Getting back into the groove of blogging, something to which I used to look forward with great anticipation now comes difficult. Choppier. Like molasses being coaxed from the jar on a cold winter morning, the thoughts are hidden deep in the recesses of my mind, but pouring them out is gonna take some work folks.
Let me first share the fabulous news that I am pregnant with number five, he is due to come out tomorrow. TOMORROW. June 30th. Although I find myself impatient with the discomfort of the last weeks of pregnancy, I also hear the whispers from my soul reminding me of how lucky I am to be in this situation. BUT, I am not back to repaint the garage of doom with colors of grey and gloom...I made it through that lesson, and from it was granted a new chance, given a new gift of life, in more ways than one.
My kids are all doing well, Ja is a pre-teen, true to the word, M is a mature and playful 9 year old, Jo is a witty intelligent 7 year old, and little S isn't so little anymore, soon to be 5. And the grand finale will be little Charlie, as soon as he decides to make his appearance that is...
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
Thursday, September 10, 2009
When will it be enough?
Why aren't they enough anymore? Why don't I find joy in all that used to bring me deep fulfillment?
Now that I have extinguished the relationship with any readers I may have once had, by always posting such gloomy stuff, I can simply vent all over this blog and it is my own space..for which I am thankful b/c it seems that lately all I have to say contains a thread of sadness. No one wants to read about sadness all the time...
I can't get past, cannot accept within myself, this deep sorrow...and there isn't a damn thing I can do to rescue my heart, to make it right again within my soul.
I periodically read a few blogs written by those who have lost babies, either before birth or shortly thereafter, those struggling to conceive, plowing through numerous attempts at IVF only to have their dreams fall apart time and time again - situations totally out of their control. Their grief is justified, I feel like an invader when I read those blogs, although the feeling of loss I can now relate to.
It is a living nightmare, one that never goes away and taints my , well, everything...
I go to the store, I see babies with their moms..I go out and see women with pregnant bellies everywhere. The stab of pain never really becomes less...so many times a day, so many I lose count...24 weeks it would be, 26 weeks it would be, and so on...I would know the gender of the baby (though i knew his gender the moment I realized I was pregnant - so strong was the connection already), I would be able to feel his movement, my belly would be round and fruitful...I would soon be able to proudly show off five kids, instead of four.
I look at my children, their sweet innocent faces. The nightmare, it seems it will never end, I will never be the same as I was, whatever that was, whoever she was...is gone. Replaced by a robot who can mimic the motions of daily existence, can take care of the kids, do what has to be done - but totally void of real feeling anymore, real joy has left my world...
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
Just when you think you have it rough...
Please visit a blog I came across while chatting with friends on facebook. It is an amazing journey this family is on...and a precious life of a small baby boy with remarkable fighting spirit hangs in the balance. The strength of the mother is second to none. If I were her, I would be a ball of mess....
I have tried three times to insert it as a hyperlink - blogger isn't allowing it atm.
So, here it is:
www.mycharmingkids.net
edited to add: I did manage to add Stellan's button to my page - just scroll down on the right and click on it - it will take you straight to the blog..pass it on, please.
I have tried three times to insert it as a hyperlink - blogger isn't allowing it atm.
So, here it is:
www.mycharmingkids.net
edited to add: I did manage to add Stellan's button to my page - just scroll down on the right and click on it - it will take you straight to the blog..pass it on, please.
Thursday, June 25, 2009
Master Rumi's timeless words
Poems from another time...
Welcome difficulty.
Learn the alchemy true human beings know.
The moment you accept what troubles you've been given,
the door opens.
Welcome difficulty as a familiar comrade.
Joke with torment brought by the friend.
Sorrows are the rags of old clothes and jackets
that serve to cover and then are taken off.
That undressing, and the beautiful naked body underneath,
is the sweetness that comes after grief.
This being human is a guest house.
Every morning, a new arrival.
A joy, a depression, a meanness, some momentary awareness
comes as an unexpected visitor.
Welcome and attend them all,
even if they're a crowd of sorrows
who violently sweep your house empty of its furniture!
Still treat each guest honorably.
It may be clearing you out for some new delights.
The dark thought, the shame, the malice,
meet them at the door laughing, and invite them in.
Be grateful for whoever comes,
because each has been sent as a guide from beyond.
Welcome difficulty.
Learn the alchemy true human beings know.
The moment you accept what troubles you've been given,
the door opens.
Welcome difficulty as a familiar comrade.
Joke with torment brought by the friend.
Sorrows are the rags of old clothes and jackets
that serve to cover and then are taken off.
That undressing, and the beautiful naked body underneath,
is the sweetness that comes after grief.
This being human is a guest house.
Every morning, a new arrival.
A joy, a depression, a meanness, some momentary awareness
comes as an unexpected visitor.
Welcome and attend them all,
even if they're a crowd of sorrows
who violently sweep your house empty of its furniture!
Still treat each guest honorably.
It may be clearing you out for some new delights.
The dark thought, the shame, the malice,
meet them at the door laughing, and invite them in.
Be grateful for whoever comes,
because each has been sent as a guide from beyond.
Sunday, June 21, 2009
Team Spirit
Pictures of the end of season game, All-Stars games begin this Monday. The boys had such fun this year! And how 'bout that Serenity with the cotton candy, eh? A girl's gotta have a little fun too! Yum!
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
The Soul's voice
Sometimes the soul DIRECTLY challenges the structure of our personal life.
Below is a poem included in Rodger Housden's book Ten Poems to Set You Free.
THE LAYERS
I have walked through many lives
some of them my own,
And I am not who I was
though some principle of being abides,
from which I struggle not to stray
When I look behind
as I am compelled to look
Before I can gather
strength to proceed on my journey,
I see the milestones dwindling
toward the horizon
and the slow fires trailing
from the abandoned campsites,
over which scavenger angels
wheel on heavy wings
Oh, I have made myself a tribe
out of my true affections
and my tribe is scattered!
How shall the heart be reconciled
to its feast of losses?
In a rising wind
the manic dust of my friends,
those who fell along the the way
bitterly stings my face
yet I turn, I turn,
exulting somewhat
with my will intact to go
wherever I need to go
and every stone on the road
precious to me
In my darkest night,
when the moon was covered
and I roamed through wreckage,
a nimbus-clouded voice
directed me:
"Live in the layers
not in the Litter"
Though I lack the art
to decipher it,
no doubt the next chapter
in my book of transformations
is already written.
I am not done with my changes.
Below is a poem included in Rodger Housden's book Ten Poems to Set You Free.
THE LAYERS
I have walked through many lives
some of them my own,
And I am not who I was
though some principle of being abides,
from which I struggle not to stray
When I look behind
as I am compelled to look
Before I can gather
strength to proceed on my journey,
I see the milestones dwindling
toward the horizon
and the slow fires trailing
from the abandoned campsites,
over which scavenger angels
wheel on heavy wings
Oh, I have made myself a tribe
out of my true affections
and my tribe is scattered!
How shall the heart be reconciled
to its feast of losses?
In a rising wind
the manic dust of my friends,
those who fell along the the way
bitterly stings my face
yet I turn, I turn,
exulting somewhat
with my will intact to go
wherever I need to go
and every stone on the road
precious to me
In my darkest night,
when the moon was covered
and I roamed through wreckage,
a nimbus-clouded voice
directed me:
"Live in the layers
not in the Litter"
Though I lack the art
to decipher it,
no doubt the next chapter
in my book of transformations
is already written.
I am not done with my changes.
Sunday, May 24, 2009
In the pain there is healing
Wild Geese
You do not have to be good
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting -
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.
~Mary Oliver
You do not have to be good
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting -
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.
~Mary Oliver
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