I Hope You Dance

Ok, I realise that the above may reveal a little more about me than I might wish. I would therefore like to justify my choice by saying two things. I am not a fan of country music,(I find it one of the more self indulgent types of music and therefore a little hard to stomach, though I do love the titles of the songs ('If You Leave Can I Come To?' and 'You Ran Away With My Best Friend And I Sure Do Miss Him') and I admit to having a soft spot for 'Sweet Home Alabama'). Secondly, it was a little text reminder from a good friend in the UK that reminded me of this particular song and why I had apparently played it "over and over" during a very difficult time in my life. The friend in question is about to get married and I can't be there as I'm due the same day as her wedding! She intends to walk down the aisle to this song and I think, given everything she's been through to get to this place in her life, it is wonderfully appropriate. So there you go. Justification over.

Ahem.

In other news, the bump has dropped. I have another eight weeks to go and apparently the bump dropping has given people carte blanche to comment constantly about how low it is. I literally couldn't get away from one woman who insisted on commenting (with horror) on how low my belly is and how high she carried her son until the week of the birth...and then I got a play by play of how big he was and how small her pelvis was and how it ended in a caesarian...yadda yadda yadda. Why do people do that? I mean, I get that they think that it's forming a connection and that maybe it's interesting to share birth horror stories with pregnant women (thanks) but many of these comments are tainted with a kind of obnoxious attention. As if by comparing themselves to me and coming off more favourably, it makes them better people, their choices better or their experiences better. It pisses me off a bit to be honest. *sigh* I think that given how complicated life often is and how tiring being pregnant is, we should be left alone to enjoy (or not) our individual experiences of pregnancy without people feeling it's their solemn duty to point out anomalies, imperfections or share unbidden their most intimate birthing experiences with us. Is that too much to ask for?

On top of all of that I have been feeling a bit wibbly in general. This pregnancy has rushed by with unseemly haste and I am now standing on the threshold of the next birth/death gateway with my new bubby. I am aware that I have dropped early. I am also aware that I may not get to enjoy the fullness of the next eight weeks because it could happen at any time. And I. Am. Not. Ready. Not even close. I meant to do so many things differently this pregnancy. I did. I meant to meditate regularly and do pre-natal yoga. I haven't. I guess I'm learning to accept that this is just the way I am but it's not going to help me when D-Day arrives, is it? The pelvic instability thing has worsened and the back ache has deepened, which has meant that my mobility has been compromised and the nature of the instability means that the yoga poses that I am most drawn to, are the ones which would make the instability worse. *sigh 2* I feel trapped in a large body that is becoming less workable and comfortable by the day. Add to that the fear that I might go into labour early and have a premmie baby with all the intervention that will bring about, and you have one nervous mamma.

The baby's got hiccups. It's very cute.

Anyway, I don't want to rant on. I am not in a very calm or centred place right now. I am slightly unnerved by the swiftness with which everything is moving and how unprepared I am for everything that is to come, despite my best efforts. I'm about to start working with my doula this week and that gives me some hope that we can get to a place of, if not peace, then relative calm before the upcoming birth. I am also due to do my Calmbirthing classes this weekend, so at least there will be one new tool in my birthing repertoire this time.

I sound panicked don't I.

I just want this birth to be a good experience for me and the baby and I know how badly things can go wrong. I'm trying to focus on the things that will help me to bring about a better birth but I guess it's natural for the fears to come up first, to have some attention given to them, before they pass away. At least that is what I am hoping.

More later.

Nesting in the Eye of the Storm

Well hello there.

What a weird and wonderful couple of days it's been. In this tree-like womb we call home we have been literally bombarded with torrential rain, high winds and hail stones the size of golf balls. And no - I'm honestly NOT exaggerating. In fact, we always thought that it was an exaggeration when people said that - until they hit our side (plastic) roof on Friday afternoon and punched 37 holes in the one side and 5 in the other AND cracked one of our skylights. Then we saw the golf ball sized pieces of hail up close and personal and filmed them, and the damage they caused, for posterity. And insurance claims.

And then came the downpour and the use of every kitchen utensil that could hold water. At one point we had 18 different receptacles on the floor and it was still like wading through a toddler's pool to get to empty them. It was WET people. Very, very wet. And we mopped and emptied and mopped and emptied some more. We had to heave armchairs and tables and furniture out of the area as we held umbrellas in our hands. It was actually quite comical. By the time evening came we were very sore, stiff and more than a little damp. We retreated to a hot bath and slept fitfully whilst dreaming of water flooding the rest of the house. Thankfully, this did not turn out to be the case. The floor was wet, the buckets, saucepans, mixing bowls, baking tins et al needed emptying but it was contained to the little outdoor/indoor sunroom area and all was well, relatively speaking.

Yesterday, the hubble spent the day up on the severely battered roof trying to patch holes with duct tape, parcel tape and tarps in the hopes of reducing some of the water intake due in the second lot of storms predicted for that afternoon. Thankfully, when the next torrential downpour arrived (and boy did it ever) there was not the predicted second round of hail. I'm not sure what's left of the roof would have survived to be honest. The repairs didn't hold up all that well. Sadly, it turns out that tarp is not waterproof but the tape did pretty well. However, we did see the return of most of our water containing receptacles. And this morning, well, let's just say that we haven't been in there yet, but when we do we'll be needing our wellies and our mops. Again.

And what did I do when not mopping and moving bowls around to catch drips? I nested like something demented. Yes. I went under the house, dug through all the bags to find the 'unisex' baby clothes that have been stored under there for nearly 3 years, brought them upstairs, mooed through them very slowly, often saying to the hubble, 'Oh. Look at this one. Can you believe Beanie used to be so small?' before moving on to the next cute, teensy little outfit or pair of bootees or minute pair of socks. And then it was to the washing machine. Many, many loads of tiny clothes later and mamma had to move all of her clothes out of all the drawers previously known as hers, to make room for the newest tiny little space invader when it arrives. In just a mere 10 weeks. Oh, so many tiny nappies and tiny outfits and tiny bunny rugs and that's just the stuff that will work for both sexes. There are two more bags under the house of just GIRL stuff. If I have another girl, I'll have to move house to fit all the stuff in! Where in God's name did I used to put it all? Seriously!

And then there was the washing of the car seat, the washing of the car seat covers, the buying of the new booster seat for 'big Sis', the washing and storing of the pusher, the purchasing of a new 'Arm's Reach Co-sleeper' from ebay and the driving out to Braeburn to pick it up. Thankfully, that was the hubble's job. Except that they forgot to pack the most vital piece of the co-sleeper puzzle - the mattress and so we will have to go back and get that or get them to deliver it to the city, as it's a 4 hour round trip for us to get to them again. Still, I'm very excited by the co-sleeper - it's very convenient for a co-sleeping mamma like myself. I just roll over and pick up the baby to breastfeed in the night and then pop him/her back in the co-sleeper when done. No fuss, no drama, just maximum amount of sleep between feeds and a very happy baby.

The hubble also spent the long weekend painting curtain rails, fitting curtain rails and putting up curtains. It's only taken us about a year to do the family room. Now we have to do the same for the living room.

It's odd to think that in just a few more weeks there will be a new little brother or sister for Beanie. A new little life to care for and love and hopefully not screw up too much. I somehow can't really get my head around it. It seems too, I don't know... immense. Our girl is already the centre of our Universe, how will that work when there is another little love-bug to share that Universe with? We both think that Beanie will be an amazing big sister. She's such a compassionate, caring and switched on child already and she is so tapped into the baby. She kisses the belly every day and says good morning or good night or I love you to the baby. She draws pictures of me with the baby inside of me. She talks about the baby with me and seems to understand the whole process much more clearly than any other 3-yr old I've met. No doubt there will be a few teething problems but overall, we're not anticipating much in the way of sibling rivalry. It will be interesting to see if we're right.

And so, here I am. Big, round and expectant in more ways than one. Trying to cope with other types of water's breaking and beginning the final countdown to this pregnancy journey's end. May it all be just a (minor) storm in a DD Cup in the end.

Feeling Disconnected

Just discovered this amazing new voice (new to me!) and am being spirited away by it's ethereal beauty as we speak. Anyway, just wanted to share.

And speaking of sharing. Is anyone out there? Whilst I don't write for anyone but myself on the whole, it's nice to get the occasional comment and recently there's been a howling empty void with not a single nice cyber-voice to fill it. Uh-oh, am I getting needy now? Just wondered where everyone had gone?

Things have been pootling along as normal recently except for an increasing sense of disconnection from everything on my part. I'm 28 months pregnant (somewhere around 7 months or so) and have yet to really drop into this pregnancy in any discernible way. It's not denial. I KNOW I'm having a baby - he/she is kicking me quite distinctly as i write but I just haven't had the time, (or perhaps found or allowed myself the time) to really connect with what's going on in any real way. Lily is, as always, the centre of my Universe. Everything I do seems to orbit around her and her needs and I don't say that in a resentful way (well, not today at any rate!). It's more that a demanding, curious and energetic three yr old is difficult to ignore, even when I try really hard. This new bub that grows more energetic by the day has had short shrift when it comes to my attention. Maybe that's just the way with second children, I don't know. Certainly there are times I am concerned about how I'm going to juggle the demands of two very different and very needy little people at the same time and not lose the plot. I remember how much time I had for my pregnancy with Beanie. I talked to the bump all the time, spent time meditating and preparing for her arrival. The most I've been able to do is spend one weekend in an insane amount of nesting - which is surely a little early given that I've got at least another 13 weeks to go. Lots of cleaning and bad tempered planning and nagging the hubble to get things out from under the house and buy me a new chest of drawers etc.

I have even been interviewing Doulas (people who are there solely for the emotional and spiritual support of the birthing woman) and that has been bringing up some interesting emotions for me. There is one woman I like who I think I could work well with, but I'm wondering how I'll let anyone behind these tall walls I tend to erect when I feel unsafe. Sol-y-Luna could tell you what I'm talking about I'm sure. She's been with me on this journey before. However, there have also been several big 'No's' for me too. All these different energies that are around birthing women and all of them do the same job essentially - their blurbs are the same, they all offer the same services with the same platitudes. It's a little like fishing in a vast ocean and trying to catch a specific type of fish. The right fish for our little birthing aquarium. Right now it feels a little overwhelming.



Still, there has been precious little space in my heart, mind and soul created for this new little being that's already over half way to arriving. It concerns me a fair bit. I don't want to go into shock when the baby arrives in the physical, feeling like I am not ready. It's not so much a practical readiness, we still have all the stuff from Beanie's early days. I just don't feel present with any of it. Like it's all happening to someone else and I'm just the one experiencing the extreme discomfort of late pregnancy. Hoh yes! It's bloody uncomfortable. I'd forgotten how much. Perhaps, on second thoughts, I AM in denial? It seems so huge, to be bringing this new life into the one that already seems crammed with life. Lily is such a huge character and I'm often such a reluctant mother. Not for lack of love. The love I have for my girl is more than I can bear sometimes, it's so intense and sometimes a little scary. It's more for lack of understanding or time or my ability to be present with 'what is' and not fight the process of mothering and being a mother so much. I fight for peace and calm where none is to be found and that is the source of all my suffering. Struggling to be somewhere other than where one is, is the source of everybody's suffering according to Buddhist philosophy. But the acceptance, that elludes me. Often. Like, every day. Surrender. Well, we've already been there and not done that, haven't we? I don't do surrender. Oh, i want to. Really, I do. But it's just so hard to let go and trust. And maybe that's where this disconnection is coming from. I can't seem to let myself go into it and trust that wherever this next part of the journey takes me, all will be well. Because, will it? Will it really be ok? Will I cope? Will I be held in those moments when I most need to be held? More importantly, will I LET myself be held when I most need to be held? Will I be able to show up and do the work of labour and birthing and mothering this most precious of bundles? Can I do this again? Give myself over to the absolute power of birthing and raising another independent little soul. Can I take on that responsibility and not fuck it up?

Disconnection seems an obvious option now, doesn't it? All these huge questions. All these undulating nebulous queries that will, if I let them, take me deep into this pregnancy journey and into this child's life. No wonder I'm road runnering in the opposite direction. It feels heavy just to write about them and have them there in black and white for me to look at. I don't want to fail again. That's the God's honest truth. I don't want to fail myself or this child like I feel I have failed Beanie. And yet, what choice do i have but to be my flawed, unfinished, unsure self? There is no-one in here but me. Now THAT's a scary thought. Or a liberating one, depending on how you look at it.

See what comes of self-reflection?

Buggar.

On Time To Myself

Time is a rare commodity in my life, as it is in the life of most women with children. I always seem to be time poor, rushing from one thing to another, often needlessly. I think that the rythm of my life, or perhaps my personality rhythm is just fast and rushy and I find myself foisting this particular habit onto my wee girl, as I did this morning. The reason for this unreasonable bustling and hassling was because today is my once weekly day off. I look forward to and long for my day off from being a mom, especially recently when we have been having a more challenging time with our beautiful girl. (Let's just say 45 minute screaming tantrums in the middle of the night and an abject refusal to sleep in her own bed (with one of us - never alone) and leave it at that). This combined with the inevitable tiredness and cumbersome physicality that comes with pregnancy, puts a damper on my enthusiasm to do anything and makes me long for some peace. And don't even get me started on the recent and absolutely unbearable heat. Anyway, I digress.

The problem with this much anticipated time to myself is that I can't settle into it in any truly nourishing or satisfying way. When I'm with Beanie, I'm dreaming about all the things I'll do with my bubbit free time. When she's safely in the loving arms of her Nanna, I come home and do buggar all. Mostly I retire to the bedroom, watch movies, read and eat chocolate. I feel the need to achieve more with this short precious time slot and it irks me that I'm too tired and unmotivated to do more with it. I have all of these projects waiting for some attention. I have creative pursuits I want to get into. I have things that I want to at least give some thought to and yet...and yet. I do nothing. Now, one might argue that it's nourishing to do nothing sometimes and I agree. Nothing is good when you are constantly busy and overstretched - which is how mothering often makes me feel - and it's not a bad thing in and of itself. And last week I watched three movies back to back (extravagant I know) while I sewed a friend's daughter a lovely green and white stripey sock monkey (it took me all day to do it - I'm so terribly slow!). It turned out great (I called him 'Minty') and her daughter loves it, but for some reason I feel like I should be achieving more. Today? Nuttin'.

I visit blogs like 'Angry Chicken' and 'Soulemamma' (not to mention a whole host of non professional crafty bloggers) and feel terribly slack. These women have all got children, often more than one, and yet they get stuff done. Stuff that must make them feel productive and creative and useful. And it's not just crafty stuff (because I am somewhat new and therefore handicapped in this area as yet). It's doing things that are good for body and soul like yoga and pilates and meditation. I want to do it. I dream about the benefits and how good I will feel if I do do it and yet, I don't. I slob around in bed getting fatter and more pregnant and feeling more and more tired while a whole host of things I dream about, gather dust on shelves. Why is this? Is this just not the time for doing but for sitting? I know. I know. I shouldn't compare myself to anyone else, but then, where does inspiration come from? I am inspired by these women. I am in awe of their time management skills when I can barely muster up enough energy to eat an icy pole.

And yet, even with the sitting, there is no stillness in it. There is a constant feeling of restlessness in me that makes me irritable and frustrated with everything. I cannot drop into anything even slightly resembling a peaceful state. I would love to go to sleep but can't. At the moment sleep is another rare commodity around here. Our nocturnally wakeful daughter sees to that. Plus bloody pregnancy hormones and the whole PND shennanigans make sleeping difficult. Bah!

And so. I am here. Trying to empty this itchy uncomfortable energy out of my body and onto the page. Seeking answers as always. Seeking, more than anything, comfort. Physical, mental, emotional, spiritual. I want peace. I want to feel comfortable with where I am at. With who I am. With what is yet to come. And I want to feel like I have a purpose in this life. I know raising a healthy, well adjusted child is a purpose but, I'm sorry to say, this does not fulfill the heart and soul of me. It is, on it's own, not enough. It is a good purpose and a heartfelt one and I am doing my very best to mother her well and find the journey in it all, but I need something that is just for me. Something that gives ME a sense of purpose and development. Something that feeds the creative in me and let's me know that I won't die with my music still in me. Because right now, I am stagnating.

Oh happy, happy post.

Sorry about that.

There are things to be grateful for. I know. I am aware of them too. It's not a question of not being grateful. It's a question of knowing that I am fulfilling my innate potential and I have always felt that I had/have great potential, if I only knew what for. I guess that the journey isn't it.



Well, would you look at that. Time for bed already.

It is the lovely Summer Solstice - also known as Litha in these 'ere parts. A time for feasting, dancing, licking berry juice from stained fingers and nipping off into the woods with your Beloved, should the mood strike.

I am in a Fine Frenzy of musical exploration and enjoyment. I am finishing of last minute Christmas shopping and trying not to ruffle my brain too much by thinking about how on earth I'm going to fit a family sized turkey into our teensy weensy little ice box, which is already overburdened with goodies. Well, it IS summer over here and several different types of icy poles are practically a necessity.

Today is the longest day of the year. I am aware of the soft shift that will come after this day is ended. We move into the hottest of the sun months and swelter and sweat our prayers at this time. Not for us the peaceful still of winter and Christmas. Our Santa wears board shorts and thongs to deliver his pressies.

The summer solstice is the time when the Green Man is at full potency. His fertile touch is clear over all the land, where all things bloom and blossom under his strong hands. New life and the urge to make new life abounds, (and believe me when I say we got dinner AND a show at the Zoo on Saturday - baboon style!) His consort, the Goddess, our Lady of the rolling hills and briny oceans, is pregnant with his child/himself. I do feel very much part of this strange fertile cycle this year. I too am heavy with child and am enjoying the unfolding of this new life within me and around me.

Beanie and I will be tipping our hat at some solstice-y celebrations this evening. I will pick some lavender from the garden and some wild roses and we will do a little dancing, a little observing and little incense burning. That's about all either of us is able to do - her being only three and me being pregnant and about as energetic as an over-warmed slug.

I will make some attempt at sort of celebratory dinner this evening and there will be oodles of berries and fresh fruit. Dinner has definitely been more of an afterthought recently. I've been relying on the toast and tomato scenario this week and Michael has resorted to creating interesting salad's with baked potato-y loveliness for his extremely picky wife and her strange cravings. So far it's been for salt and vinegar crisps, hot chips with salt, oodles of vinegar and gravy and now tuna baked potatoes. Go figure. Never had cravings with Lily - unless you count that one (husband scarring) incident with the crumpet, the hummus and the beetroot.

Other than that it's the usual madness of Christmas to look forward to. We are hosting it at our house again this year but the family groups are each providing a course each. We are doing mains - so that simplifies things a bit. NExt year it will thankfully be someone else's turn because I'll have two ankle-biters to contend with and will want nothing more than to eat and fall into a food drunk stupor in a comfy armchair.

I love Christmas and embrace the full tacky goodness of the season, bells, whistles, and multi-coloured fairy lights and all. Yet here, in this strange country of opposites, I find it a teensy bit depressing. I am a Northern girl and no mistake. This time of year usually means a Yule celebration and fighting over who gets to hog the fire. The southern hemisphere has many delights for me and come boxing day, I'm as right as rain. But the lead up to Christmas, normally a time of mulled wine, hot choccy, freezing blood, aching bones and open fires, is strangely bereft and a fierce longing comes upon me for snow. I want to be cold and wrapped up snugly in my winter woolies. I want to disappear into snowy woods and watch as Jack Frost makes sparkling the whole forest in the night. And I can't. And it makes me slightly sad. not enough to give up on the whole Christmas preparation but enough that it feels hollow and flat. What's a gal to do?

A sane person would embrace the differences, enjoy the sun, welcome the chance to bare her feet and shoulders at this time of festivity. But whoever suggested that I was sane? Not me certainly. I was built for a little melancholy and I'm probably not really happy without a little darkness. Sad but true.

Anyhoo, today is a day to focus on what we have and give thanks for the fertility that is ours to enjoy and share. It's a time for dancing, bold experimenting and making (very) merry, so I'll wish you all a Happy Solstice - whether it be Summer or Winter in your part of the world. May the Gods look down on you favourably and bring blessings into your hearth and home.

Merry Meet, Merry Part, Merry Meet Again...

30 Days of Happiness Days Eight & Nine

Here I am again. Seeking out the little things that make me smile, that make me feel tremendously grateful for my life and for all the joy I have available to me.

Today's Big Happy is the results of my maternal serum tests. I am (despite my geriatric age in pregnancy terms) in the low risk spectrum for Downs Syndrome! As I would have seriously considered having an amnio this time if the results had been different, I feel pretty happy about that. The risk is the same as that of a much younger woman. Gotta feel pretty happy about that too really! So - as far as we can tell (and we are prepared to trust the Gods on this one), our bubsy is going to be a healthy, happy little bubba not unlike our little Beanie. This also means that the hubble (who has been dying to spill the beans to friends and work colleagues for the last two weeks) can FINALLY tell everyone his wife is up the duff.

My wee girl is on a trip to the Botanical Gardens with her Auntie Elaine and Uncle Pam at the moment, so I have some rare and enjoyable time to myself. I can't help but have minor anxiety about her being without me all day though. I know it's silly, my sister is perfectly capable of keeping her safe but I'm just this way inclined. It will no doubt change with the arrival of the new baby and more responsibility. It's just I know how quick she is and how just a fraction of a second of distraction can be all it takes for something to happen. Ah the joys of nervous motherhood! She will have a lovely time, lots of fresh air and tons of attention. What could be better for a small fry eh?

A lovely clean kitchen is another thing making me smile, especially as I didn't have to clean it! i've also been enjoying the early mornings in our little inside/outside porch bit. The sun streams in there in the morning making it the warmest place in the house and with my new lovely armchairs and our little wooden table (op-shopped for a bargain!), it's just lovely and quiet and still and meditative. The view is across gardens blooming with flowers and trees coming into big leafy green displays. It's just glorious - even with a 3 yr old climbing all over my lap and shuggling my tea! My sister has taken to joining me and we've had many happy conversations there this week.

Anyhoo, it's time for a little lie down, so I'll see y'all tomorrow.