Thursday, July 2, 2009

The Weather Within Us


Back when I was a younger woman, in the days when I still had a functioning uterus and so forth, there would be those times of the month when tears and anger and all sorts of crazy emotions would take me over and I know you know what I'm talking about. PMS. Yeah. Good ol' PMS. And then, when I was ovulating, I was so happy and filled with the juice of joyful well-come-on, then! and I'd wear my silver and put on eye-makeup and bat my mascared eyes at the husband.
And I could examine my feelings and the calender and it all made a certain sense. It may not have made the PMS times easier but it did give me a certain comfort, knowing that within a week I would not feel so crazy. I could get the knives out of hiding again, I could watch a TV commercial without tearing up. I could know why I wanted to make a baby, even though I didn't really want another baby.

But now. Oh now. Where are the hormones, those drugs of the body which cause the brain and the blood to boil and simmer and shiver and shimmy? Flatlined, that's where they are. No more cycles, just...a certain sameness unless you count the insanity which came on me this time last year and still seems to want to whisper in my ear at times, blowing anxiety and a bit of depression up my skirts.
Ah yah.

And so it's a tender self-regard that I have when something moves me deeply, when I am so filled with something so big it fills my heart and spills over and today was one of those days when that happened.

As I'm writing this, the wind has picked up and the trees are stirred and whipping, twisting and bowing and the sky is growing dark. I wonder if there's a tornado nearby. I check the weather and this is what it says is about to hit me:

In addition to large hail and damaging winds... frequent cloud to ground lightning is occurring with these storms. Move indoors immediately! Lightning is one of nature's number one killers. Remember... if you can hear thunder... you are close enough to be struck by lightning.

And in the time it took me to look that up, copy and paste it, call Mr. Moon and warn him as he's about to get on the road to home, the rain has begun to tumble down. I see no hail, but it surely has cooled down about twenty degrees in the last five minutes.

And this is how my emotions seemed today. I was fine this morning, completely fine, and I walked and went and picked up Lily to go see her new midwife. She has been moved from the Birth Center practice to a hospital-based midwifery practice because she has had some high blood pressure issues and this was to be her first appointment with them. This practice has at its head a doctor whom I think walks on water and believe me, I do not say this lightly. I've written about him before. If you would like to read about a real, honest American hero, go here. He is, well... if anything goes wrong with my daughter's pregnancy, I want HIM to be there.
And his office was busy, women with huge bellies coming and going and children and babies and when the nurse was taking care of Lily, she was holding a baby- one of a set of twins we'd seen come in earlier with two very young parents.

"Could I hold her?" I asked.
"Of course," the nurse said and she handed the tiny mite off to me and I held her for about five or ten minutes and I kept looking from this content little human in her pink outfit to my daughter and I cried. I am crying now, thinking of this child I was so lucky to get to hold today. And I kept thinking of how wonderful it's going to be when I get to hold Lily's baby. This is real. This is happening.
I handed her back when it was time and the midwife came in and I fell in love with her immediately. She's about my age, I suppose, and it turns out that she had six children at home and has also adopted five AND she's a certified nurse midwife in a very busy practice. She made me at once feel comfortable and trusting and also incredibly inadequate in every way. She had gray hair and wore an air of reassurance and capability that I found...soothing. She addressed all the different issues that can come up in a pregnancy where there is maternal high blood pressure and she is sending Lily for lab work and to a perinatal neonatologist for an ultrasound to check the cord's flow and so forth and after all my protestations against such things, Lily will not only be getting an ultra-sound, but one of the 4-D ones which sort of scares us both. But I trust this woman, I do. She seemed to be very happy to have a patient who wants to birth naturally. She says she doesn't get a lot of women who are "educated and trust their bodies and the process," but it's always a special delivery when she does.
And so you see- I know we are doing the exact right thing here. This woman, and Dr. Brickler, if need be, will be watching over things.
She listened to the baby and pronounced that it sounded great and also, that it sounds like a girl. Hmmm.
I suppose we shall find out on Monday at eight a.m. when I'll be going with Lily and Jason to get that ultrasound.

Jessie met us and we all went to lunch and I kept telling Lily what I truly believe which is that all is going to be well with her and this child. I have no feeling of fear or anxiety about that, which is strange, since I am anxious about everything else in the world. But about this coming child? No. I get only the sense that all is well.

After lunch we went to a store where they sell baby-things and we sat in all the comfy mommy rockers and Lily tried on some maternity clothes and Jessie and I chatted while sitting in some of the comfy mommy rockers. She's about to go off to Jamaica in eight days for a medical outreach program and the thought of her doing this DOES cause me anxiety. I know she'll be fine, but still- my baby going so far away, being in the the poorest area of one of the poorest places- it gives my heart pause, even as I am so glad she's going to get to go. And as we talked and I thought about how my children are all so far out of the reach of my protective wings, I began to cry again. Big, whelping tears and I wasn't embarrassed at all.

"One of the worst nights of my life," I told Jessie, "Was when I had a miscarriage when Hank was six months old and they wouldn't let him spend the night with me in the hospital and it was my first time to be separated from him and it was so hard, so horrible." I thought a moment and then I admitted, "I have always been overattached."

And I know I have been. But that's the sort of mother I am, whether for good or for bad and it's been a difficult thing for me to let my babies go. I don't think they know exactly how difficult. I've tried to be the kind of mother who encourages her children to go and do and be themselves, live their own lives.
But there is part of me which wishes I could always keep them here, quite literally, within arm's length so that I can reach out and protect them from anything that may threaten them.

And that's what made me cry, I think- holding that baby and thinking of how easy it was to protect my children when they were babies. How perfectly they fit into my arms where they were safe and how hard it was to watch them take those steps and short flights away from me. And it keeps happening. I can't protect Jessie when she's in Jamaica. I can't protect Lily from things I cannot control. But I can do what I can do and I can go with her to the appointments with the people who know how to protect her and I can reassure her that all will be well, even if all doesn't go exactly as she wanted it to.

It's hours later now. The storm cut off our electricity for awhile and Mr. Moon came home and we ate dinner and I'm trying to finish this up. Trying to figure out what it was that I was trying to say and I think it's this - I woke up this morning calm, like the sky was, and before the day was over, my emotions had collided with each other like the cold front colliding with the heat and a storm broke out inside of me like the storm broke out over my head here in Lloyd.
Just because I don't have a cycle now, doesn't mean that there are not factors which, when they come together, are going to cause disturbances in the weather of my soul.

But you know, even with all the weather people's knowledge and high-tech tools and radar and satellite images they still don't always know exactly what the weather will end up being. And I, even with all my knowledge of how my very own psyche works can't always predict what's going to happen to cause me to break out in tears. I didn't foresee holding someone's beautiful baby, her very physical presence in my arms loosening up something inside of me that let the tears flow. I didn't predict meeting a midwife who birthed her babies at home, who delivers babies day and night but who looked at my daughter and said to her, "Your delivery will be special."

One never knows and now it's time for bed and I'm ready to give it all up and sleep and see where these emotions are tomorrow. What the state of my heart will be in, whether in joy or in pain or in fear or in trust and faith in whatever the future holds.

And there is something good about that. We are not machines and we can have feelings that wash us clean or clog us up or let us fly or make us hide or force us to reach out our arms for a new life, at least for a few moments.

I am glad of that. Even if I can't predict what is coming, what I'll be feeling, I know I'll be feeling something. And then that will pass and I'll be feeling something else.

We can't always predict the weather. But we can predict that the sun will come up, the moon will pass through its phases, pulling the tides this way and that, even the tides within us, even if they are no longer blood tides, crimson and rich but are less visible tides, made up of tears and something else. Our wombs may no longer be open and able to create life but our hearts can still be open to it. So can our arms, our souls, and we can still bow and bend to the universe and its strong, invisible tuggings.

We are still part of the mystery. We are still part of life.

21 comments:

  1. You and I are kindred spirits.

    Absolutely.

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  2. Not 10 minutes before reading this I was brought to tears at the thought of Monday coming, and having to leave my boy at daycare. I was laying down with him as he fell asleep, and my whole body and soul ached from missing him all day.

    I've been so stormy myself lately I've lost sight of my PMS, it's not even a blip on the radar.

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  3. Just before I read this I was thinking about our rocking chair conversation, and how I am glad that you have been the "overattached" mama that you have been. Although I'm sure it would be easier on you if you could just let us go without the stress, sadness or fear, your connection with us goes so deep and strong that I feel like it gives my life meaning in ways that I am so grateful for.

    Ok, I am really tired and I don't really know what to say. But I just have to say thank you for being so attached and thank you for forcing yourself to let us go. It must be a difficult mix of emotions pulling on your heart, but you have always done a great job of raising babies to humans.

    I'm sorry if none of this made since. I am literally sitting on my bed, two minutes from falling asleep. Love you Ma.

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  4. I don't think there's ever a bad thing about your type of "over attached". My kid isn't even born and I'm already starting to feel that way.

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  5. I just hope I can be a parent and have my children say something so wonderful about me when they are grown up.

    The whole PMS thing hardly ever makes me cry any more. I just get angry or frustrated sometimes. I get tearful when I'm pregnant, though. I prefer tears.

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  6. Maggie- I know that.

    Steph- It is storm season in your soul. It will pass, eventually, and all will be calmer.

    HoneyLuna- Jessie. My sweet, sweet Jessie. You have no idea how much I love you.

    SJ- I love you too, you woman in Kentucky.

    Jon- Just wait. Just wait.

    Mwa- Yes. Tears are better than anger.

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  7. Oh Mama. I just love you so.

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  8. Miss May who got in her truck to drive the country- Oh, the giving-up I had to do then. And you taught me how strong you were. How completely and utterly strong.
    And you still teach me that daily.
    I love you so.

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  9. Oh man. As I read this, the tears that I have been fighting for days finally came pouring out. I love you for your wisdom, even if you don't think you're wise.

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  10. A mystery indeed.

    Lovely as always.

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  11. Don't be freaked out by the 4-D ultrasound. It is quite amazing & I'm sure you will find it reassuring. I had to have a few with my 2nd & it is amazing what they can see. At one point the doc said "Well, the baby doesn't have a cleft lip" and after seeing the blood flowing & all 4 chambers of the heart & the magical web growing in my little one's brain I released & was able to relax.
    Trust me - you will cry your eyes out at the miracle on the screen. Can't wait to hear all about it.

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  12. Ginger- Sometimes I watch sad movies, just so that I will cry the tears I know need to be cried. I'm glad I could provide that service for you.

    XBox- You are too kind, my friend.

    Gina- I'm cool with it. And yes, I will no doubt cry.

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  13. When we were roommates, Susan used to say... "Just because I don't have a 'cycle' anymore, doesn't mean I can't have PMS!" And I'm finally beginning to understand it.

    Bless her heart and yours... and all of the Bella Luna clan.

    Hell, Bless all our damn hearts~!
    xo pf
    Oh, and PS For all the bloggers that visit here and have visited me... believe me I visit you also. I just can't seem to manipulate a certain variety of comment leaving mechanism. I do need to learn it, and I will! Just didn't know how else to tell ya'll.

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  14. Ms. Fleur- Bless us all, indeed!

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  15. Thank you so much for going with me! I just feel like everyting is going to turn out fine as well. My baby is happy in there, I just know it! I love you.

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  16. Lily Love- Some things we just know. Your baby is just waiting to be in your arms, beautiful and perfect. I love you so much for the mother you have already proven to be. I am so proud of you, so filled with all of the mysteries and joy of what you carry inside yourself with such grace.
    I love you, baby.

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  17. I hope you share the 4-d picture with us. I know they scare you, but they are just so amazing to me. PMS is terrible and I long for the day that it will be gone, but this post have given me pause. What will I blame my insanity on then? Hmmm.

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  18. What an absolutely brilliant and thought provoking post! I have tears in my eyes reading it. That is what makes us females so caring, it never ever leaves us, it is part of our make up whether we are pre-menopausal or post menopausal. Lovely and enjoyable read, thank you

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  19. Lady Lemon- I will share the photo when I get my hands on it. Or my computer on it.
    And yes- what WILL you blame your insanity on then? I'm still trying to figure it out.

    DTG- I love you too, baby.

    Technogran- Thank-you so much! Please come visit anytime.

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