Thursday, March 21, 2013

And Then There Were Three

"For you make me glad by your deeds, Lord; I sing for joy at what your hands have done." Psalm 92:4

My son is two weeks old today. My son.

Just those words are miraculous.
But the real flesh, blood, and soul are beyond my comprehension. I heard the advice. I listened to the experienced. But never in my wildest dreams did I believe something so natural that occurs so often could be seen as surreal.
It's all true... You don't know until it happens to you. And when it does, nothing else matters more than that being in which God created specifically for you.

These last 14 days have disappeared into a nursing, sleep deprived, dirty diaper haze and I remind myself to stare into his eyes, to relish his skin on my skin, and to not take these moments for granted because they are truly ONCE in our lifetime. So I will continue to weep tears onto his smooth cheeks and vow not to miss this.

I thought I'd share my birth story. I thought wrong.
Despite the fact, I would like to and have forgotten a good portion of the 50+ hours of labor I spent on my hands and knees moaning through painful uterine contractions that never seemed to progress or digress, the actual birth is as vivid and glorious as one would hope. And it's uniquely mine to keep.

13 songs...
57 minutes and 31 seconds

That's how long it took from my bag of waters breaking to his sweet shoulders slipping into this world and straight into my loving arms. And I've got his arrival set list committed to memory.


Natural Mystic 3:26  Bob Marley
Bad Luck Blue Eyes Goodbye 6:28 The Black Crowes

Joey 4:11 Concrete Blonde
Warehouse 7:06 Dave Matthews Band
Welcome To The Boomtown 5:32 David & David
Roadhouse Blues 4:04 The Doors
Honeysuckle Blue 4:51 Drivin 'N' Cryin
Mona Lisas and Mad Hatters 5:01 Elton John
Me And The Devil Blues 2:56 Eric Clapton
You Turn Me On I'm A Radio 2:40 Joni Mitchell
Somebody's Baby 4:03 Jackson Browne
Dog Days Are Over 4:13 Florence + The Machine
Psycho Killer 4:20 Talking Heads

Welcome my little Rock-N-Roller and into the soundtrack of my life.



**Bonus Nursing Tracks
Mr. Brownstone
Do You Wanna Touch Me?
Cowboy
Pow Pow
Everyone Deserves Music

Friday, March 1, 2013

Non Focused Awareness

"Wait for the Lord; be strong, and let your heart take courage; wait for the Lord!" Psalm 27:14

The day circled in red and mediated on for the last nine months has come to pass. An hourglass whose sand falls at a steady cadence on an even surface is as elusive as the Dodo Bird in his nest. Time ticks away these subsequent calendar days and my moments of absentmindedness kick into high gear. Gears that have stalled or decided that neutral was the optimal position. I've reached an anterior position, as the bug's head presses further into my pelvis making my bathroom breaks more noticeable. Speaking of notice, wasn't February 27th explicitly spelled out as the cut and dry eviction date? Who didn't get the memo? Are God and Baby taking a certain amount of delight in their closed door conversation that keeps me on the fringe? The brink of insanity? I'm ready to kick in the lock and seize my property. You can have my breasts, I want my freedom of movement. I want my uterus back. A uterus that freezes up every time my cell phone pings another question from inquiring minds. No, I haven't had my baby yet. No, I haven't as you so delicately asked, popped out my kid. How's about I pop a mother's little helper and sleep until labor? Oh sleep....A bygone era. A time of restful repose. A quiet world where pineapple was a fruit, not a cervix softening means to an end that I blend with ice and chug with chilling anticipation. Is anticipation making me late? It's certainly keeping me waiting.
He said come unto me and find rest for my soul for His yoke is easy and His burden is light. But my climbing weight is a burden. And despite my better self, I ask will he/she be worth the wait?

Every day you get one more yard
You take it on faith, you take it to the heart
The waiting is the hardest part....
T. Petty

Why WIlmington?

Since we left grand ole Gotham, I've answered this question in a variety of ways, citing a number of reasons.

This article in Garden and Gun counts them out without the defenses...>>