down came the rain and washed the mother out....

In my profession we identify it "postpartum depression" but when I sit with Jesus, he reminds me of the cross he has chosen me to bear. I know that I am a good mother but I cannot help but sing lullibies of the spider that drowns from the rain waiting for the sun. Hours go by and I look at my schedule because if i sit too long, my fear is that I will die. Pain seems to sit next to me on the other side of Jesus letting me know it's time to cry. When I cry, I feel like I have emptied out the overly flow of desparity , it feels soothing like when my breasts are emptied from nursing. I find solace, I remember but I no longer recognize my face, just a shadow of meekness crawling around the house picking up toys and folding a pair of pants that need to be hung. This ritual brings peace to my children letting them know that a mother doesn't fall , she limps even when it's painful , when it's slippery, when it's unimaginable.

Humpty Dumpty sat on the wall.... My great fall

God says "thou shall not judge" and in these past months I have felt the wrath of why not to judge others. In all areas of my life I have been measured in the same length of my judgments. Little things make me smile because I dont even look high enough to see anything bigger. I am tired, my body aches to move and my heart wrenches when I see someone enjoying mother hood. I love my children but I am having a hard time connecting with my infant son. He continues to pull me closer and I keep listening for his small voice to direct me. Days have no become months of tears, scraped knees from praying and pleading to HIM. A friend said I looked tired, and i really believe she wanted to say I looked sad but like me its hard to admit to others...because I use to be strong. I am learning that in his weakness I am becoming stronger but I wonder if my anger will subside, will I overcome , is there such thing as a cloned Job? I want to dance again, wave my hair , and stride my mothering, instead i wash my face with filthy hair strands , not moving , looking for the sun while medicating my mind that I am somewhere else. Someone asked me today if I were okay. What will they do if I am not, cook a meal, hug me, pray for me....all the kings horses and all the kingsmen couldnt put humpty back together again. I am angry at my maker today, the same hand that has blessed me, has striked the core and left me to bleed all of who I thought I was meant to be and I want to scream "screw you" but instead I shamefully bow my head in dirt praying for his mercy while drowning in his grace.

Hannah's Prayer

God led me to her prayer over a year ago confirming that I would have another child. How I never imagined that her prayer is my thorn that continues to poke me from each side leaving me in a pillar of pain. I know now that I am to leave my expectations, my reason, my knowledge at the alter returning my son to who he really belongs too and train him to permanetly stay with him. Many days I sit here in the wade of my tears asking why have I been forsaken Lord. Like birth this is when we think we cannot take anymore and then it happens, we breathe in new life. Spiritually I have taken gasps of this and unable to comprehend his teachings. Sadness has overcometh me with little light and hope but I press forward knowing he is a good God, he is my savior, he is my giver , he is my taker .... and my tears will continue to wash his feet with praise and honor, asking forgiveness for my strike of anger.

Out came the sun....

and dried up all the rain

Stripped and Naked: art of mothering

God says to not have any other gods before him and when I think of this , I think of wood, something shiny, but sitting here with my almost 3 month old, I now see what god I had sitting in my heart, my soul, my mind. I thought that I could master mothering without Jesus . I shamefully admit that as long as I had the "tools" I could mother naturally and blend in with others. I now sit here not having any direction or light that guides me so I fearfully hold on to God's promise that he never leaves and that it's not for my understanding, it's his will. I wake up in fear of feeling like already the day will be a failure yet when I yield to prayer , I press against the dragon and blow away images of my expectations. I would not trade this dinner place with Jesus for anything because I know he makes no mistakes and his invitation to trial is an honor. Indeed , my table set is not what I chose nor looks familiar but its exactly where I am suppose to dwell. Everything I thought I was is shredded in bits of pieces , yet what is clear and strong is God and my faith that dwindles back and forth singing a song of redemption.

Be still and know HE is God.... Preston Morgan's Birth story

I was sitting on the birth ball talking to my friend Belinda(labor assistant too) when I felt a pop, I walked to the bathroom and water drizzled down letting me know labor had begun. Belinda and I decided to walk around and with each stride I felt a contraction coming, I embraced them letting my baby know "good job." We joked and laughed through each contraction , it was so different from my last VBAC because the pain over came me with Milani , while this one I seemed to dance with them. At some point, I realized that things were happening faster and my midwife needed to come right away. Another friend was called and while I labored in my living room, my husband was preparing the pool. Labor pains became intense and I knew I was getting closer to pushing. At some point Brenda arrived and I was in active labor closer to 10 cm . I went to the pool and within 10 minutes felt the ugre to push , my husband got in back of me holding me while I pushed , I also pushed on my own, and I truely felt it was time.....it wasn't....its hard to describe all events in detail and as Brenda said to me later that a person had to be present to truely see the process of how I went from pushing, feeling my baby's head sitting right there ready to come and hours of him not able to come out. There were moments of the mothering animal that comes out right before the last push and still I could not get him to come. I talked to him, I prayed for him and it wasn't until sitting there 2 days later with my MW and other MW family friend that I knew I needed to surrender to a place I didnt want to visit. I called the hospital and it was a blessing in my opinion that my preferred back up was on call the last 2 hours. I let her know what was happening the past 2 days and I let her know that intuitively something didnt feel right. I transported at that time and the was the worst car ride ....my body was still pushing. I arrived grunting and moaning in the wheel chair...I did request to be checked by the OB so she could see how close I was, she watched me push and see that the baby's head would not move...the heart beat was doing great through it all from the beginning of labor to the last contraction before the surgery ...but intuitively I knew that something wasnt right and that he wasn't coming for a reason. I honored that over my desire and pride to birth him vaginally . As I was preparing emotionally for the surgery I asked my husband to pray and we ( brenda, Cecily, my husband held hands in a circle praying while the medical staff did what they needed to do. I requested that Dr. Kratzer be present and he wrap our baby in my hoody so he could smell me while I was in recovery and that I wanted to be with my baby as soon as possible.. after minutes of the surgery , I heard him cry and I requested that the OB not state the gender and to let Billy. Billy brought him over and said "here is our son" Because my hands were not strapped I held him , talked to him and kissed him...this was for about 10 minutes..Dr. Kratzer held off the nursery staff while I held him standing there smiling. The entire staff was respectful and as sacred as they could be..the post partum nurses all said how sorry they were and they knew that I didnt want to be there but to let them take care of me so I could go home earlier. I did go home after 24 hours as I was immediately released by Dr. Newell and Dr. Kratzer released our Preston. We are home now and there are parts of me that feel like I didnt leave and that I did give birth to him because of how calm and sacred things have remained, but there is the pain emotionally and physically present reminding me . Preston was tangled up in the cord from his neck to his stomach and he was pushed back in a position that caused him to remain stuck. He also was in an OP position , face up. Because his heart tones were strong, I was able to avoid the "dramatic" scene of an "emergency c-section" and so even in the unnatural circumstances I hope that our son felt the calmness and peacefullness despite the surgery. I am certain there are lots of areas I have left out but this what I remember and wanted to keep remembering....It's hard for some to understand why I might be grieving but for me its a dragon that I had to meet again and also knowing the empowerment of a natural birth and wanting it again for this child is a loss but I do not regret my right to surrender and allow God to do his will. In my faith , there are no questions, and I sit still knowing He is.

How to make a baby with clay...

"It's getting closer." Indeed this is one true statement, but I still feel invaded each time someone mentions how low I am, how big I am and how "courageous" I am. I suppose that is what I enjoy molding clay most with my children. There are no expectations, no disappointments or cookie cut form of creating, it just sits still waiting for someone to touch, imagine, and hold...just like my baby growing inside of me. Milani (3) asks "what making Pey-Pey?" Pey-Pey stares down at his clay and states " You have to wait sissy." Milani and her big eyes accepts this, moves on and appreciates the constant movement of clay and it's open -ended possibilities. Sometimes I imagine this perfect birth circle of my children, husband surrounding me at home, supporting me and helping me bring our baby in, and even then I must surrender, put the image down, crumble it because it's my image of when , where, and how. I don't see my due date as a marker, I can feel the baby descend physically , my anxiety has turn to anticipation emotionally, and my prayer has been simplified to let he/she be healthy, so it's getting closer because this little person has placed reminders on my soul, preparing me to birth like a child with clay and no manual.