Loving Kindness Meditation: Peace out.

I think I've found it! A way to feel love and happiness daily without having to change anything externally!  Of course, it's nothing new. People have been practicing it for a few thousand years. Now I just need to commit to doing it myself every day...

Often at the end of a yoga class during our final relaxation (shavasana) I will lead the students through a guided loving kindness meditation. I do this because I have found this practice to have such a profound effect on my own life. Practicing loving kindness--even for a few minutes a day-- helps me to develop compassion for myself and to get out of a negative state of mind.

I'll give you a quick synopsis and then some links to read or listen to the meditation yourself:

First sit in a meditation seat or in any comfortable manner with a straight spine. Tune into your breath, feeling it go in and out. Notice what is happening in your body and mind, the sensations, the thoughts.

Then take your awareness to your heart center and feel the sensations there. Breathe some space into your chest. Picture yourself sitting (or lying) here. Picture what you're wearing and the position of your body and then say to yourself: May I be at peace. May I be happy. May I be free... (you can change these phrases to whatever feels right to you as long as you're cultivating loving kindness).

Notice any resistance, judgment or tension that arises and let it be. Allow yourself to open to the feelings of loving kindness. Let the feelings wash over you.

Then begin to extend the thoughts of loving kindness toward other beings-- allowing a mental picture of the person/people/beings to arise first. Repeat the phrases for each being or group of beings
...May they be happy. May they be at peace. May they be free.
Start with someone that you love dearly and move onto someone who challenges you. Next extend this loving kindness to people that you don't know, allowing the group to grow until it encompasses all sentient beings. 

Be sure to repeat the phrases at each step and give time to allow yourself to open, and allow the feelings to wash over you. 

After extending loving kindness to all beings, I like to bring it back in to your own heart. Again, picture yourself and end with repeating the phrases to yourself. May I be happy, May I be at peace, May I be free. 

If at any point you are doubting, resisting, scoffing, judging, etc., go back to the phrases. The loving kindness will come eventually, even if you're not feeling it.

After all, as zen teacher, Cheri Huber says, What You Practice is What You Have.

May we all be happy. May we be at peace. May we be free. 

peace out.


Links:
Loving Kindness script by teacher Stephen Levine
script from Wisdom Heart.org
Guided loving kindness meditation--mp3 (there are a lot on the interwebs, this is just one example)

illustration source

This photo (of me and my dad) was taken by Jason last year at Sachuest Point in Rhode Island. I can't remember where my baby was...was Jason pushing both boys in a stroller while taking this?

 

Dear Dad;

I know that I wrote you a tribute last year on here (and maybe it's just because I can't get my act together to get something out to you in the real mail on time)....I hope you don't mind.

I don't know what it's like to be a dad, or even a man, but I do know that it's different than being a mom. I mean, beside the whole giving birth part (which is no small feat). It's just different. Sure, today gender roles are changing or less defined, and some families have 2 dads and some 2 moms. But I digress. Now that I'm married to a father, I can see that (in general) there are different pressures on men than women. They feel a biological or societal pressure (or maybe some of both) to provide for their families.  

I just wanted to take a moment and acknowledge the fact that you (and mom) worked incredibly hard to provide for us. The coolest part about it is that you both always followed your passion. I knew that you loved accounting and then you started writing books in your spare time and loved that too. You always supported mom in her career whether she was nursing, going back to school, starting a bed and breakfast, or opening a cafe.

It was hard with you commuting so far to work when we moved to Rhode Island. I missed you, but I knew that you were doing what you had to do. I remember when mom got sick and you quit your job to be closer to home. You took a large pay cut to start teaching college students, but it showed me that nothing was more important to you than all of us.

Thanks for all that you gave me (and continue to give) and all that you taught me just by being you.

Happy Fathers' Day!

I love you--

Colleen

 

this picture cracks me up! The blue suit, and the tie!

Questions for my mother Part 4: Why did you push me away?

Yesterday I was going through some dusty files and found an old letter from my mom sent in 2004. It was a note apologizing for how she had acted the night before on the phone. I don't remember the conversation, but she said that she had no right to 'judge my decisions'. She was coming out to California for a visit and I was only going to be able to spend a few days with her because I had just gotten a new job and had to travel for a training. I had to be at the training, or forfeit the position.

Damnit. If I'd only known then that my time with her would be so limited... I remember leaving my aunt's house to head out of town. My mom was standing on her deck watching me as I got into my pick-up to drive away. There was this sad, ominous  look on her face that is forever imprinted in my mind. Two months later she called with the news that her cancer was back (she'd been clear for 16 years) and metastasized.

The letter is typed on blue paper (I think it's the only thing she ever sent me typed) and signed "Love you enormously, Mom" at the bottom in blue ink. Her words were supportive and loving. I sobbed in the garage for a while after I found it. Guilt. Anger. Sadness.

I long to truly know my mother. Everything changed when I had children myself. I think about her constantly. There are so many things I want to talk to her about. There are so many things I feel like I understand about her now. I wish I could share them with her.

I wonder why she pushed me to be fiercely independent so soon. I know that I was challenging. I can see myself in my own children, and after spending my days with a sensitive, intense, argumentative preschooler, I understand how hard it is. But I grieve the fact that we didn't have a closer relationship when I was young. I wish she had held me tight more often and told me that I was okay.

She did the best she could at the time, and I don't blame her. It is so hard to be a mom.
I always knew she loved me.

I'm just really feeling the loss.

I know...I have to be 'grateful for the time we had together' etc., etc.... but you know what? sometimes I NEED to feel the loss--deep  in my bones and in the hollow of my throat. Sometimes I want to wail like a banshee and then curl up on her lap and let her rub my head. Sometimes I just want my mom.

Thanks for listening...
xo

Finn is Four. and where am I?

I can, indeed, believe that it's been a month since I've visited the good life here in cyberworld. I've been an on an unintentional hiatus, otherwise consumed with the good life off-screen, engaged in activities like finding mold in our rental and staying temporarily at our in-laws. Yes, mold. yuck. A couple of dear family members have passed away after tough battles with the big 'C'.

I was diagnosed with complete 'adrenal burnout' and told to stop running (not that I was doing much of that) and to start lying down flat as much as possible during the day! Ha! (It feels reeeallly good to do it...but nearly impossible to do more than once a day with two crazy boys). I'm supposed to pretend I'm on perpetual vacation, stop eating all fruit and forms of sugar, eat meat at every meal, and re-mineralize myself. More on that later.

In the middle of it all, my sweet little bull, Finn, turned four! I can hardly believe it. He's still challenging as ever, but also hilarious. Here are some moments I did manage to capture....

 Fish cake-- Finn's choice. Template from Martha. I've never made a meringue butter-cream before and also never used turmeric to dye frosting-- so that was super fun. The cake is my tried and tested Vanilla bean cake  (grain free) from Kelly at The Spunky Coconut.

He had a bit of "Too Much Birthday" (Berenstein Bears reference)-- The poor guy was exhausted.

Finn's 95 year old great-grandmother (J's grandma) and his second cousin made it!

My cousin's lovely children showing off their party tattoos.

After a few good nights' sleep, Finn was back in action....(after 10 REALLY tough days!).

 Four just sounds too old. I had such a good cuddle with him tonight before bed. He was cracking me up talking about his 'bones'....pointing to various parts of his body, "This is a bone, right here. Elbow?! That's not a bone!"...etc. Too cute. It's so fun to see him learning this stuff and being thoroughly fascinated by it.

Look Ma, No Kids! (a weekend getaway)

Guess what? In celebration of our 6th anniversary, we went away for TWO WHOLE NIGHTS to San Francisco. We actually left the li'l ones for 57 hours to be exact. It was the first time Jason and I have been away for two nights alone since before Finn was born! And we've never left B. The verdict? Easy. (Thanks to awesome grandparents.) They even got B almost sleeping through the night. I could have stayed one more night, if allowed.

Thanks to Blake's recommendations, we had some killer food and an amazingly fun-filled, sun-shining Saturday (I think she was responsible for the sun too).

We arrived late on Friday. We live way out in the boonies, so I had to cram in a quick H&M trip on the way down. It wasn't very enjoyable since neither Jason nor I are skilled shoppers, but it was necessary. After sitting in horrendous traffic, we checked in to the Ocean Park Motel in the Sunset District (we even had a kitchen!) and went for dinner at B Star Bar-- a spawn of Burma Superstar without the 1.5 hour wait (Desi's recommendation).  Lamb curry and a yummy gingery cocktail for me.

 Saturday morning sunshine and walk on the beach...

Followed by brunch (since I wasn't able to get dinner reservations!) at Bar Tartine in the Mission. Delicious. My eggs benedict was overcooked, but overall tasty. And they have so many fermented foods! I had a lemon ginger water kefir that was awesome. Jason's meal was off the hook-- blood sausage, fried egg and stewed sauerkraut.

We hopped back on the Muni and made it in time for the tail end of the Farmers' Market at the Ferry Building. I had the best greek style tart frozen yogurt ever! And we tasted goat milk products--mostly cheese and ice cream. Oh-- and even a gluten free baguette that didn't suck. We brought that back to the hotel with some other goodies to eat after taking a nap. Yes, I had a nap!

wild shrooms. j has foraged for these and we sold them in the city in years past...

(trying to get a shot of the cute dress my mother-in-law gave me, but I am a HORRIBLE model.)

Late afternoon-- we headed to the Presidio (along with a third of the city's population)-- but found a cool hike  that wasn't crowded from Baker beach to the Golden Gate bridge (we quickly passed by some interesting nude sunbathers).

By chance, we found a perfect bite to eat at "Q" (falling-off-the-bone duck confit and fried polenta)-- before our 9pm Wonderfoot appointment. Yes--Wonderfoot. 70 minutes of foot reflexology (Chinese style) and a 'back massage'. It was a good one--not nearly as good as the Happy Buddha in San Diego, but it was Jason's first time, so it was fun regardless. 

That's it! I would have loved to do more-- see friends, go to museums...but alas, we had to hit Trader Joe's, Target and Costco before returning to the mountains. 

I would love to be able to do this more often...

xo

Please send your love, strength & prayers

Here is my amazingly strong & beautiful cousin and her husband of almost 24 years (look how in love they are!). This photo was taken 10 days before he was diagnosed with a stage IV glioblastoma (a.k.a.:a brain tumor).

It's been a year and a half that he's been fighting back. Chemo, radiation, 2 surgeries, alternative therapies, nutritional therapy, he's done it all.... and now he's on hospice. They have two boys--ages 13 and 7. I was 13 when my mom was first diagnosed with cancer-- it's such a mixed-up, tender age.

Sometimes it's so hard to make sense of life & suffering, isn't it?

Would you mind sending some love & strength their way?

xo

Burning Question: What's one dumb thing you used to believe?

"The Burning question" is an interactive exercise that Danielle (of White Hot Truth) started. She creates a weekly question, answers it, and then invites you to do the same.
Here's this week's edition:
What's one dumb thing you used to believe?

One dumb thing that I used to believe is that my self-worth is judged by what I achieve and (more importantly) how those achievements are perceived by other people.

Actually, I still have a hard time letting go of this even as I write it. It is a well worn brain path: that if I can prove to OTHERS that I am actually worthy of their admiration then I will become worthy of their admiration. There, I said it. Out loud. I catch myself with this all of the time; I think: I can change what people think about me by doing something to make them think differently of me. If I just prove to them that I am good at This. That or The other thing, then they will certainly see that I am worthy of their love.

*Sigh.*
So sad. Poor little 7-year-old Colleen trying to prove to her mom that she really is a good girl and not as difficult as she comes across....

I've let this go (and certainly forgive my mom) but it's a tough one. I spent many years being successful at convincing people that I am worthy. I became convinced that my self- worth was tied in to these successes. Newsflash: if you have success with your flawed thinking it may take longer to see that your thinking is flawed! Fortunately, I am such a crazy-sensitive being with a heavy dose of intuition that my inner struggle was apparent early on.

Now I can laugh at it and be grateful that I am aware.

I do love this journey called life. And thankfully,  I learned that love of life from my mom.  I wish I could cuddle up with her right now.

How about you? what's one dumb thing you used to believe?

Love Fest

I know, Valentine's Day is over and done with, but I was holding out  until I could find time to take photos of my raw cacao yummy Valentine's treats. Guess what? We ate them all. That gives me an excuse to make more next week so that I can post the recipes. (They're decadent & healthy, I swear!).

Finn's abstract hearts. He loves to mix colors!

I've always thought V day was a bit of a joke, but now that I have two little ones around, I LOVE it. Seriously. How fun is it to talk about love? And I'm also serious about how much I  love making hearts and valentine's. And now I love origami too. Check out those sweet love boats! I followed a video to make the boat with two sails and I kept laughing...thinking about that Little Caesar's commercial from when I was a kid: "..A Pterodactyl!" Anyone remember?

J made the one on the right for me. Finn made the little heart stamps with a toilet paper roll 
dipped in paint. We went nuts with the Target dollar bin alphabet stickers for all of
his little preschool buddies.

More Love: We are having a good week over here in boy land. Finn has been loving his brother more than not, which is a bonus for everyone. There have been so many adorable brother hugs, but I can't seem to pull out my camera to catch one in time.

 

And Bobolicious is just delicious. The sweatshirt in the photo below cracks me up (a gift from Desi when Finn was a babe). I never dress B in it because I feel too badly, but Jason put him in it the other day. These boys fight over my lap space and I usually have the little one attached to my breast while the big one twirls my hair in the morning. Of course it is so sweet and precious if they're not pushing each other and whining....And if I'm finding enough time for my own personal space! Hell, I'm not complaining. 

There's lots of love going around. 

I hope you're feeling some love these days too.

P.S. Here's the commercial... Enjoy! xo

Goodbye sweet dog.

A couple of months ago I wrote A Letter to Mr. O.--my tribute to an amazing creature. I knew he would die soon and I was having such a hard time deciding when/if I should have him euthanized. I definitely didn't want him to suffer, but it's a strange thing deciding when another being should die. He got to the point where we had to hold him up to eat and drink. It was time. I watched him take his last breath and was again struck by the strangeness of death and the miracle of living. In the words of Temple Grandin: Where do they go?

I feel so honored to have shared time with Odin. He lived almost 16 years and was incredibly healthy for most of his life. He was always there with me, in the moment. My guru.

I don't feel quite myself without him close by.

I'll miss you sweet dog.

at 6 months-- just a baby!

Mystical Encounters Part 1: La Virgen de Guadalupe spoke to me in Mexico and I almost forgot.

My mac has been on the fritz with a psychotic track pad. I nearly threw the machine across the room the other day so there was no way I could possibly do my posts this week. I started  3 times only to have the curser randomly select text, click on links, close windows, etc. It's still not fixed *sigh*; I'm not sure what to do.

But enough about my techno troubles. Let's talk about the Virgin Mary.

December 12th was my mom's birthday (she would have been 65) and also El Dia de la Virgen de Guadalupe, a huge celebration in Mexico and Latin America honoring the 'goddess' of the americas.  I love the story of the native Mexican, Juan Diego, who--in 1531--encountered the Virgin Mary on a hilltop. I won't go into the details, which you can read here, because I really want to tell you about the two encounters I had in Mexico with women who happened to be channels for the Virgin Mary.

Yes, that's right. I said "channels for the Virgin Mary".

At this point (if you don't know me well) you may be wondering if I'm some sort of devout Catholic or new age junky. Not at all. I just happen to attract psychics. I grew up Roman Catholic in a parish with a liberal priest and a family that didn't force me to go to church or  to believe in religious doctrines. I don't have the normal hang-ups of a "recovering Catholic", but I also don't practice the religion anymore (or any religion for that matter).

More pertinent background: 
Since I was a young child I've been inclined to have 'mystical experiences'--times when I felt an extreme sense of merging with something beyond my 'self', or to use a more common term-- 'out of body experiences'. (More about these so called mystical encounters  in future posts).

Here is the story of how I got an audience with the Virgin Mary:

Eleven years ago, a friend of mine offered me a space in her house in Mexico to live for a year. I was writing my graduate thesis and going through a difficult break up, so  I jumped at the chance (even though I didn't speak a word of Spanish at the time). Odin (my dog) and I packed up the truck and my brother flew out to California to drive with me to my new home in Mexico. I found a job teaching at a bilingual school soon after I arrived.

packed and ready to go.

It was a lonely, difficult time (albeit exciting and adventurous). My heart ached and I felt unsure of where my life was headed--a typical twenty-something dilemma for a woman of my generation. Diana, my Mexican host and friend, invited me to go to a fringe Catholic prayer group. She wasn't religious at all, but a friend of hers was.  I couldn't understand much of anything they were praying about (except that they often said prayers that were familiar to me--'Our Father', Hail Mary' and the like). They would pray and pray out loud in a group and even begin speaking in tongues. Because I didn't understand the language it was like meditation for me. The clearing of my mind, the focus, the energy of the other people-- was transportive.

I was at one of the prayer groups at someone's house when a woman (known to be a channel for the Virgin Mary) started to speak to me as Mary. There were perhaps 30 people there, so I don't know why she chose me (unless it was because I was the only gringa in the room). I still didn't know much Spanish and she spoke quickly and with emotion, so I didn't catch much. But there was a man with a recording device getting every word. A couple of weeks later he gave me a typed out transcript of what she said. It was personal, with some details of my childhood which seemed odd for a stranger to know.

I was skeptical; I joked about it (and still do), because it sounds insane and illogical,  but I also know there's more to existence than sanity and logic.

Odin at the hilltop shrine

Sometime around  December 12th of the same year I encountered another woman known to be vehicle for Mary. We were at one of those Mexican hilltop shrines drinking chapurrado and eating tamales (yum). It was dark and the fire was crackling and creating the kind of ethereal light that tends to make people look magical. She didn't speak any English but she began to throw in English words here and there--telling me that I needed to 'help the children'. Her face seemed to change completely in quality as she spoke--becoming placid and quite beautiful. 

I didn't stay with the fringe Catholic prayer group, but I was grateful for the spiritual energy they shared with me. They had their own path, and I clearly didn't share their beliefs. I don't know what the channeling is all about. I guess I'd call myself agnostic when it comes to this sort of experience. 

I do know that it opened me up to acknowledge the mysticism and spirituality present within me. I was finished with the adolescent and young adult view that I had things figured out and I was ready to embrace the idea that I know relatively nothing. I needed to let my'self' fall apart in order to experience peace.

It was a beautiful feeling and for that, I am grateful to "Our Lady of Guadalupe".

I need to cultivate my spiritual practice again-- give it more time and love. I feel like it's been stored away in the closet collecting dust. I'm ready to be good to myself again and open it up.
How about you? 

I can't believe he's almost 16 now. So sweet.

Bobolicious

Nineteen days away from his first birthday and the boy is cruising! He's been walking for almost three weeks and crawling for almost six months. He climbs up onto everything--top steps of stools, the couch, the kids' table.
He screams. Loud. He giggles. Adorably. He nurses. Incessantly.
He sticks any and all cords or electrical devices in his mouth. He cleans up the floor and yard with his teeth like a little goat. He shovels handfuls of dogfood into his cheeks when you're not looking and then screams with clenched fists when you try to take it. His colic has subsided (I think) and turned into a habit of waking up throughout the night.
Bodhi (or Bo-da as Finn likes to call him), is on his way to toddler-land. I regret that I was half asleep for the first year. I wish I enjoyed it more, but I was so damn sleep deprived and had trouble enjoying anything. I'm trying not to beat myself up about it (can you tell?). It was what it was.
He is cruising. And I can't get enough of those old-soul eyes and rosy cheeks.
xx

Thanking my bike. And the guy who married me.

I'm feeling out of sorts today. My cousin's husband has a brain tumor (glioblastoma). He was going through his life as an amazing husband, father and friend and then, Bam. Brain tumor at age 48. There's something that tells me he will be okay, but my heart aches for him and his family. This is on my mind.

I had a few different ideas for Day 15 of blogging every day, but to change up my mood, I decided to throw them out and make a list of some of the things I am thankful for today. For me, practicing gratitude is one of the quickest ways to feel better--even if I'm not feeling the least bit grateful when I start doing it.

1. The color of autumn leaves (even here in northern California there is some color!). I was driving today imagining being in New England where the whole landscape would be painted, but the pops of color here and there make for lovely unexpected eye candy.

2. Outer Aisle (where I buy my food). My farming friends, Christine & Eric Taylor, opened a farmstand which is actually a store.  This food nourishes me in so many ways. Today I bought gorgeous kale, a red pepper (they still have peppers!), pears, garlic, granny smith apples, fennel, beets, a small red leaf head of lettuce, dates, eggs, sprouted corn tortillas and sauerkraut. I'll let you know what I make.

3. My bike.  I spent too much time inside today. When it came time to teach yoga this evening I pulled on my new wool hat, hopped on my bike and felt the cool air against my cheeks as I rode the half mile to the yoga studio. Did I mention that I love riding my bike?

4. The guy who married me. (I'm not a big fan of the word husband--when I say it I have to use a funny accent-- I know, strange. It's just my own hang-up). He's in the kitchen right now doing dishes, which he does every night regardless of how many pots and pans I used. (I am a messy cook. I'm trying to get better about it.) He also puts up with all of my shit. (and he cleans up shit too--not mine, the kids').

There are so many more, but I need to go say goodnight to Finn (who is hopefully already asleep) and then spend some time with the guy in the kitchen (who will hopefully be finished cleaning it). My mood is looking better already.

so here's a speedy list: I'm also thankful for the two boys who call me 'mama', my friends who love me even though I'm not good on the phone, my family, dog & chickens, chocolate, yoga.....(I'll say the rest right before bed. That should seal the deal on sweet dreams, right?))

(thanks for reading!)

Image: Print by Nick Dewar.

Questions for my Mother Part 3: Where do they go?

Have you seen the movie Temple Grandin? It stars Claire Danes and is the true and wonderful story of an autistic animal behaviorist. There are a couple of scenes where Temple sees the dead body of an animal or a person and asks: Where do they go?

Since I've been thinking about death lately (not in a morose way, I just have a Day of the Dead obsession--that's all), this line of Temple's reminded me of seeing my mom's dead body.
[Note: growing up Catholic means that I saw all sorts of dead bodies at wakes, but the enbalming, kneeling, flowers and dark curtains make for an entirely different spooky experience.]
I took a red-eye across the country and arrived at my parents house in Rhode Island a few hours after my mom passed away.  As I came in the front door, my dad pointed me to the bedroom. The word 'lifeless' had a new significance after seeing my mom's body there without "her" in it.

So the question for my mother today is: Where do they go? 


I could muse about this for hours-- the science, the philosophy. Of course it's an age-old question, but it becomes poignant when you witness  the death of someone first-hand.

Here is something I wrote a couple of months later  (It's meant to be spoken rather than read):

My mother is dead.

I saw her body with my own eyes , An inanimate object , she lies on the bed. Empty.

Her suffering gone

Her smile gone

Her hair gone

Her laugh quiet

Her hands cold, and twisted

Her mouth slightly open

I can no longer resist it

My mother is dead.

So I just sit there on the bed, wishing I wasn’t there, wishing I could  talk to her one more time, let her hold me one more time

Wishing I’d been an easier child,

Wishing  I’d  been one of those girls with a mild, temperment

But this is permanent.

My mother is dead

I knew this would happen But not so soon There was part of me that

Felt immune . Felt like there would be some sort of miracle

Like she was really some sort of mythical character.   

A mother immortal

My mother is dead.  

And as I Look at her body, I see clearly that she is gone. That whatever life is, it’s been withdrawn . And whatever life means  is beyond me

You see, to me—it seems  impossible, and when I get philosophical i trip out on the question: who am I ? what is this? And I don’t mention it much because people don’t want to think about it.

We’re so wrapped up in our lives that we miss out on it. And I ask: what really matters anyway?

My mother is dead.

The men in suits walk into my parents house. The men in suits walk into her bedroom and carry her out in a black body bag.

A black. body. bag. The object removed.

The men in suits are polite standing with their hands folded behind their backs speaking in hushed tones.  Neighbors bring platters of little sandwiches on soft rolls. The bed where my mother has been lying for weeks for months, is empty.

My mother is dead.


photo by Terrence Gavan

Birth Story: Bodhi

I’ve waited 8 months to write this story, but I think I’m ready now. 

Bodhi Gavan Smith born December 19th, 2010

Bodhi became my ‘chi baby’ sometime during my pregnancy—I think it was when I began a daily qigong practice to help me sleep.  In one move, you connect the chi directly to your navel (dantien). When I touched my belly, he would roll up to my fingertips and I could feel a calming warmth and a strong energetic pull. Amazing.

Getting pregnant for the second time stirred up some unresolved emotions for me. My mom died of cancer while I was in the early stages of my first pregnancy (2 1/2 years prior). I had horrible anxiety.  Once school let out for the summer I spent most of my time with Finn, but also focused on working through the anxiety, going to therapy, going to yoga, going to acupuncture, writing….wow. It was intense.  Fortunately, I was in great shape physically-- I was healthy, eating well, and like I mentioned—doing lots of yoga.

Finn's birth took place in a free standing birth center (Best Start in San Diego) with a midwife and I wanted to give birth there again but my insurance changed and I would have to pay completely out of pocket. Instead, I opted for a hospital birth center (still with midwives—but there were 9 of them, and who actually attended my birth would depend who was ‘on’ that night).  I decided to hire a doula—Leigh Fenly, and I’m so glad that I did.

Being of “advanced maternal age” (at the age of 37), I had to do ‘non-stress’ tests weekly from 36 weeks. That meant going into the hospital to hook up to a machine that reads the baby’s heart rate. I wonder if I would have had to do this with a home birth, because these ‘non-stress’ tests totally stressed me out.  Sometimes Bodhi wasn’t moving around enough for them to get a good reading and they’d send me over to Labor and Delivery (L & D) to wait for hours. It was ridiculous. I knew that he was fine. One time they found that he had an arrhythmia (irregular heart beat) and started making me come back twice a week. I would have to leave school and rush over there during my 'prep' period.

Even though the arrhythmia would probably go away right after the birth (and it did), they insisted that I could no longer give birth in the birth center. Instead, I would have to give birth in Labor and Delivery (which was just one floor below the birth center). I was devastated. I could still have a midwife, but the rooms were regular hospital rooms and there would be no tub for labor. We would only have been one floor up!  I had to let it go and accept it. I knew that they were just trying to do the best for the baby—but everything was beginning to feel so medical. I was really regretting not having gone for the home birth.

On my due date I was sent over to Labor and Delivery during the non-stress test and I was super annoyed. I wanted to be at home resting, not in the damn hospital waiting when I knew everything was fine.  My intuition told me that the baby was healthy and strong, but all of this nonsense was beginning to make me question that. I was 4 or so cm dilated already and 75% effaced. I let the midwife, Rebecca, “swipe my membranes” which she said would help move things along.

And move things along it did, but I think it was a day or two early. It was Friday and  I went into labor at about 1 or 2 am Saturday morning. I figured Bodhi would be born by 9 am. Everyone kept telling me that “the second one happens fast!”

Not so fast.

The contractions began at about 10 minutes apart and stayed that way for the next 24 hours--which meant no sleep. These were the real thing too: the intense, can’t talk, bitch, motherfucker contractions.

My plan was to stay home as long as possible so that I wouldn’t have to labor for very long in L & D. We called Leigh who said to call her back when the contractions got closer together.  We talked to her a couple of times on Saturday, but they still weren’t getting closer and I started to get worried. I had done hypnobirthing classes the first time around and was so focused during Finn's birth. I was using the practice again, but started to get really discouraged. Was I doing something wrong? Why wasn’t labor moving along? I was having intense back pain and I wondered if he was facing the wrong direction like Finn was. I started getting in the flipping baby positions. I wished that Leigh was there, so I looked through the affirmations she’d given me on one of her visits and said them over and over again—

My body knows exactly what it is doing....I feel the strong waves of labor and know that everything is normal and progressing....My body will give birth in its own time....keep my mind on acceptance and surrender.

I listened to music. [I teach 12th graders and had them make me playlists I could use for the birth. It was during the final stages of our project, so I didn't get many, but I did get introduced to the XX which I lovel I listened to my hypnobirth tracks. Jason rubbed my back. Time passed. 

Sometime around midnight Saturday night the contractions started to get a bit closer together and Leigh arrived (hooray!)  At one point on the phone she gave me the idea to ride the pain like a wave and I would picture myself as a little cartoon surfer as a contraction hit. There I was—outside the pain, it would pass….right?

She suggested that I try to rest for a while so Jason and I went to bed, but the contractions got more intense. Lying down was the worst and suddenly during one crazy-ass contraction my water burst (this never happened with Finn—it’s such a strange,unique feeling—a warm explosion of liquid, kind of like a water balloon).  It was about 2 am or maybe 3?

To the shower. Things were really moving now.  I could hear Jason and Leigh talking and I started the groaning, the full blown birth moan.  Things were really moving. As I let the water wash over me I wondered, do they know how close I am?  I’m going to have this baby right now in this bathtub. Can’t I just stay here? Please can I just stay here? There’s no way I’m getting in the car.  Have you called Desi? (She was coming over to stay with Finn who was asleep). She’s on her way. 4:30 am.

Leigh let me hold onto her shoulders and lean in. This was good.  You can do this, she said. I can do this. It’s going to happen. I can do this. Somehow we made it to the car. I couldn’t sit down, I couldn’t belt up. It was the longest mile and a half drive ever. Slightly raining. No one on the streets. Please no bumps! 

The hospital was dismal, empty and quiet.  We had to make it down an insanely long hallway to the elevator. They were looking for a wheelchair. There’s no way I’m going to be able to sit in it, I thought. They brought it anyway, I tried to ride backwards on my knees but they were nervous, so I went on sideways, sort of leaning on one hip.

To Labor & Delivery. Check in. She’s feeling pushy, Leigh said to the nurses. They didn’t seem to care. I’m going to puke. The nurse gave me a little something to puke in and headed down the hall to set up. Not a nice nurse. Damn. We got in the room and they started hooking me up, but I didn’t want to be hooked up. They had to do the fetal monitor for the arrhythmia, but it was mobile, so I was too. They put an IV port on the back of my hand, but no IV and then proceeded to ask me 5 thousand questions which they already knew the answers to because they were right there on the computer screen in front of them and I’d answered them every time I was sent there during those damn stress tests and I’m ready to push fucking damnit. JASON will you please answer these questions I can’t do it!? 

 

Leigh got right in front of my eyes. I know it’s hectic in here, but you can stay calm, just breathe. You can do this. I can? I can. I can do this.  Here we go.

Midwife enters. Finally! She’s here. I like this one--Jasmine. I feel like she was only there for 30 minutes, but she was kind and smiling (finally, a smile from someone at the hospital) and she tells me that I don’t need to rush with the pushing—I can take it slow. Take it slow?! I think it took about 30 minutes.

Well it was good advice…because that 9 pound baby came out of me without a single tear! Amazing. 

I was on all fours and his head came out with a push, but I just couldn’t push his shoulders out at that angle. The women were sounding nervous—and I was like, Just tell me what to do! I’ll do it. Flip over! They flipped me on to my back and pushed against my feet for resistance and out he plopped! They put his slippery beautiful body onto my chest and I looked into his eyes. …he went right for the nipple. 5:50 a.m.

That lasted under a minute because the pediatric team was waiting to check his arrhythmia. They whisked him over to the table and I had to wait. I started getting the post partum shivers  and needed that baby back. I tried to be patient, but I was in an altered state. I want my baby!  The woman holding him seemed to get offended like I shouldn’t be so impatient and I remember thinking that I was being demanding, but come on! I just gave birth. Cut me some slack. 

I had him back and he latched right on. He’s big, Jason and Leigh said and sure enough when they weighed him he was 9.1 pounds. Wow. Unbelievable.

The hospital was strange. It was grey outside.

But the little bodhisattva was in my arms. My big chi baby. We did it. 

Birth Story: Finn

I love reading birth stories, so I thought I'd post both of mine and then convince some other people to let me post their stories. Here's my first: Finn, born May 13th, 2008. I wrote this a month or two after he was born.

Giving birth is like an initiation, really. One day, I was an average pregnant woman: uncomfortable, belly stretched to unimaginable proportions, a waddling walk-- wondering day after day "when is this all going to go down?"

And then it happens. For me, there was no question. This is labor. I awoke just past midnight to the cramping that occurred in intervals of about 10 -20 minutes. I had just finished work that afternoon and given a final presentation that night. I turned on my ipod and relaxed in the dark on my bed listening to the calming Hypnobirth tracks. Time passed quickly as I practiced breathing and listened to the birthing affirmations over and over again.

I wanted to wake up Jason because I was so excited, but I decided to let him rest for a while. I held out for an hour or two until I saw him stir in his sleep. I'm in labor, honey. He didn't seem to think it was for real. After a couple of hours and some convincing, Jason started to pack. We called the midwife--Jude-- who said that I should try to eat something. I considered the peanut butter and toast in front of me, but couldn't do it. My contractions were four minutes apart and she said if I couldn't eat then it was probably time to head to the birth center. It was 5:30 a.m.

The early morning darkness was strange at the large house that was converted into Best Start Birth Center. It was empty and quiet like an abandoned office. I was 6 cm dilated when we arrived and 8 cm soon after. I climbed into the warm tub and Jason turned on music. Billie Holiday, St. Germain. It felt good to be in the water. I thought that I would have the baby soon and right there in the jacuzzi style tub. I felt confident and calm-- I got this-- no problem.

But the baby had other plans. He was anterior and I was feeling the contractions intensely in my back. I remembered that a friend told me to have someone apply counter pressure-- so Jason pushed on my lower back with two tennis balls during the contractions. I kept my breath slow and deep.

Labor takes you into such an altered state. I remember the other people (the nurse, midwife, nurse assistants) making cameos in my solo universe. Jason was next to me, whispering words of encouragement every so often. I remember thinking that he was so sweet and that he must be tired. Jude kept checking the baby's heart rate. Sandra and Deborah were nurses training to be birth assistants and Ruth was the main nurse. Sometimes their cell phones would ring and they would chat. I wanted them to be quiet, but then I didn't seem to care too much.

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No one tells you just how painful the whole thing is. I was shocked to be vomiting. Jude said that it was normal and that I was probably in 'transition'. Hours had passed and I hadn't dilated much further than 8.5 cm. Whenever Jude checked me she talked about how the 'lip' of the cervix was caught (or something like that) and that I needed to dilate a little further. Maybe he wasn't progressing because he wanted to flip over?

Jude broke my water, which in retrospect, I should have refused. Maybe the water sac would've helped Finn turn and get out easier.

I got out of the tub and onto all fours on the bed. I focused on getting the baby to turn around. I waited for the 'urge to push' that they talked about, but I never had it. I thought that I was going to 'breathe the baby down'. That's what the Hypnobirthing classes talked about. Jude seemed skeptical that it would work. I had no clue. I just wanted it to happen...soon. Jude did too. She mentioned that I might need to transfer to the hospital if things didn't start to progress soon.

I was in the tub again when she said this and for the first time I started to get scared and stressed. I can't go to the hospital. There's no way I'm getting into a car! This baby will be born here in this room.
My focus faded. What if I can't do this? I could feel myself clenching with the contractions and wondered if I was keeping myself from getting the urge to push. You're doing everything right. That was Ruth--this made me feel better. The contractions were getting so close together there didn't seem to be a break between them. The intensity increased as well. I tried to envision my cervix softening and opening. Let go. Release. Allow it to happen.

Enter: Roberta (another midwife). She persuaded me to get up on the bed, stuck her hand up inside me and looked at me with a calming, confident smile. She has long, silver hair and looks like a midwife. "Your baby is right there, Colleen. You're going to push him out now." She seemed so sure that I could do it. And she showed me how. I believed it. Okay, I can do this.

Jason and all of those women helped me to do it. Dulce-- the woman that I talked to at the front desk for each of my prenatal visits even came in to help. She rolled up a sheet and I pulled on it for resistance. The other two nurses held my legs. Jason sat behind me. When they showed me what to do and I tried it,  I couldn't believe it was what I actually had to do. I thought my uterus would burst out of my abdomen. (Remember, I still didn't have the urge to push-- I was forcing it here). Labor had been so quiet and serene until now. I screamed. I didn't want to scream. I thought of all the people in the waiting room and how I must be scaring them. I thought of all the women before me who had done this. I had always considered myself to be a tough, strong woman, but now I just wanted this all to be over. All of these people must think I'm being dramatic. [Edited to add: this is hilarious to me now! i was so concerned that I wasn't doing it right!] I wanted the baby out and I didn't think I could get it out myself. I don't think I can do this!!!!  (I yelled).They reassured me, Yes you can. .

Each push seemed to yield such little progress! Isn't the birth canal short? They moved me from the bed to the birth stool and back to the bed. I decided I didn't want to push in the water-- I didn't know how everyone would help me in there. The women told me to relax my face as I pushed and to focus on my 'bottom'. That helped. I was wasting energy by clenching every muscle in my body. His head felt like a bowling ball in my vagina.

As I climbed back up on the bed for the final pushes I felt his head go back up and I thought I was losing ground. It's two steps forward and one back, Colleen. You are progressing. You are doing everything right...Ruth was amazing. I wanted to believe her.

They told me to lie flat because of the way he was angled. They thought he would come out easier this way. At one point they had me reach down and feel his hairy little head coming out. I was scared to do this too. I don't know why. I think that I still thought he would bust out my entire pelvic floor.
He was right there! A few more pushes they told me. Each push seemed to gain such small ground. There's his head, it's almost out. Come on! Okay, his head is out, now his shoulders...That sounded hard to do...I pictured the birth videos that I'd watched, after the shoulders the rest came easily. I felt him slither out and then the weight of his wet body on my chest. There he was screaming, umbilical cord and all. A blanket was thrown over him.

He opened his little eyes and looked at me-- a living, breathing creature. There he was-- part of me, part of Jason. I moved him toward my breast and he suckled there. Time stopped. 3:03 p.m. He was wiggling and he looked huge! I couldn't believe that he came out of my body. He had a crazy conehead. Will that go away? They assured me, yes.

Jason cut the cord. He was like an angel beside me. He looked so happy. As Jude gave me a couple of stitiches Jason held our son. Everything had changed. And it was nothing like I expected. My whole world had just opened up into a different reality. It was an initiation, really. Into what, I'm not so sure-- I was struck by how little I know about life. How little I've experienced. How rich it really all is. And now I've experienced giving birth. Next is motherhood. yikes.

For about a month afterwards, I would search my mind for all of the mothers I know and think things like: "Wow. She did that? She doesn't seem like she could handle it!" I had a new found respect and connection to moms everywhere. I would see women in parking lots who looked otherwise unimposing, towing kids, doing their thing and I'd think, " I wonder what her births were like..." I suddently realized that there were all of these women walking around who had given birth, which was undoubtedly the most challenging thing I'd ever faced, and it didn't even seem acknowledged by society. Shouldn't they be walking around like goddesses or queens or something?
And maybe they actually are.