I've been advised to cut out sugar from my diet for the remainder of my pregnancy. This is a huge challenge for me, as I have a mouth full of sweet teeth. I've realized that I do better when I satisfy my sweet tooth in moderation, than when I ignore it all together. The latter is a recipe for disaster.
I discovered a recipe a year or so ago for a healthier version of a chocolate chip cookie. My family fondly named it the "mookie", as the first batches tasted like half muffin, half cookie. Each time I whip up a new batch, I play with different ingredients. Making this mookie has become a hobby of mine, as each batch tastes and looks quite different. The coconut and walnut are my most recent additions.
This mookie uses northern beans, pureed, to replace most of the butter. It also replaces most of (or all) the white flour with finely ground oats and wheat flour. I've used soy flour, buckwheat flour, and other strange alternatives, though I find the mixture of oatmeal, wheat, and white flour the tastiest.
The recipe originally called for brown sugar, as opposed to refined sugar. I've experimented with brown rice syrup, aguave nectar (expensive) and finally settled on natural honey as a replacement.
One cookie hits the spot for me. Not only do I get some fiber and protein, but I also satisfy my sweet tooth. Joe and I keep these cookies in the freezer, and eat them frozen.
So, here goes. Rather than keep this recipe to myself, I thought I'd share it with any of you adventurous ones out there with sweet teeth!
1 1/2 cups old fashioned oats, finely ground
1 1/2 cups whole wheat flour
1/2 cup all purpose flour
1/2 tsp baking soda
1/2 tsp baking powder
1/4 tsp salt
1 can great northern beans, "lightly" drained (keep a tbsp. or so liquid in there)
3 Tbsp butter (though I often use less)
1 cup honey
2 large eggs
1 tsp vanilla extract
Semi-sweet chocolate/carob chips - add to your liking
Unsweeted coconut - add to your liking
Chopped walnuts - add to your liking
1. Pre-heat oven to 350
2. Combine ground oats with flour, baking powder, soda, and salt in med. bowl
3. In blender, puree the beans with reserved liquid until smooth.
4. Combine bean puree, butter, honey, eggs and vanilla in large bowl and beat well.
5. Beat or stir in oat and flour mixture. Stir in chips, coconut and walnuts.
Bake! (I never time (or even measure exactly), so its up to you on this one.)
Enjoy!!
Wednesday, August 29, 2007
Monday, August 27, 2007
The Name Game
Whoever thought naming a child would be so challenging? When I was only 9 years old, I had decided upon the names of my future children (I had also selected the gender and age, until my Dad explained that impossibility.) What I didn't consider back then was the unknown last name of my children, which is Adiletta. I also didn't factor in my future husband's preferences. I would even write out fake Christmas cards, leaving only my husband's name blank.
Adiletta is not the easiest of names to match. For one thing, it has four syllables. For another, it begins with an "a", while many beautiful first names end with an "a".
Early on in our pregnancy, Joe and I settled on two names that we both really liked. We were relieved to be all set, and decided upon keeping our names a secret until the big day. Then, one day, I looked at Joe and asked him to try on the boy's name, as if our son were an adolescent and he were engaged in a serious conversation with him. Strange as this may sound, my husband looked at me puzzled, and shared that he had trouble imagining a 16-year-old boy with that name. As did I. I then began to imagine my son running for office with his playful, adventurous name. Would he hate it? And my daughter, would she tire easily of such a simple name, even though we felt it to be beautiful and strong? Would we grow tired of both of the names before they were even born?
So, back to the drawing boards we went. We scoured name sites and read meanings, made lists, and matched middle names. We would discard a name, and then come back to it days later. "But I thought you didn't like that name with Adiletta??" my husband would ask me, confused. I would reply, "I've changed my mind. What do you think?" And on, and on, we would go.
Within the past month, we've settled on two top names for each gender. Our original names are among these four leading ones. However, I will admit that I've lost a bit of perspective. One of our top two girls' names breaks all the rules. On some days, it sounds like a tongue-twister. On other days, it is the most beautiful sounding name to me.
I've even broken down and shared the names with a couple of people. I was feeling desperate, and wanted to see their reactions. My child would be with this name for his or her life span here, and so I want to choose wisely.
Part of me believes that we won't have a final name chosen until this little person enters the world. And another part of me fears that scenario. After all, whenever I make a "game time" decision over what to eat at a restaurant, I end up with the strangest of all possible meals. I end up with a "what the heck - let's try this!" dish. I have a feeling my child will not thank me for that approach.
Adiletta is not the easiest of names to match. For one thing, it has four syllables. For another, it begins with an "a", while many beautiful first names end with an "a".
Early on in our pregnancy, Joe and I settled on two names that we both really liked. We were relieved to be all set, and decided upon keeping our names a secret until the big day. Then, one day, I looked at Joe and asked him to try on the boy's name, as if our son were an adolescent and he were engaged in a serious conversation with him. Strange as this may sound, my husband looked at me puzzled, and shared that he had trouble imagining a 16-year-old boy with that name. As did I. I then began to imagine my son running for office with his playful, adventurous name. Would he hate it? And my daughter, would she tire easily of such a simple name, even though we felt it to be beautiful and strong? Would we grow tired of both of the names before they were even born?
So, back to the drawing boards we went. We scoured name sites and read meanings, made lists, and matched middle names. We would discard a name, and then come back to it days later. "But I thought you didn't like that name with Adiletta??" my husband would ask me, confused. I would reply, "I've changed my mind. What do you think?" And on, and on, we would go.
Within the past month, we've settled on two top names for each gender. Our original names are among these four leading ones. However, I will admit that I've lost a bit of perspective. One of our top two girls' names breaks all the rules. On some days, it sounds like a tongue-twister. On other days, it is the most beautiful sounding name to me.
I've even broken down and shared the names with a couple of people. I was feeling desperate, and wanted to see their reactions. My child would be with this name for his or her life span here, and so I want to choose wisely.
Part of me believes that we won't have a final name chosen until this little person enters the world. And another part of me fears that scenario. After all, whenever I make a "game time" decision over what to eat at a restaurant, I end up with the strangest of all possible meals. I end up with a "what the heck - let's try this!" dish. I have a feeling my child will not thank me for that approach.
Thursday, August 23, 2007
In love
I am already in love. Totally and completely in love with our baby.
I've had the most wonderful two days with 'the bean' in utero. S/he has been so active, and did not seem to stop moving and kicking for nearly two hours last night. I was visiting my mom at the Cape and shared that there was a virtual rock concert in my belly. S/he was movin' and groovin' and bringing me so much joy.
I woke up this morning to more activity, and felt an immediate rush of excitement. Here I am, experiencing a miracle, right in my body. My prayers have been answered, and a child ~ a person ~ a soul is developing within me. Each week, there are more changes that make this pregnancy feel even more a reality.
A new development is that I can now also feel the baby's body parts beneath my skin, although I can not distinguish them. It is sore, too, where my skin is expanding, and probably due to so much rubbing and touching and caressing from me.
People have told me that you fall in love when you see your baby, and hold him or her for the first time. I can not imagine how great that love is, if I already feel this much love.
I've had the most wonderful two days with 'the bean' in utero. S/he has been so active, and did not seem to stop moving and kicking for nearly two hours last night. I was visiting my mom at the Cape and shared that there was a virtual rock concert in my belly. S/he was movin' and groovin' and bringing me so much joy.
I woke up this morning to more activity, and felt an immediate rush of excitement. Here I am, experiencing a miracle, right in my body. My prayers have been answered, and a child ~ a person ~ a soul is developing within me. Each week, there are more changes that make this pregnancy feel even more a reality.
A new development is that I can now also feel the baby's body parts beneath my skin, although I can not distinguish them. It is sore, too, where my skin is expanding, and probably due to so much rubbing and touching and caressing from me.
People have told me that you fall in love when you see your baby, and hold him or her for the first time. I can not imagine how great that love is, if I already feel this much love.
Sunday, August 19, 2007
Sisterhood & Community
Joe's sister, Teri, visited us this past weekend from PA. I had the most wonderful visit with her. We spent two days talking, walking, talking, and more talking. Here's what I love about her: she is not only a truly good listener, but she is geniunely curious and interested in those around her. I have admired her mothering approach for the past ten years that I've known her. When I commented this weekend on what a loving mom she was to her two boys, she shared that she treats her children like people, and does not talk down to them. That didn't surprise me, as I have witnessed the way she communicates with them. She allows her children to be who they are, and adapts her parenting style to each child. She has a reservoir of patience that astounds me, and she validates their feelings.
I grew up with younger sisters, and feel blessed now that I have older sisters (in law) who have modeled parenting for me. My brother's wife, Sara, is another mom for whom I have great respect. She is a rock with her children, and creates a safe, consistent environment for them to play and grow. She, too, has a huge amount of patience for her three children.
Joe and I have long discussed what kind of parents we want to be. We have a vision of creating a home where everyone has a voice and is respected for his/her opinion, and where feelings are heard and validated. We want to be consistent, grounded parents who provide stability and love for our children. We want to take the best from our own parents, and learn from those around us who are raising kind, loving, and capable children.
Even with Teri and Sara, there are differences in the ways that I envision being a mama. Still, I respect them and continue to learn from them. The same is true with many other family and friends in our lives with children.
Just yesterday, Joe spoke of our "community", meaning our closest family and friends, in reference to the support they will provide as we raise our children. The idea really resonated with me. I do believe that it takes a community to help us manifest our vision. I don't know the 'how' or 'what' yet of building or enhancing that community; I do believe, though, that our child(ren) need to be around others who share similar values, as much as Joe and I need that for ourselves. We need the support and love of family and friends as we take on the hugely important role of raising children.
And, so, in retrospect, one of the blessings of this past weekend was in sharing our vision and plans with Teri, and being held in love. And, in turn, holding her in love as she continues to consciously raise her sons.
As a last note, I want to blow a big kiss to my dear friend, Kate, who is in Malaysia, and took the time to write comments for each post. Near or far, Kate, you and Ivan are a pillar in our community. I miss you :).
I grew up with younger sisters, and feel blessed now that I have older sisters (in law) who have modeled parenting for me. My brother's wife, Sara, is another mom for whom I have great respect. She is a rock with her children, and creates a safe, consistent environment for them to play and grow. She, too, has a huge amount of patience for her three children.
Joe and I have long discussed what kind of parents we want to be. We have a vision of creating a home where everyone has a voice and is respected for his/her opinion, and where feelings are heard and validated. We want to be consistent, grounded parents who provide stability and love for our children. We want to take the best from our own parents, and learn from those around us who are raising kind, loving, and capable children.
Even with Teri and Sara, there are differences in the ways that I envision being a mama. Still, I respect them and continue to learn from them. The same is true with many other family and friends in our lives with children.
Just yesterday, Joe spoke of our "community", meaning our closest family and friends, in reference to the support they will provide as we raise our children. The idea really resonated with me. I do believe that it takes a community to help us manifest our vision. I don't know the 'how' or 'what' yet of building or enhancing that community; I do believe, though, that our child(ren) need to be around others who share similar values, as much as Joe and I need that for ourselves. We need the support and love of family and friends as we take on the hugely important role of raising children.
And, so, in retrospect, one of the blessings of this past weekend was in sharing our vision and plans with Teri, and being held in love. And, in turn, holding her in love as she continues to consciously raise her sons.
As a last note, I want to blow a big kiss to my dear friend, Kate, who is in Malaysia, and took the time to write comments for each post. Near or far, Kate, you and Ivan are a pillar in our community. I miss you :).
Tuesday, August 14, 2007
More thoughts on birthing
It occurred to me today that birthing with others present might be a challenge for me. Actually, I think that may be an understatement.
Here's what gave me a clue: Today, I was experiencing intestinal distress. I'm not sure what caused it; I only know that I was alone in my house, and as soon as a mildly strong cramp came upon me, I reached over and closed the door.
Initially, it struck me as funny that I had closed the door. The only other living being in the house was my cat, Phoebe. I wondered if it was merely habitual, having grown up with six other family members around me. Perhaps that is true to some degree; however, there is another truth. I closed the door because I much prefer to be alone while in distress.
Then I realized another lurking truth. In the throws of labor, those around me may need strong shields. I have no idea how I will handle having all eyes upon me while in pain, or strong discomfort, and vulnerable. I am not proud of this. I would much prefer to be a centered, though intense, birthing woman. However, I have an inkling that those around me may see another, more feisty, if you will, side. After all, I won't be able to close the door behind me when those strong urges and contractions arise.
My sister-in-law, in recounting this insight to her, suggested that I be pro-active about this. For example, she suggested that I leave little post-it-notes apologizing in advance, and sharing my appreciation for each person with me. If I shoot Joe a nasty look, he can then pick up a note, and remember its not about him. Clever idea.
Here's what gave me a clue: Today, I was experiencing intestinal distress. I'm not sure what caused it; I only know that I was alone in my house, and as soon as a mildly strong cramp came upon me, I reached over and closed the door.
Initially, it struck me as funny that I had closed the door. The only other living being in the house was my cat, Phoebe. I wondered if it was merely habitual, having grown up with six other family members around me. Perhaps that is true to some degree; however, there is another truth. I closed the door because I much prefer to be alone while in distress.
Then I realized another lurking truth. In the throws of labor, those around me may need strong shields. I have no idea how I will handle having all eyes upon me while in pain, or strong discomfort, and vulnerable. I am not proud of this. I would much prefer to be a centered, though intense, birthing woman. However, I have an inkling that those around me may see another, more feisty, if you will, side. After all, I won't be able to close the door behind me when those strong urges and contractions arise.
My sister-in-law, in recounting this insight to her, suggested that I be pro-active about this. For example, she suggested that I leave little post-it-notes apologizing in advance, and sharing my appreciation for each person with me. If I shoot Joe a nasty look, he can then pick up a note, and remember its not about him. Clever idea.
Saturday, August 11, 2007
A side-ways turtle
I am barely six months pregnant (its week 25), and I must admit that I'm feeling a bit like a side-ways turtle these past few days. I had shared with a couple of other mamas that I was experiencing shortness of breath and dizziness on occasion, though it usually passes quite quickly. Today, I went out to meander around Harvard Square before a jewelry-making class for a couple of hours. I often do this - head in a direction with hours to kill and enjoy the luxury of walking and stopping wherever I choose. This outing, however, was quite a challenge physically. I would walk into stores, sit down for a few minutes to catch my breath, and then would get up and slowly creep around the block once again.
Now, I'm not in tip-top shape, but I've been getting out walking every day for nearly an hour, and doing stairs on occasion. I have felt great for the most part throughout this pregnancy. I am not sure if my body is simply adjusting, and maybe its cramped quarters around my diaphram (where is that anyway?), or if I am simply tired, or haven't been getting enough protein or water.
So, trimester 3 is starting to feel like the last leg of a race, or physical challenge, minus the competition. I remember a triathlon that I participated in a few years ago. The first leg, the swimming, was disorienting - never before had I been in such close proximity with so many swimmers at once - and I was pacing myself for all that was ahead. I was excited, nervous and basically going with the crowd. By the second leg, the bike, I was really enjoying the experience. I had struck out on my own, and began to think more about overall racing strategy. I was feeling good and on my way.... The last leg, the run, was by far the most challenging. Although the finish line was near, there was still a ways to go, though my body was tired. I had to trust that my body would carry me through, and that I had much more capacity than I believed at the moment. The mind/body connection became more important than ever. I surrendered to the experience, and finished feeling quite good, actually. (Seems like a good metaphor for the birth process itself...)
To be truthful, the 3rd trimester is incredibly exciting to me. It feels like we're so close to meeting our child outside the womb, yet I am still able to be one with my baby in this intimate experience of pregnancy. Joe and I have time and space to process what's ahead, and I am able to enjoy the duality of being with child, and having so much freedom.
What I have gleemed from yesterday is how important it is right now to fuel myself in a slow, steady way. AND, to keep getting out there to walk, and trusting my body when it needs rest. So, if I am a turtle on some days, so be it.
Now, I'm not in tip-top shape, but I've been getting out walking every day for nearly an hour, and doing stairs on occasion. I have felt great for the most part throughout this pregnancy. I am not sure if my body is simply adjusting, and maybe its cramped quarters around my diaphram (where is that anyway?), or if I am simply tired, or haven't been getting enough protein or water.
So, trimester 3 is starting to feel like the last leg of a race, or physical challenge, minus the competition. I remember a triathlon that I participated in a few years ago. The first leg, the swimming, was disorienting - never before had I been in such close proximity with so many swimmers at once - and I was pacing myself for all that was ahead. I was excited, nervous and basically going with the crowd. By the second leg, the bike, I was really enjoying the experience. I had struck out on my own, and began to think more about overall racing strategy. I was feeling good and on my way.... The last leg, the run, was by far the most challenging. Although the finish line was near, there was still a ways to go, though my body was tired. I had to trust that my body would carry me through, and that I had much more capacity than I believed at the moment. The mind/body connection became more important than ever. I surrendered to the experience, and finished feeling quite good, actually. (Seems like a good metaphor for the birth process itself...)
To be truthful, the 3rd trimester is incredibly exciting to me. It feels like we're so close to meeting our child outside the womb, yet I am still able to be one with my baby in this intimate experience of pregnancy. Joe and I have time and space to process what's ahead, and I am able to enjoy the duality of being with child, and having so much freedom.
What I have gleemed from yesterday is how important it is right now to fuel myself in a slow, steady way. AND, to keep getting out there to walk, and trusting my body when it needs rest. So, if I am a turtle on some days, so be it.
Friday, August 10, 2007
More lessons...
Last night, Joe and I had dinner with a family member who was asking about our birthing plan. As soon as the topic came up, I could feel my insides tighten. I braced myself for the questions that I, myself, am still exploring. What I know is that I intuitively trust, or believe in, home birth as a gentle and safe way to bring a baby into this world. However, I could hear the tone of my voice, and feel the tightness of my breathing, and sense that I was immediately on the defense.
Here's the reality. I know that some people who we care about will not agree with or fully understand this decision. I also have heard concerns that home birthing, while comfortable for the mother, may not be safe for the baby. That one, in particular, triggers me. If I did not believe this was safe for my baby, I would not be choosing this path. (Of course, I also believe that what triggers us is really about our own insecurities. Clearly, I am not yet feeling totally grounded in my own mothering instincts.) I realize that home birthing is not necessarily something many people are knowledgable about, and only months ago, I, myself, may have raised an eyebrow. Why not birth in a hospital, where you have every back-up medical device and trained professional that you may need? What if...?
Before bed last night, I picked up the book I am reading, "Ina May's Guide to Childbirth". I know it may not sound like a relaxing, bedtime book, but its quite reassuring. It has many stories of women's birthing experiences, most of them homebirth, but many in a birthing center and some within hospitals. These stories remind me of all the reasons for this choice, and of all the resources available to me. However, I was only a few stories into it when I put the book down, placed my hands on my belly, and whispered, "what do YOU want?"
I haven't lost my mind. Even though Joe and I play "magic 8-ball" with the baby's kicks (kick once if you are a boy... kick once if you want to be named 'x'...), I did not expect to get a response. My hope was that I would connect with my intuition about giving birth.
No response. I had jumped on the worry boat and was momentarily riding through the rocky waters of self-doubt. You see, when others ask me "yeah but, aren't you worried about this?" or say "my only worry is...", a part of me tightens up. I know that place - the worry boat - and that's not the platform I want to carry me through this wonderful, and yet vulnerable, time. So I tense up, as if to defend myself from jumping on that raft, until I remember to breathe again.
When I awoke this morning, I was contemplating my reaction last night, and what it was really all about. What I came up with is this: I was in the place of needing others to understand and approve of our choice. We actually do have the support of our family. Its my own need to feel that my mothering instincts are not being judged, or questioned. I know this is fruitless, for how others view me and my choices is through their own lens of the world. The real question is: Do I have confidence in myself, and our ability to choose what's best for our baby, given all the unknowns?
Here, again, is the practice of letting go. Letting go of needing others to agree with our choices; Letting go of needing to have it all figured out, or to be 100% sure; Letting go of looking for answers in any place other than within ourselves.
When I step off that worry-boat (I'm really milking this, aren't I?), I do feel confident. That doesn't mean that I don't have worries or fears that linger in the recesses, and sometimes forefront of my mind. Am I really mama-material? Will everything be ok?
I remind myself: Let go of the controls, Erin. You're in for the ride of your life, and you will never "know" for certain what's ahead. Follow your instincts.
Here's the reality. I know that some people who we care about will not agree with or fully understand this decision. I also have heard concerns that home birthing, while comfortable for the mother, may not be safe for the baby. That one, in particular, triggers me. If I did not believe this was safe for my baby, I would not be choosing this path. (Of course, I also believe that what triggers us is really about our own insecurities. Clearly, I am not yet feeling totally grounded in my own mothering instincts.) I realize that home birthing is not necessarily something many people are knowledgable about, and only months ago, I, myself, may have raised an eyebrow. Why not birth in a hospital, where you have every back-up medical device and trained professional that you may need? What if...?
Before bed last night, I picked up the book I am reading, "Ina May's Guide to Childbirth". I know it may not sound like a relaxing, bedtime book, but its quite reassuring. It has many stories of women's birthing experiences, most of them homebirth, but many in a birthing center and some within hospitals. These stories remind me of all the reasons for this choice, and of all the resources available to me. However, I was only a few stories into it when I put the book down, placed my hands on my belly, and whispered, "what do YOU want?"
I haven't lost my mind. Even though Joe and I play "magic 8-ball" with the baby's kicks (kick once if you are a boy... kick once if you want to be named 'x'...), I did not expect to get a response. My hope was that I would connect with my intuition about giving birth.
No response. I had jumped on the worry boat and was momentarily riding through the rocky waters of self-doubt. You see, when others ask me "yeah but, aren't you worried about this?" or say "my only worry is...", a part of me tightens up. I know that place - the worry boat - and that's not the platform I want to carry me through this wonderful, and yet vulnerable, time. So I tense up, as if to defend myself from jumping on that raft, until I remember to breathe again.
When I awoke this morning, I was contemplating my reaction last night, and what it was really all about. What I came up with is this: I was in the place of needing others to understand and approve of our choice. We actually do have the support of our family. Its my own need to feel that my mothering instincts are not being judged, or questioned. I know this is fruitless, for how others view me and my choices is through their own lens of the world. The real question is: Do I have confidence in myself, and our ability to choose what's best for our baby, given all the unknowns?
Here, again, is the practice of letting go. Letting go of needing others to agree with our choices; Letting go of needing to have it all figured out, or to be 100% sure; Letting go of looking for answers in any place other than within ourselves.
When I step off that worry-boat (I'm really milking this, aren't I?), I do feel confident. That doesn't mean that I don't have worries or fears that linger in the recesses, and sometimes forefront of my mind. Am I really mama-material? Will everything be ok?
I remind myself: Let go of the controls, Erin. You're in for the ride of your life, and you will never "know" for certain what's ahead. Follow your instincts.
Tuesday, August 7, 2007
Bodily Changes
I went to the bookstore today to pick up Ann Lamott's book, Operating Instructions, in which she chronicles the first year following the birth of her son. I couldn't wait to read it, so began to skim the first chapter on my walk back home. (Not such a good idea, by the way, to walk four miles in flip flops in the summer heat during pregnancy.) Within her first paragraph, she writes "I woke up with a start at 4:00 one morning and realized that I was very, very pregnant." She was six months pregnant at the time.
This made me laugh; I remember walking downstairs one evening, hiking up my shirt to reveal my belly to Joe, and asking "when did this happen?" It felt as though I popped over night. My belly seemed to change from a barely noticable swell to a round, pregnant belly. Recently, I caught my reflection in a store window and had a similar reaction. "Wow. Now when did that happen?"
I remain in awe of my body through this pregnancy. The way that my breasts swelled within weeks (maybe even days) of conception; the ways that my veins surfaced; the amazing super-pumping of my heart; the change in my skin; and the swelling of my belly. I could go on and on. Some of the changes have been less welcome, of course, like the confused mass of hair on my head that has gone from curly to who-knows-what, and has seemingly grown more grey; the heartburn that keeps me up at night; The multitude of bathroom visits day and night: The low tolerance of even moderately warm temperatures; And, carrying around extra weight in just about every area of my body.
To me, every pregnant woman is beautiful. It is one time in our lives where the sacredness and miracle of our bodies is palpable. And yet, as a pregnant woman, there are many times when I pass by a mirror and think "oy veh".
These are old thoughts that creep up on me, and its easy for me to forget what pregnancy is teaching me. My body truly is sacred; the choices I make for what I put into it, or how I use it, are choices that will affect the quality of life for both me and my baby. These are important choices, no doubt. They are not choices, however, that I want to make based on how I'd like to look to others, or from a place of self-critique. This can be a sticky point for me. There are many moments when I've needed a large dose of self-compassion.
I have no clue what it will be like to experience the changes yet to come in my pregnancy. Every new sensation in my body, when I pay attention to it, surprises me. Some delight me, others give me pause. All make me wonder how on earth our bodies operate the way that they do, and how self-sufficient the whole system truly is. All I really need to do is pay attention to what's happening, and tend to it, as best I can.
My challenge, at this point, is to stay open to all of the lessons, to deepen my compassion, and to keep a sense of humor about it all. I've longed to experience pregnancy. And much of it truly is humorous, in addition to being miraculous. After all, it feels as if an unknown creature has taken up residence in my mid-section, and is making him or herself right at home (thankfully).
Before the end of this journey, I would like to capture my pregnant body on film by a photographer, do a paper-mache "mask" of my pregnant upper body to collage, and enjoy a beautiful henna design on my belly. My intention is not to let judgements of my body interfere with my desire to fully experience, and celebrate, this amazing, temporary, gift.
Here's to grace that will allow me to embrace all of the changes yet ahead...
This made me laugh; I remember walking downstairs one evening, hiking up my shirt to reveal my belly to Joe, and asking "when did this happen?" It felt as though I popped over night. My belly seemed to change from a barely noticable swell to a round, pregnant belly. Recently, I caught my reflection in a store window and had a similar reaction. "Wow. Now when did that happen?"
I remain in awe of my body through this pregnancy. The way that my breasts swelled within weeks (maybe even days) of conception; the ways that my veins surfaced; the amazing super-pumping of my heart; the change in my skin; and the swelling of my belly. I could go on and on. Some of the changes have been less welcome, of course, like the confused mass of hair on my head that has gone from curly to who-knows-what, and has seemingly grown more grey; the heartburn that keeps me up at night; The multitude of bathroom visits day and night: The low tolerance of even moderately warm temperatures; And, carrying around extra weight in just about every area of my body.
To me, every pregnant woman is beautiful. It is one time in our lives where the sacredness and miracle of our bodies is palpable. And yet, as a pregnant woman, there are many times when I pass by a mirror and think "oy veh".
These are old thoughts that creep up on me, and its easy for me to forget what pregnancy is teaching me. My body truly is sacred; the choices I make for what I put into it, or how I use it, are choices that will affect the quality of life for both me and my baby. These are important choices, no doubt. They are not choices, however, that I want to make based on how I'd like to look to others, or from a place of self-critique. This can be a sticky point for me. There are many moments when I've needed a large dose of self-compassion.
I have no clue what it will be like to experience the changes yet to come in my pregnancy. Every new sensation in my body, when I pay attention to it, surprises me. Some delight me, others give me pause. All make me wonder how on earth our bodies operate the way that they do, and how self-sufficient the whole system truly is. All I really need to do is pay attention to what's happening, and tend to it, as best I can.
My challenge, at this point, is to stay open to all of the lessons, to deepen my compassion, and to keep a sense of humor about it all. I've longed to experience pregnancy. And much of it truly is humorous, in addition to being miraculous. After all, it feels as if an unknown creature has taken up residence in my mid-section, and is making him or herself right at home (thankfully).
Before the end of this journey, I would like to capture my pregnant body on film by a photographer, do a paper-mache "mask" of my pregnant upper body to collage, and enjoy a beautiful henna design on my belly. My intention is not to let judgements of my body interfere with my desire to fully experience, and celebrate, this amazing, temporary, gift.
Here's to grace that will allow me to embrace all of the changes yet ahead...
Wednesday, August 1, 2007
Mourning the losses
It must seem strange to see "mourning the losses" as the title of my 2nd entry. Bear with me...
I was napping today (yes, I do recognize the luxury of this), and was in and out of a dreamy state. In one of my quasi-dreams, I heard an infant crying. I knew that it wasn't my baby yet; however, it was loud and I was wanting to talk with my husband, so I was searching for the source of this cry to shut it off. It was then that I felt a deep, sudden pang of sadness. Soon enough, there will be no means of shutting it off. I realized that my life with my husband, as I know it now, will forever be over. And then I woke up suddenly.
I have been thinking quite a bit about the "losses" that come with giving birth to a child. The gains seemed to flood me from the beginning, as my husband and I have longed to start a family. The losses, though, began to hit me within the last couple of weeks, as I move through the end of my second trimester.
I've been with my beloved, Joe, for ten years now. We've lived quite a full decade together, and devoted a lot of time and attention to our relationship. We've travelled extensively over the years, and been able to carve out as much time for each other as we've needed, or wanted. You will soon learn, if you do not know me already, that I value freedom and independence almost above all else. So, the realization that my life, and our life, will change so drastically scares me. I know that the attention between Joe and I will be further divided, as we tend to the baby and the stressors in our life increase. I have no way of knowing how these changes will affect us, or how we will adapt, both separately and together.
As I sat with this more, I began to see this as one of the great lessons of "mamahood", and only the tip of the iceberg of it... Letting Go. Allowing changes to happen, and allowing myself to be changed in the process. It feels so easy to cling to the "way its been", because its comforting, and familiar. And yet, I know deep down that allowing myself to be with the losses will open up more space to embrace what's yet to come... and to realize the growth, and all the joys and sorrows, that comes along with it.
Even as I understand this, experiencing loss doesn't feel good. It simply feels like loss - empty and heavy at times, or sometimes just empty. That is when I believe we tend to fill the void with fears, or regrets, or the desire to cling. Its being with the emptiness that is the challenge.
I am grateful that I have people in my life who are also open to acknowledging losses, rather than skimming over them. So, to those of you who know who you are, thank you :). You make my life richer as you provide me the space and opportunity to grow. (And Joe is the very best at this, which is pretty amazing since he is a self-described "fixer").
I was napping today (yes, I do recognize the luxury of this), and was in and out of a dreamy state. In one of my quasi-dreams, I heard an infant crying. I knew that it wasn't my baby yet; however, it was loud and I was wanting to talk with my husband, so I was searching for the source of this cry to shut it off. It was then that I felt a deep, sudden pang of sadness. Soon enough, there will be no means of shutting it off. I realized that my life with my husband, as I know it now, will forever be over. And then I woke up suddenly.
I have been thinking quite a bit about the "losses" that come with giving birth to a child. The gains seemed to flood me from the beginning, as my husband and I have longed to start a family. The losses, though, began to hit me within the last couple of weeks, as I move through the end of my second trimester.
I've been with my beloved, Joe, for ten years now. We've lived quite a full decade together, and devoted a lot of time and attention to our relationship. We've travelled extensively over the years, and been able to carve out as much time for each other as we've needed, or wanted. You will soon learn, if you do not know me already, that I value freedom and independence almost above all else. So, the realization that my life, and our life, will change so drastically scares me. I know that the attention between Joe and I will be further divided, as we tend to the baby and the stressors in our life increase. I have no way of knowing how these changes will affect us, or how we will adapt, both separately and together.
As I sat with this more, I began to see this as one of the great lessons of "mamahood", and only the tip of the iceberg of it... Letting Go. Allowing changes to happen, and allowing myself to be changed in the process. It feels so easy to cling to the "way its been", because its comforting, and familiar. And yet, I know deep down that allowing myself to be with the losses will open up more space to embrace what's yet to come... and to realize the growth, and all the joys and sorrows, that comes along with it.
Even as I understand this, experiencing loss doesn't feel good. It simply feels like loss - empty and heavy at times, or sometimes just empty. That is when I believe we tend to fill the void with fears, or regrets, or the desire to cling. Its being with the emptiness that is the challenge.
I am grateful that I have people in my life who are also open to acknowledging losses, rather than skimming over them. So, to those of you who know who you are, thank you :). You make my life richer as you provide me the space and opportunity to grow. (And Joe is the very best at this, which is pretty amazing since he is a self-described "fixer").
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