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Archive for June, 2007

My energy level has been really low the last two days.
Maybe it’s the shallow sleep and frequent toilet visits.
Maybe it’s the problem falling back to sleep on some nights.
Maybe it’s the heat.
Maybe it’s the ballooning belly.
Maybe it is just time to spiral inward and rest.
Take it slow, and surrender to the heat, and heaviness and the drowsiness.

Yesterday was a hard day to get through. The man on the radio said that “At 10 o’clock now, we’re a measly 97.” I know he was trying to be humorous, but it really wasn’t too funny. The girls were at gym camp and I took the time to run to Trader Joe’s and Lee lee’s to get food and dried stuff for the confinement cooking. I also went to Changing Hands to get some diffuser oils and bought a small gift for L, thinking we might see her in the afternoon before she flies off to Oregon.

I got back to the Little Gym and spent 10 minutes observing the girls jumping around. Sophia was thrilled to see me. Later Miss Meghan told me she cried a few times, probably missing me, but not for long. Oh, that broke my heart! This little child of mine… turning four in two months but she is still nestled closely in my heart like a little baby. She loves to run her little hands over my belly, feeling for baby. She is going to be a big sister soon… …

It seems we won’t be able to meet with L so we went to Savers to drop off the bag of stuff we had been driving around at the back of the minivan. And looked around to see if we find bedsheets to use for the birth; and I wanted a large, really large basket for all that legos, but had no luck with neither. Found some winter stuff for the gals instead.

We got home and I thought I was going to faint from the heat. Ralf arrived soon after we did, also exhausted from his business trip and I took a nap on the couch for about an hour. We talked about names again, and birth plan, and it seems there is always a million things dangling here and there and we never get to end a discussion properly. I told him I have been tired and he told me to SLOW DOWN and rest, and take it easy and not be driving here and there! Easy to say. He said “I have told you for the past three weeks but you have not been listening to me.” Sometimes he sounds like he’s my father and I am the rebellious daughter who would not listen. Sometimes our relationship really feels that way. Well, I almost wanted to tell him that this week is the last week I am going to clean the house and he shd take over! But I don’t have the heart to. It’s not that he has nothing to do; he is way up over his eyeballs with a ton of things to take care of, but he has been trying hard to stay centered for us. He has been working so hard. I will clean. Even if I can no longer carry a bucket of water, I will go to the sink a hundred times to wring out the dirty washcloth, because there is no way I am going to let us spend the last few weeks of this pregnancy in filth and stickiness. But, I will iron for the last time next week, and that’s it!

I slept for a good nine hours last night. I woke up every three hours, hearing faint chattering in my brain, but the physical body won the battle and I fell back to sleep every time. I woke up at 7, chatted with Ralf a bit, did an hour of yoga, had breakfast with the gals. We greeted the sun for summer solstice and made some designs with sunprint paper. It was a little past ten by the time we finished and I was ready to go to bed. We should have gone to Costco so I can buy a pineapple to make Thai fried rice that will be served in a pineapple “boat” tonight, part of the menu of summer solstice foods. But I cannot. I surrendered and went to lay on the couch for about an hour while Val worked on a puzzle and Sophia made a drawing for me. No Thai pineapple fried rice tonight. We’ll have the fish with apricot preserves, roasted carrots. Maybe I’ll cook some rice with turmeric for the yellow color.

I just felt so tired, and not sure what is going on. There also seems to be more Braxton-Hicks the last few days. I did wonder if baby will come earlier? But I really don’t think so. I think I just need to surrender and rest, because the road ahead is going to be long. Because if I do not rest now, I will not have the energy or mind-set to enjoy the scenery ahead. I told myself, forget about Cooking Day next week. So they’ll not have parchment chicken, or fried rice, or shrimp scampi and Ralf will not get the biscotti I wanted to make for him. But I really need to listen now, and curl up and sleep. Rest. Take ti really slow and easy.

The house may never get de-cluttered and the dust will never go away. But I cannot pretend not to hear any more. I will rest.I will conserve energy and listen and sense more closely the rhythm that my body wants me to fall into for the next few weeks.

Surrender feels good.

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To the worried people around me:

when you say you are worried that I choose not to use the hospital and
an epidural; when you say you are worried that I cannot birth the baby
out at our cabin, in the cradle of nature and in the echoes of
bubbling water; when you say you are worried that things will go
wrong, with me and/or my body;when you say that you are worried that
my body, swollen and ripe, knows not what to do when the baby is ready
to swim out of my waters… …

when you say all that, you sadden my heart.

Because, you are not rejoicing with me how Life is wonderful to hold
and behold.

Because, you are not trusting me and my wish to listen to my body and
let it do its sacred work.

Because, you have forgotten the women that were before us, that are
us, and that will be us. You do not feel on you the warm, strong
womanly hands supporting birthing women of past, holding quivering
thighs, soothing aching backs and holding triumphantly the Life that
passes through the canal of birth. You do not hear them weep in joy
and laugh under the moon at the arrival of yet another new life in
this world. You do not hear them cry their hearts out, beating their
chests in sorrow when a Life chooses to pass by but quickly in this
red dust. You forget that women are vessels of Life. They are Life.

Because, you have grown to love the artificial light, and controlled
air temperatures and given over your rights to your body to let it do
what it knows best to do.

Because, you shrink away from pain. I do not seek pain, but pain is a
part of Life. It is there just like how Love, and laughter and Joy
should me. With pain, I know Life is squeezing me tight before
releasing me to sigh and weep in Joy. With pain, I know my body is
working, it is talking to me.

Because, when you worry like that, it makes the Joy I want to share
with you lessen. It becomes wispy and disappear into the air.

Because, when you doubt me, you doubt Birth, and therefore Life and
how it breathes and dances around us. You forget that it is a
privilege to hold and nurture a Life within. It is because Life trusts
you to trust yourself, that it plants the seed of Life, and hope,
within our bodies. Life knows we can perform the dance of Birth, in
frenzy, in passion, in Joy, and Pain, to bring forth a tender
beginning that holds so much hope and promise.

Dear worried people, I know you are concerned out of goodness. I know
you make different choices and I do not judge you either. I know you
just want things to go all smooth, and good, and easy for me. But what
is smooth, good, and easy? I have my journey to walk, and my baby
accompanies me. We are bound together to fulfil this destiny, to dance
this dance of Birth and Life. It may not look totally elegant to you,
but it is primal and beautiful to me, and something I look forward to
doing, in Love and Trust. Please do not worry anymore. But please also
be still and listen deeply, to the Life that is coursing through you,
and around you. Listen to the songs of Life and hear its beauty. I
hear them too, as I walk this path to my birth, our birth.

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 As I copied and pasted this post over to this website, I felt I have to add that Dr. J was truly a gift that Ferdinand had sent to me. She is just so kind, wonderful, gentle, sweet, and beautiful. And she has been so, so, very good to me. We need more people like these. People who totally put their heart into what they do. You can feel how she devotes her heart to your healing. Sometimes my heart aches to think of how she had felt for Ferdinand through my belly, yet never got to meet him. But at least, she had known him. What a strong spirit he had … … I am grateful for J’s presence in my life. I cannot express it anyway better… she’s like the angel without wings. Without Ferdinand, she would not have come into my life; chances are low we will ever crossed paths. So I thank Ferdinand for this gift.

Yesterday I went to my first chiro visit of my life. Never been to one, never spoken to one, never been touched by one.

My lower back has been killing me. I just want to die getting out of bed with shooting pains in my tail bone, and when I get up to walk, I have to make a big effort not to fall flat on my face. I decided I need to go get adjusted. All the bones in my body felt so wrong, like a badly put together puzzle stuck together with glue in all the wrong places.

We had several recommendations, none of which is covered by our insurance. We’ll have to pay everything out of pocket and of course we did not figure that into our budget at the beginning of the year. It’s not cheap, but then I don’t see why they should be, like, dirt cheap? And if they can take away the pain, or at least help me understand what **I** have been doing to cause myself pain, I am willing to pay. Maybe I have to forsake new underwear and chocolates and a professional haircut and other things, but right now, I want my back good!

So, after several phone calls, i decided to go to dr Jenny Dubisar out in Ahwatukee. At least she is not too far a drive away, though she is not the cheapest. I am most interested in the energy chiro guy but he is far and every visit is 2 hours, and right now, being 2 hours somewhere, plus driving, plus depositing the girls somewhere, is just not time I can afford. I went with Dr Jenny becoz I liked her on the phone.

I am a new patient and so last evening  they got me in to do an overall review and a first adjustment. I was there for almost two hours. Jenny tried to understand where my body had been and possibly why it is this way. She also did a nervous system feedback scan, using electrical pulses and we were both surprised by what we saw. She thought I shd get mostly “white feedback” which means healthy nervous responses. Green is ok, red is alert, and black, is well, not good at all! I got some whites, some greens, some reds and one black, which was shooting right out of the right side of my neck. jenny said she did not expect to see that, though it’s also good, coz now we know, and we can work on it. A lot of nervous tension in my neck, which surprises me, as I thought my tension are mainly in my shoulders and my middle back, where I feel aches most often. After that she took a couple of photos of me to show how my body is misaligned.

Then I got onto the balancing table and she touched me to feel the tension and did some adjustments. The baby moved A LOT during the whole time, but I was not uncomfortable or in pain. In fact, it felt good and lying face down on supportive pillows felt very comfortable as i have all the weight off my back and my belly. Then I laid on my back to have my round ligaments adjusted. And she also got me laying on my side with my top leg dangling over the bed, with her supporting me. This supposedly creates space for the baby to turn. Jenny has worked with many pregnant women but only three who had posterior babies, but she assured me she will look into research and see what she can do for me.

At the end of the session, I felt good. Hopeful. Though my tailbone felt a little sore.

This morning my tailbone is still sore, and I am still walking like a stumbling toddler. I have another session on Friday. I think we’ll do one session a week till we go up to the cabin. I told jenny I could not afford to see her more often and she said she understood. She is very nice, and her hands are very warm. Even if the baby does not spin over, it will be good to have been taken care of like that for a short time.

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Yesterday, S, H and I went to M’s house to cook and freeze foods in
preparation for my confinement.
We made plenty of coconut pancakes, and about 3 batches of the cheese
tartlets. We started at about 10am and ended at about 4pm. It was a
long, hot day of cooking, trying to cook, eating, chatting and
responding to our kids’ needs and screams and laughing and crying.

I just felt so lucky.

It’s the time they put in. It’s the energy. It’s the thought, the
efforts. To spend a day for a friend, cooking for her, knowing it will
help nourish her family while she practise her culture’s laying-in
custom. To tug one’s kids along and then hauling them home, crank and
tired on a long drive, and then oneself collapsing in fatigue at the
end of the day.

Oh, I don’t know how to say thank you so it really sinks into the
ground and sprout flowers. I am just appreciative and very thankful.
For all that they did.

And everyone else with their kind thoughts, concern, good wishes.
their love and light surrounds me, and I feel so blessed.

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Last night we finished dinner early so we can watch the water birth video that Robin had loaned us. We have been talking about the pending birth and how I am going to attempt a waterbirth and Val was incredulous that babies can be born under water. She thought we were bad jokers.

So we watched the video and halfway through Val told me, “You know, when Sophia was born, I was not scared. Really I was not scared. But I guess you didn’t know that.” I looked at her. Have we been through this conversation? I searched my brain in vain. I know we did talk about the possibility of them going over to either Cecille’s, or maybe Dick and Barbara, should I feel i need to focus and cannot take care of them. I do not remember mentioning that I think they would be scared. I think I actually avoided that because I did not want them to think birth is a scary thing. Val was initially upset as she said she wants to see how a baby is born, esp in water, and insisted we take both photos AND a video of the whole process. Actually, she told me the above, that she was not scared when Sophia was born, but that I did not know, twice. It gave me goosebumps. As if she knew my fears, and wanted to reassure me.

The girls were pretty nonchalant during the whole video while I was always on the verge of tears. They asked why the baby cried; why the mom cried; and why the dad cried? Sophia turned and asked me, “Will there be someone to help you?”; “Papa will be there to help you, right?” and so on. They did not seem scared, or too overly fascinated. Ralf asked why all the fathers in the video seem to have long hair and a beard. He also commented that the Guatemalan women are really quiet during the birth while the American women were loudly moaning and screaming. At one point during a Guatemalan birth, he said, “See? It’s no big deal at all!” And I turned and looked at him and replied, “Yeah, you gotta try it once! No big deal… …” The fact that the Guatemalan women tend to be so much more quiet also impressed upon me. Is it the presence of a filming crew, or is it a cultural thing? I wonder if the other women were screaming and yelling because of media influence? Perhaps in American popular media, birth is always such a dramatic thing, full of pain and commotion and excitement.

At some points of the video I felt a little scared. Those parts that were most challenging- when the baby’s head just start to emerge… the last few steps is always the hardest…. when the finishing line is close ahead, you feel the most like dying. This is my experience as a sprinter and runner. The closer you are the more you feel you are not going to make it. Those parts where the baby’s head is there, but when the mother is most in pain, and needs the greatest courage, stamina and strength to bring everything to fruition and completion, it scared me a little. I recall my own pain and myself on the verge of giving up.

Then I reminded myself that everyone has their own experiences and their own journey. I need not feel scared. I need not feel the fear. I really do NOT need to be scared! I started to try to envision my birth, our birth… our journey. Initially, I thought to myself, Do I even dare to write this? Dare I dream a vision and challenge the gods to thwart it? Do I want to put this down in black and white to see it burnt to ashes in futile hopes?

I decided I will write. If one fears to dream, and dares not to hope, then I might as well not live. This is my vision of our journey, when i step aside and watch myself:

The due date could not be determined, only estimated. So when the “due date” came and went, she was unperturbed. She had birthed on exact due dates before and it had not felt right. She had been shackled by the “when” before and determined to not let that happen this time. She was going with the flow of what needs to happen when it will occur best.

This morning she felt things were bathed in a different light when she walked into the kitchen. She made herself a cup of tea and sat to watch the leaves gently dancing in the breeze. She looked over down to the creek and the water was shimmering in the sun. A Stellar Jay settled on the deck rail and looked around, and she smiled again to think how this is like the Zorro bird to her. The girls woke up and they hugged and then decided to all have pancakes.

After breakfast the girls went out to play and she decided to also wash up and go outside to enjoy the fresh air. She thought the tightening across her belly felt stronger this morning as she was brushing her teeth. By the time she got changed, it dawned on her that her body was trying to tell her something. Her baby was trying to send her a message. Is this it? Is this the day? she wondered, and swallowed a lump.

Her husband came in from outside and she told him, while settling down onto her hands and knees as the forces hug and squeeze her again. They decided to go outside and walk around the property and see what the girls were up to. The sun already felt rather warm but the breeze was constantly breathing across the landscape, rustling leaves and exhaling loudly through the branches and grasses. She closed her eyes and tried to breathe with the breeze. It was definitely happening.

He prepared the tub while she went in to call their midwife. She’s coming. It will be a long drive, but she was not worried. The baby was not going to fly out. The body still needs to expand.

The morning passed as she sat and then walked and then squatted and crawled and swayed as she tried to compose her birth dance. The girls smiled and hugged her, giving her a boost in strength every time. They were looking for bugs, and building a bed with twigs up at the play fort of the play-set. They were going to sleep there, they say, and also have dinner there. She wondered if they will stay for the birth, or if she should call Dick and Barbara.

The tub was ready but she did not want to get in yet. The girls were hungry for lunch and something was quickly put together. She could not eat. She  just wanted something cold to drink. She wished they have some coconuts right in the fridge then. She chomped down on an energy bar, afraid she will run out of energy before the climax surged. She felt sweaty, and everything felt heavy. She felt like having a nap. She remembered thinking, “I don’t want to be checked. No!!”

Their midwife R arrived with her assistant M. She felt relieved. Some womanly company is good, and reassuring. She needed that support. It’s as if all that energy squeezing on her can be shared then. She dec’d it was time to have the girls brought over to the neighbor’s. The energies are closing in on her faster and faster, stronger and stronger. She remembered to think about how contractions means expansions. How things are in nature…. wax and wane; grow and die; compress and propel… the stronger the squeezes, the more the body opens to create a glorious passage way for the baby.

The leaves were no longer rustling. Not in her eyes. She could no longer hear the busy birds. She was in a bubble. Surrounded by water, she moved about, trying to find a place to be comfortable, yearning for a feeling of being cradled and support. It was hard. Comfort became a fleeting concept. This was not a time for rest, but one that called for dynamics. Move. Swing. Sway. Float. Move again. Breathe. He tried to get into her rhythm, watching and moving; sometimes in opposition, so together they form a complete motion. Sometimes merging in the flow. R and M stayed close, sometimes still, sometimes uttering words of comfort and encouragement, sometimes moving their energies together. The sounds, the heat, the movements, the energies, of people around her, kept her going. Sometimes she felt like crying, and she was not sure if she was touched by it all, or impatient, or afraid, or just moved by some mysterious energy within. She reminded herself to have no fear. She reminded herself that Nature is working with her. She reminded herself of how the butterfly has to struggle to cast off that cocoon. She reminded herself of the many tastes of life- sweet, bitter, salty, sour… she reminded herself not to think of the magnitude of dilation- when the times comes, the body knows and there is no holding back the waves.

The afternoon floated by in waves of breezes. Animals scurry and flit here and there. The light is shifting. She started to feel drowsy listening to the creek bubbling and bubbling non-stop, flowing over the rocks, the plants, carrying with it memories and stories and songs and words… …

Then something awoke her. Something was moving downward. The baby wants to swim out. Yes, yes! It’s about time! She felt a sudden pang of fear- how is he going to get out?! Is he in the right position?! Yes, yes, he is. Remember! It is meant to happen and he will swim out. You just need to remain open and not let fear slam the door shut. OK, yes, she tried to remember, clutching to the edge of the tub. She wanted to bite into something, somebody. Some flesh. And then she remembered to let go. Be loose, be flowing. No tightness, no fears.
His head emerged. She cannot decide what to do. This is the hardest part. Is he able to breathe down there? Is he OK? The breeze is blowing and the creek continued to flow. Yes, flow. Think of the waters merging… the baby will be carried out. She tried to breathe. Tried not to yell and scream and suddenly be afraid that she was not going to do it. She imagine that he is squirming, wanting to be in the light. She breathed down, and out. Imagining her breathe is water. Imagining boatmen and mermaids and oars and seaweed and golden shimmering bubbles and women singing and chanting and slapping their thighs and their hearts. She heard all, she saw all. It’s just a little more, she knew, she just had to be brave.

She was not sure how, but in a moment his shoulder was out and he swam right into the tub, right into the creek, right into the flow of life! Yes, he’s here, he’s here!

The wind exhaled loudly and the creek laughed as everyone’s faces brightened to welcome a fresh new life onto this earth. Tears, tears, water all around. She thought, “We are on the other side now, my son. We’re arrived on the shore!” Welcome, baby. The day was fading away in the golden light, a small group of people stood by and around the tub, near to the creek and laughed in joy, marveling at the new little life with a face that said it also had so much to say and to tell. Night wants to throw her veil over everyone, the day is drawing to a glorious end. And a new life just began… …

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When one gets sporadic, and regular (don’t ask me how sporadic and regular goes together, but they do in the preggie world) panic attacks, and moments of doubt, and silly fears and crazy random thoughts, the best thing is to sit down and think about the millions of things one feels thankful for.  Yes, so many things to be thankful for. And that is grounding, and gives one the energy and the much-needed boost to forge on.

I am thankful for–

~ two healthy, beautiful and cool daughters. They are the greatest, even if they make me claw the walls sometimes.

~ a healthy, mostly uneventful pregnancy. All seems to be going well… ..

~ the possibility of a natural waterbirth. We have options, and that is a good thing. I have come to realized people who have no choices. having choices and options is a privilege. I am so grateful.

~ friends who are just beyond wonderful. Sometimes i wonder what I have done to deserve their friendship and love? Esp the last few years when i don’t feel I have been a good friend at all; mostly just trying to cover my own butt, not giving as much as i would like to… but they are so generous and giving. I feel honored.

~ the cabin to escape to; where we will stay at after the birth, to be out of the valley heat. It’s still a hell lot of fixing, but we have it. And just having the cool breezes, flowing creek and dark night skies with a million stars is all worth all the heartaches and bone-aches and muscle-aches and penny-pinching to death.

~ Ralf and I coming out of darkness in our relationship. He has been also trying so hard to be a good father. It’s hard i know because he had never wanted to get married or have children, and he’s working so hard right now. And he did all the driving still despite his limpy still- swollen and bad sprained ankle. There are times when we still yell at each other and fight, but things are so much better. Thank goodness.

~ offerings of Blessingway and baby shower and diapers and clothing and everything. To be in the flow of kindness and able to receive is to enjoy such good fortune. I only hope to give back at least doubly.

~ mostly restful sleeps. sometimes it feels I am waking up a lot, to sounds, to thoughts flitting by, to the bladder screaming to be emptied, to crying children. But mostly still peaceful.

~ wonderful people who pass in and out of my lives; sometimes they only stay so short and make for the beautiful sighs in my life’s memory; but at least they visit briefly

~ people who write and share their thoughts so I can learn and find shapes to my own thoughts and experiences

~ fans and air-conditioners and shade.

~ fresh coconuts that can be found at Lee Lee’s. This week we begin our “coconut juice diet” that is supposed to give baby good skin!

~ the internet so I can talk with my other 2 preggie friends from across the ocean

~ a peaceful morning while I worked on the computer and Enya plays in the background and Val draws and Sophia builds

~ Ebay, where I found the Rose of Jericho, and should order soon

~ the carpet that right now though full of stains, is rather free of toys and junk so I can lay down and take a nap if I wish

~ tom yum paste in a bottle so I don’t have to squat on the floor for three days grinding everything into a paste

~ the TV, VCR and DVD player. Without movies we wilt.

~ the funny bone in Ralf that sometimes really cracks us up so much we feel totally in bliss

~ the telephone that I can choose not to answer sometimes

~ the cherries that went on sale at Sprouts. We are collecting the pits to make ice-packs.

~ the heat so we are trapped inside and I have no choice but to get organized

~ food and water and drinks and company to enjoy good food with

~ vegetables that managed to grow and allows us to harvest and eat

~ having to waddle and shuffle about now so i appreciate good posture and what fortune it is to just be able to walk, sit and sleep normally!

Last weekend I finished reading Rebecca Walker’s “Baby Love”. It was an interesting read that cover universal themes about maternal yearnings for a baby, a woman and her relationship with her mother, with her body, feminism and motherhood, etc. One thing she wrote that struck me- (paraphrased); the yearning for a baby is the yearning for an opportunity to do family all over again; to do it right.
I can so relate to that. I think I wanted a baby first time because I felt my childhood was not…. sufficient. I wanted to prove to my mother and family that i can do it better; that they did not “get it” but I do and I’m going to show them… …
The second time I had no agenda. Isn’t it horrible? To think one had an agenda? This is exactly what makes motherhood complicated and heartbreaking. We want to right all the wrong things done to us. We want to, through our children, tell our parents- i wish you had loved me this way. I wished you had done this and that for me.
This third time. We accept. We flow. I still want to do it right. But for myself, for my children. I owe no one anything and I need no longer show anyone anything. You have to choose for your own family. You can only choose for your own family. Who cares what the creep others think.

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Dear Little Baby,

you have been moving a lot. Day, night, up, down, horizontal, vertical, circular, linear… even if I do not feel it, I know you are constantly moving. you are growing. You are supposed to be about four pounds now! That’s so exciting… I smile to read that you are growing heavier and bigger. Your sisters were big babies, and you probably will continue the trend. It’s ok, no worries about weight, no worries about numbers. You will be born natural and healthy and joyfully.

Last weekend at the cabin, I was changing sheets in the guest bedroom. I could hear so clearly the creek flowing outside. Rhythmic, energetic, cleansing and soothing. I started to think maybe putting the birth tub in there is not so bad an idea afterall. But outside will be better. A little distance away from the apple tree. I closed my eyes and listen. And I imagine you and I, inside the tub, by the creek, and listening to the energy and gurgle of the water. Feeling the momentum and power and mystery of the waters. Inside of me you are inside of water too. I imagine all the waters merging, and you will just swim out of me, a happy wrigglying fish of a baby. Yes, yes, we will have a beautiful birth outside, next to the running creek. I feel impatient already.

I wonder about your face. Last night at the dinner table Sophia suddenly began to use her cute little hands to brush her hair to behind her ears. That’s interesting because I’ve always liked to do that and she had always told me she wanted her hair to hang right about her face, framing her cheeks. She asked, “Mama, do i look cute like this?” And I told her, “Oh, yes, very, very cute!” And then she replied, “But if I look cute, you may laugh at me!” Oh, precious! I told her I laugh because I feel happy, not to make fun of her! I can imagine your sisters grooming you one day, combing and brushing whatever hair you may have, putting in pink hairclips, declaring you the Prince in the family. I feel a movement, are you tickled by that thought too? It will be so fun. Sometimes I feel a little scared how we will transition, but I think it is going to be very fun, and love and laughter will soothe over everything.

You are pushes and squirms and wiggles, and you feel very abstract. Even when you showed us your knee the other afternoon when Mani was going to feel for you. It’s so weird! Seeing parts of you poking around. I laughed. And lately I have been thinking about how you look like. I think it is because we are also thinking of names, and I am wondering how a name and a face go together. What personality… … what temperament. Still, I’ve never seen a clear face of you and I am waiting for that. When Sophia came to me a few minutes ago, I visually traced her eyebrows and looked deeply into her beautiful eyes, glazed over her little nose and enjoyed her gorgeous lips. She came to snuggle and I held her head to my breast, and run my palms up and down her arms. We hugged and I can feel her warm bare skin next to mine. She is so tangible, like you are so abstract. I can’t wait to feel your flesh, your bones, your skin. To really hold and behold you, my little one.

It is not so long, and not too short. Seven weeks will just fly by. Hair can turn white in a day. Time is such a slippery fascinating concept to me, especially these days. What is long, what is short? Can time pause? Moments freeze into eternity.

My dear, dear little one. We welcome you already. Actually, you are already being tossed between us. Embraced, held, cuddled and loved. You are here already, in very abstract forms. But you are already a part of us. We are just waiting to hear your first cry, your first laughter. We are waiting, impatient yet joyful, for you to come join our family. You are so welcomed. We are honored and we await.

Keep healthy and keep happy and grow strong!

Love you to bits,
Mama

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