mom here now

Welcome, traveler to the sacred place of transition Here the veil thins, and is lifted Now the peace of eternity enters On a soft breeze illusions of separation carried away Life begins with the inhalation the inspiration the incarnation Breathe in God comes to you Life ends with the exhalation The expiration . . .  Breathe out Go to God One is worship the other surrender both are prayer Welcome, traveler to the sacred space of your own breath

I longed for a third baby since my second child, Leo, was born at home in 2017. I tried to shake the desire and I tried to talk myself out of it, but it was always there, refusing to stay suppressed, refusing to disappear. First births are often traumatic, and mine was no exception. My first child, Rosa, was born in 2014 and came into this world kicking up a fuss after 36 hours of labor, a failed epidural at the 30-hour mark that resulted in a cerebrospinal fluid leak (aka "wet tap"; summary: worst headache ever), an epidural that worked, and two "blood patches" to stop the fluid leak. (That is four epidurals in total, if you're counting.) She was exactly 40 weeks gestation and weighed a healthy 7 lbs 13 oz. In those days , I was working as a legal aid attorney in D.C. and teaching yoga on the side. I was newly married, living in a rowhouse with my husband, cat, and two roommates, and my bike was my main form of transportation. My last day of work was June 20, a...

Lately, I've been somewhat stunned by how well I've been functioning. Keeping the trains running on time, organizing big kid schedules, nursing and doctor visit schedules, sleeping and eating well-ish, pumping just enough milk. Staying positive and thoughtful. Laughing. Being mostly appropriate and inoffensive in social settings. Putting pen to paper. Engaging with the outside world, albeit from my safe little bubble via social media/blogging. I've also been reading The Body Keeps the Score by Bessel van der Kolk, wondering if some of the traumas I've experienced in the past months have been fully digested/integrated already, or if I am just racking up a huge trauma debt that is going to take years to process, coming out sideways at all the wrong times. I don't want to relive the darkest hours of this experience in therapy; living them once was enough, thank you very much. When I am relatively calm in the face of some really heavy shit, over and over again, I wonde...