What Dreams May Come

I'm looking for poetic things in the cracks of my dreams last night. I remember people leaving each other, laying next to one other underneath the stars. Isn't that too intimate of a place to say goodbye?

I remember giant yellow magnets...and the one that said 'It Is Done.' The artsy picture then became a movie, and I woke up thinking it was beautiful. These dreams. They don't make sense. Even less so--I see--my words fail to organize them.

What of DREAMS now? Aren't they so vivid? Is it the postpartum hormones? Or the intense shift of my identity? Am I sifting through the remnants of some past me? Looking to find what to keep and what to throw? Is the EGO re-defining? Yes....

I ache for all things beautiful. These dreams are delicate, pretty. I like that. My life dreams are like my night dreams...

Time is different now. Precious. And unpredictable.

Everything I want is tied up in this family's future. In Dax's future. In our future children's future. What I hope TO DO is not as important now as WHY.

(In between dreams...) I am laying down next to me in the grass. Under the stars. Thinking 'isn't this too intimate of a place to say good-bye'?

Right as Rain

It's raining outside. The palm tree juts out in jagged lines. A spiky black silhouette against the grey sky. The white curtains glow with light in front of the window in the nursery as we rock gently. His navy blue eyes watch the shiver of the trees outside. His eyes, still and open. As we rock. Back and forth.

'I love you,' I think. His little body like a magnet to mine. My breath sets the pace for his breath. I must calm down to get him down. I'm learning patience. I listen to the cars in the street turn the corner in front of our house, their splash coats the curb. Like a short breath. And. Breathe.

I have nothing to do but love you. Every day. Just that thought alone makes my throat well up. My eyes choke back tears. Thank you God. Oh My God, Thank You.

I see my world, my house, my thoughts...through your eyes now. Everything is new. Everything is in place. Everything is safe and planned. And lovely.

I feel at home. For the first time in years, everything makes perfect sense.

This Is Home.

My Announcement, love it...

Hello Green Birth Announcement

Find hundreds of elegant baby birth announcements at Shutterfly.com.

View the entire collection of cards.

Isn't It New

What does one say about the birth of their child? What pictures can I paint that will truly fill you in...let you in on this life change? I exhale. I believe. There's not much now to do but start...

Dear Dax,
I love you. I love you more than you can possibly know. I've seen others have children and babies and my removal from all this made me think that maybe you would be all about diapers and late nights and sacrifices. I wasn't ready for THE JOY. I wasn't ready for that switch to be flipped...the one that would do ANYTHING for you. Jump in front of trains to protect you.

This is how I feel. How quickly you've weaved yourself into the fabric of my life, how effortlessly your cry fills the space and you are as normal as living now. You have turned my life upside down. You have changed everything, and yet sometimes, I'm surprised by how life continues the same too. You are the light in my eyes. You are the realized dream of Dave and I's future. How can I try to explain this more? I can't.

You were born on October 4th in the early early morning. You were 7 and 1/2 pounds. Labor surprised me. I suffered. I strained. I gave birth to you. I knew that was the end of pregnancy, but the empty space in my belly is weird now. Seeing you here. Now. Is a dream. A miracle. I have a lump in my throat.

Parenthood is elusive. I thought I would feel older. Like marriage made me feel. I don't though. I feel younger maybe. Slightly inadequate. But more confident than I ever thought I'd feel. I am confident that I know what you need. Confident as your mother that I'll be what you need me to be. That confidence has been a surprise. I am not scared. I feel chosen by you.

And Dave. The love we felt those first few days. An intensity that made me cry when we kissed. Seeing him rock our son to sleep has been my soul's great joy.

Thank you world. For blessing me. So profoundly. I drop to my knees in reverence of these gifts I've been given. As my family surrounds me now--the uncles and aunts and grandparents rally around our home to love you. What love. What love I feel now. Thank you world. Thank you.

Forever and ever and ever,
yours.

Diary of a Due Date

Today was dripping with pretty.

I woke up to the quiet licks of lightening, appearing like white veins in the grey sky. The cracks of thunder moved me to the window. The scene was drenched. Flowers lit up our yard--bits of paint, yellow and red roses. They were bright and vivid. Bursting against the slicked green leaves. 

I listened to the sound of the world and loved her. Loved her chatter. The cymbal sound on the concrete. I was glad for it. Glad that today looked different than other days. I wanted the outside to be different. 

I walked for an hour today with my mother-in-law in this warm, wet neighborhood--we trekked over the hills, pausing at snails. It felt purposeful--her and I--waiting for the little guy, swinging him in my hips, encouraging him. We ate egg and cheese sandwiches and baked sugar cookies, frosting them at the table. I drank my raspberry tea and we enjoyed the weather together. The silence outside soothed me. 

I am so tired now. I let the Big Day pass over me. I am thankful for it. Thankful it's over. I can get on with real things, like uncertainty. And life.

Hurry Up and Wait

I'm still here. Full moon pregnant.

Forty weeks in just days. These things seems so arbitrary now...my little man knows little of the date we've chosen for him. 

I hear pineapple helps induce labor. And sex. And walking. I'll try them all...

I've nested. And re-nested. The closet are clean. The cupboards organized. I did six loads of my husband's laundry on Sunday. In the decade we've been together, I've only washed one load of his laundry. And I ruined two of his shirts. This time. His clothes are clean and perfect. Nesting is real. 

Now I want my dark corner. Like a cat. I've shuffled around my nest of newspapers. I want to SIT DOWN and WAIT. I want to Be Quiet. I want darkness. And silence. Leave me alone world, I have the world's work to do...

38 Weeks. Wait...whaa?

Time has stopped completely. I am paralyzed. I can do nothing. I can think nothing but when when when will this happen? I am obsessed.

I can't believe I'm here. I'm on the fringe of mommyhood. Isn't this something other people do? Not me, there's no way I'm ready for this.

I am gathering up my little baby belongings. I am lining them against the crib. I am thumbing through his little baby closet daily. I am picking out outfits for him. I am wondering who he will be. How will I usher him through this life, as best I can, without being TOO MUCH.

I am mourning every moment of right now. Almost like the way one mourns grandparents who lived good long lives. I am sad to see this moment GO, but I know it's time.

I have a headache right now and my belly is moving like crazy. Dax is shuffling around in his amniotic hammock, making himself at home. I don't know why, but labor still feels like a ways off. I have a feeling I won't be early. Or so my intuition says. I think I'll sense when it's closer. I'll just know...

Does everyone around me feel the weight of the world shift? Do they feel the light in the air move differently? Nothing feels the same to me right now. Every moment is a moment I've never felt before. I'm knee-deep in Change.

I love you, my little buddy. I will miss you in my belly. I will miss your turns and rolls, your closeness, your safeness, you're unknown.

But right now, I want you OUT. My dear son,

I want to hear you Laugh.

Kitty Chronicles

Trick Daddy almost died the other day. He's our seven-year old cat, black and shiny, sensitive and moody. Strangers don't really care for him. He isn't very nice to them. He hisses and haws. He looks crazy-eyed and aggressive. He's swiped a few house guests here and there.

We found him in 2004 in Dave's old condo complex. According to the vet, he was probably one years old. He was crying and roaming and looked unkept and lost. When we offered him milk, he lapped it. When we opened our door, he jumped on our old black leather couches and started cleaning himself contently. Every once in awhile he would do a little happy cat twist for us.

He was dirty and scrappy and we figured full of disease. We bathed him and he let us. He still does to this day. We put out a plate of rocks for him to pee on that night. I did it to soothe Dave, figuring it would never work. It did. Our kitty peed on a plate of rocks. To this day, he's never soiled a floor.

He never wanted to leave again. We frequently opened the door so he could find home, if he had one. He refused. To be honest, we didn't look too hard for any previous owners. I mitigate that sin within myself by reassuring myself that he was either abandoned or ran away from home.

Through the years, Trick stayed with me as Dave and I moved in and out of each other's homes as we navigated our young relationship. To us, Trick has been the picture perfect cat. A lap cat. The kind of cat that nuzzles in the morning and purrs by your ear. An indoor-outdoor cat for years, he always would come when he was called. At his nightly curfew, I could call into the dark apartment parking lots of the apartments I lived in, and like a black panther, I would see Trick barrelling across the yard running towards me. Eager to please. Like a puppy.

Unfortunately, due to his extreme intolerance of others, I suspect many of the loved ones in my life secretly believe that I'd be better off without him.  Yet most people don't see the Trick that Dave and I see. The cat we adore for his intelligence and smarts, his love and his loyalty. This is the cat I protect, I feed, I love. My kitties bring me great joy. (To read about our furry sociable two-year-old kitty Diego, click here).

The point of this whole thing is: Trick almost died the other day. And I almost completely lost it.

We don't let the cats freely roam here. But we do have a fenced backyard they frequently explore. Little Diego doesn't attempt escape, but Trick does. Unsupervised, he'll be gone in a flash. As was the case the other day. I went into the house for a few minutes to check on dinner. Within minutes, Trick was gone.

I ventured into the neighborhood and quickly spotted Trick exploring a lush hillside directly across the street from our house. I approached him.

Something spooked Trick and he started running. Directly into the street towards the house. Not particularly scary, except at that exact moment a teal Toyota RAV4 was speeding around the corner. The driver must have not been paying much, if any, attention.  The bulbous figure of the 8-month pregnant woman wearing a hot pink tank top in the middle of the street, chasing after her sprinting cat did not cause the driver pause.  My flailing arms did not cause him pause either.

I didn't see the driver brake until the screaming started. My blood-curdling scream cut the air as I watched. With complete horror. My cat go in front of the car. Right in front of the speeding car. I watched him disappear. They met in exactly the same place. Trick didn't just miss the car. The car and my cat met. In the middle of the street.

In that moment. I saw the flash. I saw my cat's limp body splayed on the street. I saw the end of an era. I saw the guilt flood like disease through me. I saw my grief.  I lived that nightmare. Lived in its horror completely. And then the moment passed.

Trick had gone UNDER the car. The car got him head on. BUT it did not squish him or hit him. He went UNDER the front tires and in his furious kitty hurry he made it out the side. Of a moving car. Unharmed. Guided by a divine hand.

I saw Trick, tail ballooned, jump an 8-foot fence in one leap, scrambling over the side back into our yard.

Inside, once we found Trick safely under our bed, Dave told me he heard that horrific scream of mine.  I broke down. I cried for atleast an hour. Convulsing with each vision of that moment. The moment I saw Trick dead. I was so shaken up.

Now it's days later. Trick was weird at first, hiding under the bed. The vet said 'he'll be ok' and gave us some anti-inflammatory and bandages for his paws and some clips for his bloody nails that dug into the pavement and the fence. And he's better now. But sometimes, when I look at him, that vision causes me to shudder.

Mostly, it made me think of being a mother. How I felt so responsible for my cat and how that feeling must be a billion times more intense when you have your own kid. How would I cope with being the person responsible for another person? This person will depend on me TO LIVE. I feel that so strongly with my cats, I realized how much more serious it is going to be as a mother.

I can imagine as a mother towards her child it's over the moon more tangible, more frightening, more gripping than that. How do mothers cope with the fear? The fear of losing something you love that much? I'm scared to imagine that. Scared to feel that. If I feel this towards my cat, how paralyzing will my love for my child be?

making little mes&yous

I met my little boy last night, tucked inside my dreams. He was whisked away after delivery to be cleaned. I waited for an hour to see him. In dream time, probably like one minute. When I saw him, he was everything I thought he'd be: handsome and mine. I was relieved to find I loved him instantly.

In the blurry edges of last night, he was born atleast 6 months old as he could already charm people with his baby kisses. I saw old friends and they oohed and awwed. In my dream everything was All Right. All Right, I beamed.

In real life, I'm about six weeks away from B day. Six weeks. Did you hear that? Six f**king weeks. A blink. Of an eye. My obsession is reaching fever pitch. I wonder/worry/think aloud only pregnancy. Last night at the movies, I worried the volume was too loud for my little one's inner ear. I put a protective extra hand over my belly, hoping the extra layer of skin would dull the bass of the surround sound.

I look at Dave now and can't wait to see him as a Father. A Dad. My Husband. My Life's Love. I am overwhelmed with how much I love him. Last night, as I was a bit sick to my stomach, feeling down and achy, he led me downstairs where it was cooler. He brought me chilled water and a pillow for my belly. The other pillow we shared, head to head, on the green fabric sectional couch. You and me, we formed an L. A Picture of Love. We woke up hours later with the twinkle lights in the trees, yellow on our limbs. You held my arm as we sleep-walked up the stairs.

These moments guarantee that I'll love you forever. When you painted the nursery, I loved you. When you said told me you were sorry that I felt down, I loved you. When you say 'good morning' to my belly, I loved you. The blessings we share do not escape me. Not one day could go by without me counting from one to a zillion why I'm the luckiest girl on earth.  

I am looking forward to enjoying these last few weeks of our aloneness. It's been You and Me for eight great years. And I think I'm going to miss that. In the forever we face as we grow our descendants, I will miss just You and Me. I know the journey is going to be different and amazing and change us in ways we can't imagine and believe you me I'm looking forward to that. It's time. I know that.

But I aim, through all this love and change and making little mes&yous, to keep my eyes on you too. And you keep your eyes on me too, k? Cause in the end, isn't it still just You and Me?

Bullocks to the Third

So pregnancy has been pretty easy on me, I have to admit. I am blessed, I do not deny this. Even so, the third trimester IS the pits. Baby Dax is uber-expanding and I've read that he doubles in size in like the next six weeks. W. T. F.  Sleeping is getting to be a pillow extravaganza. Even my cats have forsaken the bed for the floor.

I had a baby shower in Minnesota last week. It was really lovely. Here's some pics from my trip...

                                                the mobile my sis made for the shower...

Mmm...paper airplane cupcakes...

                                                                      belly shot in red...

I am 33 weeks today, but here's last week's pic...

The Sounds of the Suburbs

So I've been making jokes lately about what yuppie-land we live in here in the green northern canyons of San Diego, where a nice cool breeze ruffles our rose bushes. And then, much to my heart's content, I am typing here at my laptop and I hear an irate neighbor's voice rise through his patio door, "F**k you, f**k you, and f**k YOU." And so on and so forth, voice in a crescendo. His inflections directed with absolute rage at whosoever his targets are. A screen door slams.

And so. Naturally. My two well-groomed cats and I gather at the window peering through the trees, trying to see beyond the clean rattan patio furniture of our neighbor's yard. Shadows skirt the concrete and we hear a woman's voice coaxing her irate male somebody... "Corey...Corey...come in here." She is taming her shaky voice, and my cat lovingly rubs his head under my chin.

Naps for Everyone

Here he is (kinda)!

31 weeks...Got 9 weeks to go...Eek, single digits!

Isn't it obvious already how darn cuuuuute he is ;-)?!

This Little Light of Mine

Getting ready to fly to Minnesota tomorrow. I am going to visit my mom and sister and niece, and they are throwing me a baby shower! Hurray! I have lots of family and friends up there in the Minneapolis/Fargo area so should be fun.

In the midst of my packing, I've tried on nearly every single outfit in my closet that has the chance of fitting. I found some long-lost gems I forgot about that suit my maternity look well. But more often than not, I found my choices dwindled further. On a positive note, I bought super cute capris today that were too expensive, but that I will probably wear everyday until I give birth.

---------------------------------
On a totally different note,

I'm feeling lately extra sensitive about the people in my life and the struggles of the daily grind.
I'll leave with a mini-poem...

The world is on its axis right now
tipping over
spilling guts out.
You and them and him and her
are all struggling
with the weight of its insides
crushing
souls down.
i see the earth bearing down
and the bodies in pieces
the population wide-mouthed and
pleading.
i want to relieve you
All. 
What needs to be done here God
so we may lay 
our burdens down?


Can't you see our little lights,
struggling to get air? 

Silhouette in Blue

 I worked on the house today. It feels like the first time since we've moved in that I've had a weekend without a barbeque or wedding or visitors or out-of-town travel. I meant to get so much more done, but I'm slower now; I kind of shuffle around the house.

The last couple days I've pretty much eaten very poorly. It seems like cakes and cookies and ice cream bars are the quickest solution to my hunger pangs. How cliche are these cravings? Pre-preggo, I don't typically crave that stuff--I kind of considered the "sweet tooth" a sign of weakness. Um, yeah...I will retract that judgement for the rest of my life thankyouverymuch. 

I go through stages though. While I can always make it through breakfast with some tasty fruit and whole grain Cheerios or english muffin, the nighttimes kind of are like hit or miss. It depends on how much I feel like cooking. Today? Not so much...

Dax's room is filling up with his toys and sheeps and baby things that keep arriving in the mail. I started a pile by his pack-n-play. I love looking at it. I love imagining him sleeping there. I love imagining his cry, his smile, his presence. I smile all by myself sometimes. 

Who are you, little man?

You're my heart. You're my heart.

Snippets of Things to Say

I was hugging the curves around Bancroft Street today when I saw a playground to my right. In my mind's eye, a giant brown unicorn lounged in the yard. It was a tangled branch. Still, I wasn't disappointed.

At the wedding last weekend in Jerome, AZ, we all cuddled inside the garden. We talked about large things like love and eternity. The fountain was too loud sometimes, I couldn't hear the words that slipped from our lips, but I knew them anyway. We were all trying to find forever here. We believe.

In our little flat above the Flat Iron Cafe, you and me, we could see the red and pink cliffs in the distance. How cute are these stores in Jerome, lined up like brightly colored antiques? We fumble up the town's stairs hand in hand. I feel so petite and pretty and protected by you...seven months pregnant...your little lady...I feel safe...and slightly owned by you. How primal are we...

Cupid-sized boxes keep arriving in the mail for our little one. Yesterday, I opened a board book and got teary-eyed. "This is for our son," I thought, as the image of him poured into my heart. I ached for his presence just then. These not-yet memories thrill me.

My brother is filling his space here. I am pleasantly pleasant. I've missed him. The cakes he's making help. Like a lot.