Our sweet Zennith turned 18 months yesterday. It is crazy how different time exists as a parent. To think that he has graced us with his Earthly presence for 1.5 years and been in our awareness for over two years is really quite incredible. What a rollercoaster life has been since 2016. But today we celebrate Zen and all his amazingness. Zen is exactly as his name suggests, very zen. He has always been this way. He was easy in the womb, sat perfectly around my bladder, avoided major kicks to my organs, and allowed me to get good sleep through the entire pregnancy. Zen came into this world on the morning of May 7th, 2017 with a very easy to calm nature. As soon as he was in my arms and warm he relaxes. Zen immediately latched and was a good eater from the first hour of birth. He started off as a great sleeper, and rarely cried for more than one minute. We were blessed and truly believe he chose his name and whispered it to us so it would represent him. OR maybe the energy of the name Zen has allowed us to have a peaceful, happy baby. Zen has taught us the very meaning of living in the present moment. He has encouraged us to step out of the past and not yearn much for nor stress about the future, as he is persistent in making sure we are attentive and really engaged. He is quickly aware if we are on our phones and not present, and will grab the phone out of our hands and through it. I am grateful to have been raised during the time when no phones or computers existed (until my late high school years). I want Zen to have our presence. I want him to feel included in our adult ways. I want him to learn the balance of living in a world of technology and living in tune with nature. I yearn for his happiness and am quick to help him move through his sadness. I am in awe at how a child moves through each moment and emotion. Now that he is starting to explore "tantrums", it is incredible how quickly he can fall deep into anger or frustration and just as quickly release it and find something new in front of him that allows for a feeling of happiness to take over. As adults, we bury our emotions and when they do surface they take over for longer than 60 seconds. Zennith is such a BLESSING. At the age of 18 months, he enjoys lots of things but here are a few highlights:
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It's nearly impossible to believe I survived the past year without you Deborah Lord. A year ago today we circled you in prayer as we watched you take your final breath. I remember closing my eyes in the final moments as I couldn't bare watching your facial muscles make shapes I had never seen. I didn't want that to be my last image of you, and as I opened my eyes to see if your face had relaxed, I saw the final breath which set you free from this world. Sitting on your bed, crying with my sister, I didn't know whether to be engulfed in rage or peace. I was cheated of having my three month old son connect with his amazing grandmother, but you were free. Free of all the doctors appointments, surgeries, discomfort and pain. You were free of all the struggles of being human. You were free of all the anxieties over test results, free of the unknown, free of this world once and for all. One year later, I woke up today feeling a sense of peace. I expected to wake up feeling the depths of an ocean of grief, but instead I awoke feeling a little lighter. Perhaps I can allow myself to see the darkness of grief that crept over me this past year, all the while embracing the joys and beauty of becoming a new mama. I guess I spent the past year observing my feelings of anger as I watched other mamas have their own mother there to celebrate life with their grandchildren. I spent the year avoiding feeling the pain of a broken heart of never getting to watch you play in delight of being a grandma with Zennith. I am still mad at the doctors who forced you onto drugs that sped up the pace of the minute tumor and ignored the contraindications that you clearly had to not take the immunotherapy. I am mad that these same doctors never so much as recognized that you passed away. I am frustrated that the cancer industry continues to be just that, an industry that focuses on making money and not truly curing people. I am upset that I can't seem to remember your laugh or any childhood memories with you. Will they be gone forever? But in all the sadness and anger, I woke up today lighter. Perhaps today is the day I embrace my life without you. Not a day goes by without you here in my life. In fact, everyday I feel like you are literally living inside of me. I hear my voice as I talk to Zen and it sounds just like yours. I notice my mannerisms as I sit on the couch and I feel like I am observing you move my body for me. I never noticed these things before, but now more than ever I know I am your daughter inside and out. Mama, your grandson is so perfect. His laughter, his fake tears, his sway as he walks, his love for life and curiosity is all. so. perfect. And I am sad you have missed it. I am sad he will not remember you. But I am so grateful that you have shaped the mother that I am becoming for him. I know you have sent me "signs" and that I have refused to allow them to be messages by coming up with some logic as to why or how they occurred. But I am listening now. I am open to all that you can teach me from the other side. I welcome your peace. I encourage your whispers in the dark. I embrace your love from every ounce of my soul. I forever will miss you, but I am ready to embrace the slight feeling of lightness that was present when I awoke today. Perhaps you are nudging me in the right direction, and with that I am ready to step onto the path of my highest divine purpose. Please keep guiding me. Please allow my grief to fuel my passion and compassions in life. Please visit your grandson in his dreams. Please guide Leo and I in our struggles in a life committed partnership. Please help me learn to do less and laugh more. I love you so much mama. I am glad this first year has finally ended and that you seem to be encouraging me out of the thick mud. Please keep pushing me forward. And may you continue to fly oh so Free. <3 Dear Parents at the Beach today who were Trying their Best,
I am sorry I judged you during your entire two hours at the beach. I see you. I realize you are doing the best you can in this very moment in time. I saw the heartache of your four year old (at the most), and I couldn't help but wish he had parents who responded rather than reacted. I saw you arrive today as Military Daddy complained about the perfect spot that Mommy chose to take the kids that was safe for them to be in calm, flat waters. I saw how Daddy pushed Mommy, who turns out to be newly pregnant for the third time, into the water aggressively which she then asked Daddy to stop doing many times. I saw as Daddy aggressively threw your scared son high into the air, flipping 360 degrees and into the water, then quickly trying to escape as he was dragged back to experience it all over again, the second time landing on his back. I witnessed your little boy stumble up to the beach desperately needing water to shake off the trauma Daddy created, and after getting a big sip, concentrated hard to get the water bottle back into the perfect spot as Mommy screamed from the ocean to close the lid all the way. I watched the shame on boys face as the water bottle fell to the sand and Mommy screamed "I told you to put the Fu#$ing lid on all the way". I watched as the boy took the bottle down to Mommy and had to witness her open the bottle and dump the remaining water out in aggression. All of this occurring while the little brother, who was maybe two years old, sat in the water playing for hours with no attention given to him. I sat for two hours in complete judgement. I thought, "these little boys deserve better". I thought, "this is why we as American's can find young 18 year olds to go fight wars and kill innocent women and children". (3 out of 4 fatalities in war are women and children, 90% of fatalities in current wars are civilians, compared to only 10% in the First World War. Michael Stone, Yoga for a World out of Balance.) I watched in amazement at all the "FU$%"s and other profanities were thrown at the boy while all he was doing was trying to play with other children, since no one else was giving him attention. I judged you as parents and as a military family. I heard as you encouraged your boy to yell "Hell Ya" and then I judged your military buddy as he exclaimed that he couldn't wait until his 6 month old daughter was saying words like "Hell Ya", and other unnecessary things for a child to yell, followed by expressing how much he wanted to get wasted tonight, as his wife (who is pregnant while mothering his six month old) patiently loved him no matter how much the "guys" had more importance over your family's attention today. I judged as I felt bad for the life all of these children and unborn children were about to endure. I wondered if you realized the type of trauma that was already occurring? Many of my clients and friends, and even partner, are recovering from childhood traumas. Everything from major abuse to disconnection to alcoholism to abandonment to the inability to express love to basic honest communication. My generation has a large percentage of people working on healing these traumas so they don't repeat them. But for those who are unaware of their own traumas which are holding them hostage, they are often repeating the same for their children to experience. So I sat for hours wondering what your "Gift from God" as your son's name means, would have to heal as an adult. Would he be able to hold on tight to his spirit, his heart, his passions, his curiosity for life? Or would he succumb to the trauma, the disconnect, the impatience and allow the pattern to be repeated with his children? Would he go on to be another military boy who goes to combat to kill innocent women and children because some rich guys convince him their war is worth fighting, as a way to release his anger from childhood trauma? I am sorry I judged you for not being able to be a real mother or father, but in reality you were being the best parents you could be in this moment. You were taking your family to the beach. You packed water to keep everyone hydrated and were feeding your family. You had floaties on your children's arms to keep them safe. So even if you haven't mastered patience (a constant lesson we all face in parenthood) and what I view as proper communication with a child, you were doing your best. I am sorry I didn't see your best in the moment. I pray your children feel loved. I pray you feel loved. I pray I can release future judgements and see the clearer signs that all parents are trying their best in each moment. I pray, as parents, we can all let go a little more of control and just let our children be the innocent, loving, carefree, divine gifts they came into this life as. I pray that we can let them be curious, make space for them try new things, encourage them to make new friends, allow them to make mistakes so they can learn what works and what doesn't work, and that we can give and receive love with our children each and everyday. I pray myself and all parents can do a little better and be even more loving with our children tomorrow and each day that follows. Sincerely, Another Mama Trying Her Best Less than two months after my mom visited us in California to meet Zen we were packing up to head to Pennsylvania to visit her and the rest of the family. I hadn't had much time to myself, but at some point in the week before our flight I found myself on my yoga mat, collapsed on the floor crying. I knew my mom was going to die while we were in Pennsylvania. I tried to pick myself up off the mat and let those fearful thoughts go, but I knew it wasn't just fear, it was an inner knowing that I was about to lose my mom. A few days later, just two days before our flight, my mother had a test at the hospital. She had been pretty sick, and I was just hoping it was side effects of all the immunotherapy and chemo, but I was extremely nervous as I sat with Zennith in the rocking chair awaiting the results. Our friend Javier was staying with us that week, and I remember telling him that I was sorry if I wasn't able to be present in our conversation, but I was a bit anxious to find out my mom's results. My phone received a text, and as I saw the words my heart sank and I began shaking. "She's dying. They are calling hospice." I went into survival mode. I called Leo, who was at work, and told him I needed to go home early. I frantically got Southwest Airlines on the phone to move my flight up by a day so I could get to my mom as soon as possible (which Southwest did for free, highly recommend this airline). At some point, Javier took Zennith from me, standing with him and rocking him in such a loving way that I didn't need to worry about his needs. Our dog Kea laid on my feet. A normally high strung, energetic pup, was suddenly my support. She hadn't been that calm and supportive since the night I was in labor. She knew I needed her love. But what I really needed was my mom. I needed to see her, to hold her, to love on her. My greatest fears were being realized, her pain was finally going to go away for good, and I was going to lose my mother, my best friend, my number one cheerleader. I was going to have to become a mother to Zennith without my mentor. The greatest grandma in the whole world, Zen's Mimi, was not going to be here to shower him in love as he grew up. No one could replace her. No other grandma's or grandpa's, uncles or aunties, friends or teachers would ever fill the missing void of Mimi's love. And I think that is why I crumbled. How unfair. I finally became a mom to the most perfect little boy and my mother was not going to get to help me in the journey of his life. I felt cheated, angry, sad, mad, and scared. My mom had to have surgery that morning. She had stents from a surgery in April that needed replaced because of all the pain they were causing. She finally convinced them to replace them, months later. So the next day, the morning after finding out there was nothing left to do other than slowly die, my mom was to have the stents replaced. I was so afraid that her frail body would not survive the surgery. I was worried that even if we flew home that same day, we would make it too late. We packed up our bags, (thank goodness I had already began packing). got a 6am flight the next morning and would fly home, to arrive a few hours after mom got home from surgery. I remember standing in the airport, just after checking our bags, talking to my mom as she awaited surgery. I told her I loved her and then cried to my sister on the phone begging her to promise me that mom would be alive when we got home 10 hours later. THANK GOD she was there in her chair when we got home. No more pain. Huh, imagine that. They replaced the stents and she had less pain than she had the previous three months...Why couldn't they have done that to begin with? I wondered if she would have been in less pain and much happier when she visited her two week old grandson in May if they had let her get the stents replaced back then. It's amazing how much anger surfaced in me when I looked at how awful my mothers final months were. But I made it home. We made it home. Zen, Leo and I arrived to her house in late July. As I walked through the door, there my mom sat in her chair. She had aged thirty years in just two months. I couldn't believe how much she looked like my Great Gramma Tillie. It was time for me to take care of my mom as she had cared for me when I was a baby. I needed to show her unconditional love in her final days. We really had no idea how much time she had left. It turned out to be three weeks from the day we got there. So for three weeks we did what anyone would do, we surrounded her with love. That first night after returning home I tucked my mom into bed. Dad was laying next to her until she was ready for him to leave. He slept in the extra room so she could be comfortable. As I told her good night I kneeled at her bed and tears streamed down my face. "I'm ok" Mom said, "I did the best I could". "I know", I replied, "But I just don't want you to be in pain." Mom responded by convincing me the nurses would be able to keep her comfortable if she had pain, and that she finally was comfortable now and relieved since the surgery that morning. I went to bed wondering how many nights I was going to tuck her in. Would I be blessed with more nights to say good night? Would I be tortured with more nights of wondering if it were the last? Turns out, it didn't happen for another three weeks and I truly have no recollection of what my last night of tucking her in was like. Had I known it was going to be the last, I may have stayed a few seconds longer. The first morning Mimi woke up she immediately asked for Zen. "Where's the baby?" is one of the few things my mom said to me during those three weeks. He was pretty much the only thing that really made her smile. Of course she was happy to see her other grandkids too, but she was worried they would remember her in those final days and not the fun times they had. With Zen, she just let him see her exactly as she was. She smiled and he smiled, she watched him stare into her eyes. She held him with a pillow on her lap to keep her belly comfortable. A liver that is five times it's normal size is no longer under the ribs. It took up her entire abdomen and the only way she could hold her grandson was with a pillow between them. The first three days I was home I exhausted myself. Everyone wanted to come see my mom and if they didn't want to disrupt her, they wanted to see the baby. But as a woman who was losing her mother, it was way too overwhelming for me. I just wanted to lock the doors and lay in bed with her. But I wasn't able to. Everyone wanted their chance to say goodbye. So I kept extremely busy running around taking care of everyone but myself. I wanted to keep my grandparents spirits up by visiting with them and watching them pour their love all over Zennith. I needed to go to the store and shop for foods I could eat because all of the food that was being made for our family was food that was full of dairy, gluten, and sugar. All of which, had I ate, would have sent my heath into a huge downward spiral. I was blessed a week in to have some friends make me food I could eat and I am forever grateful for those women! But I ran back and forth between my grand parents house and my parents house in a never ending cycle. I helped mom down the hall to the living room, along with my dad, sister, and other close family members. I got her anything she wanted to eat. At this point, Mom could only take two or three bites and she was full because of the liver pushing on all the other organs. But she wanted to taste the foods she would never taste again. She wanted the most random things, like sweet corn, but whatever she wanted, we got for her. I served it with love, even if it was one of the most unhealthy foods she could want. She deserved to enjoy every last taste she could. (Oh except the McDonald's milkshake....I am pretty sure I didn't let that one get to her....maybe I should have?) I watched my sister and brother learn how to take care of a dying woman. The compassion and love that poured out of them was incredible. Getting her dressed, onto a toilet, dumping the bedside toilet, filing her nails. All of it was done with presence and love. It wasn't pretty, sometimes it was very ugly and messy and hard for us to push through. But we did it because that is what she has done for us. In all of our times growing up and being sick, in the hospital, broken hearted, or just frustrated with life., she held us up. Our mom supported us in every struggle and we really had no option but to do the same for her. In the past four years we all got angry and yelled at her for not properly taking care of herself in the battle with cancer. But in the end, we were just all very scared of being in this very moment. The moment of losing our beloved mother. We watched our dad fall apart in the realization that she was dying. His wife of thirty years would no longer be by his side. He walked around like a lost puppy. He got scared when she had a bad day and he thought it was her last day....it wasn't though, Debbie is a stubborn one and she fought hard another two weeks to be with her family just a little longer. We watched Dad as all the family and friends came by to show support and him sit off to the side as if he was watching a movie. He didn't want to accept this as his life. None of us did. But we had to. We also watched as he obsessively checked on her. Helped her to the bathroom twenty times each night, going three weeks with little to no sleep. He refused to let us help him at night by doing shifts being with her. In fact, mom asked him to start sleeping with her in the bed the last week or two, and he wasn't going to let any of us in there during those final nights alone with her. Even if it meant no sleep. He was going to be her guardian in the nights. He loves her so much and it was heart breaking to watch him lose the love of his life. After a few days of exhaustion I realized I needed to take care of myself. After all, I was Zen's only source of food and he needed me to be well. A dear friend from college came to visit with another friend and they helped me take a night away (at another dear friend's house 15 min. down the road). We got to make some yummy food, relax and laugh, sit in the sun, and take a few moments so I could escape the reality that was my life. My niece was going to turn two years old and my mom wanted to be able to go to her birthday party, so we decided to have a party a week early in my grand parents backyard, which is right next door to my parents house. We didn't know how my mom was going to make it to the back yard and be able to sit for so long, but she was determined to be at her party. So we made it happen. My mom put on a dress, did her hair, and forced out a smile all afternoon. She had help walking across the yard and tried to eat, including some ice cream which she teased me with as she pretended to feed it to Zen just to get a reaction out of me. Her dry humor was really strong the last week or two. Mom was insistent that the day be focused on Kinley, so we had a "normal" family birthday picnic. We tried to just be as we always were for family gatherings. Light hearted, full of laughter and food. Kinley opened her gifts, including the final birthday gifts from Mimi she would ever receive. As we finished up dessert, I was nursing Zen. My sister told me I needed to stop feeding him when he wasn't actually eating. I thought she was just trying to prevent me from having a baby who is attached to the boob, so when my cousin Megan asked to take him since he was only pacifying on me, I handed Zen over. Little did I know that everyone was patiently waiting for me to be done feeding Zen. Suddenly my sister was standing next to me, awkwardly with her hands behind her back. She got everyone's attention as if she needed to say something important. Oh don't make this emotional, I thought. Mom just wants us to enjoy Kinley's party. Courtney began tearing up but then quickly handed "the mic" over to Leo and handed him a bouquet of sunflowers. I was so confused. At first I thought he was having some kind of family intervention, but then I thought he's going to propose, and that thought quickly left my mind and I just had no idea what was happening other than for him to express his love for my family. Well turns out, Leo had asked everyone in my family permission to marry me, and he wanted everyone to witness his proposal, so my grandma suggested he do it on this special family day. The last day that my mom ever would leave her house and share a family celebration. No ring, no plans, just a heartfelt proposal that was perfect as ever. If you haven't seen the video, here is a link to the rest of this particular story: https://www.facebook.com/leo.castrence/posts/10212123130406551
After that conversation with my friend, I tried to talk with my mom. Other than sharing her famous spaghetti recipe with my sister and me, she really didn't want to talk. A few days before she passed, she had a little energy and we all gathered in her room. She focused on the grandkids mostly. We asked her a few random questions about life and she whispered a few things from her heart on how proud she was of her children and how hard marriage is. But otherwise, her energy was very low and she was slowly slipping away from us. We laid in bed with her sporadically, but usually she just slept. It was as if she was already slipping over to the other side. In fact, I know she was. Mom started seeing and experiencing things in her transition that only gave us comfort. One morning she told me that she kept seeing orbs in the corner of her eye and that there was one there that floated across the room. She asked me what it was. Later that week she asked why her room was full of purple. And one day after waking up from a nap, she asked who the two women in her room were. At night she asked my dad what the hole in the floor of her bedroom was. One morning she said that a man in white came to get her and told her she needed to go to a party with him. She said she didn't want to go because he was going to make her wear yellow shoes and she hated yellow (Mom actually liked yellow shoes, and the day after she died my sister found yellow shoes in her closet that none of us had ever seen. Courtney wore them to her funeral.). My mom also said that she saw Grandpa Bill (my dad's father) and that he was waiting with a Ham on the spit. Now usually he didn't cook hams on the spit, but rather a joke because once my mom told my aunt that Grandpa Bill couldn't have ham for Easter because he had the "clap". Hah, what she really meant to say was Gout and they made a joke about it ever since. So there was Grandpa Bill joking with her and waiting with a ham for her to join him. Leo had stayed with me for two and a half weeks, but felt pressured back to California because of his job. A decision he would later regret, especially since he quit his job a few months later, he booked a flight home. On Tuesday August 15th we went into my mom's room so he could say goodbye. "When are you coming back?", my mom asked. Instantly tears filled up our eyes and she knew this was her final moments with him. And as sad as this is to remember, it's the greatest gift Leo received. He is the only person my mom knew she was absolutely saying her final goodbye to. Family members and friends kept stopping by until she died, but Leo was getting on an airplane and not returning. So she knew this was it for them. Leo grabbed my moms hand, and they laid in bed together staring into each other's eyes for a long thirty minute goodbye. There were moments of thanks, moments of long silence, and I honestly don't know what all was said because I walked away to give them some time alone. But as I stood in the hallway watching my love say goodbye to my mother, I heard her final words to him. "No more fear", she whispered, "you got this..no more fear." "Now go conquer the world...I believe in you." My mom believed in Leo more than anyone he has had in his life. She saw his light, his purpose, his path that lay before him. And with that, she told him how much she loved him, that he was just like her own son to her, and that he needed to follow his heart and go walk his purpose. I had to drag Leo away to leave for the airport so he wouldn't miss his flight. And as sad as it was to watch their goodbye, I was so jealous that he got that from her. I was happy he got to have those moments, but I knew that my mom would never have a time like that for me. That she wouldn't know for sure when her last moments with us would be and that our time with her would continue to be day to day care taking with little words. I wonder what she would have said to me if I was leaving with Leo. What was in her heart for me? What words would I forever long to hear? I spent the next two days being a mama to Zen without Leo for the first time. It was exhausting. I felt like I couldn't think straight. I was lost trying to caretake for both Zen, my mom, and anyone else in the family who was struggling in their emotions. I felt overwhelmed and just wanted to lay in bed all day with my mom. On Thursday, August 17th my sister stopped by and got ready in my mom's bathroom for a yearly gathering her husband goes to for work. My sister was afraid to go because it was an hour away and she didn't want mom to die while she was gone. My mom told Courtney that she was going to a party and needed to get ready. Courtney assumed she thought my mom meant that she was going to go with her to the party that afternoon. I had a feeling that she meant the party the "Man in White" was trying to take her to for the past week. Mom wanted me to give her my daily massage, and I told Courtney to tell her I needed to finish eating breakfast. As a breast feeding mama, I realized the previous few days with out Leo helping me make meals was getting to me, and I needed to focus on getting nutrition that day. So for the first time in three weeks I didn't go running for my mom right away, but rather I told her to wait for me to finish my meal. Ten minutes later I went into my mom's room to massage her and heard the final words she would ever say clearly to me, "That was a long breakfast". I laughed it off and massaged my mom back to sleep. I had been massaging her for three weeks every day, and I had no idea that this was my final time. I rubbed her back, her legs, and her feet. Then I tucked her in and went out to the living room to spend the day with Zen. Later that afternoon I was struggling. I went into the kitchen on do dishes and my aunt and uncle stopped by. I told them to go back to her room, as I really wasn't in the mood to talk to anyone. When they came out my aunt asked me to help her change my mom's underwear. She said that she had on an adult diaper and that she told my aunt that she "was done". My uncle came out thinking that she meant she was done, as in, DONE. My heart sank. I knew what she meant. She was ready to go to her party. Later that hour my mom asked for a bucket. I believe it was my aunt and grandma who went back wth her. She felt really sick and had signs her blood pressure was rising. It just so happens, at that very moment, the Hospice nurse realized she hadn't stopped by to check vitals earlier that morning, and came over at the end of the day. The nurse confirmed that my mom's body was shutting down. At this point, it could be up to two days. But we all knew mom wouldn't last that long. She held on as long as she could. And now we hoped she just let go peacefully. We made plans for night shifts. Two people at a time would take turns every two hours care taking for her. As the sun set, I wiped her forehead with a cold rag. She was sweaty so badly and I kept checking her pulse on her neck as it continued to rise, indicating the organs shutting down. I called my sister and she found a ride home. I told my mom how much I loved her. She mumbled "Love" back to me. My grandma had me read a letter she had wrote to her. I got through to the end until the PS. My grandma wrote P.S. I will see you in a few years in heaven. Everyone took turns saying their goodbyes. My sister's friend and husband helped lift up her mattress so she would be slightly elevated as her lungs began to shut down. They tried to get morphine into her through a syringe. My sister said she fought it and didn't want it. Courtney began crying at the realization that this was it. My mother's final words to her, "Stop it". "Did you just tell me to stop crying?", Courtney replied. Yup, that's my mama. Stubborn to the end. As the sun set, I took Zen to my grandparents and put him to bed in my gramma's bed, where we slept the final few nights in Pennsylvania. Zen didn't sleep well in my parent's house, and I assumed it was all the energy of the many people in and out, and the transition of my mom to the world he had just came from. I returned to my mom's house for my shift 10pm-12am with my sister. I crawled into bed with her and grabbed her hand. Little did I know, this would be my last moment alone with her. I asked her if she wanted me to pray with her and she squeezed my hand back. I began to pray and prayed until I didn't know what else to pray for. I asked for her easy transition. I gave thanks for all that we shared. I cried, I breathed, I trusted, and I prayed some more. My aunt showed up for her shift, along with my cousins and my mom's cousin and friend. I went back to my grandma's to try to sleep with Zen. I tried to wake him to eat so that he wouldn't wake up just as I was falling asleep. But he wouldn't wake up. For the first and only time, Zen slept through the entire night and didn't need any breast milk. My Aunt came over and woke me up a few hours later. I thought she had passed. but she just told me that it was probably going to be soon. She warned me that mom had started moaning soon after I left a few hours earlier. I walked in the front door and could hear her all the way down the hall. It sounded like she was saying "Hi Ruth", my dad's mother, and rotated that sound with a moan that almost sounded like "Ian", my brother in law, who was in the living room and was not able to go into her room for these final hours. It was an awful load moan that echoed through the entire house on every exhale. For hours my mother made those noises, and we didn't know what to do. We called Hospice and the nurse on call was awful. (We had amazing experiences with Hospice up until this final night, and I used to work for them doing massages. This is not a put down of Hospice at all.) The nurse on call kept telling us she had many hours if not days left and that it was normal for them to moan and to give her more morphine. The morphine didn't do anything. Everyone had to take turns going to my grandparents to get some relief from listening to my mom's moaning. I stayed for a little while and then went back to check on Zen. I laid in bed with him and couldn't get the moan out of my head. I didn't want to go back, but I knew I had to. This was my mama and she would have stood by my side no matter what sounds I was making. I walked back across the front yards and a storm eerily rolled by. The wind picked up, the moon was barely visible behind the clouds, and I was covered in chills from the feeling that was passing by. I knew it would be soon. I went into my mom's room and my cousin joined me. I began to hear her rattle, the "death rattle", when the lungs begin to fill up with fluid. I called for my aunt to confirm that was what we heard. We tried to administer the medication to help with this and it got stuck on her tongue and tooth and wasn't dissolving. At this point I was fed up with the on call nurse, and called back requesting she come help us. It was about 5am and we didn't need the extra stress of administering medicine and not getting it in properly while we watched our mother die. The nurse tried to avoid coming and I got stern and said we needed her. She said it would take at least thirty minutes and I told her I doubted it would be that long. As I hung up the phone my aunt yelled my name. My cousin came running down the hall saying mom had stopped breathing. I ran into the room and she started to breathe again. My aunt swore she had been gone. Meanwhile, my cousin and mom's friend ran next door to get everyone else. They all ran back thinking mom had died, and entered the room to find her moaning again. For the first time all night all 12 of us were in the room together. My dad, brother, sister, brother in law, aunt, gramma, grandpa, two cousins, my mom's cousin, and friend. My grandma asked if we would all hold hands and say The Lord's Prayer. We surrounded my mom's bed in a circle, holding hands with her. We all recited The Lord's Prayer, and within 30 seconds my mom surrendered and took her final breath. The ending was that of a movie. Peaceful, Divine Timing, and my Mom got what she wanted. She was surrounded by all of us. Mom passed on the morning August 18th. We had her viewing on the 21st and her funeral on August 22nd, the day of the first total solar eclipse visible from coast to coast across the United States in 99 years. As we prepared to say goodbye to my mother for the last time in body, the country was covered in darkness at midday. A true day of mourning. But from the darkness, returned the light. And that is what I am finally finding again. The light is shining back into my life. My sweet baby boy has held me up for the past six months, but now I am ready to shine the light back out into the world. Life is short, Love is Bitter Sweet. Tell those you love how much you care for them, be grateful in the simple moments. Find peace, even in the troubling times. My mother told us not to sulk in our sadness. To continue on in our lives and to be happy once she was gone. Some days it's easier than others, but we keep trying. We keep moving forward, in her honor, in her light, helping spread the ripple she created in our family. My mother was the embodiment of Unconditional Love. She accepted everyone as they were and shone her light into their lives. So tonight, I step back into the light. It's time to create ripples. It's time to live the life my mother gifted me. Thanks, Mama. I'm sorry this one took so long to write. I know you were always the first one to read my blog and encourage me to write. I'm back. Last night I was flooded with a tsunami of emotions that seemed to come from the depths of my soul, unexpectedly, when I realized all my text messages had disappeared. Talk about attachment...My phone had been freezing and not sending messages all day, so last night I turned my phone off and restarted it. For some reason, right before I headed to bed, I looked at my phone and realized that all of my text messages were gone. INSTANT tears. I had never realized my attachment to my text messages, but in that instant I knew that the final text messages my mother had sent me were gone forever. I never got to reread them one last time. They were taken from me. A long lost memory and suddenly I can't even recall what some of her last messages were. Those words she last typed to me, erased from my phone and memory. Lately it seems all the memories I have of my mother, are fleeting, disappearing and hard to find in my mushy mama brain. When I realized all of my mother's text messages were gone, any grief that had been welling up inside of me the past few weeks breached the wall and flooded out. Leo found me suddenly bawling in the bathroom after putting Zennith to bed, and all I could say was "My phone deleted all my texts". I figured he thought I was crazy for being attached to my text messages, but he seemed to immediately know it was deeper than that. He instantly got online to seek a solution to recover them. I went to bed, admitting to myself maybe it was time I just let them go. Grief is a process that you are never prepared for, even though I had convinced myself I was ready. I knew my mother was dying. I knew it in May. For the first time since her diagnosis with cancer in 2013, I feared I would never get to look into her eyes or hug her when she left my car in Sacramento. My mother came to visit us when Zennith was two weeks old. Up until that week, we didn't know if she would be allowed to miss her treatments or be healthy enough to fly out. The cancer had spread (one tumor went from 2cm to 9 cm within three months after they started chemotherapy). The last time I had seen my mom was in January. We went home for the holidays, found out the sex of our baby, my mom surprised me with a baby shower days before Christmas, and then I ended up in bed for two weeks with bronchitis. My mom was so happy when she found out we were having a boy. But she was so sad when I was sick at Christmas, because deep down she knew it was her last holiday with us. She had been living with a small section of cancer for two years, and successfully living a healthy normal life for the second year by taking a few chemo pills every morning and night. The cancer was not shrinking, but it also was not effecting her or growing. The doctors decided to put her back on chemotherapy to try to shrink it. I shouted my opinions and unfortunately my mother trusted the doctors who convinced her to try chemo again. She started just after Christmas and by February the cancer was growing. They then turned to a new immunotherapy drug, which had not even been proven to work for ovarian cancer, and was highly contradicted for people with Crohn's Disease, which my mother had. They still decided to put her on this new drug and by April the tumor was 9cm and pushing on her bladder causing her to pass blood clots in her urine. She had surgery and stents put in which immediately caused her much pain. She often asked for new stents but the doctors refused. Unfortunately my mother lived all of May through July in excruciating pain from the stents. The day she had the stents changed, she had immediate relief. But this was the day after they told her that her liver was now 90% cancer and 4-5 times its normal size, therefore calling in hospice. Three months of pain which potentially could have been avoided if the doctors had switched them out in May. This pain caused her to lose appetite and not eat. Her body didn't get any nutrients. The back and forth of chemo and immunotherapy and back to chemo would be hard on a healthy body. Add to the fact that she could not eat from the pain of the stents, her body had absolutely no defense. A healthy liver turned full of cancer within one treatment of chemotherapy. My mother lived her final eight months as another test rat, proving that chemotherapy actually hurts the human body. As her daughter, I have thought this whole story through way too many times. Could I still have a mother, a grandmother for my baby, a support system for my family if the the doctors had just let her continue to take one pill every night? Could she have maintained a healthy, normal life even with a few small spots of cancer in her for a few more years if she had never gone back on chemotherapy, or tried immunotherapy? In case you didn't know, research has shown chemotherapy only works for 3 percent....THREE FUCKING PERCENT. Yes I said the F- word and if you are more upset by that than you are by the THREE FUCKING PERCENT then maybe you should stop reading. Cancer is a MULTI BILLION dollar industry and there's so much more to share but we can save it for another day.....Anger and frustration rage through my soul. I was robbed of having a grandmother for my son. And all because doctors make most of their pay from chemotherapy. Or maybe not...maybe this is just the divine timing and her soul is finally set free...Regardless, when my mom visited us in May, I knew it would be the last time I would see her up and about. She was so frail. I was so afraid she would die before our trip home at the end of July. I told Leo when she left that I was afraid she was going to die when we visited in August. And that is exactly what happened. Two days before our flight home, I got a text message from my dad as I anxiously awaited test results. "She's dying. They are calling hospice." Really? That news is going to come through a text message?! I was so mad I had to read that. Text messages are supposed to be a way to converse, but not a way to tell important news whether good or bad. Yet I found out my mother's time had come through a text message, and here I sit releasing my grief all because I lost my mother's final text messages. In an age of technology and everything at our fingertips, my emotions of anger, grief and sadness today are revolved around letters typed into a phone. But I have come to realize, the deleted messages can't take away anything. Even if my mother's love and touch seem so far away, so buried in my memories that I can't seem to find where they have been buried, they are still a part of me. And that won't ever be erased. My memories may seem blurry but perhaps it's because I am seeking to remember her....but I know they will surface in their own time. At a smell or a sight or a phrase, there will be my mother, in the forefront of my awareness. And that will never be deleted. So I would like to share some memories from my mom's visit in May. She toughed out a full day of car rides and flights so she could be with her newest grandchild. She put on a smile and gritted through the pain, so that she could embrace the joys of being a grandma. Tears filled her eyes when she first saw him. She was so excited, she sent me texts every minute as she anxiously awaited for us to pick her up. She couldn't get to the car fast enough to put her hands on her sweet angel.
We spent a few days at home so I could rest and mom helped me around the house and also napped and rested. We also spent a day at a local reservoir. Zennith got to put his feet in the water for the first time. At two and a half weeks old, he still hadn't had a bath. He immediately liked the water even though it was freezing cold! I could tell mom was uncomfortable but she did her best to enjoy the day. I was tired as a new mama, but I knew deep down I needed to enjoy these moments because I wouldn't get them again. So we enjoyed the sunshine and tried to have fun, considering what I suspected was looming ahead....Dad even climbed into the tree and mom stressed out that he would get stuck. He made it out safely. ;) It was good to see him expressing his child self again. He was a proud papa too all week. Enjoying our backyard full of pine and cedar trees, I don't think he ever wanted to leave. This was an escape from reality and their final vacation together. Mimi and Papa got to go to Zennith's first concert with us! We went to Strawberry Festival for a few hours and watched Rising Appalachia. This is a special memory... The first concert we attended with Zennith in my belly once he had grown ears was Rising Appalachia. Then it was his first concert outside my belly with Mimi. And just just a few weeks ago, Zennith got to hang out with the band where Daddy works and clearly enjoyed their concert the most thus far in his musical experience. I am glad she was a part of that musical memory. Time came for mom to head home. She sat for hours crying in her final times at our house. She kept saying how sad she was that she wasn't going to get to watch him grow up. I kept reassuring her that we would visit often and that she and dad could come out and visit again when she was feeling better. But I knew deep within my soul that I was really just trying to convince myself that this could be our reality. I knew why she was crying. I knew that she was afraid of all the things she would miss as her time on Earth was coming to an end. I knew that we both feared that she may never get the chance to hold Zennith again. But I tried my hardest to tell her we would all be ok and see each other often. I have never seen my mom cry so much. She always hid her emotions. But she couldn't hold back the tears this time. She crumbled. And I knew I was about to enter motherhood without my mentor to help me.
My mom insisted that I stay home with the baby and let Leo drive them to their hotel near the airport. She felt bad because Zen cried so much in the carseat. But I couldn't let her go, so I put the baby into the car and we rode together for an hour. When she got out of the car, I hugged her and told her to take care of herself until I would see her again. She held back tears, even though a few came out, and I will never forget that hug. Her frail backbones in my arms, her holding me a little longer than normal. When I got back into the car to head home I prayed I would see her again. And I did, but unfortunately my trip home two months later was to care take for her in her final three weeks. I realize I have avoided writing in this blog since May. I didn't want to admit the truth about my moms visit. I didn't want to write about the joys and struggles of becoming a new mama because the reality around it was drenched in the reality of death. I am blessed I was able to celebrate the birth of my first child with my mom. I got to watch her be so proud of me, but more so, so proud to be the grandma to our child. I got to send her pictures of my growing belly and admire the strength she had becoming my mother at the age of nineteen. I will write more about my mother and her final days with Zen, Leo and me when the time is right, but I feel so much better just having shared these moments. Yes my phone may have taken away my mom's final messages through text, but it can never take away the memories I hold deep in my heart, even if I can't remember all of them right now. #MeToo started a mass sharing of personal stories of harassment, abuse, assault, and rape. When I saw the first post I thought to myself, wow I am so lucky that I have never been raped. As a massage therapist, I have had more than half my clients (both male and female) admit sexual abuse and rape to me, mostly from childhood. I always walked away from those sessions grateful that I had never been exposed to such abuse. But after I read a few more #MeToo stories, I realized I needed to be honest with myself.
As a woman, I have often been cat called, grabbed in the butt at a bar, and taken advantage of sexually. I used to think it was my fault if I was wearing an outfit that was too tight or showed too much skin or if I had been drinking too much and wasn't able to hold my boundaries with men (as a young 20 year old). So I would always take full responsibility for my actions and even those of other men. But after sitting with the #METOO movement I have come to realize that it's never been my "fault". No human being deserves to feel uncomfortable with another's sexual advances. No women should ever think that it is "ok" for a man (or woman) to cross their personal boundaries. And I have finally admitted to myself that I am a #METOO. I had many boys (let's be real they weren't men yet, they were under 22 years of age) who crossed my personal boundary (often repeating actions they have seen in movies and perhaps porn). Whether it be as a young woman at the bar being grabbed, or a massage client who gets undressed because I am a licensed therapist and I trust the man who was about to massage me but he didn't know how to be ethical during his session, or trusting in a like minded spiritual dude who seems to be respectful and honoring of women but really was just trying to sleep with attractive open minded women, or perhaps it was when I had too much to drink but thought my "NO" was obvious enough to mean "NO". #METOO. But I was young and didn't know how to properly establish my own boundaries. Even as an adult woman I am still learning how to establish appropriate boundaries. Not just sexual but personal boundaries. Ones where my energy isn't vampired, my money isn't borrowed without being returned, my time is not wasted, and where I am honored for all of who I am and how I want to be treated. But let's be real, none of us are really great at honoring one another and our individual boundaries. So let's start with the one that should be the most obvious. The sexual boundary. The one where a person knows that they feel uncomfortable being harassed, pushed into sexual encounters, or convinced that they should want to be intimate. This boundary should have the clearest of lines. The one that deep within ourselves we can determine does or does not feel good. If any woman (or man) every feels like they are not comfortable with sexual words, actions, or advances, then we should all be able to respect it. Regardless of what they are wearing, if they appear to desire attention, or are "asking"for it...the reality is NO ONE is "Asking" to be raped. As a conscious aware individual, if you lust for someone, and it turns out they just aren't desiring you in that way, then can you let it be...Can you not force the energy to go past that of being friends? See I am all about this #METOO movement, it's finally time that the Matriarchal society is being told enough is enough. I am really excited for us women to step into our power and more importantly for us to be able to honor ourselves and other women. But, we have to respect the men too. We have to know their boundaries. We have to realize that both sexes fantasize about the other and then we set ourselves up for unrealistic expectations. We ALL have to reprogram ourselves to bring our connections back to the level of clear communication. Once we have clarity on what feels good inside of our soul, we must commit to expressing it. Setting up our own boundaries. Supporting one another in establishing boundaries. If we see someone being taken advantage of, no matter whether it's minor or extreme, we must step in and support our brothers and sisters. See I believe that there's many boundaries we must establish in order to be the free sovereign beings we desire to be. So let's start with the obvious one, the Sexual Boundary. Speak up and release all that has happened in the past. And then let's work together to find ways to establish our new boundary. Here are my boundaries: I will feel comfortable and at ease in all interactions. If I feel uncomfortable I will leave the situation. If I feel that others may feel uncomfortable with the same individual in the future, then I will address the individual when I feel safe (if I need to have another present for the conversation then I will leave and return to that person with someone who can step in to hold us accountable in our words and actions). I will step into my power and help any other woman or man who I feel is being violated, by asking the person if they feel safe and are ok with what is happening, but if they are not ok then I will help them to feel safe. I will protect my son from any feelings of being unsafe and I will only allow close family and friends who I have had positive safe experiences with to be alone with my son. I will honor my feelings of intimacy and never feel forced to be intimate. I will be aware of my surroundings and as soon as my intuition alarms that something feels unsafe, I will remove myself from that environment even if I don't clearly see any harm. I will encourage men who are having trouble establishing healthy interactions to get help from other men who have successfully found a way to be of balance and service to the Divine Feminine movement. I will honor my brothers who want to support the women, but also help them to remove any old paradigm programming to truly be able to support us women. What are your boundaries? I celebrate Mother's Day today as a new mom. Our sweet baby blessed us with an early entrance a week ago today, one week before our "due date". This has by far been the best week of my life. The gift of life is indescribable, and although I have heard it many times before, now I understand why they say you don't know love until you've had your own child. It's a love like no other and I am so thankful for this gift that has blessed us beyond our imagination. Truly our son is the image of perfection, inside and out and all around, he is perfect in our eyes. Last Friday I lost a part of my mucus plug, and by Saturday morning I lost the rest of it. I awoke and felt an urge to get the floors cleaned one more time, as I suspected this was the day our baby was coming. I didn't know how or why I felt it so strongly, but I did. So I got up to dry and wet sweep the floors and even got on my hands and knees for a final scrub down. We had planned to deliver at home, and I wanted all the surface areas to be options for me to deliver on. I also had Leo sweep the two carpeted areas as soon as he awoke. I think he felt like I was being bossy, but i just knew deep down the time was here. I Facetimed with my sister, niece, and parents as I layed on the couch. And soon after I spoke with them, I went into the kitchen to grab a snack. Just as I put the snack into my mouth I was overcome with emotions and found myself hiding out in the bathroom crying. This was rare for me, as my entire pregnancy was rather uneventful when it comes to extreme emotions. I had felt so balanced and only had a very few moments where tears came on strongly considering all the hormonal changes, I felt it was a very minimum. So I sat on the toilet crying my eyes out with the sudden onset of emotions that I wished my mother and sister were able to be there with me during this time in my life. I didn't realize I had so much stored emotions in me. In fact, I had done a few exercises the last few months to dig deep within to find any barriers hiding out that may delay or cause an unnecessarily long labor and to ensure I stepped fully into motherhood without any old baggage. Turns out I skipped out on this one...but after minutes of tears and releasing the emotions of sadness of not having any family nearby for support during and after labor, I felt so much better. Leo came to check on me and realized I was having a moment, and supported me through it. We then had a visit from our landlord and his family seconds later and soon after, I finally came back inside to relax. It was then that I knew the time was absolutely here. I started having real contractions, not Braxton Hicks. They were accompanied with some intensity and even strong enough urges that I considered it slightly painful. We began timing them because they seemed to show up pretty close together and we realized they were every 3-5 minutes for an average of 45 seconds. The cue to call the midwives is every five minutes, lasting for 60 seconds, consistent for an hour. The only inconsistency I was having was when one would come in less than three minutes after the previous one and only last up to 20 seconds. Otherwise for an hour they averaged about every 4 minutes for 45 seconds. I decided it was time to actually call the midwives and see what they thought. One midwife was driving back from a home visit about an hour an a half away and would check in with us by 4:30pm. After making it to 4:30pm with the urges becoming stronger, I called the other midwife who I knew was home. She decided to call back in 45 minutes to see if there were any changes and when she called back the intensity was only getting stronger and I now had turned to a grounded exhale for each contraction to get through it. It sounded like an "OM" only I was saying "Ahhhhh" in a low deep tone for the 45 seconds every 3-4 minutes. The midwife then decided it was time to come set up and check me out. At this point the only person who knew I was starting labor was my sister who is three hours ahead in Pennsylvania.. Leo moved our bed and made it to prepare for birth, I got a crockpot with wash clothes started and made sure I ate and drank lots of water. I was excited and wished I could rest between urges, but they seemed to pick up so strongly the first hour that I didn't know if I could relax to sleep with them coming so frequently and strong. Looking back, I could have at least laid down and surrendered more into relaxation during the breaks in between to conserve my energy even more. I instead experimented with different poses and asked Leo for help in pushing on sacrum and other areas to help comfort me. I thought this would help when things got more intense, and it did, but I could have rested more until the time really came to use other positions. One midwife arrived just before 6pm and set up everything and checked me. I was only at 3 cm and feeling a bit sad about it because a few days prior to contractions I had been at 2 cm and had thought for sure I would be further. I was though 95% effaced. The midwife decided to go home and let Leo and I labor in our sacred space together, hoping our privacy would allow for things to speed up and move along. After an hour I told our friend Jewels that she was welcome to come over and help support. I thought this would allow Leo to take a break and for him to get help massaging and supporting me. Jewels arrived and soon a midwife called to check in. She decided that both her and the other midwife would come to our house. Once they arrived I found out I was only 4 cm. I had dilated one centimeter in the past few hours, which felt a bit discouraging for all the urges I had been going through every 3-5 minutes. I labored a few more hours and decided to get into the birthing tub, which was set up in our kitchen. By this time everyone was pretty tired, so the midwives and Jewels all rested on the couches and extra bed. This allowed me and Leo to have a very connecting moment, perhaps my favorite part of the entire labor other than pushing out our baby. We listened to The Beautiful Chorus for about an hour while I labored in the tub. I sang along with some of the songs and during "Please Prepare Me", which I had sung in the shower many mornings during my pregnancy, I was overcome with emotions. I surrendered in the water, sang with a quivering voice, and locked eyes with Leo. We both were filled with emotions as tears welled up in our eyes, and I knew this was one final moment we would share being so connected before our little one would consume our life. I adore this man that sat in front of me, supporting me through every second, loving every ounce of me, and I couldn't imagine life without him. Those minutes felt like an eternity as I basked in his love and support. This moment has no more words that can describe it, but I will forever remember that precious gift we shared in the darkness of the night, in our kitchen as I knelt in a tub and he sat outside as my rock. After a few more hours, the midwives suggested I try to rest in bed between contractions, so they gave me a tincture to relax me and perhaps even allow for me to sleep in the few minutes between each urge. I was surprised that I was actually able to go into a state of relaxation and even drift off for a few moments and conserve my energy. Then an hour later they offered me a tincture to try to speed things up and get my contractions to be more consistent and for my cervix to dilate more. I was excited to do this, and hoped it would mean the baby would be out soon. We tried the tincture which didn't change much. When they checked me again, I was still at 4 centimeters. At this point, the midwives didn't know what to do. I had been in labor for about 11 hours and nothing was changing. They entered our bedroom and sat with us, gently suggesting that the only option may be to go to the hospital to get Pitocin to speed up the labor, and even offer me an epidural which would allow me to rest until my body was ready to deliver a baby. My immediate thought was "NO!", but within seconds I remembered that I must surrender to whatever and however our baby would be delivered, as long as he was healthy. Just as I surrendered to their suggestion of going to the hospital, my inner voice shouted at me, "Your water hasn't broke yet! Have them break your water". So I asked the midwives if they could break my water. They looked at each other, slightly surprised, and said yes. See, little did I know, they had discussed breaking my water, but usually they won't do it until you are 8 centimeters, because at the chance you have to go to the hospital, there's a less likely chance of them forcing a cesarean if you are almost fully dilated. Once you get to the hospital you are on the clock, meaning they only let you labor for so long and if your water has already broke, you are given even less time to labor naturally. The midwives agreed to try to break my water, but that I had one hour to show some major change with stronger contractions or dilation, otherwise we would get in the car and head to the hospital. They gave Leo and I a few moments to think about it, and Leo absolutely wanted to stay at home. I knew that if they broke my water and we ended up at the hospital, my chance of being forced in a C-section was higher but I didn't discuss this with Leo, as I trusted my inner wisdom that had told me to ask them to break my water. When the midwives returned, we told them our decision, and they got the supplies they needed to break my water. Immediately I felt the warm liquid running out of me. Soon after I had to go the the restroom AGAIN (I was walking to the bathroom many times per hour which was good because it meant I was drinking plenty of water). I was sitting on the toilet feeling another urge come on, and waiting it out until it passed. Leo had accompanied me to the restroom, this time and every time, and was going to step away from the bathroom for a second, and I heard myself say with deep emotion, "Please don't leave me". As those words came out of my mouth, I realized they had came from a deeper place other than him just stepping out of the bathroom for a few seconds. I broke into tears and he stepped in front of me to support me. I looked up to his eyes and from the last ounce of fear left in me, I said, "Will you marry me? It doesn't have to be anytime soon, but one day?". Tears filled up our eyes, and he grasped my face in his hands and bent over and kissed me and said "Yes". Once again I sat on the toilet, about twelve hours after the first time earlier in the day, releasing any last fears that consumed me. I knew Leo meant what he said, and I felt a sense of love flood in and out of me. I finally released any last hidden fear of being a single parent. I knew Leo was committed to me and our child, but there was still a fear that hid out during pregnancy that I noticed anytime I saw a single mama. I got up from the toilet after the contraction and headed back to the bed. Within minutes, contractions felt slightly more intense. At this point, I was so tired that I couldn't tell if they picked up significantly in intensity, or if I was so tired that they seemed more intense because of my lack of energy. About an hour after they broke my water, one midwife checked me and said I was at 5 centimeters and she could stretch me to 6. I could barely even feel her and I told her to stretch me as much as she could because it did not hurt. About a half hour later they checked me again and I was up to 8-9 centimeters. Breaking my water was successful and the threat of the hospital no longer loomed over me. Within minutes I started to feel the urge to push. I began pushing through each urge, as I made my way through many positions. I was on my back, squatting on the floor, on my hands and knees in bed, and on my side. I pushed for over an hour when I began to sense some doubt in the midwives. For some reason the baby was not coming through my pubic bone. Turns out, most women have about a 90 degree angle for the baby to come through, but my pubic bone was only at about 75 degrees...this meant that our baby had to go deeper toward my tailbone in order to sweep down and come through. This took much longer than normal. The midwives took turns trying to help his head come out. They monitored his heart rate after most contractions. When his heart rate lowered, they would put an oxygen mask on me and rub his head with their finger, which raised his heart rate back up. After two hours, the midwives again threatened that if I didn't get him out within fifteen minutes, we would need to go to the hospital to see if a vacuum suction would be enough to get him out. I was determined that we had come this far and I was going to push harder than I thought I had the energy left to do. I got onto the floor to squat as Leo supported me from behind and I pushed forward into one midwife. The baby seemed to come down a little bit more and I got back into bed for the final pushes. I was exhausted and didn't know where I was going to muster up the energy to get him out. But I heard his heart rate slow down and I knew I must find it within me to do it. Just when I didn't think I could push any harder, a midwife said she needed the episiotomy scissors. Later I found out she did this to get me to push harder, and it worked. She didn't have to cut me, but all I knew was that I didn't want her to, and that I would push harder to avoid it. Our dog Kea, laid in bed with all of us, and helped break the intensity of the labor by snoring her little heart out. We all chuckled at how she could be passed out snoring at such an intense time. The next contraction came and Leo started pressing on my belly to help move the baby's body down when I was pushing. I also realized that the help of the midwife and our friend Jewels holding my feet helped, but if Leo could use his other hand to support my head and neck to help me curl up even further, then I would be able to focus on pulling my legs back and pushing. This team work was showing progress. I finally felt the little guy coming through. But then he would sneak back in as soon as I stopped pushing. When I heard them say he had lots of hair, I was determined it was my turn to see it. I pushed so hard and felt him stay there rather than hide back inside. One midwife said, in three more contractions we should have him out. And I replied "ONE MORE". I didn't have the energy for three more rounds of pushing, so I told myself this is it, last contraction. As the contraction came everyone got in position to support me and I counted to three in my head. On three I made myself push harder than ever.. Leo and everyone else started yelling "Push Baby, PUSH". And I pushed with all my might, finally feeling his head came out and then pushed the rest of his body out. He was immediately placed on my belly, crying his little lungs out. Those moments after his arrival have no words to describe them. I was in bliss, Leo was in tears, along with the other women sharing this magical transition with us. All I could do was stare at the little guy. He cried, we cried, and we snuggled our hearts out. Delivering our baby at home was so incredible. We got to move around, we had privacy with just the two of us, and then soon after birth, just the three of us. Our dog saw the magic, which has helped her adjust to not being the center of attention. I got to shower in my own bathroom and crawl back into bed with Leo and our baby to take a three hour nap after being served a home cooked breakfast. Leo and I awoke from our nap and spent a few hours admiring our little guy, while I breast fed from the comfort of our living room. Our friends picked up Thai food for us, and Leo surprised me with Sticky Rice and Mango as dessert, in celebration of our anniversary. Yes, our little love bug arrived the morning of our anniversary. Out of 365 days in the year, we now get to celebrate our union with our precious son. As a family, we all went back to bed and got a few hours of sleep, then I awoke for two hours to feed the our angel in the middle of the night, and we went back to bed for a few more hours of sleep. Our first day together was incredible and I can't imagine it going any other way. Our baby boy was born one week early on May 7th at 7:43 am. He was a tiny little guy measuring in at 17 3/4 inches long and 5 pounds 13 ounces. His name is Zennith Cannon Castrence. His middle name is inspired by the Cannonball River at Standing Rock, where he was conceived. He is perfection in our eyes and we continue to be amazed at the love that pours out when you have a child. Leo is an amazing father. He lets me sleep when I can, he works from home and from the office, makes dinner, and gushes over his son every second he is home. I try not to have expectations set on someone, but if I had any expectations of what Leo would be like as a father, he has far exceeded them. He is so incredible as both a father and a partner. I am blessed. These days have been the best of my life. I am forever grateful for the opportunity to be the mother of this little guy, and to do it with Leo by my side. We are blessed. Dear Strangers on the Street, in the Grocery Store, at a Restaurant, on Social Media, or in a Parking Lot,
I really appreciate that you have taken notice that I am very pregnant. I am flattered that so many of you want to give my little baby in my belly attention, or offer me advice. BUT PLEASE if you decide that you want to tell me that you had a horrible time being pregnant, or an awful labor, and that the best advice you have is to get the epidural, please don't. Or if you now have a teenager who tells you they hate you and you miss the baby years, if you think I look ready to pop, or any other words of advice that stem from negativity, can you PLEASE KEEP IT TO YOURSELF? If you would like to offer Congratulations, or to tell me how much you loved being pregnant and giving birth, if you love being a parent, if you think I am glowing or any other POSITIVE ENCOURAGEMENT, then feel free to share (with respect to my time and my purpose for being where I am). As these are my last moments enjoying having my baby hiding out in my womb, I want to continue to enjoy each second that I have left being pregnant. For pregnancy is a gift to me, and who knows if I will ever be blessed again with this gift. There is a chance these are my only moments ever experiencing these last few weeks being pregnant. Kindly, A 38+ week Pregnant Woman Who Feels REALLY GREAT and is VERY EXCITED TO BE GROWING A HUMAN INSIDE OF HER, and Who IS EXCITED FOR THE BIRTHING PROCESS as She BELIEVES IT IS A SPIRITUAL CONNECTION AND A UNIQUE MOMENT IN HER LIFE TO EMBRACE ******************************************************************************************************** Lately I have been so amazed at what strangers will say to you when you are pregnant. And all the lovely words from those who enjoyed pregnancy and love being parents has been AWESOME. But more often I hear negative statements and I think it is time for all of those words to disappear. I don't want to hear about why you hate the teenage years. I am sorry if you felt horrible during your pregnancy. I wish you the best if you are a single mom struggling. I hope you find moments in your day that you can look at a child and be happy. I am sorry that you had a horrible birthing experience whether it be physical pain or emotional pain that made your labor a struggle. BUT DO NOT ruin my final moments with my child inside of me. I LOVE BEING PREGNANT. I LOVE BEING IN LOVE WITH MY PARTNER. I LOVE FEELING MY BABY MOVE INSIDE OF ME. I AM EXCITED TO BIRTH MY BABY. I FEEL AWESOME AT 38 WEEKS. I AM BLESSED WITH A BLADDER AND POSITIONING OF A CHILD THAT ONLY WAKES ME 1-2 TIMES PER NIGHT TO USE THE RESTROOM. LAST WEEK I GOT THE BEST SLEEP I HAVE HAD IN MONTHS. MY BACK FEELS OK (NOT THE BEST BUT NOT HORRIBLE) BECAUSE I DO YOGA A FEW MOMENTS OF MY WEEK AND I GET MASSAGES EVERY THREE WEEKS. I RUB CREAM ON MY BACK AS WELL TO HELP PREVENT THE PAIN. I RELAX WITH ACUPUNCTURE AND CHIROPRACTIC CARE IS KEEPING THE SCIATIC PAIN MINIMAL. I AM CAREFUL WITH WHAT I EAT AND STAY HYDRATED. I USE POSITIVE AFFIRMATIONS TO PREPARE FOR THE LABOR. I HAVE A TEAM OF MIDWIVES WHO I LOVE, THAT I CHOSE BECAUSE I KNEW IT WAS BEST FOR MY FAMILY. I CHOSE TO WALK MY PATH OF PREGNANCY EMBRACING IT, BECAUSE GROWING A HUMAN INSIDE OF YOU IS A MIRACLE. I LOVE THIS STAGE OF MY LIFE SO PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE BE HAPPY FOR ME, OR GET OUT OF MY SPACE. Oh also, future mamas, I found a way to keep people quiet unless they want to offer you blessings and congrats....where a belly shirt at 38 weeks in public. I went to a friends house yesterday dressed in a skirt and short tank top with a long shirt over the tank. I intended to maybe do henna on my belly and not really be in public. Well the day quickly got to 80 degrees and I didn't want to wear the long shirt anymore. I left my friend's house without having yet done henna, but still just wearing my tank....and I had to go pick up lunch for Leo downtown. Turns out, walking in a belly shirt at 38 weeks results in one of two things, ALL women avoid eye contact and most men avoid you. But some men wish you sincere congratulations and blessings. So if you want to avoid negative comments, people seem scared to open their mouths when your belly is fully exposed. ;) Good luck! This is me, June 2015. I had just been released from the hospital due to a major flare up with Crohn's Disease. I was told I needed surgery to survive, but I thought a miracle was possible. After a week in the hospital hooked up to IV's, I convinced the doctors and myself that I could go home. In my mind, I would heal through food, prayer, and mindfulness. In the doctors eyes, if I could gain ten pounds I would be more likely to have a successful surgery removing part of the small bowel and possibly avoid an ileostomy bag. They scheduled me with the surgeon I personally chose (after I refused the first surgeon available who wanted to cut into asap), a woman, who had amazing reviews and had a long waiting list. In two months, I would have surgery. Meanwhile, I had to hope the fistula from my intestine to my bladder, which caused feces to flow through my urine, would remain closed off. Somehow, it closed itself off from the hole it punctured in my bladder and there was hope I could gain weight. I went home on my 32nd birthday. I had spent months in pain and the idea of sitting at my parent's house for two months, awaiting a miracle, yet also working for it with diet, meditation, prayer, music, journaling, and more seemed challenging. But I knew I had to give it my best. I was watching my mother prepare for another surgery for ovarian cancer, and the last thing I wanted was for her to worry about me. But quite honestly, I was wasting away to nothing. I was down to 84 pounds and could barely walk to the bathroom. So I decided to give it my best. I maybe could be an example for my mother, to change all the little things in life that can end up giving us so much stress that our bodies attack themselves. DIS-EASE....dis ease in the body turns into a disease with a medical label. I got a nutritionist/life coach from Massachusetts who put me on a strict healing regimen with diet and attending to all my emotional and spiritual needs. No one could do any of this for me. Only I could take the step forward and work towards healing myself. I knew a lot of the stress on my physical body had stemmed from denying my inner calling. My desire to move home to help my mom heal from cancer, led to me opening a yoga and massage studio to help the community. But in the end, I was taking care of everyone else and not myself. My support of friends who were in my tribe and saw life as a spiritual path and way of living no longer existed. I had entered and remained in a relationship that caused more stress than anything, although I will always be grateful for all the lessons learned. Access to the best nutritional food was not as easy as it had been for me living in Asheville, NC or Central America and I was being poisoned by the food and water in my home town, rather than fed nutrients. I needed to take more time and energy to get the healthy foods I needed, and this meant avoiding going out to eat completely in my hometown, which is challenging because sometimes you just want to have someone else cook for you. I moved into a camper in my parents backyard, which connected to my grandparents yard also. I secluded myself and barely talked to anyone for months. Though my family was concerned for such seclusion, I enjoyed this and found so much healing in that camper. I wrote, I sang, I played guitar, I cried, I laughed, I prayed, and I prayed, and I prayed. And I finally found myself again. The person I had been so connected to a few years earlier. The one who would have recognized the unhappy person I had become long before she could allow it to become a daily routine. The woman who could tune into the higher version of herself and know deep within what choices were the best. I found my strength which was my spirit. I found happiness. I found my TRUST in my path even though I couldn't see more than a few hours down it. And then I stumbled backwards, got lost in some old emotions for a few days, and my gut health deteriorated faster than I could catch up with. My mom had surgery the same week and I couldn't go and support her. I had major tests done a week or so after and found that the worst was true, surgery must happen for me. And in fact, the surgeon I chose had an unexpected opening and I was at the top of the list. So without any preparations, I was preparing for surgery weeks earlier than scheduled, alone and scared. My family in Pennsylvania were all helping my mom recover, my sister was days away from delivering my niece (which I was meant to attend the birth and be in the room with her, an honor that I sadly wouldn't get to do). My biological father and step mother amazingly stepped up, drove six hours to Cleveland Clinic, and were there the first two nights so the doctors could deliver all the updates to someone in my family. I was in denial, all the work I spent the past six months doing was falling apart. I let my emotions take over my gut and was back in the hospital with no choice but surgery. So I went back to my inner higher version of myself. I needed TRUST. I focused on healing quickly, doctors who would be divinely guided to do the best they could possibly do. Nurses who would attend to my every need. At this point, there were so many unknowns. How much small intestine would they remove? Would I need a temporary ileostomy or even worse, a permanent one? How long would recovery be? Would I ever live a "normal" life? I came out of surgery and had a pretty horribly loud and negative roommate but thank goodness my dad and step mom helped me get a new room. I came off the morphine drip as quickly as I could. I made myself walk when I had so much pain the thought alone of moving my foot one inch ahead of me was painful. I refused most of the oral pain meds after a few days. I refused a lot of the food they tried to feed me also. I had family and friends that went to Whole Foods and purchased healthier options. But I found a depression take over me. See, I awoke after surgery to an ileostomy. I was so malnourished that my body wouldn't be able to repair the area that had been stitched together fast enough to avoid infection once I started eating. So they pulled part of the small bowel out of my stomach and fastened a bag to my abdomen, therefore all my bowel movements came out of the bag. I was mostly fed through an IV. I had a temporary PICC line put in my arm where the IV's attached and delivered me 2000 calories each day. The food I did eat came out so quickly that they claimed I wouldn't get any nutrients from it, but I was still determined to put healthy nourishing foods in me and that I would get something from it. I got mad, super angry when a nurse came to show me how to change the ileostomy bag. This wasn't my life. At one point I remember thinking I should have let myself die, I never should have had the surgery. My family members that came to visit me got sad when they saw how my mental state was so unhappy. They didn't recognize me, and I didn't recognize myself...mostly because it was NOT me. I was so disconnected to my truest self and the physical person was not acting in any way that was true to me. But then I had a few days alone. I had an infection from the surgery and no one was there to help me through it. They had to put a long needle in my butt and take out the fluid infection that was settling in my pelvis. In fact, they were in such a rush to do it, they almost mixed two IV's of meds that don't go together and could have killed me. Thanks goodness I was alert and very questioning of EVERYTHING they did and gave me. It annoyed them, but in this instance it possibly saved my life. (It's ok to question western medicine, it's also ok to accept it....but always be aware of all the choices). I ended up in the hospital for ten days. Many of them alone. But by the end of the stay, I had found a guitar and some paint. I knew only I could walk the path back to myself again. I played music in the hallway, I painted my niece a picture. I read books. I slept. But I left convinced I would be back in the two month period which they said would be the earliest they could test me to see if the ileostomy would be able to be removed. At that point, there were no guarantees, but there was a chance I could heal enough and gain enough weight to have it reversed at the earliest in mid October but probably after that. I got home, and was overtaken by a deep sadness of what daily life looked like when you had home nurse visits, daily IV's in the PICC line for 10-16 hours, changing the ileostomy bag on your own, and no one that could do those things for you. I had to learn to hook myself up to the IV. I could only leave the house for an hour or two because of the IV schedule the first two weeks. I had to change the bag every time it filled up. I had to write down my temperature, how often the bag needed changed, and a variety of other things to make sure no infection was taking over. Then I had to email the reports every few days. Self care consumed my life, but it wasn't the kind of self care I liked. I miss being able to be secluded in the camper, but it wasn't "sanitary" enough for the PICC line and IV's. I had nights where the IV wouldn't hook up properly and I would miss out on 2000 calories and drop up to five pounds over night. After one of those nights, I hit my deepest, darkest moment of my life. I wished I had died. I pounded my fist into the table and saw my parents faces of helplessness. And in that instant, I knew I was so disconnected from the real ME and that I never wanted to see that look in my parent's eyes ever again. The next day, I made myself sit on the ground and inhale my arms up over my head. This caused so much excruciating pain because of the tissues binding together in my ribcage and abdomen from so much laying in bed. But I knew I needed to come back to my BREATH. Back to the life force within. Back to myself. I heard an inner voice tell me that I had the option to walk my path now, fully, but I had to trust. I had to believe in the unknown and know that I could be healed and help others just by doing my own work. I had a purpose and I could follow it if only I had a deep TRUST in the unknown. If I could connect to my higher self and walk my path, all would be revealed in Divine Timing. And so, I took the first step. I cried, I laughed, I sung out loud again, I smiled, I cooked meals and filled them with love, and I asked for help along the way- any kind of guidance. I signed up for a Manifestation Masters program online with Jen Mazer and I began it the second week of September. This happens to be the week that I emailed Leo, my baby's daddy and my amazing partner. I wrote him about collaborating on a healing retreat as I had seen some of his posts on Facebook in a group we are a part of and I felt called to do some work with him. We wrote briefly that month and talked about Skyping the following month but it never happened. Instead we both continued our own healing journeys for another eight months, and were divinely led to one another at what appeared to be a random chance meeting the following May in Ohio. In the Manifesting Program I strengthened many parts of connecting to myself, and I found that I was describing a life with a partner and children that I never had imagined I would want. I wrote details on how we would communicate, projects we would collaborate on, where we would live, the people that would surround us and the places we would travel. The feelings were so strong and I didn't know where the details were coming from but I wrote all of this dream life down in September 2015, just 5 weeks after surgery. And never would I expect to be where I am today....but I knew at that time that I needed to TRUST in the DIVINE plan, do MY BEST to work toward the calling I heard deep within. I had a two hour morning routine to deepen my connection and self care. Connecting to myself was so incredible that there are no words for it. I felt connected to the unseen and the seen, the Divine at work, and inner knowledge that spoke louder than ever. And I even surprised all the doctors and had the reversal of the ileostomy at the earliest possible point AND was released from the hospital less than 48 hours later, without pain meds by October 2015. The nurses had never seen such a quick recovery. After nine months of a healing phase, I learned to accept the unknown, and live each day fully with intention and to continue to strive to do my best. So with that, I have entered into a relationship and pregnancy, and soon labor and mothering our first child. I have heard many questions of how do I feel? Many mothers remember the last few weeks of pregnancy being pretty miserable. And quite honestly, last night was not the best night of sleep, and was really uncomfortable with a tight back and belly that is hard to roll over with. BUT I am blessed. I know I only have a few days or maybe weeks left to feel my little guy rolling around in my belly. And while I am so excited to hold him and see his face and count his toes, I will miss feeling him resting safely in my womb. All of this positivity and looking at the glass half full, I believe, helps me to feel good. BUT it's not without moments of struggle. I just found out that my mother's healing with cancer is not going as "planned" and has seemingly taken a turn for the worst. This means, I don't know if she will be flying out in May to meet her grandson. And I can't even imagine not having her along for this new journey I am embarking on. But I go back to TRUST. I trust in all my prayers and those of others that her path will be exactly as it should be. I trust that I have the strength to be able to do what it is on my path of being her daughter will require me to do. I trust that answers will be shown to us. I trust that I can and will support her. I trust that I have learned so much from her and that I will be able to be an amazing mother to my child because of it. I trust that I will have the strength to push out a baby and do so with love and ability to embrace the birthing process. I trust that somehow, my baby will meet my mama within the first month of being born. And I trust, that every single person who has read this ridiculously long blog will take just a few moments to pray for my mother today and her healing. <3 ***IF YOU ARE INTERESTED IN THE MANIFESTING MASTERS PROGRAM I MENTIONED, EMAIL ME FROM THE CONTACT PAGE ASAP AND I CAN GET YOU DETAILS ON THE NEXT PROGRAM STARTING IN MAY!!***
I have found that there are many superficial pregnancy symptoms and experiences that are common knowledge to discuss. But what about the depths of what it really feels like and what it means for a woman during the process of growing another human inside of them.
We all have heard that pregnant women are hormonal, eat more, sleep more (or less if their bodies can't get comfortable), get tired easily, go through a nesting phase, have back pain, can get postpartum depression, have painful deliveries, pee a lot and more. But what does all of this really feel like deep down for the woman and what does it potentially all mean for them during the experience? Why don't we commonly discuss all the depths of the realities? It feels like everything remains superficial and the depths of the conversations around pregnancy are avoided.
But many of these questions get tossed to the side, and instead we focus on materialistic "needs". Baby showers and gifts, cute outfits, the best stroller, new mama gadgets, and we lose the attention that should be given to preparing our body, mind, and spirit for the path of motherhood/fatherhood. I have taken it upon myself to dive a little deeper. I have little knowledge or wisdom from others on the experience of becoming a mother that supports all the aspects of the real needs in preparing for birth, but I am digging deep within. I am observing emotions, fears, and actions and looking at the web of connections it has to my upbringing, all the positive and negative. I am trying to eat balanced, and when I have a craving that isn't the best, I at least try to fulfill it with the "healthy" version (chocolate, such a craving, but there are Gluten & Dairy Free Flax Brownie Muffins - Flax4Life brand which at least have Flax, Iron, Calcium and Fiber in them...). I have been going for self care at least once per week since March (third trimester) which includes massage, acupuncture, yoga, and chiropractic care. This is a huge help and all mamas need to find a way to make this happen once per week to help stay balanced. I have been practicing a few minutes here and there of breath work, thanks to yoga and other wisdom that has found me, the breathing will be essential not only for birthing but also for parenting. I talk about my emotions rather than avoid them, and release them as necessary. I read more, write more, set priorities so that my to do list is slowly taken care of and nothing seems overwhelming in one day. I clean a little bit at a time rather than expect to clean the whole house in one day. I look at where I may have stress and I find solutions to help eliminate it. For example, our puppy caused me some stress and I saw a friend selling a dog crate. I knew this would help me train her, and not ever have to come home to any kind of unexpected mess in the house (chewing or bathroom mess). I didn't want to spend the money, but I knew it would be so worth removing the stress from daily life. And it has been worth more than the dollar amount. It's funny how often we try to use money as an excuse on why we shouldn't do something that is good for us. Yet we can spend the money on things that are definitely not good for us without blinking an eye... Today and the past three days I have been extremely tired...so I am taking naps, breathing, coloring, and enjoying these last few weeks feeling a baby grow inside of me. I am asking for help when needed and minimizing any material "needs" to be sure my physical and emotional needs are met. I am connecting with Leo to strengthen our bond before birth. I am asking for help with the Meal Train and hope to get some meals provided for us after birth. I am preparing freezer meals as well to ease the first week or two after the baby is here. I am receiving healing sessions tomorrow and Monday. I am learning how to ask Leo for help without ordering him to do something in my set time frame. I am embracing the sunshine and extra moments laying in bed. I am envisioning the positive moments of birthing, the first view of the baby, the first noise he makes, and the first kiss Leo gives me with his son in my arms. So if you are pregnant or know someone who is, I encourage you to really look at some of the above questions and dive into the depths of your soul. No more superficial pregnancy conversations. Truly how are you doing? What do you need? How can you help yourself? How can you ask for real help? Blessings <3 |
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February 2018
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