motherbirthsource.com is LIVE!

My perceived absence has not not been because I haven't been spiritbirthing--oh, nooo....My life has been full of soulful excitement lately.

After months of waiting and figuring stuff out and then waiting some more, motherbirthsource is dipping its cybertoes in Lake Internet! (And for the record...I'm still figuring stuff out, so please, please be kind. Or at least hold all pithy comments until I can cover my ears and close my eyes and sing something really loud.)

Anyway, I'm really proud. And I'm so honored to be able to spread the Birthing From Within word.

Peace to the world, peace to birth.

SilkiesSilkiesSilkiesSilkiesAndPlusAlsoMoreSilkies

What we have here are silkies. Lots of them. Silkies and two pug lovebirds sharing an afternoon delight on el sofa.

On Monday, I spent a lovely afternoon at my new friend Hillary's house dyeing raw silk pieces that we bought. And Jack totally got to meet a girl--Hillary's precious daughter Tait, who showered him with kisses and attention. We made a great team, the four of us, and the nontoxic dyeing process was ridiculously simple. I have stained a bevy of Formica countertops in my lifetime with Kool-Aid, but I had never thought of using it to dye anything else. But Hillary found a great recipe online, and that was that. (Now I'm wondering about the state of my intestines from childhood Kool-Aid consumption...Are they bluepurpleredgreen still?) So that was our secret ingredient. OH, YEAH!

And now Jack has little playsilks and big playsilks for all his open-ended-play needs. He will have a canopy to drape over his playstands (on order as I type). He will have hankies to stuff up his sleeves and perform delightful little magic tricks. He'll have capes and fort walls and mummy-wrap a-plenty. And lots of other things that my grown-up brain can't even imagine.

So, I Was Thinking...

John is teaching T.S. Eliot's "The Waste Land" tomorrow, and he reviewed it in bed tonight, asking my opinion on this or that. I've also been perusing Fictionaut--our friend Jurgen's (sorry, Jurgen--I don't don't how to make an umlaut) online fiction-publishing-reading-commenting-etc. community. I've even been tempted to whip out Tom Robbins and read a favorite paragraph or two.

So, just when I thought that literary works had all but drifted out of my life, they are popping up organically. I have been reading mostly childbirth and parenting books lately--very interesting nonfiction--and I have been writing mostly nonfiction as well. That has been fine with me, but I have been feeling less and less like an artist, especially now that John has just turned the 150-page corner of the new novel he's writing. But, ready or not, here it all comes back to me in sneaky, secret ways.

So, I was thinking...the artist is back! I'm reading and writing for pleasure again!

Welcome back, little artista! Welcome back to delicious words and the juicy poetry of life. Welcome back to stolen dog-eared moments and thin veins of Helvetica marching across pages. Welcome back to words that do not have to make sense, as long as they create an image. Banana elephant trumpet palm river basin! Giant purple peanut slumber visions!

This is good timing, too, considering that there has been a lot of chatter about John and me hosting yet another summer of writing workshops. I am taking the leap right here: the Nashville Fiction Workshop is back! [Now that I'm feeling writer-y again and stuff...]

My Funny Valentine[s]...

This is the first year I've had two Valentines since a particularly fun stroke of luck my sophomore year of high school.

It was cause for a celebration. Dr. John and his sidekick Jack knew that Thai food always sounds good to me, so they made a reservation at Golden Thai. Yum.

I have love in my life. How great is that?

Prince Jack

Jack has a crush on Henry. Henry has a crush on Jack. They're bestest friends.

I have five dogs, but Henry is getting the most attention these days--now that Jack is mobile and can dole out affection. Sometimes the others get a little jealous, but usually--such as when Jack takes a big, hairy bite of Henry's neck rolls--they say, "I'm glad I'm not that guy."

It tickles me to see my little son develop his personality. He can do stuff now, and he totally gets jokes. He makes them, too. Not bad for somebody who wasn't even here nine months ago.

Hail, Prince Jack!

Birthing From Within

I'm finally writing about the transformative experience I had at the Birthing From Within workshop in Santa Fe. It took me a while to process it all, and to give the experience words, and I still have my doubts that I could do it under pressure, say at a dinner party. Here I have time to think about it at least, and to edit out anything unintelligible. I felt like a bumbling idiot when I called my husband every night from my room. He'd ask how the day went, and my answers seemed to come out as "It...good."

Well, it was good. And mind-blowing. And crazy. And probably the sanest thing I've ever done in my life. Pam England herself was at this one, and it appears to be the only one this year where she is listed as a facilitator. Her presence was invaluable. Virginia and Elizabeth also facilitated, and it was wonderful to have three perspectives, three sets of ideas, and three personalities.

The picture up top is of our group on the last day. That's me on the back row between the two ladders--the blond who just had to do a quarter-turn toward the camera, like my sister did back in her pageant days. I'm hypnotized by cameras and mirrors, but at least I'm conscious of it, eh?

I initially had reservations about going to such an important even in Santa Fe because my Pluto line runs right through. Astro-cartographers usually caution against traveling or living on the path that Pluto took on its way to your place of birth, because it has the connotation of death. Yikes! I have requalified this notion after this experience, however: Pluto's high road is transformation, and that's more what I felt.

While I was there, I howled, I breathed, I mock-contracted, I meditated, I twirled, I drew labyrinths, I played with pastels, I met some beautiful, beautiful people. I saw a BFW class in action, and I saw the parents transform. I discovered how to take mothers and fathers on journeys inside themselves. I found a home. I let go. I woke up.

But anyway, for anyone trying to choose among all the childbirth education / doula training programs out there, I highly recommend BFW. Why? Because its education is not education, but mentoring. Because it prepares a woman to be a mother on a soul level. Because its philosophy is that birthing a mother is just as important as birthing a baby. Because it respects a father's journey. Because it is not outcome-focused, but journey-focused. Because it rocks.

Baby On Board?

So I took my mother to Santa Fe to watch my son while I was at my Birthing From Within workshop. She was crazy-excited to be there, and strolled my boy all around town while I was in session.

Here's the thing: my mother is photo-crazy. She takes pictures of everything, even things she's not supposed to. She once nearly got us kicked out of a Glen Campbell concert at the Ryman for wanting to capture his "Gentle On My Mind" solo. And I learned on this trip that she has even mastered the art of discretely removing her camera's memory card, lest her camera get confiscated.

Not only does she like to capture everything on film, but these days, she likes to capture everything with her grandson in the frame. The only thing about that is when he is bundled up, unable to move, resting in his stroller, he ends up looking more like Flat Stanley or the traveling garden gnome in the Travelocity commercials rather than the charming, animated master of fun that he is.

Take this pic for example. This is Jack in front of what is purported to be the oldest house in the United States. No offense here, Jack, but a well-shot photo of something ancient looks odd when it is dotted with an unenthusiastic baby in a manufactured travel system (which is marked by our "ABQ" checked-luggage tag, no less).

But I'll file this picture away and treasure it always. Why? Because it only looks like a picture of the oldest house in the United States. What is really captured here is a darn good day that my mother shared with her new grandchild, my mother's inextinguishable enthusiasm, a moment that my son may not otherwise recall, a nod that they were there. They were really, really there.

Postpartum Ballet

I finally did it. I partook in postpartum ballet activities. I stretched, I arabesqued, I port-de-brased, I degaged. So we have complete disclosure here, I should say that what I did was a half-hour warm-up. But still.

Things went well. I did not twist my ankles (though my right one had me worried during a daring jump), and I did not pull my hamstrings. Yay. This is still a concern to me, #1, because as long as I'm breastfeeding, I still have relaxin pulsing through my veins, loosening my ligaments; and #2, because it's been a freaking-long time since I've done this. And did I mention that I broke three metatarsals in my right foot a year ago, when I was in my second trimester? So today was a big deal. I proved to myself that I still have it in me...to warm up. I imagined that this was preparation for all the good things on the horizon. Yum.

And I also got to remember that I like how my feet look. No matter that I'm still about fifteen pounds away from my delicious Ann Taylor wardrobe...I feel good, and I feel pretty, and I like my feet. They are rarely pedicured, and they're not narrow, but they're sinewy, and they work. I have feet that WORK!!! How great is that?

Happy Birthday to Me! February Threeeeeeee!

A few minutes ago, I celebrated my 32nd birthday at 11:12 p.m. CST. I'm here in bed watching that wacky Duggar family on TLC, while John and Jack sleep beside me. Those silly Duggars are decorating a "Happy Birthday Jesus" (comma inexplicably omitted) bus for a Christmas parade. This may be the only birthday EVER that I share with JC. Thank you, Duggars!

In this picture, you can see a crazy-awesome hat that my friend Sarah knitted for me for my big day. My brain has no idea what to do with knitting needles and a puddle of yarn, so I'm always amazed when other people's brains know these things. Thank you, Sarah. [That was officially my first "shout out" on this blog.] Other highlights include: Thai sweet potato soup, cucumber salad, high-yield milk production, Jack chewing brown rice at PF Chang's, the sweetest card ever from John, and, of course, two new Duggar episodes.

It's really good to be back in town after my Birthing From Within workshop in Santa Fe. Jack traveled incredibly well (I attribute it to his Sagittarius moon), but geez-oh-man is it hard to get through airport security with an infant. I'll write more about the workshop later. For now, I must go to sleep and dream of a new story idea that hit me on the head this morning. I suppose that that was yet another highlight.

An Imbolc birthday full of blessings. And cake.