Nearing Birth, 37 Weeks Unassisted

Lately, there has been a major shift; physically and emotionally. I frequently wake up in the middle of the night, and the very early morning. I carefully move my legs out of bed, trying not to cause my hips more pain. I limp over to the kitchen and get something to drink and snack on. I empty my bladder for the hundredth time. I sit in my recliner and enjoy the silent darkness, before my toddler wakes and comes running sleepily to find me and nurse in my heavy, burdened lap.

I need more rest, and more time to think. I’m less interested in what it going on outside and around me. My focus draws inward, to the life that moves so strongly inside of me. I am startled awake sometimes by the strength of this little ones kicking.

Most of the time I feel joyful anticipation over the upcoming birth, but there are moments of panic when I consider the task ahead of me. It is the hardest thing to do. It takes physical and mental strength like nothing else I have done. I draw deep from within myself to have the courage, I lean on my husband physically and emotionally, and I pray to my Savior for His strength to come to me when I lose mine. I hold in my minds eye the image of my newborn, and I remind myself of the joy to come.

My contractions have become more intense since yesterday. Still sporadic, like the casual tossing of a sea. Yet, stronger. Filled with the sensation of my babies head pressing down, helping to soften and open me up to their birth. At times it feels like a powerful hug, almost enjoyable. At other times, it wakes me up and I cringe in pain.

My toddler still needs me so much physically. It is very difficult to handle his demands against my own needs at the end of pregnancy. I have committed myself to nursing him until he self-weans, esp because of his concerning lack of weight gain (a subject for another day). But it is hard!

My due date is still two weeks away, but I don’t think the baby is waiting that long. Time will tell.

I never had a winter baby before. It is kind of fitting, as the earth goes into itself that I would also go inward. It feels right, in some spiritual sense.

Shalom.

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Mountain – A Poem

20170406_182751Our love is a gentle breeze

I am a mountain, tall and solid

From my soil grows all types of fruit,

Warm and ripe from the summers sun

From my ground—sharp rocks, jagged edges

You cut your feet when you try to climb me

Your hands reach for the delicious fruit

Hanging there on branches like slender arms

Your blood soaks into the earth of me,

Wet and dark

The ground is fertile like the lining of a womb

The rocks are a boundary raised from

Volcanic eruptions, earthquakes; things that injure

And kill

And our love floats up to me,

Where the white snow covers my highest peaks

It sings to me, asks me to allow you inside

Every crevice and cave

Allow you to pick any fruit you desire

Taste its sweetness

But I shake my earth like a quivering woman

In rage, in shame, in storm clouds and rain

Red fire engulfs the trees, the birds, all things

Alive and beautiful

I am covered in ashes, black as onyx stone

I cannot accept your bleeding feet, your outstretched arm,

Your longing song you sang to me

And yet, beneath the ashes of my rage and pain

The tiniest of sprigs pushes itself stubbornly

Through the hot earth

Its leaves are the newest green, soft and supple

Like the breasts of a young woman

And then it stands taller, grows wider, takes up more space

Soon I am covered in these proud plants

Then trees, and their strong branches

Where birds come to nest and raise their young

I am alive again

The mountain breathing

My lover comes again, here you are

Your feet have healed and my rocks

Don’t

Cut you

You are patient in your climbing,

Holding onto earth and tree

You find me in the quiet solace of

My highest peaks

We rest together in the comforting snow

I hear the song you sing to me

And I begin to sing it too

We live together

And the blood-soil you gave me

Has become a sign for

New things

To come and grow here