Second Time Around

Where to begin? There are so many things this time that mirrored my last pregnancy/motherhood journey. I had the same excellent prenatal care. I had the same midwife and assistant help bring my son into the world in my same cozy home. Once again I had a giant belly, a giant boy, and a long labor. During labor I had my blessingway candle lit reminding me that I was not alone, like last time. I had my dogs remaining vigilant and serene as I became my most primal self and the wall between our worlds thinned for the second time during those transitional hours. And while so so much was the same, things were very different in the most essential ways.

My last labor and postpartum experience was a dark and difficult time for me. There was a lot of guilt and sorrow I had to work through. It was so difficult that I was not sure whether I ever wanted to be in that place again. Half of me was sincere when I said I was done having babies. I certainly wasn't ready to start over when we found out we were pregnant again. That was more of a shock than a surprise. I mean it took us more than a year of intentional trying to conceive, so how could we possibly be pregnant on accident with how little we actually had sexy time?!?! But here we were, unprepared and pregnant. 

This time around I was not nearly as attentive to the nugget in my womb. I chased my toddler around the house, juggled working full time and parenting my little tornado, was just beginning to be able to carve space out for myself to tend to my soul and spirit, and with only 24 hours in a day I just couldn't be as on top of things with this pregnancy as I was with my first. Things slipped through the cracks. I forgot to take supplements, I stopped tracking how much protein I was eating, I didn't have time to listen for that special song that would be ours: baby's and mine. The guilt I felt during postpartum with my first, I felt during the actual pregnancy with the second. I had to remind myself to actually tell the baby and, if I'm honest, myself that I did love the baby and that his life was cherished and desired, even if unplanned.

What taking a nap in the first trimester looks like with a toddler in the home

Everyone's promise to me was that this baby would be easier. Maybe it was said just to set my heart at ease and to quiet my fear, something I never really tried to hide. But whether on not that was the case, one thing was true- I was not the same person as last time. My tribe of friends and mamas reminded me of this. For as much as I suffered through my first experience, I was also changed by those experiences, refined by the fire of hard truths and inescapable realities: living with a baby is hard, and some babies are really really hard (read: my son). And so with much more healthy and realistic expectations I braced myself for the hell that I anticipated would come, all the while hoping the promises made to me would become my truth. 

I'm happy to say that, for the most part, those promises have come true. I was told that my labor would be shorter, especially after giving birth to such a large baby last time, that my body would be well prepared to push anything out quicker than last time. Well that was not the case. This second labor was in fact 7 hours longer, totaling 28 hours. Ugh! But somehow, it was easier. More on that in another post. But aside from that missed promise, my postpartum experience has indeed been easier. This baby has been easier. He's still a sparkler- apparently, the Divine must want me to prepare for some kind of weight lifting competition in the future since I keep getting practice with giant babies that MUST be carried/held at all times. But he is closer to what a typical newborn experience is. It is hard, being yelled at/cried at, getting little sleep, losing freedoms as you become chained to a tiny person thanks to your leaking boobs, but all this is still so much easier than last time. It really truly is, and I actually am happy, and so head-over-heels in love with this little man. Now, I get it, now I understand what all the fuss is about, why women ache to have a baby, the smell, the cuddles, the staring and staring at a cherub-like face- moonstruck...I get it. 

My sweet little cherub, he makes me so happy

This experience has redeemed those terrible days of my last experience. For all the ways that the two stories mirror each other, they are different in the most important ways. Where there was darkness, now there is light. Isn't that how love works?

Thank you little Bear for choosing me to be your mama, and for letting me love and care for you. This is my favorite job EVER! You are the Best. Surprise. Ever.

XOXO

Brutal/Beautiful Holidays

Every year my church has a Living Nativity for the community to enjoy. It is really a beautiful event. There are sheep and a donkey, high schoolers dressed as angels and shepherds, elders dressed as the wise men. It is a bonding time for the church family, and a blessing to be able to share the wonder of the season with the neighborhood.

Last year (December 2011) my husband and I were asked to play Mary and Joseph. The Living Nativity had a twist that year in that Mary sang a song, and the shepherds also sang a song. The song I sang was the Magnificat, the prayer and praise Mary says in response to learning that she was chosen to be the mother of God. It is a beautiful prayer and one that shows the wisdom held deep within this young woman. 

So there I am holding a baby doll, sometimes I was handed a real baby to hold when one was available, but holding a baby and looking down at it in the iconic pose. And the whole time I held back tears, wondering if I would ever be blessed to hold my own baby. At that time I had been trying to conceive for about 6 months with no luck. And I was waffling between hope and despair. Trying to keep my focus on the miracle of the birth of my god, I struggled not to dwell on my own trials. I remember seeing a family come up and approach me, and they had a toddler with down syndrome, and my heart ached to see how much love that family poured on that cute little boy. I was jealous for that. For the opportunity to pour out love, no matter the circumstances. Yes, he had down syndrome, but it didn't matter because he was their baby, and I wanted that... a baby. It was all I could do to keep it together. 

On our way home, Jonathan told me that he could tell I was having a hard time. He reached for my hand and told me that we would be okay, that we would have a family one day. He was so confident and calm about it. I couldn't argue with him. The Holidays are brutal for a woman TTC!

Fast forward a year to December 2012. My husband and I were asked to be in the Christmas Musical at church. Guess who we were asked to play??? That's right, Mary and Joseph. In the musical, Mary sings a song about the hope of the world growing within her womb. It was perfect, because my own womb was growing and my own hope was and is being fulfilled within. 

Yes, I was holding another doll, but that bump under the doll is real. And this time I fought to hold back tears, but tears of gratitude and tears of joy. A year ago I had nearly thrown the towel in, tired of trying to do something that so many do accidentally. I never would have guessed that in a year's time I would be so close to realizing my dream of being able to pour out love on my own baby. Yes, tears of joy and excitement were indeed in order! The Holidays to a woman who has struggled with TTC can be overwhelmingly beautiful. So so beautiful.

To a Young and Hopeful Me

The story behind this shirt: When I was in high school my aunt handed me this shirt, knowing that I love all things Maya and traditional (proud of my Maya roots, just like her :).  She said that she didn't fit in the shirt and that she wanted me to have it until the day she could. At the time, I also couldn't fit in it. Too big. But I thought it was too beautiful to give back. I also thought that if I was ever pregnant this shirt would fit. Fast forward 15 years- this is the first time I am wearing this shirt.

That day I couldn't help but reflect on the naive and innocent thoughts of a freshman in high school. How simple it all seemed to me then. How little I new about the trials that would lay ahead. And yet, how beautiful to see the world with such assured hope. 

To that freshman I would like to say, "Well, we did it. We are wearing that shirt that you faithfully kept year after year anticipating the moment when your belly would be full of baby to fill it out. The path here took longer than expected, but I can't thank you enough for planting that seed of hope. At times, that seed was my rock. Thank you naive, and innocent me. Wearing this shirt was a triumphant day for us! Yes, it was!"

PS: The bananas are for a project my husband and I are working on. This was the only picture I could find that showed the front of the shirt.