Ready As I'll Never Be

I have hit the 38 week mark today.

Recently I woke up thinking I was in labor 2 days in a row. Turned out to be just gas pains and I had to go to the bathroom. Lovely, but it got me thinking just how close we are to meeting this little baby and it scares the living daylights out of me.

I am torn. In a way I am ready for the next chapter, to finally get to meet him, and to not be pregnant anymore. I am puffy, my hip hurts and getting out of bed 300 times a night to pee involves grunting and rolling.

But I know what giving birth means this time around. He will pass on. I will have no snuggly newborn to bring home, no cute pictures to take or funny I have been crapped on 3 times today stories to share. What I will have is a giant ass grief hole I get to try not to sink into every day.

My bag is packed, not with diapers and baby stuff, but with things to make memories in minutes with. And I have spent a small fortune on all sorts of holistic stress and grief remedies since I am not a huge fan of prescription drugs.

So we wait, and I try to fill my days with good things and good memories; finding the joy, decorating for Christmas, playing with Lenora, sewing and eating way to many bowls of ice cream.

 

It’s hard to believe we have made it this far, but I know in my heart I have given this little babe a chance at life, however long that may be.

Soap Love

I am still sewing. I promise. It's just everything I make recently is a Christmas gift and I can't share my projects until I share the gift.

So I will share this with you instead.

(Lavender soap with dried lavender buds) 

A couple of years ago I took a class with Tracy Adams at the John Campbell Folk School on soap making. If you ever get a chance to go to the Folk School take it. It is a truly wonderful place to learn all sorts of traditional skills.

(Citrus soap with bergamot, sweet orange oil and calendula flowers) 

Since then, a couple of times a year I get to work making soap. It is pretty much the only soap my family uses and I give a bunch of it out at the holidays. I skip all the dyes, colorants and fragrance oils which can irritate your skin and use only essential oils and natural ingredients. 

This year a couple of my gal friends and I got to work mixing up some amazing bars of soap.

(Creamy mousse soap with patchouli and balsam peru essential oils) 

It really isn't that hard once you learn the basic process and it's tons of fun dreaming up new flavors.

There are great resources online, just google, and wonderful books like the one below to get you started. 

(Pink salt soap and The Soapmaker's Companion) 

Thankful

These are the moments I am thankful for.

At the advice of the wonderful ladies at the Chesapeake Hospice Life Center we purchased a couple of mini recorders at the Build a Bear store. We had the baby's heartbeat recorded at our last sonogram and placed them into two bears, one for Lenora and one for me. Lenora has been carrying the bears around non stop since we brought them home and every time she presses the button to hear the heartbeat she breaks into a huge smile and hugs them close. 

Thanksgiving day she fell asleep with one in each arm. How precious a sight this was. I have two babies and moments like this to be thankful for. 

In the Kitchen

When life stresses me out I tend to go into hibernation mode. I want to stay in, putter around my house, cook, eat and then fall asleep. Usually in that order.  I have been doing much of all of these things lately. I takes a constant effort not to turn into a total recluse. The closer I get to my due date the more inward I turn. I know some of that is to be expected but I am not sure complete isolation is the answer either. Oh, the struggle to find balance.

 
 
I have been cooking up a storm these days.

 
I made these Pumpkin Cinnamon Rolls by Smitten Kitchen. They were delicious but I would have to say I wish they were gooeyer (is that a word). I like my cinnamon rolls all soggy and squishy in the middle. 

 
Then I made this Salted Caramel Apple Pie by Ashley English. Hands down the best apple pie I have ever tasted. We devoured every last slice. I will be making it again this year for Thanksgiving and every year after. It is that good. I did learn this is not a pie you can just throw together in an hour. There are steps, it takes some time, so set aside a day when you can slowly work your way through the recipe. Put on some music and get into it. You will not be disappointed. 

And here I am doing the 2 things I love to do the most, lay in bed and eat home cooking. Can you see the joy?  

Oh yea. Shovel it in. 

Squam by the Sea 2012

Where do I start? 

I could write pages and pages about the magic that is Squam by the Sea but I don’t think I would ever be able to truly capture it in words.

I was scared to go, afraid of the unknown, who/what I might encounter and their reactions to my story and journey with this little kidney-less babe of mine.  

To say I was blown right out of my socks with all the Squam love good juju vibes would be an understatement.

I just want to cry happy tears writing this, thinking about how wonderful my time at the beach was. It was truly part of my healing journey. There was no sadness, no self pity, no dark cloud following me around. It was as if it lifted for those 4 days and I was wrapped in light. I cannot describe it.

I painted with the amazing Sarah Ahern and Alena Hennesey. I ate the most wonderful food and slept and sat on the beach and connected with so many incredible souls. I came away recharged and ready for what is to come.  

Now are you ready for some goose bumps? I truly believe there are times we are placed exactly where we need to be whether or not we understand it. I shared my story with a circle of women and one in particular burst into tears. She in turn shared that she would be donating a kidney to her father very soon. Coincidence, I think not. There was some divine universal power that placed the 2 of us in the same place that same day. 

I will leave you with this. My finished painting from Alena's class. Can you feel all the healing power wrapped up in this piece? I know I can. 

The Bomb

Robert and I have affectionately coined telling people about our situation “dropping the bomb”.

That is how it felt when the specialist first gave us the diagnosis. It left us reeling, we went to bed, I puked and I am certain the aftermath is going to last, well, forever. Not so unlike atomic fallout. We will spend the rest of our lives recovering from this.

(completely unrelated, but too cute not to share)

You never realize just how many people you know, be it co-workers, friends, family and casual acquaintances when you have to share such horrible news. It’s not something we can keep a secret either, because one day I will not have this huge ole belly and I will not have a snuggly newborn to show off either.

So when we run into folks who don’t know yet and innocently inquire about the baby, we just turn to each other, suck in a breath and “drop the bomb”. It doesn’t feel good, because we know we just pretty much ruined their day. And no one wants to be the messenger of death. It’s a loose, loose situation for all parties involved.  I feel like Debbie Downer all the time. I get tired of my own story, the broken record of having to share it, over and over and over. Some days it’s easier to hole up in the house, rather than leave and chance having to talk about it.

Then what do you do about all the people you don’t know who just love to love on a pregnant woman? The little old ladies in the grocery store, the other mothers in the coffee shop, the checkout gal at the Target. When you have a giant baby bump everyone wants to talk to you, share in the (what under normal circumstances would be) excitement and tell you about their own children.

We call that selective bomb dropping. Sometimes we just don’t even want to go there. It’s too hard. When asked about the due date or the sex we just cough up the generic answers, December 26^th, pretty sure it’s a boy, yes we are excited. All the while shaking our head and thinking…if they only knew.

(It was all his idea and for the record no dogs were harmed in these events)

Sometimes there are people you just get the itch to share your story with. For some reason there is a little spark, a feeling they might understand, just might say the right thing at the right time that you so desperately need to hear. I told someone at the grocery store a few weeks ago. She hugged me and made me write down the baby’s name. She was taking it to church the next day to pray for us. In that instance it felt good to share.

I am leaving on Wednesday to channel my inner artist at Squam by the Sea in North Carolina with 80 other people whom I have never met. I planned this trip a year ago before this all happened. I am excited but TERRIFIED. What if they don’t like me? What if no one wants to paint with Debbie Downer? I will spend 4 nights under the same roof with a bunch of strangers. How will I drop this bomb? Certainly I can’t keep it all to myself, I just might explode. I guess if I can put my business out there for all of the world to read, 80 people is nothing, right?

They also have a blog and today’s post about the upcoming retreat is titled “this healing place”. Maybe its a sign? I can only hope the next few days will be just that. A time to get away, recharge, get lost in paint, awaken the muse, and just be. 

Wish me luck. I’m jumping in. 

Blessingway

After I had Lenora I struggled to find mom friends to connect with. Most everyone I knew didn’t have children and once you have one everything is different. I didn’t fit into their world and they could not relate to mine. So I reached out and joined a local moms group and the La Leche League. I went to the first couple of meetings terrified they wouldn’t like me, I would never make new friends and I would be a new mom alone covered in crap and drool. 

I could not have been more wrong. I was blessed to meet the most wonderful group of gals and their children. I have not known them long, a little over a year, but they just gave me the best gift ever.

A few weeks ago they threw me a Blessingway. It’s an alternative version of a baby shower based on Native American traditions of blessing an expectant mother.

There are lots of different activities you can do to send the mother good birth and baby juju.

We ate tons of yummy food. What else could a pregnant woman ask for?

They did reflexology and rubbed my feet. You know you have good friends if they are willing to get down and dirty on your footsies. They also rubbed Lenora’s feet which she fell in love with. Now at every bath time she grabs the soap, lifts her feet up and points to them. Little bugger is expecting a foot massage. I give in every time. They also painted my foot with henna in a pretty design.

Each of the women brought beads they thought symbolized me and this pregnancy. They went around the room saying why they picked the beads they did, then strung them into an amazing birth necklace. It’s like a magical talisman. I want to wear it and dance naked in the woods. Seriously, it makes me feel that good every time I look at it.

They braided my hair and put lots of fresh flowers in it. I felt like a goddess and looked like one too. I should have gone dancing that night. I would have looked fantastic in my mug shot photo for being arrested for naked dancing in the woods. 

They also left me with a handmade book filled with letters of support and encouragement. I was scared to read them. I thought I would cry like a baby but the words they wrote were inspiring and lifted me right through the roof.

It was an amazing day and the perfect balm for my wounded soul. They believed in me and they believed in this baby and acknowledged him (a post on that coming soon).

The juju was overwhelming.

Most people will never get to meet this baby and hold him and experience his life. The past few months there have been people that barely acknowledge the fact that I am carrying a child. I guess to them since he will not live long it doesn’t count. It’s a horrible feeling to know that some people think that way. This day was completely the opposite. It was a celebration of birth and mothers and life. 

It was perfect.