scenes from an evening

*****

last evening, i closed the laptop and didn't open it again until this morning. the to do list is long and varied over here, but if i don't give myself permission to take a break, the truth is, the joy simply gets lost and seems to hang out with the dog fur under the couch.

this path is hard at times. this taking care of ellie and working from home each day. yesterday was a day when her health "stuff" was more front and center, and this adds a layer of emotion that is hard to explain. i keep trying to come up with a metaphor to help the people in my life understand, and all i can come up with is that having a child with specific health issues causes a family to feel a bit fractured...disjointed. the days are unpredictable. we get into the groove similar to what i imagine most parents of an eight-month old are in, and then i suddenly notice her heart beating faster than it should. i push myself not to panic but out comes the stethoscope and i listen, hoping. our days revolve around three doses of medication that must be refrigerated. i carry certain things in her diaper bag that other mamas probably don't because i know what it is like to be told that you have to go to the ICU. right. now. 

so when she finally fell asleep yesterday afternoon, and i was in a place where i was trusting she is going to be okay until i can talk to the cardiologist today, i decided to play with fabric for a change. pushing all my beads and lockets and list of custom orders to one side of the kitchen table, i began to sew something just for me. i probably should have napped (as the days and nights have been intense this week with a tooth finally popping through), but i just needed the rhythm of that sewing machine and the joy of patchworked colors side by side.

when jon got home, i closed the laptop and tried to just be right here in the moment with my little family. my heart felt bigger and more like it was at home as i simply took it all in...

i love that snapping just a few photos from this evening will always remind me of these truths.

each day

my heart is so wide open as i breathe in, i breathe out. i hold onto these days (she grows so fast), yet i often just try to get through pieces of them.

but then there is laughter. but then there is a sigh. but then there is dancing and just the right song. but then there is the quiet truth of a baby breathing softly as she sleeps. and then there is what is real. and i find myself immersed in joy and hope and truth.

my heart (her heart) opens my eyes (my life) to a deeper truth than i thought could exist.

and there is laughter.

and there is a sigh.

and there is dancing.

and there is quiet realness.

and there is love.

there is love.

 

even though...

even though my email looks more like a mountain each day

even though my to do list is multiplying at an alarming rate

even though my hair is falling out at an even faster rate

even though i sometimes don't know what to do next

this is what i know,

my life is pretty beautiful because each day is also filled with this:

she and me

i am stepping into this new me who is a mother.
me.
a mother.
i am wrapping my brain around this path that is my path.
(this path i wasn't sure i would ever walk.) 
this path i will forever walk with her.
i am seeking a new rhythm for this life as we find our way.

(and, i must admit, i love this photo so much i can feel my heart expanding each time i look at it.)

all you need...

what is real, september 2

when i walked up to my grandmother and stared at her, willing her to breathe, i felt my heart break. and in that moment, i thought "this is what it means to love." holding ellie tonight, watching her chest move up and down, knowing that a surgeon i have not yet met will more than likely be cracking that chest open in a few weeks, that phrase kept turning around in my mind. the idea of a piece of one's heart breaking off being what forces us to understand what love really is. i have been singing that last few lines of "all you need is love" over and over these last few weeks. you know that part when paul, or is it john, repeats "love is all you need. love is all you need." and someone sings, "she loves you, yeah yeah yeah..." and i think there is a yee-haw involved. i have always loved that last part as it feels so impromptu, like the boys were just having fun. yes. love is all you need. and i don't mean it in a simple rose-colored glasses way. no. i mean it in a standing in front of your grandmother in a funeral home and realizing she loved you and you loved her in an imperfect beautiful and i am going to miss you every day for the rest of my life sort of way. i mean it in a holding the space for a friend while she shares her story and then saying, "what do you need in this moment?" sort of way. i mean it in a reaching for your partner's hand in the middle of the night after you had such a horrible fight sort of way. i mean it in a watching your child breathe and knowing you don't want to be anywhere else sort of way. i mean it in a hearing your golden retriever sigh after a long good day of simple living sort of way. i mean it in a standing face to face with yourself and looking in the mirror and choosing a soft gaze of acceptance sort of way. yes. as you walk on your path and hope upon hope that you will find your way. as you stand in this moment and think about what you know to be true. i believe that the one thing we need to carry in the pocket of our heart is the trust and faith and grace that is love. the guts of life. yes. this is what love is. love for ourselves. for the ones who rest inside our hearts. for all of it.

*****

for the last few days, i have been trying out 750words.com. a space to write "morning pages" of sorts. i kind of love it. the above was a paragraph of freewriting i did tonight and i decided to just share it here. because it is how things are in this moment in my corner of it all...

truth.

A few weeks ago, I shared a bit about our "welcome to this world ellie jane" ceremony. Jon read her the book Blueberry Girl by Neil Gaiman, and I read her the poem "My Daughter Asleep" from the book River Flow: New & Selected Poems 1984-2007 by David Whyte.

When I read her this poem seven and a half weeks ago, it was like a wish I wanted to whisper to her and all that surrounds her now and in each moment to come.

But now, on this day, when I read this poem aloud, it became this parent's holding-on-by-her-fingertips truth, in the disguise of a poem by David Whyte.

May the universe hear me speak the words of this poem and hear them as my truth. And hold us in her gentle arms...

(To hear me read this poem, click on "a poem for a friday" below. Visit David Whyte's site to learn more about him and read more of his words.)

a poem for this friday

a soundtrack for a very specific 24 hours in june.

 

while we were waiting . may 31, 2010

almost four weeks ago now, we walked into a hospital ready to meet our child knowing we probably had quite the journey ahead of us before we would see her face. and oh how we journeyed. (deep breath) i learned that i am braver and more powerful than i truly ever thought i could be, and i have never been so proud of the person who is me who has walked to this moment in her life. and together, we learned about another layer of our love and how strong we are when our hearts are open and our hands are clasped.

over the next few weeks, i plan to share pieces of that journey and moments from this next chapter that we have just begun as we get to know our daughter and learn even more about love and bravery and strength and being present.

this evening, i want to share the soundtrack of part of this journey. the following songs (and these songs too) were sung (with my amazing doula and her incredible apprentice, jonny, and the [really i was so lucky to have them] nurses sometimes joining in), danced to, breathed through as i experienced each contraction every minute or two for almost 24 hours...they were the soundtrack that kept me centered and focused and grounded and holding onto something real and beautiful and true.

yes.

i share them knowing you might need to gather a few for your soundtrack as you walk on your path.

Galileo (Indigo Girls)

Have a Little Faith (Michael Franti & Spearhead)

Caravanserai (Loreena McKennitt)

Under African Skies (Paul Simon)

End of the Line (The Traveling Wilburys)

Virginia Woolf (Indigo Girls)

Walking in Memphis (Marc Cohn)

Everything (Michael Buble)

Caravan from Chocolat (Rachel Portman)

White Sandy Beach of Hawai'i (Iz)

Brave (Stephanie Dosen)

Brand New Day (Joshua Radin)

I Got Love for You (Michael Franti & Spearhead)

Home (Marc Broussard)

Dreams (The Cranberries)

Power of Two (Indigo Girls)

Stolen (Dashboard Confessional)

Have a Little Fain in Me (John Hiatt)

Peaceful Easy Feeling (Eagles)

Watershed (Indigo Girls)

Say Hey (I Love You) (Michael Franti & Spearhead)

Graceland (Paul Simon)

These Photographs (Joshua Radin)

Hallelujah (k.d. lang)

a blueberry girl

We are soaking up every minute with Miss Ellie Jane while also trying to learn her language and follow that often said to us adage "sleep when the baby sleeps." We are also hoping the sun will come out so we can take her on her first walk around the neighborhood (and maybe even venture to the Sound so she can soak up the senses of time spent at the water). 

Last week, we had a very intimate (just Jon, Ellie, our dear friend Juli, and me) "welcome to this world Eleanor Jane" ceremony.

The ceremony included special prayers and hopes and wishes for Ellie, and each of us read something to her. Jon read Blueberry Girl by Neil Gaiman. You can hear Neil reading it in the video above. It is a favorite book of ours and was the first book we bought when we learned I was pregnant last fall (agreeing that it is a beautiful book for a boy or a girl). I think you too will love it...

(During the ceremony, I read Ellie a just discovered by me poem by David Whyte that I will share later this week.)

Hope the sun is shining in your corner of the world...