I am sitting here in front of my birthing tub, wrapped in a towel as it fills up
and reading all the encouraging statements that have been "sharpied"
(poetic license) on the walls of it while contemplating my time, and what's to come. At the same time, I am grieving the loss of a dear friend's pregnancy at (I think) 16 weeks. Her loss is my loss, and my heart is breaking for her and her sweet husband and three girls who were looking forward to their next little brother or sister.

I am reminded of my own miscarriage 11 years ago, and the pain that stayed with me for what seems like eternity. It was a deep, sharp, turning sort of pain that brought out a nasty side of me. I went online today and searched to find information on any sort of ritual idea that would be helpful, but there was not much. There was something on line from a female Rabbi talking about how traditionally they don't consider children as 'alive' until they have passed their head and shoulders out of the mother. I thought that was interesting... So, until then, until 'life has started' outside the womb, the mother is the priority.

Then there was another article that discussed a Buddist temple where a woman experienced beauty among many small statues placed there for pregnancies and miscarriages...a sacred space for women to celebrate or grieve I suppose.

I know that my brother and his wife held a funeral of sorts, just them two, when they miscarried her first pregnancy. I think this helped them.

Not that my friend will want to do anything like this now, or at all... but it got me to searching, especially in light of the fact that I am due in two weeks...and especially in light of the fact that I am searching for the special way I present my daughter with 'the talk' about how her body is amazing...

I don't know... but thanks for letting me think out loud. I think I will get in the tub, and see if I can connect with all of the women who have birthed before me.

K

Here's something nonsensical that I am working on... :) Maybe someday I'll get around to finishing all these things I am working on!


tears

drawn from my breast
as moon on water
but I, so still
to fear of what I cannot hold back
[time]
passing through me,
empty as unfolded arms heavy
so I shift their weight around my back
where they’ve bridged an ocean
of rapid moments
eclipsed by life un-seized


don't ask me where this is coming from! i must be dusting out some old wounds or something!

K

I am aware that something is happening.

The past few weeks have been hard. Deadlines, late nights, long drives to town and back, a death in the family, pneumonia (mine and Noelle's), insomnia, staring at my shortcomings, feeling deeply...like survivors on a deserted island, these things stand watching for any change, any relief to come.

And, today... with the rain, after a long day of hauling Hall's to the Dr., the pharmacy, to Target and finally in town to their last rehearsal before the play this weekend... I began to be able to breathe again. Oh, sure, it's more than likely the antibiotic I finally caved and went to get today, or the breathing treatments I've had to administer 3 times today... but with this physical relief, I found a new breath.

As I was going through my nighttime ritual (bath with book and hopes of being able to fall asleep, then bed, then up again...note: the time of this post is somewhere between 1.30 and 2 am) my spiritual self began to mourn. At first I just noticed that my eyes were stinging and itchy, and thought to dismiss it but quickly changed my mind. I instinctively started to breathe in deeply, and breathe out through my mouth while moaning in a pitch that can only be described as some underwater creature's sound. This sound, is hard to describe, as it was more than a sound, but a vibration that was shaking my heart and as it did was scattering tears down my face, onto my chest, and into the waters of the tub. It hurt, and yet I felt right, and afterwards I felt more connected with the inner longings behind my ribs, I felt ache, deep love, grief, fear, joy. I don't know if I could actually describe it well enough. I am still caught up in it.

There are so many things on my 'to do' list before the baby comes, but I think I am going to throw the list out the window and take a hiatus from 'doing' things. After this weekend, the plays will be over, and I'll have very little commitments on the calendar...so I think I will commit to sitting still. Commit to remembering who I am and listen to what's beating behind my chest, what passions move me. I may work on some art, photography or poetry--things that have been dormant for some time.

I need to be out in nature, to rekindle my love for vibrant living energy and my connectedness to it all so I can carry the love and life with me in the birthing process...the birth of a new little person, and the rebirth of a woman and mother.

May you always return to the source of love...and there, may you know no boundary.

K

Getting closer to being ORGANIZED for school! This past week, we were up in Austin, and while Noelle was at Texas History Camp (she had a great time) and while Mark and Gabe floated down the many rivers of the hill country, I was holed up with binders of curriculum and a calendar. :) And, I got much more accomplished than I thought!

I am so excited to have the first semester of 2nd Grade all lined out! (with God's help, we may actually be able to manage the plan!) I am partially ready to start drawing out 5th grade, just a scotch more reading and deciding to do...so, I am pretty stoked. We're going to start THIS Monday reviewing and tidying up (mostly the class room) and finishing un-done tasks from 4th and 5th grade (mostly practicing). It's my hope that by getting into our rhythm now, when the baby comes, we'll be more likely to flow in the groove...but, I am also ready to scrap it all for plan B, which is... uh, in the works? LOL!!

This Monday I will be 37 weeks and holding... I can't believe how fast this pregnancy has gone. I can't believe I can still wear my rings! We are all SO excited about the baby coming, we don't know what to do with ourselves! Tomorrow the midwife is coming over to check out the house and make sure she knows how to get here. I spent time today making final shopping lists for any supplies I need for our home birth, and I hope (after resting and working on getting well) that my mom and I can knock out the list this week. Wow, 37 weeks.

Ok, so I have a brown haired, hazel-eyed daughter, and a blonde, blue-eyed son... any guesses as to what the next one will be?

Promise.

I thought I'd start this post with the positivity that I am encircled with today, although its a bittersweet day at best. My grandfather, Emmett Vernon Stewart let go of this world this morning at 5:45 am in the company of his son, my father, Walter Emmett Stewart, one of his 10 children. He survived 20 years of Alzheimer's.

There are so many things I've thought to write about the experience I've had with death and the Mystic this last week...but I have yet to get anything down to share. For this I apologize, as the experience has been life altering for me.

Last Friday, my Gramps' body decided to start to 'officially' shut down, refusing to swallow any nourishment. It was a painful process to watch, and when I went to visit him, he clearly was confused, and worse, imprisoned in a darkening vessel. When I visited him, I sat or laid up on his bed (as best I could with my big belly) next to him and whispered in his ear. I don't really know what's best to say to someone who's obviously trapped and scared. So, I told him what he already knew.

That I loved him.
That Jesus is waiting on the other side of a blink with perfect health.
That I was thankful for him, for being such a brave and strong man. For leading his family of 10 children and 39 (soon to be 40!) grand- and great-grand children.


I didn't know what to ask God for, so I just thanked Him for the gift of time. And, I have been sitting and listening to the greatest stories of a boy born in Tiajuana, a cowboy, a naval officer and champion boxer, an inventor, and an entrepreneur. I have witnessed and heard an amazing love story between a man and a woman, how even when he didn't know anyone else, he strained to hear my Granny's voice and would grab for her hand. Sweet times, funny times, crazy times...but all together wonderful times.

I am really, really proud to be a Stewart. Part of a family of all denominations and religions bound together by a deep love. Part of a tribe that's been scattered across the globe doing all sorts of different, amazing, wonderful things.

Maybe tomorrow I'll write about death. Today, I am breathing in love, celebrating life, living in awe.

Peace, Kelly

This is one of those nights where I thumb through volumes of thoughts in a desperate search for the one right way to describe what I am feeling inside...and I wrote a couple of depressing paragraphs this post, that I just chose to delete. Here's what I've decided.

I accept.
I accept.
I accept.

Yes.

Yes to the healing that comes by accepting Jesus. I don't say that in the "let's all accept Jesus in our hearts and grab a pizza" sort of way... I mean it in a "what is in me that needs to leave, so there is more room for the healing miracle He's given me" way. How can I believe more? How can I be more alive. How can I be more full of Love, Grace, and Forgiveness? How can I laugh more, run more (yes, I know I am 8 months pregnant), play more, engage more... How can I honor God in this life He carved for me, my name etched in a tree by streams of blood.

To all He gives I say yes.

And, in spite of my human desire to plague the world with a barrage of depressing content, a long struggle and questions beginning with "Why..." I choose instead to ask "How..." and move within the safety of His wise government.

Yes.
I accept.

I read this poem on the www in an article about a man who went around the world dancing. It's one of my favorite poems to date...I thought I'd share. And, if you want to see the video, you can go to www.wherethehellisMatt.com.

Love, Kelly

Stream of Life
by Rabindranath Tagore

The same stream of life
that runs through my veins night and day
runs through the world
and dances in rhythmic measures.

It is the same life
that shoots in joy through the dust of the earth
in numberless blades of grass
and breaks into tumultuous waves of leaves and flowers.

It is the same life
that is rocked in the ocean-cradle of birth
and of death, in ebb and in flow.

I feel my limbs are made glorious
by the touch of this world of life.
And my pride is from the life-throb of ages
dancing in my blood this moment.