Categories
Life

Waiting For Baby Again

Eight years ago it was, when I sat on the couch, a day before my 30th birthday, suspecting today might be the day I’d meet my very first baby.

There was a muslei bar involved. Four AM insomnia. And I suppose there must have been some sort of mild lower belly/back discomfort that had me thinking this particular morning might be different to other mornings. Waiting for baby. How epic a wait it had become.

Today, I sit upon the couch once more, again at an extraordinary hour, again watching the morning show and dealing with certain pregnancy discomforts. I am smiling quietly as I think of the years to come where I will reflect on the days I once ‘waited for baby’. Usually eating something grainy. Usually at ridiculous o’ clock.

I’m nearly 38 weeks pregnant, now, so it’s lovely to think that baby will be with us any time from now on. Just when it will join us is the greatest of mysteries and, I suppose, one of the most beautiful of life’s epic frustrations. It is one of the many times in a woman’s life where she is utterly out of control, and all that truly can be done to remedy the pain of resistance is relax and let it be. Let it be. It’s not an easy concept for a human mind to grasp, is it, and yet here I am. Having to give it my very best shot.

It’s come at the heals of a good few years of learning to ‘let it be’. Learning to release control and understand that life is only ever what it is, as opposed to what I always thought it was meant to be. What I often try too hard to make it.

I’m tired. I don’t know when I’ll meet this baby, I just don’t know.

But I do know I’m about to roll back into bed for the morning, which will be lovely.

I do know that first breakfast was lovely, and second breakfast (‘I don’t think they know about second breakfast, Pip’) will likely be wonderful, too.

Either way, I’m certain I’ll look back at this uncontrollable life, fondly.

The days I waited for my sweet, sweet babies to come with such frustration and desperation.

The days life happened sneakily in the background while I waited for something else to arrive.

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Categories
Poetry

Unleash

It’s time

to unleash

my soul.

Categories
Poetry

Someone Is Fighting

Wherever I look,

someone is fighting.

It hurts the softness of me,

this world.

It takes and takes the peace

and I am so afraid to be torn apart

by another day of humanity.

The carnival of dark and dense

dis-ease.

Wherever I look

someone is fighting.

When will enough be enough?

Categories
Life

The Way It Was

How beautiful.

I’ve just had the most soul shining few hours.

First: meditation. The deepest pains of the past rising to the surface, drawing all of my softness to me. An exploration of times where my life showed me the absolute worst of humanity. The true aches of life.

Second: I randomly found myself scrolling through old photos on my computer. Photos of the most beautiful moments life has ever given me. Reminders of the whole hearted joy I’ve been privileged to have experienced in this life of mine.

Do you think this turn of events was an accident?

Do you think my two seperate adventures through memories gone by was an accident?

I don’t. I think it was meant to be. The whole picture in view for me to see, back to back.

Good.

Bad.

All of it: my life.

All of it perfect, just the way it was.

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Categories
Life

The Perfection of Life

The perfection of life is beyond the boundaries of good and bad, sad or happy.

2015. My fourth miscarriage. The loss of pregnancy at ten weeks.

The doctor looked into my soul and told me, ‘I know the obstetrician for you. Here are his details. If this was happening to my sister, I would be telling her the very same thing. Go to this man. He will treat you beautifully.’

Love.

Held by a stranger, through pain.

Never be afraid of the fullness of life.

Never be afraid to love beyond it all.

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Categories
Poetry

The River I Am

The river I am.

I fall in love with the next creative thing,

and there I stay for a while (but not forever.)

When I create, I flow, I cannot be boxed.

I am sometimes a writer. Sometimes a musician. Sometimes a painter. Sometimes a poet.

But I am never just one thing, not for too long.

I am the river I am.

Always drifting, always changing.

Not neat and tidy (how hard it is for them to understand.)

Just the river I am the river I am.

The river I am.

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Categories
Poetry

Choosing Better

The darkness of life is a wonderful teacher.

I’ve been there a time or two,

and now I say, ‘no’.

Lovingly,

with fire and ice,

I say no.

No, thank you.

No. Thank you,

no more.

Such a lovely relief,

the roaring breath of certainty.

The trust of a self who deserves better

than they have given.

My worth is here to stay.

My love is mine to give,

not theirs to take, and take

and take.

Let others play in the dark rooms of maddening life.

Let this girl fly,

a darling wonder,

into the sun beyond it all.

Safe.

Loved.

And perfectly capable of asking for love,

respect

and home.

Home.

How beautiful it feels

to finally tell them I am home.

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Categories
Life

Peace and Drama

The sky is marble grey and it is raining.

It is so very lovely. Peaceful if I were to give it a word.

And here I am, relaxing my way through another afternoon of life in the 35th week of pregnancy.

I had a rather large shock, today. We all did, actually, including baby, I’d imagine…which was partly what made the shock ever more shocking to me.

It all began with the sound of water splashing about in the laundry. An unfamiliar sound, which instantly raised alarm bells (isn’t the human brain completely brilliant? How it records the predictability of life so thoroughly that any change to the norm has it asking questions. Prodding for investigation.)

I rushed in to see if my suspicions of unusual laundry activity were valid. They were. The sink had flooded and water was spilling onto the tiles; an unwelcome flood, indeed. After fishing out the gunk that had somehow blocked the plug hole, I began the clean up efforts. One towel, two towel, three towels and that would do it.

Then it happened. I slipped, as if on a comical banana peel, on a puddle of water that had very cheekily pooled in the door way, and in moments I was on my bottom. Shocked. And extremely worried about the little baby inside me who, no doubt, felt a great big jolt at the moment my full weight struck the ground.

There were tears of fright as I relayed the scene to my very calm and wonderful husband. We both agreed. I would visit the hospital, to make sure bub was still travelling okay. I waddled up to the birth suite and met with the midwife (a lovely, gentle, kind one: aren’t they the best sort?) who directed me into the monitoring room, with a soft voice, and began the usual monitoring procedures.

Two bands around the belly to check for contractions and baby heart beat. One clamp on my finger to monitor my own internal state. And there I would stay, just for a little while, to make sure there was no sudden decline in baby’s health due to the fall.

Thankfully, bubby passed the test with flying colours, and here I am on the couch: so grateful for the beautiful, supportive health care system I have access to at any time, for free, during my pregnancy. Bubs is boofing away on the inside. Rascal one and two are quietly doing their thing on the outside. Everything is good again.

Although, my goodness, I do wish the drama might pipe down a bit.

I’d just like a few extra weeks. No falls, no unusual contractions.

Just me.

Just hubby,

kiddies,

bubby.

Just a sweet, calm breeze, wishing us merrily on our way, again.

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Categories
Life

100 Years Pregnant

I love being pregnant.

I love the way it looks, I love the way it feels.

I love it.

Love it.

Love it.

But.

I do feel like I’ve run a marathon and a half.

At the end of the day (this day, to be specific) I feel like a 38 year old mother of twenty. I’ve managed a super healthy lunch, yoga in the morning…and yet.

I

am

knackered.

My husband just came in from work and said the most beautiful words I’ve ever heard. He said, ‘Honey. You can go and hide away, if you want.’ In other words, ‘Honey. I’ve got this. Off you go. Pop your feet up. Go be a lovely, shiny pregnancy unicorn, again.’

I cannot tell you how those words (even the less dramatic version) made me feel, but I can say I’ve done exactly that and I feel the world melting off me.

I had to giggle, the other day. Thinking of my first pregnancy, versus this one (I’m currently 35 weeks pregnant with baby number three). Back then, I specifically remember shouting across the rooftops with glee in my third trimester. Boundless energy. Very few aches. So much lovely, delicious time for life.

Even though I was pregnant during summer, my ego happily yapped to the world, ‘I don’t know what every one is on about. I feel completely fine.’ It was the absolute truth of things. I did. And I didn’t even think twice about judging those who’d complain about every ache and pain of pregnancy because, for heavens sake, it really wasn’t that bad.

Fast forward eight years and two small children. I still try to maintain that beautiful glass half full attitude I’ve come to value in life, although I’ve got to say, I look back now and think: ‘Oh my goodness. How funny my ego was to be so gloriously blind.’

Obviously there are many factors that contribute to whether the third trimester of pregnancy is going to be sunshine and rainbows, but with my limited life experience at the time of my first pregnancy…I wasn’t to know that. I thought: If I can do this, all of you can do this. It is as simple as that. Really quite black and white.

Well, it’s not, actually. It’s really not.

A huge amount of energy goes into raising children, and it’s lovely to have this current pregnancy reality check keeping me real, however awkward it is to look back at the old me and giggle (with a slight edge of horror) at my naivety.

Childless pregnant me wasn’t wrong to celebrate the ease of pregnancy, but I do wish she had been able to see the wider perspective in advance. She didn’t know that one day she’d be heavily pregnant, homeschooling and caring for a house and two little ones (during a pandemic). Even if she had have known, she probably would have said, ‘Oh, you’ll be right.’ Because she was alright. So why wouldn’t I be?

The truth is, I am alright, and really quite proud of where I’m at given the exhaustion that quite often pops up and zaps me in all the places I wish I was more alive. For instance, in a perfect world, I’d bound out of bed and get straight into painting and gardening: our new home is calling for me to do those things all the way.

But I am only human.

And because I am human, I am limited to only the things my body will allow.

How frustrating.

But how beautiful, too. Because without this pregnancy, and the limitations my waning energy is presenting me with, I’d not have had the chance to tell my ego to back off and stop being a dick to myself.

I have been forced to see the truth of what is, as opposed to what I wish it was…and completely surrender. To adjust. To learn to be happy with taking baby steps in getting the house done, in getting life done.

So, good on you, baby number three. You’ve been a wonderful lesson.

And even though you’re taking all my energy, I adore you.

It’s all good.

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Categories
Life

Which Aspect Of ‘Now’ Are We Talking About?

I’ve become an expert in solving problems that may or may not occur. It’s both a wonderful and a terrible thing, depending on the perspective you take. Problems do not exist, for instance, until the moment they occur and are perceived, and yet in my world they both exist and are solved in an invisible home of my own mental creation…before they’ve even happened.

Often times, they never do happen.

And yet, because I have perceived them, and mentally lived their many aspects and outcomes, they are as real as the real, real thing.

No wonder my nervous system is a little frazzled.

Apparently this sort of hyper vigilance is a result of early life trauma, and although I had an absolutely beautiful childhood, and was extremely loved and well cared for…I was, for whatever reason, highly sensitive. My teen years were dotted with trauma. My early adult years were flooded with emotion, confusion and anxiety. And all the while, every little eye brow raise came to mean something frightening to me, and so you can imagine the aches felt when I truly was being attacked by life.

Enter problem solving territory. I learnt to recognise and run from the beast before he’d even thought to attack, which I gather is quite a common thing among human folk, actually. Probably more common than most choose to admit.

Obviously, this sort hyper-vigilance has caused quite a few issues in my life, and relationships, so I’m learning to become aware and catch myself in moments where I am constructing a damaging story for myself to pre-live. And yet, I’d also say that having the ability to pre-think situations has added to my spiritual tool kit.

It’s allowed me the extra space needed to find the beauty in even the most disastrous of situations.

It’s acted as a rehearsal period for the painful moments of life, and I’m grateful for this, despite psychologists and spiritual kings out there declaring ‘now’ is best.

Of course now is best.

Now is the only truth.

And yet, while we are human…now is just another dimension of the everything reality is made of.

We will never understand the fullness of the universe.

But we can live bits and pieces of it, and pick up its interesting, thoughtful breadcrumbs along the way.

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