WOD3 - Rationale

I think that life, in general, tends to go smoother when you have a rationale for what you do, how you react, and how you think. That could be an aspect of my logically oriented mind, but - damn, sometimes it seems like some things are straightforward.
Some things are simple. Some thing just are - and you can ignore them, claim exceptions, tapdance a hulahoop around them, but it doesn't change the way it is.
And, it puzzles me, I guess it the best word, that some people really don't accept that fact. It's not that they are crazy, but they are living in their own world, built from denial, and when their world slams itno reality and cracks the image - it's everyone else's fault but their own.
I strive to be logical. I know I'm not perfect, so there are huge gaps - huge faultlines, in fact, between the woman that I strive to be, and the woman that I currently am. Some, I've looked into, and faced forthrightly. Others, I'm still dancing around. And I'm sure there are some that I truly haven't even noticed yet. But - at least I'm making the effort to look, and see.

Part of the reason that I'm able to make the effort is because I don't have to focus all of my mental energy on just living. On just negotiating my community, my relationships, my work to try to keep them all tettering just on the edge of destruction. I'm not saying my shit is tight, but overall, it's stable.

Can there be clear thinking in the midst of chaos? Be it internal or external - can the time be made to actually - think - when you are in the ye of the storm? I think that the answer has to be no - the human mind isn't wired that way. Monkey brain demands that you survive, then think. And if you have been socialized into believing that every day is a survival situation (whether it is one, in reality, or not) then you'll never be able to clearly think.

Getting and Being

That Which You Are Seeking Is Causing You To Seek was a really, really good book. I'm still thinking about little bits and pieces of it, two days later.

One of the things that they talked about was the difference between GETTING angry and BEING angry.

It that, there is nothing wrong with getting angry - anger is an emotion, just as valid and valuable as love. However, being that anger - holding in inside of you and letting it rule your choices and your thoughts - that's the problematic point. They suggested once you are angry, looking past your anger and identifying the actual root emotion. Anger, really, is a shield of some sort - and without looking past the shield, you'll never just be able to get angry, and let it go.

It's really challenging for me, because first I have to identify the feeling that I'm having AS anger. I'm so used to repressing anger (because I'm zen, you see, and things simply roll off of my back), that when I really am angry - I'm either a firey inferno, or I'm crying - or I'm denying what I'm feeling is anger at all.

Poetgirl commented that once the year mark hits, things start to get really hard, emotionally. I was thinking today (as I was putting in my CP/CM notes) that I'm really tired. I want to run away and hide from this, because emotionally, it's stressing me. It's straining me, and it feels all so hopeless, sometimes. I've promised myself that I will not change anything that I'm doing until after the RE appt - then we might have to reconsider things. More for me, than for him, as I don't even know/think it matters, to him.

Speaking of the RE, their receptionist is smart enough to check with the insurance company BEFORE you come in, and she let me know that our visit will be 361.00 out of pocket. Which, is more than we should be spending (I need to figure out which credit card to put that on), but it's the last medical thing that we'll be doing, except for maybe another SA - so I figure it's worth getting the information. He want's Dr. R to send over my scans from the HSG, so I need to call their office and have them do that today, too.

I don't think I'm angry, though. I don't think what I'm feeling is anger. Disappointment? Sadness? Frustration? Anger? See. Maybe there is, just a little anger in there. I don't know. I regularly examine/talk to myself to see if I'm blaming myself for this - don't think that the thought has gone through my mind several times that I might have killed the only child I was ever going to be able to have. The fact that I got pregnant around the same age as my mom, who only had me, despite YEARS of trying for siblings - horrifies me on a regular basis, but I try to not hold onto it. It slides through, and I marvel at the fact that I would be mother to a seven year old, and then it fades away. But, oh, it's always there.

I don't know. I really just want to let the whole thing go, at least for a little while.

And then - C still doesn't have a job. It's going on - almost three months now? He's still looking, hard, and we are still okay- though we are dipping into the savings, and I'm seriously considering majorly dipping into the savings, paying off the IRS and Sears and the Home Depot store card, and - moving on from there.
But then, we are also kicking around the idea of opening a restuarant. We have picked out a location, and we've put together ideas & a menu. Now, we are going to start working on the business plan, and trying to find financing. With the market as it is now, I'm seriously doubting that we'll....... well. Just as I started writing that sentence, I got an alert that my horoscope for today had just hit my inbox.

Dear Kiya,
Here is your horoscope for Wednesday, March 19:
Gather your resources and figure out how best to use them for the upcoming
months or so. It's a great day for making plans -- even for several years from
now! Your good energy is perfect for the task.

*blink* Well. Fine, then. I'll do that. I don't know how 'good' my energy is (ahh, that's another thing - not breaking things up into good/bad, but just seeing them as they are. So, my energy is - focused, I think. My energy is ready for a change, and it's in a very Fuck All Ya'll kinda mood, which means my normal reluctance towards change might not be in such a high gear).......

I'll be vested on Friday.

Work has been - well, it's been a bit better. I had my performance review (no raise for me this year, no suprise there!), and - I think some things were laid on the table. I think there will be some shakeups - and well, change is - change. Hopefully, for the better. I'm busier (minutely, and it's more me making myself feel like it actually MATTERs - attitude shift, one could say), but I realized that I've been, more or less, doing the same damn thing for the last 8 years. I don't know - I think I might be ready for a change. I can't believe it's been 3 years already.

But, with the restaurant, my main - inital thoughts for a change (going into consulting) simply wouldn't be an option, as I would need to be at the restaurant after leaving my 'day job'.

And then, there's always in the back of my mind the thought that maybe it's a blessing that we haven't concieved yet, maybe there is a reason. Maybe the worlds really about to go all to shit, and we're being spared the stress of caring for a babe. Maybe we are meant to adopt, instead. Maybe, Maybe, Maybe.

I don't know. All I know is that..... I am. Right now, that's all I'm certain of, and heaven knows, sometimes I wonder if it's all just a dream.

I think my next book will be my birthday gift from my momma, though.

spasms

I mentioned to a friend this morning that lately, I seem to skip the righteous indignation bit of things, and go directly to pissed off and/or depressed about things that would usually get me in a high dander.

I don't know if it's the simple fact that no-one can be pissed off all the time - well, no, someone could be pissed off all the time, but that someone wouldn't be me, or if it's just the overwhelming amount of things that go on that piss me off - I can't handle the overload, anymore.

So, I withdraw. I read, and don't note. I bite my tongue. I wear my iPod at work, and consiously ignore the conversations. I don't read the paper, and I don't watch the news, and I keep my circle of friends very, very, very, small, because I don't WANT to deal with the random insanity of - everything.

It's rather - I don't know. I've always acknowledged the fact that I am a hermit, but I'm starting to take it further than just social interactions.....I'm letting go of things that really don't matter - esp. opinions and beliefs.

As I've been telling people lately - three or four people, including DH - I really don't CARE what you do - I'm not invested in it, as I would have been a few weeks/months ago, because you know what? My righteous indignation isn't going to change your mind - and you'll still live your life, as you want, with or without my input. So why bother?

It's - it's not cynical, really. It's realistic. I'm still changing my mindset around control, and management, and battles worth fighting. I'm learning that I don't have to work to get people to understand me, if THEY don't want to. I'm backing away from brickwalls, and learning the wisdom of a nod.

It's much less frustrating. It's much - easier, on me, emotionally. I'm still learning (still! and here I thought I had it down!) to not take things personally.

But then, I wonder if I'm taking the lazy path out. Is a desire to not have to fight - hell, the craving to not WANT to fight, not NEED to fight, lazy? Is my abandoning of the path of the crusader and changemaker a sign of an inner weakness, or one of inner strength?

Or, maybe, it's just a shift in attitude. I'm willing to teach, but not to fight. I'm willing to share, but not to convince. I'm willing to explore, but not to trailblaze.

I don't know. It might be fear. It might be a warning that I need to conserve that engry - that - vim & vigor for a bigger fight. It might be pure laziness.

I finally got the Dr. Phil book (Self Matters) for 2nd Realm yesterday, and I want to work a chapter or so a night, until I'm caught up (I think we are up to Chapter 5, now).

I really don't like Dr. Phil - he's smarmy, thinks he has the answer for everyone, and has a really irritating voice, but, I've heard very good things about the self-exploration this book lends to, and so, I'm willing to try. Heck, the biography trick has been an interesting trip so far - and useful.

It's interesting - I feel - clearer, somehow. I feel like - heh, I feel more authentic, and it's been stirring before I even opened the pages of the book - I just didn't have a very good name for it.
Hrm. I think I'm done.

Twisting...

I've been writing in my hair journal like a mad woman - I didn't realize I had so much stored up, viz-a-viz hair.
Anyhow, I wanted to write about my ears, and I think I might get a little - messy - and intense, so I'm going to write it here, and if it works, tweak it to transfer to there.

I'm odd that way - where I write an entry has a subtle effect on the tone of the entry itself - even between here and OD.

Anyhow, my ears.

I'm struggling to get them to size. The right side is being - ahh, difficult. And even the left side is being more resistive than usual - I suspect it's because I've moved a little too fast....but, I'm staying where I am, for a while.

I forced the back holes - which were silicone 6g'd for the last few weeks to accept a mother of pearl 6g plug - now, I have stable plugs in both my back holes of the right size, and I'm going to leave them there for a while. It was a struggle getting it into my left ear, but I managed it. The right ear, I had to overstretch with the 4g taper, and then push the 6g plug through - ah, the pain.
But it was warm - pleasent, useful, somehow. Even the soreness in my ears is - comfortable.

In Realm class this week, T talked about hugging the cactus. How, we, over the years, hold such pain to ourselves so closely, that the tiny pricks of pain become numb, and you don't consiously feel them anymore. But! As soon as you start to let go of the cactus, all of those spots of old pain hurt afresh - as if they were new. Hugging the cactus, you see?

I'm wondering, more and more, what pain I'm comfortable with. I think about that gap in my biography (which I still haven't picked back up) and I cringe. I think there is a big cactus there - and I'm not sure if I'm ready to let go of it, just yet.

I was reading WWWf, and there was a thread about EFT and Releasing Memories......and it struck a chord in me - it was rather along the lines of what I was doing as I laid in bed and redreamed my own history.

I've - I want to sit down and read the EFT booklet that I printed out while I meditate in the morning, but I haven't been having much success in getting up early enough to work out and meditate - and I opted to make the harder habit my higher priority.

Anyhow.

I'm trying to figure out how to stretch my ears out enough so that they will accept a 2g plug. Do I need a 0g taper? That would be a pain. I guess I could just continue to wear the dangles - the stainless steel ones at night, and the glass during the day - glass so that I'm not pulling my earlobes down - I've noticed my lobes 'hanging' a bit more than I would like them to in the latest series of pictures that I've taken of my hair - the larger the gauge, the heavier the earring, obviously - I think that I'm going to have to go to solely glass/wood stuff now. Maybe I'll try bone again - it was just too light in the smaller gauges, but now, that very lightness might be an advantage.

I have glass and mother of pearl - some lovely mother of pearl, too - plugs in 2g - damn. *sigh* I'll look and see how much a 0g taper will be.....so that I can at least wear them.

lifelines

I have to write a biography for 2nd realm, and it's been - interesting, and mildy depressing and suprisingly enlightening. We have to write it in 3rd person (to distance ourselves from the subject matter) and - it's slightly less heartbreaking.
It's not that I had a BAD childhood - it was just - sad. At least the bits that I can remember - there isn't much joy there. But isn't that how memories go so often? The minor wounds stay with you forever, but the minor joys that go along with them are lost in the mists.
It's one thing that I like about journaling - the fact that most often here, I'm sharing - and saving - the tiny joys in my life - the things that happen on a daily basis that make me smile, and that make me think. I don't need any help remembering the upsets - those, my brain will hold onto of itself.
So far, I'm only up to 15/16, and I totally skipped the years between 13 and 15 - ever had a book that you LOVED, but had a horrible, sad, miserable episode in the middle that while it ADDED to the book, you only needed to read it once, and the next time you read the book, you skip over that section because you know what happened? Yeah, that's about how I feel about 13, 14, 15.
I fell asleep last night trying to remember as much as I could about those years - the actual details, and not the details masked by the miasma of depression, puberty, and abuse the way they have hidden in the back of my head. It was interesting, the things I remembered that I had forgotten - esp. how many of my 'dream' homes (as in the homes I dream about) are actually bits and pieces of places I've lived in before that I've forgotten.
I still haven't worked up the gumption to write about it - I think a large glass(es) of wine might be required to numb me enough to really write about it. I also haven't continued past highschool - I KNOW I can't until I fill in that gap. *sigh* I might have to write it as fiction, that might be easier.
I'm also - oddly enough - considering sending it to my mother when I'm done. I realized that I really don't know much about my personal history - we don't talk about the past much - and I assume in her mind as well, the joys from those years have faded into the background, and the bitter regrets might be all thats left.
Last night also, as I was falling asleep, Sade's 'Someone Already Broke My Heart' came on.....which is one of her songs that I've been humming and singing for a while - TheBoy and I were making jokes about how all of Sade's songs are DEPRESSING, and that particular song was my example.
I realized though, last night, as I was thinking about my dark years, that it could be a song of hope - someones already broken my heart, and I know that pain, and I lived through it that time, so I'll be able to live through it again.
Then, I wandered into the thought that everytime a heart gets broken, it gets bigger. You can't mend something, without adding a little something extra, even if it's just glue. And that something extra makes your heart bigger, stronger, upgraded, ready to handle the next thing.
I don't want to focus on the fact that my hearts been broken - that's in the past. I want to focus on the fact that I've healed. Even if it's not fully healed, I've started healing. I've taken things I valued, and I've mended my heart. No, it's not the pretty, simple, smooth heart of a child anymore, but then, ain't no other part of me still childlike, why should my heart be any different?
And in the fact that I've healed - I've proven I can heal. I've proven that no matter how horrible the heartbreak, I might want to die, but it won't kill me. I know that if my heart is broken, I'll mend, and I'll move on, and I'll grow.
In turn, that means I don't have to fear heartbreak. It'll hurt, yeah, but I'll be okay, really. And without fear, I can go further - I can push down at least one of the bricks in the walls that segment me, knowing that I don't NEED it. My hearts not some fragile, unproven thing. She's (we've) been through some pretty rough spots, and we are all the more for it. And the next rough spot - though I might want to die in the midst of it - it'll make me more, just as the joyful spots that seem to fade away have made me more, as well.

I want to include two poems in my biography as well.....I think they fit the - interesting - times I've lived in. I kinda wanna rework both of them - the first one is almost 9 years old, and the second one is 8? 7? something like that - and while I still like them, they don't catch me the way I want/need them to.

And yeah, dragon stories are still bubbling away on my back brain burner. 9000 words? I can bang that out in a day, but a GOOD 9000 words? *sigh*
I think I'll start writing, again.

Last year was the year of the Unseen Transformation - the changes that happen in all the nooks and crannies of your brain that actually allow transformations to happen.

This year, I have decided and decreed, will be the year of the Visible Transformation.

Transformations don't have to be fast - they can be slow and steady, like that turtletype dude who won the race. TheBoy mentioned last night how we've been working towards so much for so long (years, seriously, in ways that are only manifesting themselves now), and I commented that it's not really the speed, it's the movement that counts.

As I walked on the treadmill this morning (one day down, 312 to go!), that thought hit me again - it's not really the speed, it's the movement, the counts. Both in my successes in exercise, and my reduction of weight. As long as I keep moving, I WILL get faster, I WILL get fitter. There's really no other option - as long as I keep moving.

As I start to mull over which of the two lunches I brought for myself that I will eat today - fully aware that both have major 'exceptions' that I am cleaning out of my diet - it's not the speed, it's the movement, that counts.

So often, I forget that, and I feel like I have to fly, fly, fly in order to have claimed achievement. Is my achievement any less great because it took two months rather than two weeks? Two years, instead of one? Not at all - it doesn't change the impact of my success, it merely shifts the timeline. Now, if there is a set deadline (I don't think the IRS would be down with my movement not speed concept) - that's a different story.

But honestly, how many things in life REALLY have a fixed deadline that achievement is DETERMINED by? Heck, even the IRS offers extentions! I think so many of the deadlines that we impose on ourself are artificial, and just a source of more added stress. If we could focus on the journey - honoring every step (esp. the slow and hard ones!) and KNOWING that the steps we are taking will lead us to where we need/want to be - I think so many things would be - not easier, but more peaceful. More calm.

At least that's how I think it would work with me. It's a release of impossible control. I can't determine how long it takes me to lose weight - all I can do is do the things I need to be doing in order to lose weight. I can't determine how long it will take me to get pregnant - all I can do is so the things I need to be doing in order to have optimal fertility. I can't determine how long I'll be working - all I can do is do the things I need to do in order to make my job less soulsucking and to get us to a point where I don't HAVE to work.

Being the controlfreak that I am, the choice (and it's a choice I've reminded myself of at least four times, today alone *lol*) to really examine what I'm trying to control/wrassle/make fixed and honestly decide whether I can truly control the output, is.......interesting, to say the least. It's a little less scary than I thought it would be, as I'm now even more focused on controlling the INPUT (which ya know, I actually CAN mostly control) and letting the output come as it may.

So. That's what this year has taught me so far.

What've you learned?

Ah, it's almost the end of the year. I usually do a year in recap, around here, but meh. I'm not quite feeling it.

This last year, really, was largely about internal journeys. I think that outwardly, I haven't changed much - if any - but inwardly, my mind is at an entirely different place than it was at the start of the year.

Generally, I'm more peaceful. I'm less stressed. I'm more loving. I'm more honest. I'm more open. I'm more generous. I'm more selfish. I've knocked down some walls and strengthened some boundaries. It's been - transformative. That's the right word.

Going forward into the new year? Ah, I expect that the transformation will ramp up - and I'm really looking forward to seeing how 2nd Realm plays into that. But, that transformation is going on the simmer setting (which is essential, for any good stock) and I'm turning my focus to my health.

I'm going to go sugar and grain free for a while, to see how it makes me feel. I'm going to start exercising (finally - I actually set the timer last night!) because I know it'll make me feel better. I had my last clove today (and I got a nicotine buzz from it too, which I haven't gotten in a WHILE) because I KNOW I'll be healthier.

It's funny, how I've delayed myself. Maybe I needed that time - that year - to prove to myself that yes, things MUST change. I've always KNOWN that I would have to change my diet, my exercise habits, and my weight to get pregnant. I wasn't really fooling anyone but myself, and as the months went by, and my belly stayed - well, we'll have to say unoccupied, as it's already nicely round - the - dread - almost, began to sink in on me. It's not an option, anymore Kiya dear, and in all honesty, it never was.

Health. That's the theme of next year. Emotional, Physical, Mental, Financial, Spiritual - I want to be a glowing ball of HEALTH. The real health, the health that makes your soul sing and your face smile, not the dry, dull, popping four pills for four ills health.

I suspect I'll journal here, a bit more, as I always do at the the start of a year, just to iron things out, and to keep a personal track of what's going on.

Note, do, that I'm not calling this a resolution, of anysort. And, it's mostly accidental that it's close to the new year. I'm on the brink, and I'm ready.

Emotional: Open up more to DH. Make more friends.
Physical: Eat as my body needs. Exercise.
Mental: Reduce TV/Computer time. Read more. (what a shocker that I HAVE to include that!)
Financial: Return to a 0 CC balance. Tithe 15% by June.
Spiritual: Daily Medition. Maintain my altar.

Sounds so simple, written out here, doesn't it? Hah. I'm certain it won't be as simple as it sounds.

death/life/art

A rather morbid, yet interesting thought struck me, spurned by the discussion of waxing ovaries. I have interesting OLF. *laugh*

Anyhow, I went off, wondering what an ovary really looks like. And I realized, all the pictures would be bloody and - violent - somehow - not looking at the organs themselves as things of rich color and beauty, but instead as either dead or diseased things.

I would love to see Organ Art. Where there are galleries of what our insides look like - artistic and beautiful, a few steps removed from the violence that exposed them and reduced to the beauty that they are.

So, I decided that ovaries were delicate pink almonds - smooth and soft, the color of the inside of your eyelid. Occasionally bumpy - but mostly delicate fragile nubs, suspended by cords of ligament and vein in a dark, warm space.

*sigh* I wish I was a better artist. I have these - visions - in my mind, and I have no idea how to translate them to something - tangible.

Dreams into reality.... isn't that the real job of this life? Turning what we desire/aspire to into what we are....and what greater task than to live up to what we COULD be?

Hrm. Is our destiny in life to be artists? Creators of something beyond the limits of ourselves?

Gah. I'm babbling (see, new bloglove!) but... I'm glad to be getting it out.

Who, Me?

Funny sometimes, how things pile up, one on top of the other, trying to encourage me/plant a solid foot in my ass.

So, yesterday, as I'm driving to First Realm class, there are these huge, fluffy, gorgeous clouds in the sky, and it took me back to being a little girl, and wanting to learn how to paint. I had a book that had those same huge, fluffy clouds in it, and I tried - oh, how I tried for WEEKS to get the color shifts just right, and tried to mimic the glow of the sun and the sheerness of the clouds, and I ended up with a white/blue/yellowish-grey mess. I think right around then might have been the time that I convinced myself I had about as much artistic talent as a brick.

Over the years, I've tried other things - and largely, they ended up being just other bricks - other failures, other perfectly shining examples of just how unartly/uncreative/unskilled I was.

I've built up a wall - a rather nice sized one too, around my own creative energy. I had help - oh, I won't claim that I did this all by myself! - and it's been - safe. It's been comfortable, telling myself that it's okay not to try, because failure is the most likely result.

And of course I'm going to fail! I don't really think I can succeed with that brick wall - or, at least not my current definition of success (which I have no clue of what it is!).

I get to class, and my teacher almost immeadiately starts asking me if I ever considered writing professionally - based solely on a (in my mind) slapped together paper that took me all of a day and a half to complete, that she RAVED over. It was - honestly, it was possibly the most emphatic 'Holy Shit, Woman, you're GOOD!' I've ever gotten on something I've done - ever.

And - looking forward down & through the years, I know that once I start staying at home, and once I get into the groove of being at home, I'm going to want to start writing. At that point, I will have no reason to NOT write. At that point, the 'roadblocks' that I've had to writing will be gone. Yeah, I'll be dealing with a whole NEW set of roadblocks, but in my mind - those will be energizing ones, not draining ones. And that time is getting closer and closer - whether I'm knocked up right now or not, I soon will be, and - *deep breath*

My teacher also happens to be part owner of a publishing business.

So. Yeah.

I found that whole series of events - interesting, to say the least. What will I do with it?

I don't know.

But I think the mortar is starting to powder.

10:25

Sick.

Nervous.

In shock.

Scared.

It's not the OMG/happy/joyful feeling that I expected.

It's - shit, I'm shocked. Amazed. Astounded. All of these emotions swirling around, and none of them that I can look at and peg - happy.

Holy Fuck, I'm pregnant. Or, at least that's what this faint pink line is telling me. 3 cycles, and I'm still not ready. Or, maybe I am ready, but I just don't believe, just yet? Or, maybe I'm afraid that it's a chemical, I'll have a miscarriage, the baby will be deformed.....something.

One. Tiny. Fucking. Line, and my whole world has gone 'atilt'. And..... I don't know how I feel about that.

I'm not telling C until Sunday - Happy Fathers Day, Love!

I wanted to know before I told him, so that I could - come to grips with this. My life as I've known it is going to change radically at some point in Late Feb. And I'm terrified. It's going to change to the life I think I want - the life I've been telling myself I want - and I'm SCARED.

That's what it is. The joy and the celebration, and the OMG!!! YES!! is cloaked by this level of fear - will I be a good momma? Will I really be happy at home? Will we be in the poorhouse by June? I'm scared shitless, and it's a gray cloud hiding the sun of......

And it's so damn faint - hopefully it will get darker, and darker, and darker. Though, it IS only 11DPO. So.

Oh my god.

I'm pregnant.

Ahhh......

*sigh*

A sudden sadness has fallen over my heart.

I've been doing a lot of online talking/reading/thinking learning lately, and suddenly, someting settled on me.

I'm an outcast twice.

My skin makes me an outcast in the culture my mind/attitude would 'assign' me to.

My mind/attitude makes me an outcast in the culture my skin would 'assign' me to.

7:54

CD11, and I've just offically scared myself.

I was reading the TTC'ing #1 in your 30's thread, and Kemi was writing fer going off post, and asking for a new host for June, since Kharen got her BFP. And - the first thought that drifted through my head was - ooh, what stage of my cycle would I be in?

And that scares me - that I'm already basing choices that I'm making on whether I'll potentially be pregant - all, unconsiously. I don't WANT to be one of those crazy, trying to concieve, doesn't do anything but dream of her baby to be.

Dear Goddess, I want this to be easy. I want it to be like the first time, one night of passion and a teary episode on the side of the tub a few weeks later.
Oh, but how different of a set of tears would it be, this time?

Do I feel guilt - no....not guilt. As I just gently ranted elesewhere, guilt is regret, and you don't regret a choice you are happy about. I feel - fear. I don't even believe in a retributive god - but I believe in karma. And karmically - yeah, I'm willing to take a hit for the abortion. That's not regret - that's just a fact. And, karmically (and just genereally easily fuckingly ironically) if would be realllly fucking appropiate for my retribution to comei n the form of long trials and suffering to bear another child of my body. And - I couldn't even rail against it, as deep in my heart, I would think that it was FAIR. So I would jsut suffer and climb on through - beliveing - even more - that I could, in my life, bear at least one child from under my heart.

So.

That's the quiet terror that creeps with me as just ONE missed cycle (something missed something, somehow) has gone by - and I'm entering OPK Series 2 pictures.

Just one month.

I'm afraid. More than guedra, more than marriage, this - scares me. Primary Infertility would knock  - rock - shock - the root of me - of who I see myself - my more myself self, that is - as. I realized - oh! I realized what the feeling of my heart trying to break through my ribs symbolized, but I don't remember what it was........... maybe a seed, sprouting? Bah. But - this - this mothering energy in me is - powerful. I HAVE to release it, somehow. And becoming a mother would be the easy way.

I'm hoping that writing this out will let me release it - will free me from that fear - will give me a center of restfulness to take things as they come - take me to a place that allows me to fight when needed and surrender when needed. Balance.

That's what I need.

8:08

Yes, Yes.

.............

I come, and I stare, and I rack my brain, and - really. Nothing is going on - new like, in my life. Well, nothing that I consider of enough gripping interest that YOU folx would want to know about.

And maybe that's it. I love ya'll dearly, I do, and treasure the wonderful ODbond that has formed.

But. This is MY diary.

And sometimes, I think that - dammit - I think that I censor myself based on what I THINK other people want/need from me. And yeah, this is about way more than just OD.

And I'm slowly coming to realize that - well, not slowly, but the realization bitch slapped me a few days ago, and I'm still slowly coming to terms with it - but I'm coming to realize that not only am I doing MYSELF a disservice, it's an insult - really - to everyone I call friend.

At the same time - it's HARD. Oh dear me, is it hard. And it really shouldn't be, ya know? I shouldn't be afraid of being me. I shouldn't be ashamed of being me. As much as I talk about not requiring approval from others - deep down, I want it. I like feeling stroked and appreciated - and I cringe - on a souldeep level - when I am shunned/ignored/pushed aside. I'm a party girl at heart - but I'm a party girl who has never been one of the cool kids - always forming my own little party of three or so in the corner.

And, over the years I've convinced myself that I'm just so - different - that it's kinda expected I would be the odd kid out. I'm from Jupiter, you see, and therefore I don't have to TRY to fit in. And really - I don't want to fit in.

I just don't want to be afraid of not fitting in.

Also (and I'm only a marginal believer in the concept of horoscopes, but after a couple of nice solid nudges, a girl has to sit up and pay attention) my last few horoscopes/inspirational emails have all had the same thing of authenticity and of selfcenteredness and selfawareness.

I've got to break out of my shell. I HAVE to. I've finally - finally - grown to the point where the shell isn't giving anymore. And it's starting to make me feel stagnant, and guilty, and withdrawn that I can't give what I know I CAN give - and oftentimes want to give - but I just can't break through fully enough to pull it off.

I want to be the full sunhearted, moonbellied woman that I KNOW I am.

I'm just terrified that being me will be an impostion on people, and I'll be left all alone.

*sigh*

Well. Looks like I did have something on my mind, afterall.

Doula, Doula, wherefore art thou, Doula?

*LOL*

Okay - enough people have asked about the doula client that I'll write the whole thing out....

I'll start with the birth story, then explain why I'm debating if I want to get certified.

---

L was due 2/13. Dad was out of the country until 2/1, and once he was back, they immeadiately went into the rush of SIL's wedding (which was on 2/3), so they both had late nights the 2nd and the 3rd.

I got called the first time the morning of the 4th (Sunday, around 4am) - L had been having regular contractions, and she thought her water broke, and so they went into the hospital, but labor stalled and they determined that her water had not broken, and sent her home. When they checked her then, she was about 3cm/50% - so, her body was definitely warming up for labor. They also noted that she seemed to be a little low on amniotic fluid. I suggested to her that she was most likely dehydrated, which was starting to bring on her labor a little early, and suggested that she REST and DRINK as much as possible.

So. Monday - she goes to work, still having on and off contractions - and she hasn't been getting much sleep.

I get called again Tuesday morning, they are at the OB's, she's 4cm/75%, contractions 5-7 minutes apart, and they want her to check in. (9:30am)

They check in, and since she was Group B Strep+ (and she didn't get retested that morning as I suggested to confirm that she was still +), they set up her IV for a bag of fluid and pennicilin. I started getting a little concerned at that point, because she was SO dehydrated that they could barely find a vein to insert the IV into, and I was worried that loading her up with fluid would cause her labor to slow down (assuming that it was dehydration related). They finally call in an anethesilogist (spelling, I know), who after three pokes, was able to get a vein - and she gets the first bag. (10:30am). She's laboring pretty good, having some back and hip pain, and she's TIRED (yet another source of worry). She's labored out of bed the entire time - slowdancing with R, squatting at the end of the bed, leaning, the whole nine.

So - She's laboring, I'm doing counterpressure and hip presses, and the bag of fluid don't seem to be slowing her down any. The doc comes in, checks her - 5cm/100% - say's that he's spoken to her doc, and they want to break the waters. (Should I have encouraged her to question this??) I let her know that it will increase the intensity of her contractions as she's going to lose that cushion of water, but that hopefully, it will allow labor to move along, and encourage her cervix to dilate. She agrees to having her water broken (11:15ish), and after about 3 or 4 contractions, she's asking for an epidural.

Now - she had always leaned towards an epidural from the start. I fully educated her (and reminded her) of the side effects, and the potential cascade, but she was TIRED. And - I was concerned that even if she DID labor all the way through - working off of little to no sleep for the last 4 days, AND no food for the last 16 hours at this point - things wouldn't be pretty once we hit 2nd stage.

So - she gets her epi @ noon, but it doesn't fully take - so now she can only feel the contractions on her left side - and she's starting to run a fever. Now - two of her friends (who were there much later) told me that they were feeling a little sickish - maybe something flu-like - and they were all together all weekend. So - she has a fever, but she's shivering, AND her whole body aches........esp. her back.
Alex has been doing fine the whole time - heart rates going variable as it should. She requests, and gets a second epi @ 1:30ish. By 2:45pm, it's fully kicked in, and she's not feeling anything. Now - they kicked me out of the room for both epi's (hospital policy), and by the time I get back into the room after the second Epi, they've also hung a bag of pitocin, and they are giving her tylenol suppositories to try to manage the fever, and inserted a catheter. She's also working on a pretty nice headache now.

They come and check her again at around 4:30ish, and she's 6, and Alex is showing a bit of a caput^[1] - which is a little disheartening for her. I remind her that the epi may have slowed down labor, and that her body may be acknowledging that she's tired, and slowing down to give her a chance to rest. She sleeps on and off for about the next hour or so....

Around 5:30, the doc comes in, checks her again, and starts talking section - the 'slow' labor, the fever she's running, and Alex has gone through a couple of decels....so - they are starting to 'manage' a bit more. They insert an internal contraction monitor, and up the pit. He tells her that they need to see some progess, or it's going to be definitely a section. L starts crying at this point - she already felt that she 'wimped' out because of the epi, and now she's seriously wondering if it was a bad choice. I try to soothe her by assuring her that she's done really WELL, and that her exhaustion (and lack of food!), made getting the epi a wise idea - just so that she could rest.

They come back to check her around 6:45ish, and she's gone up to 8, and Alex still has a caput. They are realllllly starting to push a section now, telling her that because of the caput, they aren't sure that he will be able to descend fully. I've had her upright as much as possible so that his head is pressing in the right spot, but even with the pit, her contractions are - iffy. She's had *thinks* 3 bags of fluid by now, and so I'm strongly suspecting that she was having early labor due to dehydration, and her body and Alex aren't really ready.....

Her doc - at least the doc that was actually going to deliver her, not the doc who had been seeing her all through her pregnancy - becaue THAT doctor (her actual doctor) was out of town, and the TWO other docs that came in were just covering for her REPLACEMENT while he was in surgery - comes in around 8:15 or so, and she is still 8, Alex hasn't descended any further, he still has a caput, and the epi is starting to wear off, and she's still tired - and he tells her that they are strongly pushing for a section, because he doesn't feel like waiting would make any difference. L is not happy - but she's worn down at this point. She's - defeated isn't the right word - she was exhausted. So - she agrees.

Alex is born at about 8:45 that evening.


My overall feeling?

It wasn't time for her to go into labor. She was tired, and dehydrated, and stressed, and she went into labor - and since she wasn't comfy with laboring at home she went into the hospital a little too early.

I think - because of her exhaustion - that the epi was a good idea because it DID give her a chance to rest - but I also think that 64 oz of water and a big meal might have done the same thing.

I wasn't there for the discussion - if there was any - of the need for pit, but by that point - I'm sure her labor had slowed down - and since they had broken her water, they needed to keep things going.

I feel like I was a good doula in that I helped her though her labor before the epi, and that I suggested things to her to do, and I reassured her, and both mom and dad said that they were MOST pleased with what I had done and that I kept them sane and calm ......

But at the same time, I feel like I failed her because she had a c-section. But - the things that I could have influenced were in the past - I couldn't sit on her and make her drink and sleep. I couldn't stop her from desiring an epi - despite the sideffects that she knew about. I feel like - it was really out of my hands, and I did the best I could with what I had, and... therefore I'm sorta rockish.

But - I'm still. Not happy.

[1] Caput - generalized swelling of the scalp tissue, just fluid, soft, crosses suture lines, that disappears within a few hours or days.

---

So. That's the story, that's the tale.

Why am I debating if I want to get certified? Because, now I'm debating if I want to be a doula - or if I want to go directly into midwifery. I feel like I let her down because I WASN'T as strong of a part of her prenatal care. I felt like I let her down because she called the doctors before she called me. I'm wondering if I - if I have the - distance - to stand to one side, and watch these women that I call clients be subjected to what I KNOW is a lower maternal standard of care. And I don't think I do. And in my mind, that is what being a doula would be to me....only doing half of the job that I need/want to do.

So I'm confused, a little. I LOVED helping her, being there - supporting her, talking to her, soothing her - doing all that felt SO right and so good. But - I felt like my hands were tied, somehow. I'm still in awe and in love with birth and labor and babies.

I went back to the hospital *thinks* 3 days after he was born - well, it was the middle of the afternoon, so 2.5 days old, really. He was the loveliest little boy - so tiny and sweet and soft and warm - and heavy. No - solid. He was so tiny and so DENSE all at once. And I was overjoyed because look! A new human - the newest person I'd ever held in my life! And yet, I was so sad, seeing all the fur still on his ears (and according to mom, his shoulders, legs, and back), and smelling his tiny head and smelling nothing but sharp chemicals and sour milk.

*sigh*

I know that I don't know yet but a fraction of what a good midwife would know. And I know that I know a good bit more about labor and BIRTH than most people know. I'm fully aware that I know little to nothing about pregnancy and the process - though, I'm certain I have more in my head than I am aware of.

This is the first time I've really - put all this into words... I've been mulling over the emotions and my reaction to it for a while - one of the reasons I've been so quiet lately (besides the new internet pretties and the incredible busyness).... I've been thinking about my whole life-plan.

*thunk* *thwack* *slapslap*

I still don't have an offical altar - as of today. 

But lately - as in the last two weeks or so, I've been getting firmer and Firmer and FIRMER slaps upside the head that it's HIGH time that I put my altar together.  

The housewarming - which was meh - kicked off some of it.  I'm never sure if it's coencidence or the Gods - but over the last few weeks, I've found  - 
a) 2 god houses
b) a perfect table for my altar (which I was considering making into a sewing table - and within the next TWO days, found TWO other actual sewing cabinets - one WITH a sewing machine still in it)
c) ancestor pictures (my great gramma, and my Nikki)
d) various small bowls/items perfect to hold offerings ( a tiny bowl from the thrift store, as well as the perfect incense holder/incenses from BigLots as well as a symbol for my mother) 
e) figured out altar clothes (both that i had purchased recently, but planned on wearing, and as I looked at them again, realized - HELLO?!?!? altar cloth!) 


And just in general - shit has been coming together in a way that to me says - it's time. Hello? Is anyone listening? It's TIME. 

And it's very scary, because I'm pretty sure that Ma'at was only my introduction (she was bait) and the switch is coming soon, and while I think that I can HANDLE the switch, I'm not sure that I'm READY for the switch. 

But then, I don't think that there has been anything that I REALLY needed (not wanted, but deep, below my own consiousous awarenesss NEEDED - the hands of the gods) that I've been ready for.  I've always appraoched change with a 'toes in the water' type of attitude - and I have always felt like anything moving any faster is basically shoving me into the deep end - no matter how minor. 

I'm being gently nudged towards the deep end now, and I  don't even  have the knowledge to be aware of what the deep end IS. I'm trying (very very very hard) to just relax and assume that whatever the deep end is, I'll learn what I need to know (or be thwacked on the head with the knowledge or discover the knowledge as I do other thins (like the Sacred Womens Healing Circle that is suppsosed to kick off tomorrow) and go with the flow. 

My logical side is saying that the Gods don't work this way (that the Gods are a human creation to allow us to understand and integrate with the All that is - well, it's the ALL.) but my other side - the softer, nesting, gardening, creepily hippy/pagan/amazingly confident/earth grounded/ side - is saying - DUH!!!  The gods are nudging you! Nudging! The Gods DO communicate with everyone that they really want to talk to - not just one dude who shares with everyone else. 

But that makes me feel too special. Too unique. Too much outside of the norm.

And it's scary.
And delightful. 
And different. 
And Wonderful.
And I'm SO not ready. 
But I'm moving on. 

I wonder what kind of stain I should get for the altar?

*swirls*

I have to learn to accept the fact that life - just (but not merely) the day to day move and flow and swing of things - that is beauty and life and joy and only the open mind can really - embrace that. 
Bleh, I'm rambling, and I plan on the ramble stumbling into realms of faith, which is why I'm writing here, but - I feel so, so - conflicted, a lot of the times. 

It's not that I hate my job  - because I don't. There are some days where it's the most - exciting and challenging thing I do all day. But, it's the days where I feel utterly worthless, like I'm a warm ass in a cold seat, that challenge me the most.  And I find that the more I read into spirituality, the more I study, the more I stumble across gems of selfawareness, the lower my tolerance is for - lacking purpose. It's not that I NEED to be moving all the time, it's just that I want the moments of stillness to still have a reason, a purpose, a goal.  
Maybe it's just that I don't see that much value in insuring that the stock value goes up, or that the supply chain stays tight, or - whatever new technology we are implenting works perfectly. 
But that's not ME - I'm a person who is usually very focused on my work, and very - concerned with making sure that MY work is the best that I can possibly make it - but I still suffer from a disconnected feeling of - emptiness - when I sit here at this desk and stare at my computer screen. 
Then - I stumble across something that both exhilerates me (by allowing me to feel like what I am feeling IS - not normal, but at least expected) and at the same time depresses me by reminding me of how much longer (2 years) I NEED to be here in order to pave the proper pathway to my life. For example, today on one of my newsgroups I stumbled across this gem: 

It is no measure of health to be well-adjusted to a profoundly sick society.  ~ J. Krishnamurti

and I just felt SO much better, and so much worse all at once.  Better, because I've always skirted the edges (at least mentally) of american society, and worse because I do live in such a sick society.  then of course, I started tracking down his other works (as I had jackall else to do at work) and found a online version of his book "Beyond Violence" - which I promptly printed and plan on reading later. As I was rummaging through the web sources for him, I stumbled across another gem, which (here's the segue) must tie into my study of Ma'at - but I'm not sure how.

Truth is a pathless land and you cannot approach it by any path whatsoever, by any religion, by any sect. Truth, being limitless, unconditioned, unapproachable by any path whatsoever, cannot be organized; nor should any organization be formed to lead or to coerce people along any particular path. My only concern is to set humanity absolutely, unconditionally free. Man cannot come to it through any organization, through any creed, through any dogma, priest or ritual, not through any philosophic knowledge or psychological technique. He has to find it through the understanding of the contents of his own mind, through observation and not through intellectual analysis or introspective dissection.

How true, how terrifying.  Ma'at is (among other things) Truth. 

Ma'at  is a pathless land and you cannot approach it by any path whatsoever, by any religion, by any sect. Ma'at, being limitless, unconditioned, unapproachable by any path whatsoever, cannot be organized; nor should any organization be formed to lead or to coerce people along any particular path. My only concern is to set humanity absolutely, unconditionally free. Man cannot come to Ma'at through any organization, through any creed, through any dogma, priest or ritual, not through any philosophic knowledge or psychological technique. He has to find Ma'at through the understanding of the contents of his own mind, through observation and not through intellectual analysis or introspective dissection. 

*blinks* *deep breath*  That - resonates within me.  It also resembles part of my path thus far, though, because I tend to stay in my headspace ALLLLL the time, releasing the need for intellectual analysis and introspective dissection will be - challenging - but - worth it. I think. 

*sigh* 

I need to go swimming.

The fact....

that I can be - and am - enourmously moody - troubles me. Okay...maybe not troubles me, but it - irks me. Yes, that's it - it irks me that one moment I can be cheerful and laughing and pleasant, and the next moment I feel like running away from everyone and hiding under someone else's desk or just crying for no good reason.
And then sometimes I wonder - huh, maybe the cheerfulness is just me faking it - me,  with another one of my onion layered facades, and that the inner bits of me really are rather melancholy and withdrawn and quiet.
And then I think - no, no! That side of me is just a side effect from growing up alone and mainly within my own head, and the cheerfulness is the adult, grown up, mature flowering me.

And I think that's where the - disappointment comes from. I'm disappointed that I can't control my moods - that I can't put my finger on what causes the sudden shifts, that I can't avoid the low points and walk around them like puddles in the road. And then, of course, the disappointment allows me to drift jsut a little lower until - sproing! Suddenly, I'm normal again - or at least doing a very good job of pretending to be.

And I think the thing that irks me the most is that really - I have no room to be - sad, to be down, to be melancholy. I have a wonderful, full life - it's not perfect, by any stretch of the imagination, but dammit, day by day it becomes a little closer.

So who is this girl inside of me with the permanently downcast eyes and constantly troubled heart? And how, precisely, do I excise her out like a bad spot on an otherwise perfect apple?

I don't know. I often think that sharing would help - but - I can't do that. I - I won't do that, because saying that I can't is - patently untrue. I could - but - I'm withdrawn. Really. It's not that I don't trust you, and you - and sometimes you - but it's just that - I don't know. It doesn't feel safe, it doesn't feel right, and I won't take the risk of being judged for the chaotic emotions I have that might only be true just then.

I insist to one of my friends that I don't need affirmation from others - that I'm self contained and proud and centered in my perfectly me self so much that I don't need others suport and approval to prop me up...and I do think that's true. At the same time - the disapproval of others tears me down in instants, and while those two things shouldn't be able to be true at the same time - it's one of the reasons that I'm so withdrawn - so hidden - so internal. I can't handle criticism. And if others don't know about me, they can't criticize me, and I'm safe and contained and - comfortable in my personally created walls of exclusion.

And there have been times when I've tried to break loose - to really just hang my belly all out and let the totality of me be seen by everyone I know - and it's the most terrifying thing I've ever tried to do - and I find myself withdrawing and retreating and growing determinedly silent so that I don't step out of bounds - the bounds that I think are there, but aren't brave enough to ever actually challenge.

I try to analyze myself, to stand outside of me and turn me over in my hands and see just what the hell is really going on inside and beyond all this *waves hands madly* other stuff that I've grown like calluses on my heart - and - it's been a part of me for so long that I really don't know - sometimes I really don't know who I am, at the very root - and more importantly, I can't figure out if anything is wrong with me. No - not wrong with me - just - is there anything - that - just doesn't fit. Fit in my own perceptions of me, of course.

And I think - no, I know - that part of the problem is that I have never been able to break through the fear and let any one person know all of me - not my mother, not my best friend, not my husband - because by the time I feel safe enough to reveal my chaos  - it's too confusing for me to understand, much less someone else.  I'm - I'm trying my best to be - determinedly blunt with the new people in my life - but - silence and omission are just as hard to overcome as a blurted truth that turns into a lie a moment later.

I'm - I'm not very  emotional at all - and - when I am being emotional I feel like I'm being buffeted by storm winds that toss my certainties and beliefs from one extreme to the other, and if I whisper a word of where I'm at the next buffet will make it a lie. So I am emotional in silence, waiting until my head has done it's last calculation and my heart has confirmed that yes, this IS it's final answer - and by that time, what I've vocalized and what I feel might not sync up and - how do you retract something that was once truth and now isn't - without showing yourself to be a liar?

There should be a word for that  - something that isn't negative. Nothing as unethical as lying, or as weakminded as wishywashy - but something that says - this is what I felt then, and this is what I feel now, and both of those feelings were completely true and completely accurate and I'm just as likely to feel an entirely different way tomorrow - and without pulling something out of the DSM-IV either.

*sigh* I exhaust myself! I want to be - but I don't want to be - normal - all at once, and then I realize that each and every one of us probably does the same thing and has the same fears and wonders and worries and onion skins and we each feel just as disconnected and removed and want ever so desparately to yank of our facades and dance freely - but we're too afraid.

And - I think what irks me most of all is that I suspect the fear is groundless, and I'd be just as loved and just as smart and just as much ME without all the onion skins - but - I'm still paralyzed by - doubt. By uncertainty. By - desire to fit in, desire to be included, desire to be normal.

Bah. I don't know. Really, I don't know. The whole world is frowny and scary and dangerous and just downright MEAN sometimes and - I'm not brave enough to go out with my bare skin exposed and be me.

Peace

There are times when I simply cannot find peace. I'm too full of wants/needs/musthaves that are not in reach - that my whole being seems to just be spinning helplessly in circles. I'm a very logical person - I don't function well with uncertainty or sudden changes, and when I am shaken from my normal place of calm, it takes me a while to settle back into that state. For me, a large reason why I am - craving - a spiritual place/path is so that I can have a shortcut to peace. A quick way to slip out of the confusion and dizziness that I manage to get sucked into simply by going through life - and to slip into my centered naturally peaceful core.My usual quickest route to peace is nature - sitting under a tree, staring at the sky, listening to silence and smelling earth - but over the years - that has become less and less effective. I'm afraid that I'm losing touch with the - openess that allowed just the environment to calm me. Or maybe I'm growing so that what disturbs me is major enough that the simplistic things can no longer 'bring me down'. Serene.
Peaceful.
Calm.
Willow.
Grace.

BirthDay

How to start? It was - amazing - interesting - incredible - yet, at the same time, somewhat disappointing.

M's water broke around 9ish, shortly before her appt. with her doctor (who was flying out of town later that afternoon to visit his mom - go figure!), and the doc wanted her to check into the hospital. She talked him into letting her go home to get her bags, and called in A (the doula) from there. She was 1cm/90% effaced at that time.
We met at her house around 1 - contractions were still pretty irregular & mild, and A started her one a series of homeopathic stuff to get the contractions really going. J (the dad) went and dropped the doggie off at the kennel, and when he came back (around 2) we went for a walk around their complex. He really wanted her to go to the hospital (he was wanting to stick to the doctors schedule) so, we left to go to the hospital around 2:30ish or so.
Once they were all checked in, the long haul started. Thankfully, the nurses were really nice - they had all worked with A before, and the on-call doc didn't show up until around 5 - her contractions were still pretty irregular at that point - but they were strong enough that she couldn't talk through them anymore. The doc checks her at 5pm, and says that she is still just 1cm. She tells him that she's had a LEAP done (13 years ago!) and he comments that LEAP's can often scar the cervix and cause dilation issues, so while he's checking her, he stretches her cervix out to 3cm.
After that - the contractions really started picking up. By 10ish, she was hitting transtion, and was really starting to be out of it. A talked her into getting into the shower, and the second the water hit her back, she dropped to her knees (which freaked me out! I thought she had fallen!) and started grunting that she needed to push.

At that point, all hell broke loose. See - the whole labor had been really low key - me, A, M & J in the room - listening to jazz and Norah Jones - M was doing visualizations and breathing through her contractions - the lights were dim - it was really - laid back. As soon as she started bearing down though - *shakes head* about 5 nurses showed up, plus the doc. They turned on the big bright lights, they wheeled in extra equipment - it was - insane, to say the least. And - they almost totally IGNORED M. It - it was actually rather surreal. But - she pushed for MAYBE 45 minutes - I think closer to half an hour, and little (tiny! 6lb4oz/19in) Sarah was born at 11:35pm. 

It was a REALLY quick labor for a first time mom, and she - oh wow ya'll - she was soooo - strong, and intense, and - beautiful really. The delivery was - what I had expected from a hospital birth (he gave her an episiotomy DESPITE her not wanting one - and really - a SIX pound baby???!! she soooo didn't need to be cut) and it wasn't - icky - really at all.

So - it was kinda disappointing to me personally - it was - odd, being the 'apprentice'. I'm glad that I was with A for the birth - but - I felt pretty darn useless, honestly. I occasionally helped when J was on the phone or A was in the bathroom, but other than that, I drifted on the outside feeling very much - out of place. Birth is a very intimate time, and since I didn't really have any  assigned roles - I was definitely the 4th wheel on the tricycle. A called me this morning because another one of her clients was in labor (she cut those two CLOSE) and she asked me if I wanted to go, and I said no - largely because I was still trying to review the first birth, and secondly because I'd never even MET this woman - I wouldn't feel the least bit comfy being at her birth - esp. considering that A had been at her previous birth so they had even more of a connection already. I'm trying to figure out how I should handle this - should I ask that I be a part of all of her prenatal visits? Should I limit myself to just being backup and accept the fact that I won't meet the moms ahead of time? I think that me & A need to sit down and talk about what my role should be - I really didn't like feeling like a voyuer at her birth. And being the ice/chux/water/essential oils fetcher wasn't so bad, at least once M's contractions really required some thought to get through - but....... gah. It wasn't what I expected.

However! I'm so - so much more calm about being a doula, in and of itself. I know that M's birth was - a dream, really, all things considered. She was very much so prepared, the doc really didn't give a damn as long as she had the baby before the 24 hours were up, the nurses were very laid back, her hubby was fully participatory, she wasn't having back labor - it was a dream birth, really. And seeing the role that A took - *grins* I SOOO know that I can do this - I definitely won't have the same style - she's very different from me - but - at least now I'm pretty sure that I won't royally fuck up if I'm on my own.

I did not even attempt to claim the birth as one for my certification - I didn't feel like I DID enough to even attempt to claim it. A asked me about the form for the doc, and I just shook my head - at that point I hadn't figured out WHY I wasn't going to claim it - but really - that's why. I didn't feel like I added anything to the birth - nothing that was significant enough to count it as part of my certification.

What did I learn? I know that I want to learn more about homeopathics and using them to encourage contractions. I know that I need to get a 'uniform' - I really don't WANT to wear scrubs (I think they are hideous, and look funny on me, and dammit, I'm too stylish for that ish) but that means I have to find something else. I need some proper shoes, and I need to get some clients. I need to review the pressure points. I need to strengthen my legs so that I can squat for long periods of time without getting wobbly.

So. :) That was it. It was wonderful - and - not the least bit - gross, in any way shape or form. I wanted to get a better look at the placenta - but the doc was grossed out by it, so he trashed it ASAP. Ah well.

Honestly.....

There's a saying - something about fearing your own light?

 

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Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It is not just in some of us; it is in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.

 

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I'll be sitting here, and reading something online (as I tend to do for most of the day) and my heart will go 'squish' and my palms will get sweaty, and my eyes will get that 'almost-maybe-kinda-wanna-cry' feeling, and I have to take deep breaths and find an inspirational song just to keep going.

And it really sucks, because beyond every reason that I ever give for not standing up, sweeping all my tchoktes into a box, and dropping off my ID as I walk past my notbosses' desk is fear. Not fear of not being able to pay my bills. Not fear of getting evicted. Not fear of not having high-speed cable (the horror!). But a deep, gut centered fear of failure. A fear of actually standing up and claiming that I am grownup, and I am able, and I am tenacious, and I am free of any expectations besides those I place on myself. Nothing is scarier to me than disappointment. Nothing breaks my heart faster than me disappointing others, or others disappointing me. And the thought - the very idea that I might truly fail and disappoint myself - is painful - and terrifying.

I have a hard time believing in myself. I have - doubts. I fear that the light I think I have is just a lie that I've told myself for so many years that I've forgotten what the truth is. And I'm utterly and completely terrified that I'll try to stand and walk my own path, and I'll fail royally, and I'll never even be ABLE to work up the nerve to try again - and then what will I do?

But at the same time, the thought that I might never be a mother/midwife/writer is so foreign to everything that I ever thought I was and could and can be - it's - terrfiying. But - the thought that I might not be who I should be is still less scary than the thought of trying to be what I should be - and failing.

Am I really willing to passively give away my spirit because of my fear rather than potentially throwing away the material aspect of my life in a big noble gesture of hope and determination?

No. and, Yes - if we are still being honest. I'm not - ready. Really, I'm not. And what scares me even more is that I don't know if I'll ever develop the bravery to be ready. And - that disappoints me.