Friday, June 28, 2024

A Spaciousness for my Motherhood

 

              Give me a spaciousness for my motherhood

                 I come from a hard place

              Trees stand in all weather and still

                 Spread their seeds

                Years of drought and years of plenty

                  Spread their seeds 

               The strength it takes in the hard years

               Are the years of drought

                I grow my rings wider

                A spaciousness for my motherhood.

               Motherhood is a thing watched by many

               With a wary eye

               How aught she...what aught she...

               Nevermind she has wings, she has boughs

               And they will bow to her quiet ways.

              The silent years, she is stretching, and they do not know

               With loud voices they mock her drought

               But she stretches, lifting upward, outward

               A spaciousness for her motherhood

               The rains come and they say 'look at her beauty'

               But they had no eyes to see her beauty in the drought

               When her boughs received little, and she stretched

                In a spaciousness for her motherhood. 

                                                                            Amelia Peterson 5/24

               

               


Monday, May 13, 2024

Moving with a Two-Year-Old & Newborn

 

         Two years ago, now, we moved to a new state with a newborn and a toddler(plus our dog!). How did we do it? A combination survivalism, tenacity, and optimism. But it was hard, especially over time. I wouldn't choose to do it again, but there is something exciting about taking on a new whole adventure. There's an equal fear to the spirit of adventure, that what if this was a big mistake? There are many such times where you really just don't know. Life is full of taking chances. Taking risks. We put an offer on our home the day after our second baby was born, sight unseen. I just had a feeling that we should go for it according to the pictures we saw, even though we certainly didn't know a lot about it yet either! And it was the right house for us indeed! I remember when, in springtime, we went to our new home for the first time and sat on empty floors as we dreamed about filling the space up. I sat on the floor nursing while our two-year-old played and the rains were falling upon the fresh buds outside.

     When in survival mode, and setting up a new house, it's all about the essentials first. When the movers pulled in and dropped off all our boxes(soooo many boxes full of everything paper-wrapped), our two-year-old's toys were most important. She squealed with such delight as we pulled out toy after toy she'd thought were completely gone(from our old house). Next, we set up her room/nursery as best we could to make it feel like home for her. Then, our other basic bedroom and living area assembly, even if we rearranged something again later. Unboxing all our kitchen utensils took more time, becouse almost everything seemed to be individually wrapped by the movers! Getting all dishes and utensils put away into the cupboards takes time because it's tiresome to decide the best places for everything to go. But, tell yourself that you can always rearrange again later.

      Okay, let's talk a little bit about the loneliness. Moving to a whole new area where you know no one, and are a bit overwhelmed not only with a new baby, new house, but also how/where to find all your resources....well it's a lot! We tried a subscription food box thing for a little while, which I enjoyed even though they are overpriced. I had my husband pick up groceries for the longest time(say after work) because it was too hard to accomplish grocery shopping. Thankfully we moved into a very friendly neighborhood where neighbors came to introduce themselves right away. So we began to know those around us a little bit and felt safe as they were wonderful people! You can't guarantee that everywhere you move so we were incredibly fortunate with such a family-friendly neighborhood. Our two-year-old made friends almost immediately with the little neighbor girl across from us...I still remember how she 'hid' in her red & yellow Cozy Coop car until she felt brave enough to get out and play! As for finding more community such as our church, and actual friendships, understandably this took more time. But it was so worth every endeavor. Though we were often sleep-deprived, we tried churches, we introduced ourselves to many people. We couldn't remember names, but we kept putting ourselves out there. There is an exhaustion in and of itself to do this, but in our case every effort we put in really paid off. Two years in, and we have a handful of what wonderful, closer friends who desire to 'do life' with us! 

     With many experiences in life, we are afraid of doing hard things. We often associate a hard thing as a bad thing. But if we face difficult experiences with courage and ask ourselves how we can grow from it, there is much to gain. So far, this move has been one of the hardest things we've ever done. When we left our old community, we had many friends we loved and did life with there. We'd loved our home and the incredibly rich outdoor life in that area, there's really none to compare. And so, we truly grieved many things once we moved. And that's another thing I'd say, is that if there's grief, give yourself lot's of time to grieve. I know that I needed lot's of time, while at the same time I was trying to adapt. Now two years later I have the perspective of appreciating the area where we live and it's many resources, etc., nothing replaces what we miss about our old homeland. 

In moving to a whole new state 8 hours away, one of the challenging considerations was, could we still continue a lifestyle of what we loved to do as a family? Hiking, freshwater beach life, winter sports, gardening, foraging, biking and other outdoor activities. While the area was quite different where we moved to, we desired to find ways to keep doing what we love. All these things have been able to be continued, little by little, and it gave us grounding to find ways to do them. Sometimes we travel back to where we used to live to do them, sure! But where/when we can, we've adapted here. 






Friday, April 19, 2024

Tovah's Story Part 3

      ...

        Now, on to 'induction': I don't like calling my labors induction because there hasn't been much done as far as interventions, actually. I've only used Cytotec, no pain medications/epidural, and both times my water has broken on its own. Now that this was the second time using Cytotec, I knew that my body responds well to it. With my first daughter I used a total of two tablets vaginally, 4 hours apart, and this time I only used 1 tablet. And my body did the rest! Rest, that word. Rest was key. So, checking in for induction actually felt like a getaway for my husband and I at this point, ironically. A high-veiw room above beautiful Lake Superior, on a Saturday late afternoon/evening. This time I KNEW I was having a baby and my body was giving me all signs of readiness. The night before I'd woken up at my usual 3 a.m. timeframe with a HUGE cramp running down my entire back through my legs. I couldn't sleep so I woke up my massage-therapist sister and thankfully she spent a long time massaging down my cramps. I told her that this was a part of labor too and I was so grateful for her help. Later that morning I took a nap on the couch because again I knew, REST is key. I'd previously had a little anxiety about coming back to the hospital like this if induction were needed, but all that was gone once I made the decision. Once we finally got out of the house in the mid-afternoon, check-in at the hospital took awhile which is kind of annoying but we weren't in a hurry. My BP was still high but baby was doing well. I planned to take a nap right upon taking the Cytotec tablet, because unlike Pitocin(though I've never used it) there's no ramp-up right away. What Cytotec does for me is soften and prep my cervix a little more, which starts giving me cramps. I absolutely don't mind the cramps at all because I had so much prodromal labor previously that at this point honestly it feels so light to me. So I tried to doze for a couple hours. Best thing ever. And the L&D floor was not too busy that time, it was the relaxation that I needed. My husband saw me dozing and he, like me, figured that nothing would happen right away like last time. So he went out ice skating on Lake Superior! It was a phenomenal day for it: actually many others were out skating on the lake that day, and we'd been watching it from our window while checking into our room. So Curt, being the adventurous guy that he is, couldn't resist a good skate that evening before meeting his second daughter. And, while I was a couple blocks offshore up in a fourth-story room taking a snooze before labor. He must have skated a couple miles too! When he came back with some food and told me about what an amazing skate he'd had, I actually thought it was pretty great. I'd gotten a nap. My best friend Malin had dropped off some delicious homemade soup for me, since she lives like 2 minutes from the hospital. The soup, plus an encouraging note that said, "I know you'll do great", still make me want to cry when I remember her kindness. It literally fueled me. 


I started early labor about two hours after the Cytotec. I drank lots of fluids. It was a cozy evening with my husband and I, albeit in a hospital room, with a nurse in and out. I didn't mind actually. I wasn't a fan of the hep-lock IV ports though, those are annoying. Anyways, I put in my earbuds with some fun tunes. I had an amazing nurse bring in a Miles Circuit recommendation sheet and it encouraged doing position changes every half-hour/45 minutes or so. I kept contracting lightly, but basically we wanted to do all we could to keep them coming. And without wearing me out. And this phase took 7 hours, but honestly I loved it. I bounced on my big ball with music, doing figure-8's with my hips. I got in the tub and stretched my hips (a lot) using the Kia stool, I did side-lying on the bed, sitting on the toilet sitting backwards, did lunges, squats, you name it. Oh, one memory that I love is when the nightshift staff came into my room to introduce themselves saying' "Your birthday party is here!"

Once I get going with productive labor I would say that I'm actually a pro at it. The intensity and pressure are very welcome to me and I encourage it to keep coming. I love the power of it, and powerful it was! After the 7 hours of early labor I flew into a fierce active labor that was short-lived thankfully. I felt the contractions riveting like a freight train through my back to my front. I had thought I'd want Curt's help during this phase but ironically I didn't end up wanting him to touch me much, nor anyone else really. This labor felt harder than my first but I wasn't really looking for comfort...only to get the job done. Time is very warped in this stage because I'm deep in labor-land. But upon climbing out of the tub at the point I thought I started to feel 'pushy'(though I'm not sure I really was yet?), fluids came shooting out both ends of me quite violently! I both threw up and my water broke at the same time! Transition! THEN I got pushy. But feely pushy took a while, as I squatted at the base of the bed holding onto the squat bar. Encouraging baby down. However, I think I had a cervical lip just a little bit. Oh man and though I had a wireless monitor on my belly, we were not getting good heart tones for awhile. This made the nurses much more nervous than the on-call doctor...thankfully she was very calm and I liked her a lot. She checked me as I wobbled up like a seal and laid on the bed, and my body was pushing on its own. Very gently she moved my cervical lip out of the way and my baby's head finally started emerging. I don't love that I was laying down for this birth(I squatted for my first, fast, fetal-ejection birth), but at this point I was SO TIRED. It was 4:30 in the morning, at one day shy of 42 weeks gestation, and our Tovah Fern was born at 4:38! She was much bigger and chubbier than we'd anticipated! All 9.2 pounds and broad shoulders of her beautiful, beautiful self. Wow. I did it, I did it again, and without tearing! I'm thankful that I listened to my instincts with all the hip stretches during early and active labor. My active labor was only 3.5 hours! So that makes total labor time about 10.5 hours if you include early labor contractions... or much much longer if you include all my previous labor! Who knows...it all counts. Anyways, laboring with high blood pressure made me feel much more exhausted than I had with my first labor, so I clutched my wet, fat, fresh baby and had to take a few big breaths and was thankful to already be laying down. Once I caught my breath I was able to LOOK down and see my baby!!! Really see her! There is NOTHING like that experience in all the world. 
To see SUCH an incredible, perfect little human lying on your chest who just miraculously grew inside you for several months, who took SO much effort to get here! These memories stick with me so strongly, and they always give me such joy and wonder. 

Tovah came out much more opinionated than my first, Reani had. It is quite funny because she continues to be that way. She didn't like being separated from her food supply line, though she latched like a champ. I remember how right after she was on my chest for a bit, Curt took his shirt off and put her skin to skin and she calmed immediately. It was precious, and as she calmed she opened her bright eyes and just took everything in. There is nothing like it. We snapped all the pictures, and though there was a nurse or two doing a few things around me, it felt intimate with my husband and me. I didn't feel so great myself for awhile so I was incredibly grateful that our hospital stay was VERY restful and I got caught up on sleep while trying to co-sleep with Tovah right next to me even. We went home and continued co-sleeping and I can't tell you how much this helped my heart for months afterwards. When everything around me kept shifting before and after birth, there was my precious Tovah nestled up to my heart and breast. I believe it was so healing. And, she started out beautifully-plump and continued to gain wonderfully. She hardly fit newborn clothes from the start and seemed a month old already from the time she was born. Crazy! 


                                 - Postpartum to be continued- 



Tovah's Story Part 2

 ...

         Speaking of the 'due window', with both pregnancies so far I've carried a little longer. Even though this time I had a turbulent uterus even starting around 31 weeks! At 37 weeks and some days, I started a 'test labor' that could have turned real! I started getting regular contractions while out running errands. I even had to stop and concentrate some while at Aldi and people around me were getting annoying. I couldn't ignore the contractions even though I was trying to. And when I got home, somehow I felt like pacing around down in the bathroom. And I felt like I was dilating and dropping even though I didn't check. But we had friends coming over so then I got distracted with being ready right before they got there, and this made my contractions stop! Bummer! I ended up carrying quite awhile longer! Even though, just like my first baby, I had labor on her due date! Woke me up around 4-something in the morning just like with my first baby! And then I couldn't sleep. Got up and labored several hours (light, early labor style but still steady contractions), only for it to die out that afternoon when I started to give my first daughter a bath. (Distractions, those are something for me that seem to shut down or stall my labor). Another bummer, and, exhaustion. I still had a ways to go. Several more days later, cramps and contractions here and there between, I needed a change. 


Interjection here for a blip about people-pleasing and boundaries. Both of which, were poor oversight on my end. I listened to another birth story not long back(on the Happy Homebirth podcast) of another mama with some similarities to me....she had trauma in her past...she had a big move, a planned homebirth that didn't work out, a rough postpartum, and a big realization about people-pleasing). The story made me break down and weep. Weep. That's when I really realized I have issues in processing my own story. As I reflect, I know that I did a lot of prep work for this birth, both internally and externally. I was putting a lot of pressure on my body to perform. And somehow, subconsciously I think I was trying to please my midwife with an amazing birth(since my first was pretty amazing and she was my doula for that one). And, to add more dynamics, I had allowed my mom and sister to enter my birthing space. And that was poor foresight on my end. I allowed 'feeling bad' for my mom and sister both being in the middle of transitions,(well to be honest my mom never transitions...just squats at her various children's homes), to affect my birth prep space. It wasn't as peaceful between all three of them as I had hoped and then all of a sudden I couldn't people-please everyone. I was stuck, with my dysfunctional family who had nowhere to go(apparently my problem?), and I needed to have a baby. My midwife thought that it might not be best to have my mom around at this exact time, but I didn't fully have it in me to tell her to go. I wasn't in a strong mental space. I should have begged my husband to do that...he would have helped. But inwardly, I'd really hoped that my mom would shine through for me in this birth since she herself had seven(yes 7) homebirths. One would think! Little did I know (or let myself be intuitive about) at the time, all the effects of her own trauma playing out under my roof. I really learned from this later, upon much reflection and counseling. In many ways it was wonderful having my sister around, however, as she was really helpful with my toddler and she is a massage therapist. But as I mentioned it was getting stressful in my birthing space. My midwife was also about to take a vacation (long-planned on her end), and I was her last mama to go and even though she wasn't pressuring me to 'get this baby out already' like a doctor probably would at 41 weeks. I also wasn't at peace about relying upon her back-up assistant should she leave before I gave birth. That was difficult to be honest about too, but I've since realized how important it is to fully trust the one showing up for your birth. Don't judge yourself for who you trust or don't trust while you're in it...listen to your intuition. So, basically, all the details of my life were ONE GIANT STEWPOT: I was 41 weeks and counting. My mother was there, with her own unhealed trauma seeping into my precious (once-peaceful) birth space. My husband had started his job 8 hours away but was now on leave waiting for me to have this baby any day. Friends were waiting, praying, asking, suggesting things. (!!!) I was feeling the weight of having to move soon, leaving this beloved little home, our church community, dear friends, and our beautiful little adventurous life we'd started as a family there. And here I was struggling to get this baby out. I'd thought I'd felt safe for everything to play out naturally at home. But, at 41 weeks and 3 days, I started to feel unwell. Must have been my blood pressure. That night I had a weepy dinner out, with my amazing mama friends at Crooked Pint. One of my friends there was going through a miscarriage, and she was crying for the baby who didn't stay. And here I was, crying for the baby I couldn't get out. After dinner I sat in the parking lot in my car for a long time, feeling like I was having quite a dark mental breakdown. I had a hard conversation with my midwife that night that didn't go so well.

I let things sit yet another day, to see if I felt better and/or had a shift of insight and decision. I didn't. The next day, Friday, in the afternoon I felt like I needed to go in for a NST(non-stress-test/bio-profile). I'd done this at the same gestation point with my first too, so I wasn't uncomfortable about it. We went in, and thankfully baby was doing great, but my blood pressure wasn't. Even after resting for at least a couple hours there, it was slow to come down only somewhat. No protein in my urine thankfully, so not indicative of preeclampsia. But, we decided that getting ready to come back in the next day for induction was a good plan. It was helpful that the OB I'd seen at an earlier ultrasound happened to be on call that night and saw me. Then she prepped my paperwork for the next day, so it was smooth sailing on that front when I came in. Hah, a little more trouble though on the home front, however! The next day it seemed to be taking my husband and I forever to get ready. Not like us at all!...kidding. I happened to knock a pipe loose under our bathroom sink,  I think while putting something away, and all of a sudden we had a water mess to fix before going to have a baby! The irony of our lives! We needed everyone to be taken care of at home so we could go relax and have a baby! Not kidding actually. It was still frozen-land in Northern Minnesota in early March. No surprise there, and I have a love-hate relationship with it. I wanted it to be Spring already. 

                                              - To Be Continued - 

Tuesday, August 15, 2023

Tovah's Story, part 1

 


I began to greatly desire my second baby not long after my first turned a year. My husband did too(or even before that). So we let go of protection and began trying. Little did I know that it would not be as easy as with our first. With our first, we weren't even trying. Rather, we were just not careful enough, and she popped in on her own terms. To follow suit, she also come out on her own terms, at almost 2 weeks post-'guess-date'. She came flying out on the waves of her own waters. But this second baby, and her journey, was quite different on several accords. 

It took probably around 8 tries, so several months, before we conceived. I didn't realize how emotional that journey would be for me. How impatient I'd be, and how important I'd made it to myself to become pregnant. But nothing really prepares you for it, you just have to go with the flow(pun intended). Every month when my flow would show up, I felt as if my body had failed me. Obviously now I know that it hadn't, but it was hard to tell myself that at the time. My husband was much more patient than I was. 

Finally, one week around the first week or two in June, I was extra emotional, weepy actually... A few days later, upon taking a pregnancy test, I was surprised to see that I was pregnant. I then kept it a secret for a full week until Father's Day, when I completely surprised my husband by putting three little strip tests inside his Father's Day card! It was the best.

My baby girl is 9 months old and I haven't figured out how to begin her birth story. I started to try to write it this past summer and I got stuck. Then, panic attacks(or something like it) hit me. To be honest I'm not sure that I'm even done with panic attacks yet. Whether it's from the difficulty of our move, or from those involved in the details of my birth, or from another stressor, I'm not sure. 

Tovah's birth in and of itself, was beautiful. Peaceful, if fact. I've thought about it many times since,  and time and time again I'm really grateful that it went as it did. Even though plans changed in the end, I felt like I really tuned into my intuition and made the right decision to go from home to hospital to receive more help. Even though I had planned to have her at home if everything was going well, and for awhile it was. 

It's difficult even now, several months later, to describe the details of that time. Because it wasn't just about Tovah's birth, but so much more going on. My husband lost his job a week before Thanksgiving. That was when I was going into my third trimester. We started a long winter not knowing what he'd find for work, and if he could even find work locally. Long story short on that front, he didn't....we ended up deciding to do an 8-hour move later, an exhausting process of a decision. It was his only job offer. I remember one particular beautiful snowy night that we went cross-country skiing to talk over this decision (yes, I skiid...more like trudged, while quite pregnant). Anyways, this whole life upheaval took over the last few months of my pregnancy. We faced a giant move. My husband was technically going to start the job in my 'due' month, via travel. I actually could not agree to the move until I went down with my husband to check out this area. And that is an interesting story: as I himmed & hawed about it back in our little Duluth home, I was not feeling well that day. I almost called it all quits. But somehow we managed to still pack up and drive down. And when we left the house, I started feeling well again!... a God-thing. And, another somehow-from-God, I felt some type of remarkable peace when we got down here. 

So, when we decided that we'd take the job and do the move, at first we didn't even know where we'd have the baby. We met with a midwife down here just to prepare. But then as I entered my 'full-term' window, we decided with our Duluth midwife that I should stay put in our little Duluth home for awhile. I had quite a few uncomfortable issues in the last several weeks, that made me feel the need to stay around home: sciatica, pelvis/hip pain discomfort, something like acid reflux/indigestion, and insomnia from about 3 a.m. for a few hours! Oh, and high fasting blood sugar just during the night probably from my wacky sleep issues! It was all very challenging to say the least. And another memory that sticks out is the day that we had no water, right after getting a snowstorm, when I was 38/39 weeks, and I wasn't in a condition to shovel. So while my front street was getting ripped up by the city department and fireman workers to fix the underground pipes, my sweet ex-Navy neighbor snow-blowed my sidewalks for me! It was incredible. I was able to leave the house that day after all, and baby didn't come yet!



To Be Continued...

Saturday, April 25, 2020

When Skies are Grey in a Mother's World

                 
  - Written when I was just processing raw thoughts as a new mother, amisdst the joy that I had as well. I was having a reckoning with how much my life had just chaanged, so quickly. Wondering if I was happy, giving myself space for the difficult emotions. - 

It's one of those winter days, when it's just 'meh' and white-grey almost matching the off-white snow below. I love fresh snow(at least when it's not an overwhelming amount anyway), and it's supposed to snow later today. This unites my thoughts with what it's like having a new baby. Like fresh snow to a winter lover, there is joy and fresh delight. It is beyond joyful and delightful when you have your first sweet baby. We stare at our precious  new life in amazement, feeling such relief that they're here and that the difficulty of labor and birth are finally over. Relief that after 9 to 10 LONG months, there is finally a payoff for all that we went through.  We feel all this. 

And then. Harder days come.  Sometimes more quickly than for others, sometimes delayed. It's like grey skies. We are working in a unique way as a new mother, harder than ever, giving life day by day. Yet the life-giving feels entirely draining, emptying us of feeling beautiful, feeling youthful,  feeling healthy and energized. We look into the mirror and see 'battle scars': all the birth marks. Somehow we thought that having the baby would make all these seem worth it, but some days it's hard not to stand in the mirror without shaming ourselves. Days run into nights, all jumbled. We smell, like never before,  and seem to have every type of fluid draining from and through our body: milk, blood, sweat, tears, other stinky stuff, and who-knows-what. 

For me, harder days came as somewhat of a surprise. As soon as I took time off work for maternity leave, the monotinous days felt like an eternity while I waited for baby girl to come. She came later that week at about two weeks overdue, but that was the longest week of my life. Fast forward to newborn care, and I felt like I was sitting around doing very little all day. My butt hurt, like really hurt, but I couldn't walk for very long either. That was an adjustment. Honestly I absolutely loved being a new mother and I adored my new baby so so much. But my whole world has just spun around and here I was trying to find my footing. I hadn't really realized that birthing a baby means that you birth yourself in the process. So just like a newborn, I was learning to see, learning this new outside world that seemed entirely different. It's as if when I birthed my daughter, she birthed to the outside but I birthed inward: a new vulnerable space. 

I think it can be hard no matter what kind of birth you have. I had a wonderful birth, nevertheless as a brand new mother, there is always an adjustment. I believe that later, looking back on these days, I'll remember to be kind to myself. At least I`m hoping, I'll look back with grace. There is so much to get used to as a new mother. We have to rise each day with new strength like never before. And yet, we still feel like we're not doing enough. We compare ourselves to oher 'cool moms' on social media. We compare our babies size and developement to other babies and fear that we might be messing up our child. We come to realize that the physical taking care of a baby is actually the easy part of motherhood. The rest is the hard part: the decisions, the other work, all the balancing that never balances, all the others that we need to give attention to besides our baby, not to mention our own health and sanity on top of everything.

 Truly, I blame myself for not constantly being there for my baby, as a working mother. I fear, though my husband and I have chosen to do this, at least for this season, that I may never forgive myself. I hope that's not the case, but I have to admit that there is a grieving period when a mother goes back to work. No one truly understand this except those who've done it. The physical separation of mother and baby, after being bonded for a year, is just wrong. I feel all this, though I'm still doing it. And really, my baby girl is truly happy. She doesn't seem to mind at all. She smiles when I drop her off at daycare and she smiles when I pick her up. This gives me strength to know that she's really just fine. Still, It's hard becouse I wonder what I'm missing out on, day after day. Grace, give grace. Oftentimes the most difficult person to show grace to is ourselves. 

Wednesday, January 8, 2020

Birth Story: Rannva Willow (pronounced 'Ran - vuh')



"Born at 7:31 a.m. 10/05/19, weighing 6 lbs, 14.9 ounces, 19 inches long! Pure beauty and perfection",(part of my FB post).


Her name Rannva, is an old Norse name from the Faroe Islands, that has a few meanings: 'house of strength', 'house of battle', and 'war council (signifying wisdom). Though the name has stayed with us her whole pregnancy, the last days gave the most meaning. I had 12 days of prodromal labor, as labor would start and then die off day after day. It turned me into a vessel symbolizing a house of strength and and house of battle!! It wore me down physically, emotionally and mentally, and yet I'd have to summon it back up as I awaited her birth. In this part of the journey, I'll humbly say, my mind went to some dark places... after so many days I realized that my mind had weakened and that I was giving way to depression, thoughts of self-harm and hopelessness, and disbelief in my body. But let me say, this whole wrestling with mind, body and spirit when you're about to give birth is something else! So when this hit... I was just not doing okay. I talked to both my husband as well as our doula about it, and that did help. But I still needed to feel okay...I needed to release my fears that had built up.

We were not planning on induction but eventually came face to face with this decision, and the weight of it felt like more than I could bear...I cried out to God about it, and finally I found peace in going for it, because I sensed that my body needed some help with something. (Shout out to our pastor's wife Liz for giving me courage and understanding in this!... she'd had the same type of labor more than once!) And....the induction was hardly an induction! Only two tiny cydotec tablets (and realistically the nurse told me later that I probably hadn't even needed the second tablet), and WOW did that ever kickstart me into active labor!!! Fast and powerful, active labor only ended up being 4 to 4 and 1/2 hours, including the pushing! 

When I reached pushing phase, I actually wasn't sure that I was there already. Though I must've gone from a 4 to a 10 (cm) in hardly more than an hour, and I did feel it all, somehow in the back of my mind I kept thinking, "this could still take awhile, like hours longer." I was actually still saying that I wanted to try tub labor! And one of the nurses went off to get me the 'kya stool' for me to use in the tub! But then it was suggested that I make space with my bladder, since I was drinking SOOO much water and hadn't peed in hours. And something was changing with my contractions. Off to the  toilet I barely waddled, feeling like I had to go more than pee(hint hint). Another friend had told me that it'd feel like this, so in the back of my mind I was like " maybe?maybe I'm actually here already?" 

 She came flying out in the hospital bathroom (tiny bathroom I might add)😂😂, and from the two doctors who ran into the room, the one RA barely caught her in time! 🤣 Then I stood up and grabbed my newborn and walked to the bed, in total utter amazement of what  just transpired. I wouldn't change it for anything...I love wild adventures I couldn't have thought this up on my own...it was AWESOME. Curt had been right there helping me in the bathroom the whole time, and was totally surprised that she simply slipped out, just like that. He'd been supporting me and looked down saying, "Oh W-O-O-O-W!! ", as we stared in awe at her perfect, beautiful, wet body. 😊😹😲😂 

 Back to my wild labor, what INCREDIBLY helped me was having my husband behind me and our doula Alisha in front of me for all the physical support. They kept talking and working me through the contractions in powerful ways...it would have been so much harder otherwise.🙌🙌 Alisha reminded me to 'blowww' and to release my tension from my fingers and toes. I would let them go limp in between contractions and focus my breathing in relaxation. This really helped me to relax through the next contractions and distract the intensity. My husband kept saying, "long, deeeep breaths...release the tension from your shoulders... you're doing so well!" Alisha would ask, "how did that one feel? Did you notice that one was different? Now try some lunges...yes, open that pelvis... wonderful!" And she had the robozo scarf around her shoulders so I'd face her and PULL on the scarf like ropes in my hands, and she'd say "PULL HARDER!..there you go, HARDER". And when I pulled harder I DID really feel myself opening up!! 

Then my cervix apparently went from probably a 4 to a 10 in like an hour!!(totally hadn't thought that'd happen to me!) I did't have much for cervix checks except for the night before, and I was glad not knowing my number. I didn't want my dialation number to distract me. But I know that I lost my mucus plug about an hour and fifteen minutes before birth! For contraction management, I did the 'horse lips' blowing trick, which I learned from my prenatal yoga teacher Stacy. This blowing technique, though it sounds ridiculous, does A LOT for opening a women up and keeping you from clenching your jaw. So I believe that really helped, and I kept telling myself while my eyes pretty much remained closed, "lean INTO the pain, not away from it". This 'leaning into the pain' thing was one of the biggest lessons that I learned for laboring. [Side note, it's amazing how laboring runs so parallel with 'co-laboring with Christ', is it not? We can't run away from it, otherwise it's not labor. Thinking of it as a 'joy to labor' totally changes it. ]
 We played incredibly beautiful David Nevue piano music in the room for my entire labor, birth/afterbirth...that did something too. All the prep work from my yoga group and my support team, mattered greatly in how things played out. Being held up in prayer by friends and family, also really made our baby's journey into the world a safe one touchd by God.  And I am so, so grateful!! And WOW, the nurses at St. Luke's were absolutely wonderful too.💞 Could not recommend them more.👐 

So, WE are PARENTS!! I'm a mama!! We are here safe and sound!























The Story of Rannva Willow



(Oct. 16th): Today is my 28th birthday, and this baby girl is the best gift  from Above that I could have ever imagined. In fact, I couldn't have imagined it.

Her story begins back in billows of fluffy snow just after Christmas, soft winter skies, heavy laden branches in the woods, snowshoeing in white lattice tunnels, dinner in the Scenic Cafe, and the cold night winds off the lake. Sometime amongst these days is when she entered, but we didn't know it yet. She was like that surprise late Christmas gift that comes in the mail a couple weeks later from  an old friend.

I was on the ski lift one day in early January when it hit me: an intense vision of pickles. Dill  pickles, and I needed some SOON. Maybe it was partly because a day or two before, I'd eaten more than a fair share at my friend Amy's, and they seemed SOO yummy(I wasn't normally big dill pickle fan). I made a plan to grab some at the store on the way home from skiing. Although in the back of my head I knew that this wasn't a typical craving of mine, I didn't think into it too much, or thought it could just be PMS cravings. Curt came home to find me on the couch with my jar of pickles, as if they were ice cream. The next day, I texted him that I'd need MORE pickles, since the little jar I'd bought was gone. He was starting to laugh. Another day or two passed and since I kept craving pickles, we had a chat one night about the possibilities. He suspected the same thing that I did...and actually he'd already guessed it before this conversation. So the next morning, I woke up early and laid in our bed for awhile, unable to sleep. Finally I decided to jump out and take  a pregnancy test. My emotions were a mixture of calm and excited while I awaited the results...then: TWO LINES.!!! I called Curt in and showed him, to which he excitedly asked, "You're pregnant?"...then kissed me, was too tired still, so he went back to bed. (Yeah). I sat for awhile to let  it soak in. It's funny to me now how this part of the story starts in the bathroom, and how it circled back to the bathroom later on.That weekend we went cross-country skiing out of town, and while Curt wasn't ready to talk about it a whole lot just yet, the long car rides were just what I needed to process and dream about this weighty, wonderful news.

Some weeks later we had our first ultrasound appointment. This helped solidify the pregnancy, to see our baby's dear little 'bean form' and her tiny heart pumping away. It was amazing, and I was 7 or 8 weeks along at the time! We took home our precious ultrasound photos as if we were taking home a secret star from the sky. We still hadn't told our families. And with these photos in hand, off to Kauai, Hawaii we went. It was our belated honeymoon. Oh, I should also mention that we were planning to meet up with Curt's parents  en route to HI and share the news in a fun way, but our flights/layovers got changed right before leaving, so that plan didn't happen.

Though I was two months along when in Kauai, to me these sweet memories are probably the most significant me to for the beginning of pregnancy. When the plane dipped down onto the volcanic island and we stepped off the plane, it felt as if we'd come through a curtain to a completely different world. Heaven on Earth. Obviously this had to do with leaving bitter cold and blizzard-prone Minnesota. Upon awing over the first jumbo leaves and flowers, we hopped into a rented Jeep Wrangler. Down a tree-canopy covered road we drove, feeling a little like Jurrasic Park, into a week full of the best adventures. There were wonderful Air BNBs we stayed in, waking up to sunshine and birds singing, our first walks to the oceanside, experiencing fresh açaí bowls at open cafès where chickens roam free(they roam free over the entire island), to stepping into the sunkissed water while waves rushed against my legs again and again. That week we drove the Jeep around the curvy roads as scenary changed from one end of the island to the other... lushious, wet tropics with cliffs and waterfalls to flatlands and arid rolling hills that looked more barren. We kayaked a river with a group and mud-hiked back into the tropical forest to a ginormously-tall waterfall. The mud was super slippery and sometimes as deep as the knees. We rode bikes down a mountain along a canyon another day, explored little limestone caves with crawling crabs one morning, ate at a top-notch bakery in the North island a few mornings, and took the most incredible hike of our lives with one of my oldest friends and her family. This hike we did mostly barefoot, high up in the Nepali coast, partially in fog until it would sporatically clear and we could see the huge Pacific Ocean beyond. We had so much fun even just driving the jeep around with the top down, through cute towns, beaches, and a coffee plantation. Another highlight for sure was a boat excursion in hopes of seeing humpback whales since they were in season. It was difficult to book an excursion that would allow pregnant women, as  most did not. But we did find one thankfully and the captain was a good sport for humor, especially about my pregnancy. Soon the waves got to me, induced an appetizer bite that had goat cheese in it. I ended up throwing up probably about 4ish times on that boat but I don’t regret it! After all the barf was out of me, I walked up to the front of the top deck in time to see a whale jump up and splash its huge body backwards into the ocean. This is one of the things that we came for! The ride back was a big sunset, and I continued to stand at the front of the boat as salty water spritzed my face. All these experiences and more, were shared with our tiny little girl way down in my womb.

Curt and I came home to reality, to blizzards, frigid temps, nights of soup, shows, and downhill skiing. I’d been doing ski patrol, and I was determined to still finish out the season and my toboggan training. While ski patrol volunteering was quite chill, I would describe the toboggan training nights as more intense. We were tested on skills and methods for correctly rescuing and transporting skiers on the hill, so it was quite physical in nature. Pregnancy makes ligaments and coordination quite loose, so it was especially a challenge to pass, but I did! Winter eventually drastically changed to summer like it always does up North, but the month of April(I think?) was the challenging in-between month.I thought that I was getting pregnancy depression, but I eventually realized that the way I was feeling, was because of not getting outside for exercise enough. So this soon improved, and I learned how essential it was for me to get out and walk or hike often.

Summer brought on a lot of humidity, and that was a challenge! I was quite swollen: my legs, feet, hands, basically all over. And the humidity made it worse, especially at night or in the car on long trips. During this humid period we did go out to Lake Tahoe where the air was SO much cooler and lighter, too. It was a wonderful trip taken with Curt's parents to celebrate their 40th anniversary. After this refreshing trip, I  don't think the humidity back home was quite as challenging. BUT, my foot pain and sciatica (but mostly foot pain), was the worst!! I was on my feet all day for my job, and with everything softened up and swollen, I sometimes felt that I could barely walk again after finally sitting down. Some days I would come home in tears and just sit. Towards the end of pregnancy I sat down more and more at work because I literally couldn't take it anymore. Finding a little better footwear did help, and when the humidity lessoned, that helped too. In addition to walking, hiking, and swimming a few times, I also went to a prenatal yoga/support group. It was wonderful!! I made friendships, learned a lot, practiced movements and techniques that I truly believe helped baby and me to birth so wonderfully later. 

Transitioning from summer to Fall, before her birth, was both a hard, weighty time, and kinda flew by too. I kinda wonder if I had a Mono flair up somewhere in there because I felt quite sickly some days. I thought I should be admitted into the hospital some times because I really felt so miserable. And then Curt came down with Mono himself, though thankfully his bad symptoms didn't last long! I stayed busy with work, which at the end really helped me, so that I didn't just pace myself back and forth. I struggled back and forth with being unsure that my medical caregivers understood me enough, or that I was birthing at the right place, etc. But I listened to informed podcasts, I read stuff here and there, and I asked our doula informative questions. At 35 weeks I remember having a day of just breaking down about everything, and had to pick myself up for the long weeks ahead. I do believe, that those weeks were the longest of my life! Especially once I was passed my 'due date'.  Though I knew ahead of time that due dates should be held with a window of a couple weeks on either side, I had never figured out how to truly mentally prepare myself for the reality of this. 


I woke up on my due date, quite early, with cramping that came every few minutes. Little did I know that this was the start of prodromal labor. Little did I know that it would last for almost 2 more weeks.


























Wednesday, September 12, 2018

Planning a Masterpiece Wedding in 3 Months



      Have you ever been filled with a vision, a purpose, a joy, so strong that when others look at you as if you're crazy, you still believe "it can be done." This was planning my wedding in 3 months. Did I have a clue about the planning? The exact timeline? The realities of all the details? Nope. But I had a deep purpose and joy in my mission because I would be with my true love. When your mind is made up, don't be wishy-washy...stick to it! Here are some of my survival pointers.

1. Get premarital counseling.  What?...why? While this component to a 3-month engagement might be easily overlooked, it is the most crucial. It will (hopefully) work out the most major kinks in your relationship and thus make you two a more unified, stronger team and truly know whether you should proceed with your wedding or make another decision. It will separate your preparation from easily getting tangled up in all the 'doing'  and fill you with a deeeper spiritual and intellectual peace of why you're doing this. You cannot underestimate the power of premarital counseling, and I truly thank my now-husband for setting this up for us ASAP. Smart man he is.

1.5 GET YOUR DATE SET. This is a frustrating one while you two are deciding, but I was reminded by my loved ones that,"The date you two set, is the right date." This gave me peace.

2. Find venues and suppliers. Get the most important ones first, then the others will come!
Give yourself limited choices, so you are not overwhelmed. As Curt began searching and booking the major components of our wedding, I was filled with gratitude for my incredibly talented community. Our cake guy was going to make some cakes look like birch wood and others like dark hardwood. My florist was extremely well-hearsed and laid back, showing me examples of different colors and arrangements until I said, "that's it...love that!" She even told me how to cut costs when it came to table flowers...she was awesome. And getting my dress?...that was a whole adventure in and of itself but the end result was SO worth it! I got my dream dress(an Amelia Sposa), on Ebay(from Russia) for a MUCH better deal than I'd have paid otherwise, AND it fit like a glove! Moral of the story?--- be adventurous in your searching, give a laugh, and believe that what's meant to be, WILL BE.
     Curt I tried to line up getting a venue, one of the most difficult aspects. We had a small pool of original ideas. Then we talked through why we would or would not be happy with the end result. A friend mentioned a place she'd been to for a wedding before, and I looked it up. I had an inkling to pray about it as I called the venue and left a message. They got back to me, and when they asked what date I was trying for, at first they said "Sorry, we can't make it work." However, I didn't hang up...I had a feeling, albeit a weak one...and asked some crucial questions about what could be done, and what we were exactly looking for. This turned into "well, we could maybe make that work for you." So we booked a tour, fell in love, and I could tell that when we toured, the venue was ready to sign us on. But we still gave ourselves at least a week to think and talk it over, to be sure. Then we were sure. I would like to note, that when you are trying to book within 3 months and many places have limited availability, it helps to choose a less popular day/time for your event. That's what we did, going for a Monday/Holiday wedding.

3. Divide and Conquer. It's important for the sake of your lifetime relationship, that you don't feel like one or the other is doing all the work. Each of you needs to feel the responsibility. Make to-do lists and a timeline that works for you two, without feeling the pressure of what everyone else says you're supposed to do. And make sure you express your gratitude to each other many times throughout the process!..."Hun, thank you sooo much for all you're doing; I see your effort and care!" <3 Giving thanks gave us encouragement for the continued hard work on top of our full-time jobs. Curt was excellent at looking at the big picture, doing the budget, keeping track of guest and invite send-outs, RSVP's, etc, all organized. So he did that. I love hands-on work, and the beautiful decorative atmosphere of things, so that was my side of effort. I picked out our invites ahead of time, which set the tone for our theme. I'm also good at wording things so I helped with that too. Curt helped with printing invites and getting stamps, I helped with bundling them with a bow and sending them off. When RSVP s came in, Curt logged them into our wedding planner spreadsheet. I shopped for all sorts of deals on table cloths, lace cloths, dinner chargers, glassware, vine wreaths & floral, and al sorts of little details that fit with my vision(which grew as I found each element!). Curt booked things that needed to be booked, such as DJ, getting event insurance, security deposit on venue, paying caterer, etc.

4. Take a break. What?...I only have two months left! No one wants to be around a stressed out bridezilla, and you don't even want to be around yourself. I was advised by our premarital councilor, " Don't put so much on yourself before the wedding that you end up over-tired and crabby with Curt when you get to your honeymoon." He also reminded me that the bride sets the tone for the wedding. I kept this goal ahead of me with authority, even though at times I broke down in tears and felt it impossible. Believe! Oh little of faith. And there were times for both Curt and I, when we had free time off work that we felt lazy not doing 'wedding stuff' but often times this is what we needed! Like going for a run. Or reading scripture without being in a hurry. One of my favorite memories in this process, is when Curt and I took a paddle boat out on the water on a sunny Sunday afternoon. We dreamed and laughed, talking about other elements to our upcoming life that we were excited about. That afternoon, we rode horses, swam, and then paddle-boated, and later ate some incredible food from an artsy  place we'd never heard of. Since we both like exerting ourselves outdoors, this was incredibly refreshing. Even in the week proceeding our wedding, we were advised to do a date night where we paused talking about more wedding details. This was very hard to do, and I was crabby that night we decided to make dinner together. It took quiet food prep, and every now and then Curt gave me a mini kiss on my forehead or cheek. Once we had a little food in our belly, I had warmed up. It was then a lovely evening together, reconnecting on why we're together. This again, encouraged us for the next crazy, tiring days ahead.

5. Stay Classy. It's easy to say, "No, I don't even even care about that." Which, believe me, many times, I did say this! Now I'm embarrassed that I did. Some of those things that I thought
I could do without, I came to learn that they were some of the most meaningful aspects that I'll forever treasure. You don't want half-assed elements in your masterpiece, do you? It was easy to think to myself many times,"I'm too tired tonight to finish this, or "I don't care what details go on my programs if they're just thrown away," or "who remembers centerpieces anyway?" But I had to stop and remember that the heart of my truest Heart, is good artistic design, and this was one of the masterpieces of my life. (P.S. I'm not a gifted event planner though!) Another thought that kept me motivated on the many long days was,"If my guests are lovingly coming such a long way to celebrate with us,  don't I want them to feel well-appreciated, and have a delightful, memorable experience of joy and love that they'll never forget?" Truly, reminding myself of this gave me energy. Though some would say that your wedding day is 'all about you' and there's truth to that, it gave me energy to be 'others-focused' rather than 'self-focused.' My friend Amy who helped greatly with my decor and layout, reminded me to do the expected traditions that I'd originally thought didn't matter so much. And in the end, I'm so glad that we had those traditional, organized elements! These include but are not limited to: ceremony layout, unity act, ushers and seating, entrance atmosphere, number and arrangement of bridal and groom party, cocktail hour activities for guests, photography layout, labeling things throughout so guests are well-informed, creating good flow for guests, timeline the day-of, a personal attendant for yourself, a day-of-coordinator and/or day-of host for making sure everyone has what they need and are doing well. You want smooth flow, happy, well-cared for people, excellent food, and lots of classy fun!

6. Get help. Haha, you thought you could do this mostly alone in the beginning, if you're like me. But now you realize that you are in over your head with details and decisions. That's what other gifted people are for! If you are good friend to another and ready to help in their time of need, why would they not do for you? In a way, we've lost this time and era, and often think we need to fend for ourselves. If you're like me, you hate asking for help and for favors. I'ts just pride, which is actually an ancient struggle. I was reminded by more than one person to ask for more help, and OH MY GOODNESS, the help that come through, I was SOOO thankful for!! When you do ask for favors and help, be gracious and classy about it, not over particular and yet be clear. Again, I'm no pro at this but believe me, I can't underestimate the power of good help anymore. Now I want to do this for others too.

   If you're destined and brave souls, you can do this. Make it your own, and let it suprise you back in return. You're making history! Our wedding day turned out to suprise us with more beauty, peace, love and joy than we could have imagined. And for those who do venture the three-month engagement, you know, truly, that the real prep began way before these three months. May your masterpiece story live long!























     Many thanks to Brule River Barn, Sam's Florist, AT Entertainment, to The Exchange(cakes), The Cupcake Lady(Proctor), Good Thyme Catering(Washburn), all the Duluth area supply stores, FB Marketplace, Bella Rose Bridal, Ebay, Amy & Dave Peterson, Bellaire Photography(my sister), Amazon, Dave Addink, Sarah Feyder, Nate Marsh, The PForr's, The Boren's, our entire city group at RHCC, and all my wild-hearted friends around the world who gave me bravory and who dreamed with me for this day(namely, Ireland).
   




Thursday, August 9, 2018

My Marriage Song to Curtis

                             
                                                           "We bid the Birds to Come"

We must bid the birds to come
and sing a song for our journey
Into the depths and breadth and heights we go
The birds have sung before but we must bid them to come.

The dawn brings a new song never sung.
The water laps along boats adrift
and we feel every pebble ___ we see the water blue
We turn to the other and say, "I choose you."

A lifetime of joys and changes and memories made
We turn to be one anew and let our identity fade
again and again and again...

A song for our journey they sing...
What is faith, hope, and love?
And the Greatest of these came down from above?

So we come down, and bend like the willows
We bend, and lay expectations on our pillow.
You and I, human frailty and character of oak
To a place where our stubborn pride will choke.

We must bid the birds to come
and sing a song for our journey.

                                                   

                                    ~ All my love and blessing over us, your darling Amelia
                                       Written July 2018, on the shore of Lake Superior

Tuesday, May 15, 2018

The Love of a Neighbor



This is just one neighbor...there were others with incredible lives too.


Sometimes we have to tell the story of another because they would never tell it to the whole world themselves. They are humble and tucked away on a piece of old  Michigan farmland. Their old barn is one of the largest I've ever seen. I like to imagine two pioneer farmers casually chatting by the barbed fences of those hills, a hundred years ago when the trees were all cleared. Two old farmers chatting as neighbors, way before us. Before two new sets of neighbors, with their hardships, love, birth, and death. Since I don't know that story, I can only tell the one I was blessed to hear and know.

I almost didn't stop by that day, as I hadn't visited in a few years at least, since moving away. I felt ashamed of myself for not checking in after the news I heard. But as I was driving by their house I thought, "What the heck...it doesn't hurt to stop by, and I do want to see how he's doing."  As I walked up to the sliding glass door, the kitchen lights had that warm glow just like old times. The two little dogs, Yogi Bear and Ranger, barked, and my old neighbor Gene recognized me as I walked up. We gave each other a welcoming hug and asked each other how we're doing. "I'm alright," he said..."I have good days and bad days." I took a seat at the kitchen table and noticed his big beautiful Harley parked by the sliding glass door. He had another friend over, as they were going to shoot guns together but it'd gotten too late already. There was a gun case and ammunition on the table, not an uncommon sight for folks in this area. The two little dogs barked for awhile as my old neighbor tried to calm them down. He sat down to chat with me.

"Marilyn was my foster sister," he told me. "She was in foster care with my family because her father was beating her. We were 17 and 20 when we got married ... I was Catholic and she was Church of God. After counseling us for 6 weeks, the priest wouldn't marry us because he said it wouldn't work. So we went to her pastor and after he prayed about it for awhile, he said he'd do it and that we'd make it but it'd be hard. And we made it, through good times and bad times. We were each other's best friend, and it'd have been our 40th anniversary.


Two years ago she developed a throat condition. It was like a hoarse throat, she couldn't talk, but then it didn't get better. When we went to the doctor they ran tests, and sent us on to eyes-ears-throat specialists. That's when they told us that she had ALS, which usually develops in the lower limbs and not the throat. This wasn't what we wanted to hear...no one wants to hear that. It started with the throat, and then one part of her mobility after another. So for two whole years, I didn't go anywhere except taking her out to the hospital in Marquette. I sold anything I still had payments on, and just stayed home with her."

My mind kept returning to how vibrant and full of faith she'd always been, and it as hard for me to think of her this way, helpless. I sat at the table and kept listening to Gene, how he chose to do home hospice himself for his wife and keep the mucus in her throat from choking her to death. But as I listened, my mind kept returning to the memories I had of her: she'd invite us in for green apples and tea, and tell us about the power of God. Sometimes she fed my siblings and I other treats such as brownies or hot dogs. Sometimes she helped give a ride to town, or meet up on walks down the road with us. We could scarcely look through the trees out our window and see her walking Emily, her black lab, down the big hill. On one particular walk several of us took together, we ran into another neighbor further down the road. He was out on a four-wheeler looking for his lost dog, one of two or three dogs. He was clearly frustrated that his dog had run off into the thick nest of wood that sheltered the river, too hard to go through with a four-wheeler. Marilyn said,"Let's pray that God brings your dog out." to which he mumbled, "I'm not a christian, and I don't believe in that." But Marilyn chimed back in her uncensored way, "I am, and I'm proud of it!" So she prayed anyway and no joke, the dog ran out of the thick woods just like that. 

Other neighbors thought she was a strange one in many ways, but that didn't matter to me. We all have our ways of being strange and you should have heard the stories of some of the other neighbors! In some ways she was stand-offish and in other ways she had a wide open heart and made you feel well-loved. She typically dressed like a biker chic, with colorful bandanas, jeans and tees. I remember when she had her motorcycle accident from hitting a deer, and broke her collarbone. She didn't bike quite the same after that. Sometimes she put on a little weight which looked good on her tall height, but mostly I remember her being thin. She was either typically on a healthy eating diet or fasting with prayer, even to the point of frailty. This gave her strength later, I suppose. Gene said that as he'd take care of her during her illness, he'd ask if she wasn't tired of all the suffering yet. And since she couldn't speak, she'd shake her head, smile and point to a picture about Jesus the Healer on the wall. He said she never stopped believing that God could heal her, anytime.

 "You remember Marilyn's dad, hey?___ when he lived here with us?" Gene went on. I was now making the connection: Gene met Marilyn all because she was in foster care with his parents, and she was in foster care because her father beat her. And when her dad got older and frail, she took him in. I remember now, how she spoke of her dad with such love and care, and after making this connection, it pricked my heart. "You know, Marilyn forgave her dad...," Gene continued as he stroked Yogi Bear's fur and I tried to make friends with little Ranger. Wow, in my memory of her dad, he was kind and gentle to us as the neighbor kids. I wonder what changed in him and how. I wonder what the journey was like for Marilyn, and, for Gene her husband. That is love without walls. My heart beat, back in the place where it used to beat, but in new rhythm.

Gene started to tell me about the love of yet another neighbor, while Marilyn was sick. We all knew the trauma this man had faced some years before, with the loss of his daughter, and how he was now raising his grand-daughter. Well, if I go back, I remember Marilyn telling me she had a vision for cows on her land again. She kept saying the cows were coming, and she and Gene longed for grass-fed beef. Sure enough, one day there were Scottish highlanders up there on the hill, grazing away. Now, when she was sick, Gene went on to tell me how this other neighbor and his grand-daughter came over to care for the cows and mow his lawn, etc, every day. Whatever they could do to help, they just kept coming so he wouldn't have to do anything but stay by his wife's side. I could tell that it meant so much to him, and he was overwhelmed by their goodness. He said they looked forward to coming and caring for the cows everyday, and even when he could now do it himself, they still wanted to come over. I was overwhelmed by their care too...when have I done such a thing for a neighbor, for two full years?

Once Marilyn passed, Gene went to visit his grown son in another state, and then out to his sister's in New York City. He said it was hard to get back on his feet, literally, after only walking around the kitchen and to and from the bathroom for two years. His sister's life in New York city is very different from his own in the Upper Peninsula. A "house" can be just a large unit in a gigantic building, rent can be $15,000 a month, and an Amazon order of toothpaste and shaving cream can come up to a skyscraper unit within only 30 minutes of ordering. People do anything for work there, he said, such as the naked cowboy singer in the park...all sorts of people, all sorts of jobs, and a simple breakfast can easily cost $60. I'm sure this isn't everyone's life there but that's what he experienced. I'd say that New York City did the job of helping him 'get away' from everything he'd just went through though.

I knew he had many more days to get through, in his grief. The spring burial meant that he was still going to have to face everything again, so he was just taking it 'one day at a time'. I was glad that he had his Harley out in the kitchen...and he mentioned getting back into a biker group. "I still haven't been able to go through all her clothes," he said. I couldn't imagine. "Today I just loaded up more of her hospice care equipment for the hospital." I sat there thinking, "This is one of the strongest and most beautiful men I've ever known." I longed for him, as my old neighbor, to find a life again, to be happy again. Then he says the doctors found a little prostrate cancer in him, and he needed an MRI. He might be fine but he had no way of knowing yet, and he was peaceful. "You never know, it might not be long before I'm up There with her, so I live every day as if it were my last." Breathe in and breathe out...prayer for this man.

After hugging goodbye and wishing each other well, I drove off into the night and knew that this visit was nothing other than divine. It left my heart wide open to reflect, to learn, and to love selflessly. I will never forget Marilyn, her fearlessness, and the way that she impacted my faith as a neighbor.

 

Saturday, March 17, 2018

Chasing Dreams of the Night


 I'm not a big plan-maker...always been a dreamer. And quite literally I have some very vivid dreams at night, not all the time but enough to move me when I do. Lately at winter's end I may have been dealing with seasonal depression or at least anxiety, which was causing me to have very vivid dreams at night. It's was my childhood land...all 80 acres. I kept returning and I didn't know why.

 In the past I've had this too, however it was in Ireland and it was autumn not winter, so I really don't know. While studying abroad and living at Victoria Lodge, I had many dreams but I especially remember a series of three dreams. In the first, it was a peaceful day in the woods back home, my siblings, dog and I playing and having fun around our old porch. Without warning, wolves came charging down from the hill behind the rustic house, ready to attack us all. I, being in full protector-flight mode, grabbed all my siblings and my dog and bolted into the house as fast as possible and bolted the door with that one-of-kind floor slider we had to lock it. My heart beat loudly as I woke up. I'm not sure if it was days or weeks before the second dream came: My siblings and I were having a typical day inside the house, and it must have been a colder season. All of a sudden I realized that the house was filling with smoke and going into flames, quickly. Immediately I thought of all my siblings and dashed everywhere upstairs and downstairs to grab them and thrust them outside the burning building. Once again my heart was beating crazily and woke me up. It all felt so weird but I was beginning to realize that it must be symbolism, as I knew that my remaining family at home were going through, to say the least, some horrible situations. My parents had just divorced a few months earlier and though I didn't keep up with all the details at this time, the dreams told me. My siblings and I were losing our childhood home and disconnecting with the life we had always known, of having our own power to provide, water to keep running, and a fire to keep warm. Not to say this was all a bad thing, but it was traumatic to us. My third dream then, over in Ireland and far far away from this childhood place, was finally peaceful: There was our place, trees cleared out and garden fence posts we'd put up, weeds, sunshine, and the wild beauty of originality that was only our crazy place. And there were cows, cows grazing peacefully on the side of our huge garden. We'd never had cows so this was something amazing to me because no longer were there wolves coming down from the hill behind the house nor was the house on fire. All was well.

So here I am on the Wisconsin/Minnesota border, living a happy little life that's quite different from the one I grew up in, and dreams return to me. It doesn't matter where I lay my head to rest, they always find me to remind me of who I am. I'm a tough Yooper, born straight from the push of a uterus into one of the neighbor's living room (Yoopers can be open-hearted that way), and spent my infancy in a trailer with no running water, no fancy baby supplies, no plumbing yet, and only wood heat to survive the winter. Dad was building the rustic house at that time. I have no idea how I survived without getting illness and there were no doctor visits, only a midwife in the beginning, so I must have been a tough Yooper. But nothing about it was a sight for the eyes, that's for sure! And since I spent 20 years there, my night dreams have often reminded me of all the corners of the cabin-like house and all the deeps of the 80 acres. In one recent dream, silly as it was, my family and the current owners were all living there together, acting like nothing was weird and taking care of everything together. That was weird but hey, I can't judge my dreams! Then in another, it was a sunny kind of day where the balmy breeze brushed the poplars in that signature way, but it was our uphill next-door neighbor's trees, and I was coming into our old land from that direction. Before you'd reach our lot from that direction, there was the edge of their field, a wild apple orchard with drumming partridges hidden in the branches, the veins of taller hardwoods and then into the smaller poplars, maple, cedar, pine and birch. There was no path down, we just had our signature marks throughout, and whenever we'd walk through in that direction my dog Maxine  would always scout out a 360-degree range around us to smell all the smells and bark at squirrels and porcupines that she thought she was protecting us from. She LOVED running through there and always had the happiest eyes when when came back to me. "Good, good girl," I'd tell her.

So there I was heading back to the root land where dreams are born, and I really didn't have a plan. I really didn't know if I had the guts to stop by, to chase down my dreams that kept facing me down. As if they were saying,"Amelia, it's okay now...you can go and make peace. You can go and see." I've spent six years coming to terms with my new life in the modern world where we pay someone else to provide our running water, our heat, our electricity. Sometimes I'm overwhelmed in gratitude for all the wonder that is technology and power, and yet other times I'm depressed because I feel useless that everyday is not critical survival like it used to be, living off-grid. So I had no idea how I'd deal with my emotions if I just drove back and casually walked around the place like I knew it. Because I do know it. I didn't know if it would wreck me in a bad way. But I knew when I started this year that this would need to be my year of being bold, and for me this was bold.

I parked my car and it felt very weird and peaceful all at the same time. I looked around and breathed, and casually but not so casually walked in the drive, seeing the all-familiar snow and mud that thankfully wasn't too messy yet. The stream and frog pond, wow how tiny it all looked to me now, where we used to squish our feet in the mud, catch frogs, put fish and baby turtles into...you name it. And the driveway didn't seem so long as it used to, where we practiced our biking skills, dog-training, read the mail, etc. And there was the cabin-like house, not changed much from the way we made it, yet perhaps solar panels and an updated generator system. It was emotional, but I was okay. I knew I needed to go as close to Maxine's grave as I could. The evening sun was streaming across the ridge and through the woods just like I'd remembered so well. It's an intense wild beauty that I used to stand in and just soak up, and here I was as an adult and needing that again. So I stood, at the edge of the garden for awhile, just soaking in the peace of it all. I was so thankful and this filled me in a way I can't describe. And then I heard it: snorting. And I knew it but could hardly believe it: there were no cows but horses grazing on my old land! Horses, three big ones very majestic and strong, and then a wee miniature pony. Wow, wow! I dared myself to walk further near their fence and saw another thing: our old favorite maple tree was cut down, which is where my Maxine was buried at its base. I stared at the spot of the big maple's base where my brothers and Nana had put her in the ground for me after I'd put her to sleep with the Vet. I let myself tear-up as I remembered her, and all the memories we'd had. And I thanked God for the horses as I'd always dreamed of that while growing up. Here they were exactly where I thought horses should be! I asked God to bless the current owners there with the life they have, and then spoke briefly to a young girl who came out with her uncle. They were pleasant and I told them that I used to live there. I could have told them much more, but I was humble and moved and words escaped me. And just as I had walked in, I walked out and was just fine emotionally. I needed this, I knew. Sometimes we have to chase the dreams of the night, if they make any sense at all.