lost thoughts

"If you can't explain it simply, you don't understand it well enough." - Albert Einstein

I've learned enough to know that I have a lot to learn. Despite our eagerness, our desperate attempts to know what to say and how and when to say it - we very often only have a slight grasp on the knowledge we are trying to portray. I think it takes a great deal to understand that even though you feel like you know a lot, you really know nothing at all. The world is such a big place, full of so many different kinds of people... different languages, foods, habits, rituals - completely unique cultures. I feel like it could easily take a hundred lifetimes to really even begin to have a grasp on the diversity of human diversity.

Hrmm.. I've lost my thought, and nothing seems to be bringing it back to me. Oh well, so much for an insightful piece.

gravity is nothing to me, moving at the speed of sound

My brain is fuzzed, not enough sleep. Not enough restful sleep. It's a hard commodity to come by when your head is fluttering from one extreme to the other, casually ignoring the agony that it's putting you through. I lay awake wondering, feeling like I could have seen it coming. I guess if that were true, if I had some kind of instinct that forewarned me of what was coming, I wouldn't have come this far. It doesn't work that way, and all I can do is learn from each step I take. It's getting harder to find the lessons in between the illusions, though. "You really need to build some supports up to those skies of yours that keep falling" ... I can still hear the tone in your voice, the insecurity in your eyes. 'Is this just another tragic end? Am I doing this again?' I hope that I proved those fears false, and relieved some of the forming pressure on your heart. I've spent a lot of time and invested a lot of sweat, blood and tears into building this castle on this island you see in front of you. To some, it may not be much - but to me, it's my world. Sometimes, here at this castle on this little island, the skies fall - and the fear is driven into me. And I'm going to go ahead and keep building up this castle, do it boldly.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XOxpvKuEruk

chilled to the bone.

The wind has turned from a sweet spring warmth to a chilling winter blast. My legs feel stiff as I put one in front of the other, a feeling of betrayal crashes through me. I thought we had a deal, mother nature and I. That's what I get for trusting the warmth.. somehow, one way or another, it always disappoints me. I try to be grateful - reap in the benefits of the sun beating down on me, erasing the cold layer that has formed over the last few months. So much for my escape plan - the cold will keep me where I am, for now. Curled up in the same crevice that has been formed by my body during the days that sort of felt like this. Suppose I'll have to be patient, and wait for the wind to die down. Wait for the warmth that goes all the way through.

why I have little faith in humanity.

We are a society full of ignorance. We were raised from the very start to be independent thinkers, and encourage freedom of speech. We grow up knowing that we have the ability to search out the answers to our questions, and that we are encouraged to feel confident in our knowledge. Now, this all sounds lovely - except that for a large portion of human beings, that this way of living has lead them to believe that they know the answer to everything. It has formed a whole common ideal of proving that you are right, and despite the evidence or opinions of feelings that disagree - your thoughts/beliefs/feelings will prevail. This independent thinking will inevitably lead to a barrier between ideas, where we lack to have an open mind to other peoples ideas. Now don't get me wrong, this isn't the rule, nor is it the majority. However, there are enough people out there who live their lives this way that I am left feeling like there are more ignorant, close-minded people out there than my energy is worth to seek the ones who are not out. It's a rarity to find someone in the sea of human minds that can be observant and neutral enough to listen to both sides of the spectrum and remain unbiased. And not only that, but it's a rarity to find someone who won't push their ideas (whether fact or fiction or feeling or belief) with such conviction that you feel like your heads going to explode. I'm so tired of interacting with people who just don't know when to shut the fuck up, and realize they sound like an idiot constantly berating your opinions and condoning their own. When will we just accept that everyone has different ideas, and different opinions - and that despite how you may feel about something, it does not mean that everyone else will share yours? When will we just step back from each others lives and let them make their own decisions without judgment? It really may just boil down to a thrown and a lack of respect, but who am I to judge.

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.

lucky.

It's amazing how quickly we forget. I suppose if we remembered (or if we could adequately describe it to other women)the human race would have died out long ago. But here we are - in 2011 and the human population is only growing. So, it's evident that we forget the discomfort of pregnancy, the pains of labor, the trials and errors of having a newborn. There must be some sort of chemical imbalance that helps us to simply erase our memory of what we go through to bring life into this world purely so that we will keep doing it. It probably isn't so much that we 'forget' but that our minds have a funny way of tricking us into primarily remembering the good stuff. Like the incredibly surreal experience of feeling your unborn child kick you from within, or the high you feel as you hold your baby on your chest for the first time. Or the bond you get from nourishing your baby from your own body... or the nirvana of looking into your newborn babies eyes and really meeting him for the first time. These memories will be the ones that take place of the not-so-pleasant ones 2 years down the road, when your baby is now walking and talking and turning into their very own little person. These memories will be the ones you hold on to when your babies are all grown up, and having babies of their own. It's that which reminds me to take everything as it comes, take deep breathes and enjoy every moment of the life I was graced with. It reminds me to appreciate the amazing humans whom rule my life, but who do so with love. I hope I never underestimate just how lucky I am.

you've stolen my heart

I came here intending to write out Liam's birth story - with the intent to share the incredible story with those I love. For some reason though, now that I am here, I'm not sure I'm ready - not sure I have really got a full grip on the life changing event. So I'll wait for it to come flowing out on it's own, rather than force tell the story. I will however share that our world since the birth has been completely life-altering and insanely emotional. It's also been amazing, breath taking, exhausting, beautiful and chaotic. Liam Michael David was born on February 17th at 6:26 am weighing 8Lbs 5ounces. He nurses like a pro, sleeps wonderfully and is so very loved by everyone around him. Emma and Sophie are both adjusting in their own ways, at different paces and in different styles. They remind me that it all takes time, and that we are all changed by Liam's arrival. I'm still in humble amazement by all of it, and sooner or later I will feel compelled to put it all into words.

expiration date?

In hindsight, I realize the overkill that nesting inevitably was for me. The house was ready and prepared for this monumental point in our lives weeks in advance - the clothes had been sorted, washed and put away in anticipation. The floors had been mopped, the walls had been scrubbed, the cupboards had been cleaned out and organized. Overkill. Now, here we are - 2 days after the renewed due date of February 6th... still waiting. It is a constant battle to remind myself that due dates are estimated because there is no way to know what day will be our child's birth date. There is no way to pin point a moment in time that will be reserved for you and your baby. With this constant reminder, I have developed a new mantra - 'you body is merely a vessel, and it will do what it needs to do when it is ready to do it'. In reality, it is extremely difficult for me to hold on to this, and believe my own wisdom. I am very uncomfortable, exhausted, cranky, irritable and emotional. Now, some (cough *Tim* cough) may argue that this has been the consensus for the last 40 weeks. I suppose it just feels more so, because I feel ready... I feel prepared. So now that I am waiting on something greater than my control, it provides a whole new world of desperation for a light at the end of the tunnel. Don't get me wrong, I really do love pregnancy, and I would happily do it again and again. I just want to be done this particular pregnancy now, and more than anything else... I just want to meet our baby! So I will be sent off for an induction if by the 18th I have not "progressed" and at this point, any relief sounds like a good relief.

the due date.

Alas, here we are - and still only the four of us. We are trying to be patient ... we are trying to remind ourselves that you will come when you are ready. We just want you to know, little baby - that *we* are ready for you! Come on out, we can't wait to meet you!

the world awakens on the run

comfort like crawling into a bed made with clean sheets fresh from the line on a warm summer night. like eating your favorite food, and not stopping when your full. like hearing your favorite song after it's been awhile and it leaves you with the same tingling feeling it did when you first heard it. comfort like a big bear hug when you feel like the world has quit on you. it's the exhaustion you feel after waking from a relatively sleepless night - and only sleepless because you spent the night awake and talking about things you might have not said otherwise. it's a quiet contempt - a peaceful exhaustion. a 'nothing can ruin this mood' kind of morning. don't get me wrong, come 12:30 I will be back in between those sheets welcoming the sleep I forgot to grasp onto in the early hours of the day. but for now, the tiredness is welcomed and accepted. the rarity of that comfort is something that can't be changed, for if it were often it wouldn't be that kind of comfort. i don't mind it's absence because the feeling it leaves me with will last until the next.

> morning yearning : ben harper

A fingers touch upon my lips
It’s a morning yearning
It’s a morning yearning
Pull the curtains shut try to keep it dark
But the sun is burning
The sun is burning

The world awakens on the run
And we’ll soon be earning
We’ll soon be earning
With hopes of better days to come
That’s a morning yearning
Morning yearning

Morning yearning…

Another day another chance to get it right
Must I still be learning?
Must I still be learning?
Baby crying kept us up all night
With her morning yearning
With her morning yearning

Morning yearning…

Like a summer rose I’m a victim of the fall
But am soon returning
Soon returning
Your love’s the warmest place the sun ever shines
My morning yearning
My morning yearning

Morning yearning…

nesting

I feel restless - I keep wandering around, organizing this and cleaning that. If I'm not moving, I need to be organizing my mind. I think I'm subconsciously preparing for the inevitable.. I think that means it's almost time. I am now eagerly awaiting this arrival like it's something I didn't see coming. The idea of having a sweet, tiny little human laying next to me fills me to the brim with excitement and pure ecstasy. I find myself in complete denial that the time has already come, that soon (s)he will be here and I will once again be challenged in every way possible. Running on little to no sleep, constantly on call for someone - sleeping on another persons schedule. It feels like it's been years and years... and I suppose it almost has... 2.5 years ago, at least. I'm giddy at the prospect - and who knows, next post may be "welcome to the world baby!"

I was quick to learn but slow to understand

When is enough, enough? I have contemplated this my entire life - always searching for some kind of conclusion, some way to trust my intuition. I find myself waging wars on the standards I have set in my mind - constantly renegotiating my lines drawn in the sand. I seem unable to trust my gut instinct these days, as if it has somehow led me astray... maybe it has. What is the purpose of the sand drawn lines? After all, once the high tide comes in they are just washed away with the waves anyhow. Maybe I should find something more concrete to be drawing these lines in - maybe I need to learn how to stick to my gut instinct instead of letting the waves lead me into the deep wide dark unknown. I can't be sure of much these days, I can't find solace in my own words. It get harder to know when to give up the fight and surrender to the outcome - it's getting harder to know if the fight is worth the battle wounds. It would seem as though I don't know much about anything at all.

another year, another chance to get it right.

and so it goes - the ultimate renewal of all that has gone wrong. A new year to change the direction, right the wrongs, change your ways. A signifying moment every 365 days to resolve old wars - to resolute not to go down the same road again. The pressure is unbearable - perhaps that is the point. The pressure behind this time of year is present to push us to our limits, and make us really evaluate what the last year was... who we were and who we have become. A chance to make amends and change the aspects of yourself and your life that are undesirable. Most commonly we tell ourselves things like "I'm going to get in shape" or "I want to repair a broken friendship" or "I'm going to eat healthier" or stop smoking, or quit drinking, or walk more. Safe resolutions that most of us won't commit too, and by this time next week they will thoughtfully be stored somewhere in the back of our brains with little if any intention to really make the changes. I wonder what would happen if we could really commit to making the changes that need to commence - and really understand the gravity behind putting that kind of resolution into action. Where would we be a few months from now? Where would we end up?

and away we go!

Weeks of preparation and planning - hours of decorating, baking, shopping and wrapping. All for only a day or two - a few memories to make, memories to hold on too. It's always a whirlwind, and I am always relieved to be done with it. Now, on the 28th of December I have disassembled the tree, taken down the decorations and stored it all away for another year - and I don't know if I even really let it sink in. It almost feels like Christmas didn't happen - but there is a sense of relief that it being over with brings, so somewhere deep I know it has. It's now on to the very overwhelming task of rearranging, organizing, and preparing this tiny space for the arrival of another child - another love-of-our-life. I have mastered the art of getting through.. seemingly without really processing what it is I am getting through. 33 days left... and I wonder how I have floated through the last 247? I wonder how I am going to complete the tasks ahead of me in such a short time frame. I've never had a completely devoted partner around when it came to raising a newborn - so just the thought of it makes me squirm with anticipation. It's all new, it's all completely unknown! Now, to start the races!

would you hear me if I told you? that my heart is with you now..

There is a place inside of me that I do not recognize. I find myself going there a lot lately - searching out the darkness I have seemingly ignored for the last 23 years. Perhaps its the place where everything I can't deal with goes - for it is very dark, very murky.. like thick fog. I find myself wanting to sit at the edge of it and breathe it in like life support. So many broken objects lying around - nothing I can seem to repair or make sense of. For so long I've let the business of fixing encase me - there was always something to repair, something to build up again. I've spent so much time on everything (one) else that I don't know how to fix myself anymore. I am floating outside of myself - watching the destruction, rendered unable to stop it. I foolishly let myself believe that once beat, the demons would leave me be. Somewhere amidst one of the biggest wars of my life, I forgot that life is a constant battle - there is always a hill to climb. I feel ashamed - where did I wander off too? I am stronger than this, stronger than who I've become. It's only a hill, only a challenge - when have I ever shied away from that? Somewhere along the way I forgot my willpower - forgot that despite the struggle to get up, there is always a rewarding decline. Perhaps the dark place has become so ever present to remind me of that... to remind me that it will continue to grow, if I don't start walking now.

selfish vs. selfless

By the time I was old enough to know how to care for others selflessly I was already a mother. I had already taken on the responsibility of caring, unconditionally loving, protecting and raising another human being - there was no time in between to be a selfish adult. I've never known the luxury of completely living only for myself - and having an agenda that revolves only around me. I chose to be a mother when I was still just learning how to embrace adulthood - and while choosing this, I gave up a lot of things that most 18 year old's wouldn't dream of. I gave up being selfish and I gave up living freely. Not only did my interests change, but so did my priorities. It has taken me some time to really understand that despite the best of efforts - it is truly impossible for anyone to fully understand what this kind of transformation is like and what it means, until you go through it. On the contrary, I've never been on the other end because I have been a mother for 6 years - long since anyone else I know would ever even consider taken the leap into parenthood. All I've ever been after is the understanding that I am always going to do what is best for my children - despite agendas, commitments and expectations of others. I will always make the best judgment call I can for my kids, before anyone else - including myself. That is what motherhood is, that is what it's like to live selflessly.