Cleansing

Today I bathed our little god. The basin warm and soft, smelling faintly of lavender. Incense swirling around our ritual. I worshiped the roundness of his belly and the plumpness of his cheeks. He was in bliss discovering even more deeply his relationship with his feet-- concentrating on their movement, trying very hard to catch them with his hands. He smiled happily in his little cocoon of discovery.

He enjoys the water, I like to think it reminds him of where he came from. When his skin experiences the sensation of the wet warmth of the bath his eyes alight with recognition, like he is saying, "I remember this." And we both grin. I remember it too. Our gentle months of internal connection, I have no doubt we communicated then just as we do now. The switch between that internal relationship and this external one can be jarring at times, for both of us. But on days like this I feel we are adjusting well in this fourth trimester.

Often times I feel as though I am decoding a very secret and special message by knowing this little soul. Each time I understand his wishes I am just blown away with pride. And the emotions that come when I can't quite figure it out? Well, those are the moments when I feel possible the most helpless I have in my entire life. The complexity of this relationship is astounding.

It is startling the juxtaposition of death that has developed during this time of new life. I have been holding sacred space today for my Mamaw, Margaret Ann, and my mother. The depth of the feelings I am experiencing with my Mamaw on the cusp of passing are raw. Today I allowed myself to spiral gently into them, resisting the urge to distract myself away from them. Becoming a mother has added a new complexity between the relationship my mother and I abide in. And now, with the possibility of her mother passing beyond this world of air the feminine wound that is present in my being is beginning to throb again. I think about the relationship my mother has with her mother, about how she named me after her and that must mean something special and deep. I remember little stories I have heard about my Mamaw: how she used to put her hose on in the car on the way to church because her mornings were spent trying to ready her six children; how one night my papaw (a recovered alcoholic) came home so drunk and was causing a ruckus and she hit him upside the head with a frying pan. I don't know many stories about my Mamaw, so I have taken to trying to imagine what it must have been like to love an alcoholic, to raise six children with a partner so crippled by addiction. And I think about her life now, how she has surrendered her body to care for my mentally ailing Papaw who's identity is only secure in the light and presence of my Mamaw, he cannot remember his children or grandchildren, but he knows the love his wife has for him and it is his world.

In this time of honoring saints I honor my Mamaw.

(more bath photos here)

Tag Team

Random snippets from the day:

Tonight Arlo won't go to sleep, even though it is apparent to all involve that he is very tired. I'm about ready to chalk it up to the moon. Josh and I have taken turns with him the whole night. I'm glad I'm not in this alone.

I am very full of inspiration and it is a challenge to find time to honor it. 

The phone range tonight, it was my mom, as Josh answered it I knew before any word was spoken that it was regarding the possibility of my mamaw passing. She has been in critical care since 12pm, those caring for her have not been able to stabalize her dropping blood pressure, there is the possibility she will not recover from this. I have her name, Margaret Ann, and her nose. I honor her and ask her spirit to visit me if she passes tonight.

Education

This quarter I am taking Human Sexuality. I really could have used this class before hitting puberty. The information I am absorbing is allowing wave after wave of understanding to come into my consciousness regarding many different aspects of interpersonal relationship.

This week the chapter we read was on Love and Communication in Intimate Relationships. Some concepts I was particularly taken by:

• The parts of love according to Sternberg: Passion, intimacy, and commitment. 
• Attachment styles
• Gender based communication

Discovery

On this day baby Arlo discovered his feet. Propped up on pillows in our morning nest I noticed him concentrating very hard on his feet, he saw them. Then! He started moving his right leg slowly, and watching it very closely.

Also, after sitting upright against the pillows for awhile Arlo then decided that he wanted to move. He took matters into his own hands, slumped foward, and squirmed to his belly where he did his little larval wiggle-- kicking his legs and squirming. He scooted to the edge of the mattress (which is on the floor) and right before his head touched the floor I scoopted him up. The look on his face was incredibly, he looked in awe of his progress. He had an adventure all on his own, he then spend the next ten minutes telling me all about it, bright eyed and thrilled.

Monastic life.

At our appointment with our midwife on Thursday I talked with her about some of the feelings I have been working through regarding my new role as mother. I shared about the jealousy I feel towards Josh concerning how he can embrace more easily the roles he plays outside of "daddy." I shared about the identity issues I have been facing, how I am trying to learn how to integrate the different aspects of my personality into my new dominate role of "mama." I try very had not to be bitter with Josh, not to be resentful. Sometimes things feel so solitary.

My midwife likened this stage of motherhood to that of monastic life. That resonated deeply with me. The other night a mama-to-be asked me what new motherhood was like. It was very hard for me to put into words how intricately woven the blessings and challenges become. It is as though one cannot exist without the other. Arlo is so heartbreakingly beautiful, so sacred and holy. And yet taking care of him is the hardest, most selfless thing I have ever done. By the end of the day I am so mind-numbingly tired it is difficult to put coherant thoughts together.

Tonight I am home alone and it is hard. I feel fried and ache for connection. I looked up the definition of monastic and was curious about the definition of "ascetic lifestyle." The definition of ascetic is:

A person who renounces material comforts and leads a life of austere self-discipline, especially as an act of religious devotion.

I can relate to that. I am still processing through a lot of this... I feel like this piece of writing is lacking. To be completely honest tonight I am lonely and hurting. I'm not writing this for pity, I'm just writing it because tonight this is all I have-- a holy baby that I love with my whole being and an achy heart that is constantly learning about surrender.