finally see what it means to be living

Too much makeup won't cover the sadness on your face, won't hide the fear you wear. The smile won't fool everyone - despite how many times it's fooled them before. Eventually the reality rises to the surface and it will take you away, sweep you off your feet and leave you defenseless. I can walk the same roads a hundred times, and know it like the back of my hand - but not even a hundred walks down the same road will prepare me for a drunk driver who swerves out of control changing everything in only a few seconds. Life is full of the unexpected - and you will keep missing it with your head in the sand. Who has time to hide? Who has time to pretend? You only have one shot - one chance to experience what is coming at you. Be sad, and cry so hard you shake. Be happy, and laugh so hard it hurts your gut. Wear your life, your experiences, your trials, your errors - let it be who you have become, instead of letting it define who you were. Think about what your doing and put thought into what you say. Explore the world you live in, and embrace the changes that world will bring. Some days you might not be able to get out of bed, some days you won't be able to get into it. But live it honestly, and don't regret a single moment... it's all lead up to now.

for you are wonderfully and fearfully made.

The lead up was torture. Days and days of random 4-5 hour "false labors" and endless natural attempts at inducing labor on our own. It finally came down to discussing with the midwives what our plan was if we got to the 2 week mark - the dreaded hospital induction. We had to go to the labor & delivery ward twice for "non-stress" tests, so we had an idea of what we were in for if that's what it came down too. Laying in that hospital bed, strapped to beeping machines - Tim and I talked about the possibility, the reality... I could see in his eyes that he didn't want this either. I started to feel really defeated - like I was somehow failing myself. How could I go 2 weeks overdue with my third baby? How, after two home births, was I facing my worst fear? I had so many questions, so many insecurities - and it felt like nothing could take me out of the funk. In hindsight, I wonder if my negativity kept my body from doing the work it needed to do. Finally, on Wednesday the 16th we had another NST, a S&S and a ultrasound to make sure the baby was still alright. While I was laying on that bed once again, my "student" midwife came in to see me and check the charts. She could tell I was anxious, she knew this was the polar opposite of what I do. She went over the charts with me, and said something that I believe probably pulled me out of my funk and reinstated my confidence in my body. She said 'all babies are born on their birth days, and not a day sooner' - it was that which made me realize I wasn't "overdue" and that the anxiety that had been built up was derived from numbers on a calendar. Numbers don't determine when a baby is ready, they do. I went to the ultrasound that evening, and was reassured (as I had been, 4 times before) that my baby was fine, that he was a normal size and was in a good position for birth. We went home, humbly reassured. I began having contractions again - and although confident in my body now, I couldn't help the skepticism that overwhelmed me - I let myself believe it was once again another false labor. I ate a big spaghetti dinner that my mum prepared for us and quietly fell into the comfort of my bed, and into a deep sleep. I awoke at 2:43 am (I can still see the numbers on the clock)to a very unkind and strong contraction - one big enough to make me moan. I breathed through it, laid quietly and decided to get up and pee. Once on the toilet, another one hit me like a boulder - and so I once again breathed through it, but I was now growing a bit curious. I went back and forth from the bed to the bathroom two more times, breathing through strong contractions - and it was the third time in the bathroom that I finally hollered to Tim "wake up! turn on the lights - this is it!!" It was 3:30 by this point, but that was the last time I looked at the clock until hours after it was all said and done. I did the routine calls - took the appropriate actions of lighting candles and Tim started to blow up the pool. My team filed in one by one, each more amazed at the strength of my labor then the last. I knew it was going to be fast, I just kept repeating 'this is going to be too quick'. The pool was filling up when we ran out of hot water - so my mum and Lindsey decided to start boiling pots on the stove to keep it warm. I got in as soon as I could, and didn't leave. Emma and Sophie woke up at some point, and jumped into the pool with me. Both of them were cautious, and concerned - but they were so strong and so supportive. I wonder if they will remember it when they are all grown? After two or so hours had passed, it was pointed out to me that no midwife had come yet. Unconcerned, I motioned Tim to get a hold of them a let them know this baby would be here soon. Little did I know that because of confusion, I would have an unassisted birth. The water was my solace, I let it guide me through the contractions and hold me when I rested between them. The contractions were hard, strong and on top of each other - it was so fast, that there was no lead up to the transition. Afterward, Kayeleigh told me that when I started to "give up" she thought to herself... 'she can't be at this point yet, it's only been an hour or two - she's stronger than that' (little did she know, that I was indeed already at that point and only shortly after that would we meet Liam). Then it hit me, I could feel the change happen - and I looked at Tim and told him I wanted to push. For some reason though, I held it. I wouldn't release the pressure - I kept fighting the urges, even though I recognized them and knew what I had to do. Minutes later the midwife walked in the door - and while she busied herself in the living room getting her unneeded gear .. I pushed. It took one long hard push and I reached down into the water and felt the head. I didn't wait for another contraction, I knew I didn't need too - I just kept pushing and guided his head and body into my arms and out of the water. Nobody really knew what I was doing - it was almost like "oh look, she had the baby!" My mum was in the basement, the girls and my sister were in the bedroom - Tim was standing directly in front of me.. and everyone ran into the kitchen with tears in their eyes. My mind has already fuzzed out the details, and I can't remember who said what - or what anyone's reaction was... other than mine and Tim's. Liam let out a cry as soon as he emerged from the water - so I was confident he could breath. When I looked down though, I could see he was wrapped in his cord at least 4 times - and so without a thought, I flipped him over and unwrapped him from his lifeline that had aided him through the first 9 months of his being. I think there must have been a dense layer of chaos for everyone else in the room - but I didn't notice. He was here, he was in my arms - nothing else could even puncture my high. The minutes after that went quickly - Tim cut the cord, the girls gazed at him in wonder and there were tears of joy. It was a whole 3 hours from start (when I decided it was really happening at 3:30) until Liam was born at 6:26 am on Thursday, February 17th. He was a plump 8Lbs 5 ounces, with wonderfully long pianist fingers and dark, intense eyes. It doesn't feel so long ago, but at the same time it feels like it happened a life time before this.

fools gold

it feels good to breathe it into my lungs, and let it swim through my vines. it feels good to walk through it and embrace the changes we {the earth, and I} are going through together. it feels good to start facing everything I had put on hold for some long months. the sky is gray and the rain is looming - coming to bring the green back to the ground. the laughter that was building in my gut is emerging through the dense and gloomy barrier too. i feel capable of getting a grip on things that have strayed - i feel capable of doing the work needed to be done. i'm still unsure where it will lead me... still unsure of the path that will lead me there. however, i am sure that it will stand out when it's time to embark on the journey. i'm sure that i'll find my way... after all, i always do, eventually. for now, i'll sit in the warmth of the spring, and let the piles of snow melt away from inside and around me. give into the calling of a sweeter morning.

the void

I could easily surpass this emotional dilemma and blame it on the hormones that are still surging through me post-pregnancy. I could turn my head, ignore the thundering waves that pass through constantly and wait for it to eventually take up residence somewhere in the back of me.. in a dark corner, where it inevitably will wait and spring on me again in the not-so-distant future. That would be the quick fix - the typical "Katie" way of dealing with something of this magnitude. However, this is a life-long demon, one that will continue to stay with me (albeit, it will get smaller and smaller and have less control once I start facing it) for a long time to come. My mum said she just finally got a full grip on this one, and stopped letting it have a chunk of her. But how do you even begin to tackle something as big as the impact your father (or lack there of) has on you? It's so big, mammoth even - and it plays a role in every relationship you will have for the rest of your life. It's getting easier to get a hold of as an adult - easier to put the pieces together, and see the patterns. But after so much time, so much pain - how am I to not feel resentful? I let this illusion fool me - that I am somehow above that, that I am invincible and nothing will break me. By tackling the demon, it means I have to admit that it hurts... and that I am indeed, breakable. How do I come to that place without sacrificing the role model I am trying to be for my very own daughters? How do I show my son that every human being is capable of doing anything despite their sexual orientation - when I am on the floor curled into a ball? Where do I even begin?

what is 9 months?

It's starting to wear on me. It's starting to put a distance between me and anyone who thinks they are being helpful by offering up what they think we should be doing. The casual questioning of how we will afford it.. the sudden interest some people are showing in regards to what Tim will do during this time, when he will go back to work... the remarks like "Tim probably won't want to stay home the whole 9 months anyways..." I'm so sick of feeling like there is some need for justification! I just don't understand how hardly anyone can look at this and say "WOW! Good for him! What a great opportunity for him to bond with his son, and strengthen his relationship with the girls!" I'm so sick of watching Tim being put in a spot of critique for taking on the weight load with me, for WANTING to try his hand in being a stay-at-home-dad... why is that so hard for people to get a hold of? Shouldn't we be honoring him? Shouldn't we, instead of questioning it, congratulate it - offer up encouragement, advice and a pat on the back? Our society is so fearful of stepping out of the ordinary and doing what's best for our families that we end up overlooking what is best for our kids. and I can be sympathetic to the concern - what I can't be sympathetic to is the ignorance placed on the fact that we ARE mature, responsible adults... and we wouldn't be doing it if we couldn't. What it comes down to is people go into debt for much sillier things (like a big fucking T.V, or a shiny new trophy car..) than us going into a very small amount of debt for a period of time in our lives that we will never experience again. After all, we only live life once ... and our children are only babies once. If you can't understand how much more important this period of our lives is, than paying off some of the inevitable debt we carry.. than I'm not sure you understand much about what's important in life. There isn't a price I can put on having you home with us, learning and experiencing fatherhood for all that it can be. Whether or not it comes from anywhere else - WE appreciate you, and love for you all that you do.