiscent of "The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe." The Farm was my Aslan, The Clot was my White Witch, and Sprout's Due Date is the Wardrobe. I can't believe I'm about to cross over into parenthood. I'm grateful for our last pre-baby adventure, even with the clot. I learned a lot. I was afraid my mom was going to say "I told you that trip wasn't a good idea!" but she didn't. She said something to the extent of, "The insistent part of you that listened to your heart and brought you out on that trip, was the same part of you that listened to your gut and got you to the hospital." She was proud of me for going with my instincts. 

I've heard instincts improve drastically with motherhood. 

Maybe I'm well on my way. 

xoxo,

L

Circle of Life

I vividly remember before George and I got married, making an effort to be conscious about my last few days and nights living alone, and appreciating the positives of living alone.

I decorated however I wanted.

I got a pedicure whenever I felt like it.

I founded a women's group and poured a lot of my time and energy into it.

I am sure I did this as a protective mechanism, because there is a morbid part of me that thinks all too often about death, and I was already protecting myself against the desperate and lonely feelings I assume take over when one's spouse passes on.

I was telling myself, "Realize that right now, you are alone, and you are happy," or "There is something nice about coming home to an empty house," or, "Look at what you're capable of doing when you give yourself this time." I suppose I was just trying to remind myself before taking the next step, that the current phase wasn't so bad, and if life threw me back to this phase, I could be okay. I was (really, still am) scared of becoming more dependent on George, and then if something (God forbid) happened to him, not being able to remember how to live life alone.

I realize how awful this sounds, but it's honest.

Tonight, driving home from a prenatal yoga class, I went through the same thought process, only with our baby. I thought about people I know who have died young, and the loss their parents must have felt. I can't even really fathom that kind of pain.

I was flashing on memories that George and I have shared, just the two of us, over the past eight years. We've been really happy. We've had a lot of fun. We've gone on adventures.

I then realized, even if our daughter outlives us by decades (my hope and prayer), she will at one point, move on from our home (Is it crazy that I'm only 28 weeks pregnant and thinking about when she moves out??). I thought about the 18 years (give or take) that we will have with her under our roof, and how ideally, that won't even be a quarter of my life.

She really won't be "ours." She is coming from some spiritual realm, probably to teach us a lot of lessons, and probably to learn a lot for herself. We are just the vessels from one dimension to the next. We are just her lucky parents, lucky in that we have the opportunity to teach her what we know, and relive childhood joys all over again by her side. We're fortunate that we will get to learn from her.

I thought about my parents, and how bittersweet it was leaving for college. I remember thinking things wouldn't be the same, and that part was sad to me. But I knew a bright future was ahead. I felt the same way when I got married. They knew this, too, and I know they were proud of me, and excited for me.

But even now, I realize, on a regular day, it is just the two of them again. To think that between 1987 and 2008, their home was filled with the lives of their children...and now, it is back to pre-1987.

My sister is at grad school six hours away, and even though I'm 15 minutes down the road, I'm usually at work all day, and most evenings I have obligations. My head falls on my pillow at night beside my husband's. I'm grateful to sleep beside him. It's crazy to think a year ago, I slept alone. And eight years ago, I slept under my parents' roof every night. Crazier to think that in just a couple of months, we will welcome to the world our daughter, and she will lay her head to sleep each night under our roof.

I guess really, things don't go back to "pre-1987" or "pre-babies." Because SO MUCH will change. Careers, homes, roles, dynamics. But the foundation has to be solid enough to stand once the kids are gone. Though this baby came to us QUICKLY after the marriage, I'm so grateful for our long dating history.

This pic cracks us both up. We look so lame. This was 2007.

Everybody is telling me how I will be so surprised at how much I fall in love with her when I see her. I'm interested to see if this is true...because I feel like I've already fallen so hard. She moves all the time.  I talk to her, sometimes aloud, and sometimes just thoughts. I visualize warm light surrounding her when I consciously inhale. I sing to her, and I pray for her. I feel like I already know her. I've had three dreams about her (I thought she was a girl before the sonogram confirmed it, because I DREAMT about holding her right after birth).

I guess to get back to my original morbid point, I'm scared of how much I love people. Because when they leave this dimension, I don't know if I'll be able to cope without them. While my "norm" has changed from living with my parents to living with George...I can't think about losing my parents, not even for a second...because I've NEVER KNOWN LIFE without them. Even if I don't physically speak to them, I feel their support on a daily basis. I've never gone a day without it. And my heart breaks for those who have lost their parents, and have to know this pain everyday. Then I think about losing George, and how much of a void I will feel daily, and it makes me so anxious I have to consciously tell myself to stop. And tonight, when I thought about the love I have already for my daughter, and how that love will grow...and how it is not only love, but also RESPONSIBILITY...well, I think I'm already getting a taste of what it's like to be a worrywart mother.

In other words, I'm turning into my mom.

(Bust out Lion King's "Circle of Life" here.)

I'm more blissful than I am anxious, even if the post reads otherwise. I just have a very strong attachment to my people. Sending out all my love to my parents and sister, George, and our little one. And sending out love and prayers to everybody who has experienced the loss of a parent, sibling, spouse, or child. Your reality is my biggest fear. Your strength inspires.

xoxo,
L