Welcoming Blessings...

December 6th saw a full, beautiful moon heralding a moment of sweet reprieve from the unexpected astrological shifts that have been in our midst of late.  Each month, a group of beautiful women in Sitka get together for a gathering of Goddesses, and this month we were saying goodbye to a wonderful friend as she embarks upon a new move.  I had offered to host this gathering at my home, since it might be the last I could host for a while, being thirty nine weeks pregnant.  This was the same group of women who a few weeks past threw me a beautiful blessingway, and I was happy to have the energy swirling in my space again.  As we were reading our cards for the month, I felt a few contractions, but had been feeling them off and on again throughout the week, so didn't really think much of it.  However, at one point while I was reading, one was enough to make me a touch unfomfortable.  After we had closed the circle and the corners, I leaned over to my girlfriend, Tiffany, who was to watch Finn once we went to the hospital, and whispered, "You may want to keep your phone on you tonight..."

Everyone left around eleven, and Reid came home soon after.  I told him I had started to time contractions, and that they were already three minutes apart and lasting a minute.  Perhaps we should call the hospital, and just let them know we may be heading in the next hour or so...Tiffany arrived, and after breathing through a few good contractions, we loaded into Meriwether, who had just been picked up that very day from the shop, in good working order.

As we arrived at the hospital, I had my labor stones ready, massage oil with neroli for optimism and jasmine for efficient labor.  Before I was allowed in the labor tub, the nurse checked, and said she didn't think I would be able to use the tub, for I was already 8 and a half centimeters dialated, and that she needed to call the doctor straight away.  I was almost flabbergasted, it was only 12:30, one and a half hours after when I thought labor began.  We got my labor crystals set up, put some You + Me on the speakers, and got to work with contractions.  The doctor came and said everything looked great, and that he believed the little guy would be here soon.  Two hours later, it was time to push, and as with Finn, I felt no urge to push at all.  When I told the doctor this, he said that if I decided not to push at all, the little one would still come, so I was free to do whatever I pleased.  For some reason, this was the most comforting thing I could have heard.  I said I knew I was getting close because I was getting really scared.  One contraction I literally screamed to where someone came to check on me.  The doc just smiled at her and said we were fine.  I was so impressed by the lack of concern, and the confidence of this doctor just to leave things alone to happen.  One push on the squatting bar and he said the next push we were going to have a baby, and he was right, the next push, at 2:51 in the morning, Oliver Duncan Brewer came sliding into this world.  Four hours of laboring, and two pushes.  I can't believe what an incredibly uneventful, uncomplicated delivery it was.  At four, I told Reid he could just go home and wake up with Finn and bring him over with breakfast.

Finn's reaction to baby Ollie was sweet.  Baby Ollie had a brought a gift for Finn with him, so he was excited to get a book all about Big Brother Finn, with an inscription from Oliver.  That week he had been talking of how Mama was going to go to the "doctor, and the doctor would pull out Baby Ollie, then Mama will have a NEW BABY!" So when he came in and saw, he said, "The doctor pulled out Baby Ollie?"  Tentatively curious.  But when he got to bring some popcorn after dinner, hop in bed with Mama and Baby Ollie and watch Yes, Virginia, I think he thought things were gonna be alright.

In the week since he has been here, I can't believe how wonderful recovery is when you don't have complications.  The hardest part is taking it easy and not trying to do too much.  The other thing that has struck me profoundly, is how expansive love is.  It really expands so readily to new life, that it seems like there is actually more for everyone here, instead of being difficult to balance time and energy and attention.  I'm sure as time passes there will be moments of struggle with that, but for now, we will just bathe in it.  And witness Super Dad as he gets to spend so much great time with Finn, seeing them grow together is one of the most heart warming things ever.  His intuition when Finn might need a little extra loving, or rough housing, is amazing.  And Finn's desire to help with Oliver keeps him busy and involved.  We haven't seen a speck of jealousy yet, and will just try to let them all grow together.

The only one who is still quite tentative is Squid.  She is very careful, and stays a good distance unless we invite her to sniff the new wee one.  So she gets extra walks and outdoor play with Dad and Finn, and extra pets from Mama for now to help her adjust.  All in all, things are almost as good as they could possibly be, and once nursing gets ironed out, we will be smooth sailing from there, to enjoy the next chapter of the life of our young family.  Life is so good.

Finn Day Number Two...

Dear baby Lionheart…geez.  The time really does fly.  You can now say, “I love you, Mama,” and I don’t think I’ll ever get over the feeling that overwhelms me when I hear it.  My heart is so full.  You try to wink, but can only get your right eye to shut part way just now, and the result is this beautifully crooked smile.  You like to cheers every drink you have with someone.  At museums, you walk around with your hands clasped behind your back, it makes you look like this teeny intellectual.  You like all kinds of kisses: butterfly, Eskimo, cheek pinching, fishy kisses.  You seem to be sensitive to when others are upset, I’ve seen you on more than one occasion go up to someone who was crying, take their hand, and lead them to some activity, the piano, the play kitchen, and try to engage them in some play.  A lady at church, who you led to the piano, found this very noteworthy and made a point to find who the mother of this child was to tell her of this, and of her gratitude for your sweet energy.

I pray for you to grow up to find your true, authentic voice in this world.  To find what makes you passionate about life.  To see the sacredness in all living things that we share this amazing home with for such a short time.  To think through the bullshit that swirls around us much of the time, and to find the truth that lies hidden close by.  To know how loved you are.

For your second anniversary of this life…we had a small winter celebration.  A winter picnic with soup, sledding and cupcakes with a few friends.  We explored the snowy forest and found an amazing tree fort tucked away…we listened to chickadees and redpolls, and threw snowballs, and took sledrides through Creamer’s Field, one of Mom’s favorite places in the Interior.  Daddy came up for the weekend, and it was a perfect, lovely celebration.  Happy birthday, Finn.  I love you.

A Letter to my Cynic

        The last few months have been really tough for me.  I’ve struggled with my own faith, faith in humanity, faith in the direction our world is being sent to by the apathy of our choices, or lack of…and struggled with my own seeming insignificance, the weight of what seems like never being able to do enough to help the plight of our Mother Earth, and the hopelessness of that struggle.  And it all seems so much more dire with a tiny bundle of light and love who truly represents limitless possibility.  I’ve also been struggling to find a balance of intention, energy, faith and tangible action.  It seems like they cannot be mutually exclusive: without faith, your tangible actions will never seem enough, there will ALWAYS be something more you could have done.  You have to have faith that your path is meaningful and thoughtful, and that your choices are what you can do with the information you have at the time.  And without tangible action, one cannot rely solely on intention.  Intention is the seed, but action helps water it into a mighty oak that will have the meaning and impact you long for.  

            I have a terrible inner cynic…she says to me…

            “Go ahead and have whatever you deem as “faith” that things can get better.  If that helps you sleep at night, do what you need to do.  But don’t turn your head for a second, or you will see the truth of what humans are doing to this planet, and you will know there is nothing to be done.”

            “People have known about these things for so long, you will never get the general public to see the benefits of simplicity and to abandon this consumeristic, disposable culture we live in; or the corporations to look at anything other than a bottom dollar, it is nothing you can have an impact on with your small existence as a mother at home.”

            I really could go on and on.  It sends me into a spiral of depression of doubting my very existence on this planet.  That seems pretty abstract, but that is what keeps me up at night these days.

            And then…

            Recently, while talking to a dear friend of mine, I thought…as I say these things, I am also saying them to Finn, and about him.  That HE can’t make a difference.  That there is nothing for him to do but wallow in pity and shame for what our species has done.  And the part of me that longs to be hopeful and optimistic takes great, great offence to that.  Like mama bearish.  Like I will kick the shit out of you for saying anything like that to my son.  There in lies the conundrum…how to get that hope back, that honest hope for the future, that will inspire our children to be the problem solvers we need, without riddling them with guilt over what we have done up to this point. 

            We need to address our cynics.  There is simply no room for cynicism, it will do nothing to bring about the change we need.  She has been useful to me, because she has called me to own up to my choices in this world, and to our choices as a global community.  Okay, done.  Let’s move forward.   So I decided to write my cynic a letter…

Dear Lady of Cynicism;

            My name is Sarah the Lionheart.  I come from the part of Sarah who longs to be hopeful, who longs to radiate optimism and hope for the future generations of children, who stand to make a large difference in the world.  It is only with the confidence and love from us that they will grow to their fullest potential, otherwise they stand to continue this cycle of hopelessness, from which inaction springs.  Nothing will get any better from inaction, and since that comes from the hopelessness of cynicism, I have come to let you know that you have worn out your welcome here, residing in Sarah.  For when you say those things, you are also saying them about her son, and that is a deal breaker.  This will not happen, and you will no longer have room in her spirit.  The only thing you do is paralyze her and keep her from realizing her fullest potential as well, and she cannot move forward with you here.  Thank you for getting her to take a good realistic look at where we currently are, and to inspire her to take action NOW.  To proactively find ways to nurture her faith in the Universe.  To keep up with the small changes in behavior that will turn the current nature of society into one of love for our Earth, and stewardship for each other.  You have done your job.  It is time to transform your energy into something creative, something positive, or vacate the premises immediately. 

                                             Sincerely,

                                               Sarah the Lionheart

        

          My hope is that this is the first step in coming out of the darkness.  And that if it shows up again, to revisit this and find the light before it hits me so hard.  This journey is messy, dark, frightening, and impossibly beautiful all at the same time.

Finn Day Number One!

   

    I struggled a bit with this first birthday…ideas on how to keep it low key.  I had fears of kiddos running out of my house with little baggies of plastic crap, all of it landing squarely in the landfill, and thousands of years from now having evidence of this birthday still not biodegrading.  I never struggled with real post-partum depression about Finnegan, however, I do suffer now sometimes from a low grade pessimism about the state of mankind, and the universe.  If I start to think about it too much, I feel like one of those fifth graders whose teacher shows them pictures of dead sea turtles and ugly beaches on Earth Day, which research has now shown only makes kiddos feel hopeless instead of inspired.  I feel that way if I start to think too much on it.  I do my small part, but it is so easy to feel as if your small part is too miniscule.  The hard part is, change can only happen on an individual basis.  The rearing of thoughtful children and the saving of the planet is a slow, arduous process that takes time and patience.  So, what we ended up deciding on for Finn’s inaugural birthday into the world was a Cardboard Party…with a small burning man taking place afterwards to rid ourselves of the decorations.  Besides, they say kiddos enjoy playing more with the boxes than they do the presents, right?  

  

  It turned out to be a huge success.  We started with a tunnel built around the table, and a car to pull the babies around in.  Stars hung from the ceiling, and the cardboard they were cut from was put in the windows, a two-fer decoration deal.  His name was in the window, and each guest got to take a star home with them.  It was certainly a birthday I could feel good about economically, as well as ecologically.  I feel like I got Mother Earth Advocate points to add.  Although we requested no gifts, we still got a bucket load.  I’m open to ideas as to how to deal with this in future birthdays!  Perhaps requesting everyone brings a bag of dog food to donate to an animal shelter, or a shell or piece of beach glass.  I really am looking forward to years to come where Finn and I can brainstorm together.  It’s not that I’m not grateful for the thoughtfulness; we simply do not need it.  This year has been about downsizing…in a 950 square foot house, this has been more out of necessity, but has been a blessing in disguise.  With added awareness comes more frustration, though…especially with a baby, and all the stuff that comes along with it.

In the end, a lot of love was in the air, and I simply cannot believe this year has gone by so fast.  In the blink of an eye.  The happiest of birthdays to the other love of my life.