We were in town all day today and were home for just a few minutes before hearing an incredible sound…walked out my studio door into the blinding, setting sun to catch a glimpse of four beautiful horses. The first two were at a slow trot; the second two were running pretty fast. Totally random? Maybe. Magical? For sure. And I just happened to have a camera on hand and clicked a photo with Tulsi in my arms pointing with the widest eyes, whispering, then yelling, “Doh!” Our hearts were both beating so fast, bouncing off each other until merging in excitement. The funny thing is, EVERY time Tulsi has ever been near horses, she’s been sound asleep! I can think of ten times at least. This was her first encounter. Up close and dream-like and just hours before her birth, one year ago.

All week I’ve been flooded with waves of emotion around her birth. The beauty, the incredible energy and mystery, the miracle, the intensity, the peace, the emergency, the fear, the separation, the LOVE…and I haven’t really known what “to do” with it all except watch it and feel it. I’ve been wondering how to honor it. It all happened in a flash. As fast as these amazing creatures raced by. And as fast as her first year in our lives. Horses symbolize power, grace, beauty, strength. How perfect an omen for her birth day and my birthing day, the day our family was born!

I just wanted to say thanks for the comments and emails from Tulsi’s birth story post. They mean a lot to me. It took some courage to share such an intimate experience on my blog, but I’m glad I did…it was life changing for me and not to share it would have felt like I was hiding it. Each birth is so sacred and unique. I feel incredibly blessed that I was supported in that way to have a natural birth in a such a safe, peaceful space. Blessings to all you mamas-to-be out there! I pray your birth is oh-so beautiful.

It was April 8th. My contractions started around 2 am and slowly picked up pace throughout the morning and afternoon. We spent most the day in town wondering if you were coming that night. We were home long enough for Patrick to put all the groceries away when my contractions got stronger and more painful. It was then I knew I was actually in labor and was excited but a little nervous, too. We went outside and soaked in the hot tub. Patrick pressed into my lower back with his palms while I leaned over the rim. Oso was standing guard (as he always does) and was looking concerned. I remember he climbed the wooden steps and licked the water off my shoulders. Maybe Joan can just come up here, Patrick said. That would be great, I thought, I’m dreading the long drive to town. A home birth would be awesome, but we decided to birth at the center since it was across the street from the hospital, just in case of an emergency.

I didn’t realize that Patrick was timing every contraction and writing them down. After 20 minutes in the tub, they were 60 seconds long and 4-6 minutes apart. Our midwife Joan was surprised my contractions didn’t slow down with soaking. She told Patrick to leave right away and she’d meet us there. My sister happened to call and got really excited to hear I was in labor. She must have then called my parents who called a minute later to cheer me on.

I was on all fours in the back seat leaning on pillows stacked on the base of your car seat. Your papa tried (with no luck) to get a cop to pull us over and escort us with flashing lights. It was the first time I gave him permission to drive as fast as he wanted.

I closed my eyes and began to ‘om’ as each contraction came and peaked and subsided. I can still hear Patrick om-ing, too. The sound OM quickly became my friend and strength. The contractions were more intense than I could have imagined, and I knew they would get a lot more intense as the night went on. In the stillness between one of the contractions, I saw the almost-full moon rise over the Sangres. It continued to glow in the darkness behind my closed eyelids into the next contraction.

Breaking time into small segments has an abstract affect. The drive seemed to fly by. My water broke the second Patrick parked the car in front of the birth center’s open door. It was clear.

Joan, Kiersten, Sally and Dara were outside waiting for us. It was 7:30 pm. I leaned on someone thru another contraction in the dirt parking lot. There was a cool breeze that felt so nice on my forehead. The contractions were a minute long now and 3 minutes apart. I headed straight for the ‘pink’ room. The bedspread was prettier, and well, I was sure you were a girl. (We never could decide on boy’s name…) Plus, there was a painting of a cowboy, his wife and their baby. Kiersten told me about the cowboy’s wife who gave birth in that room so quietly. She sat on the bed at 9 cm just talking softly with the midwives. Then she got up, squatted next to the bed and gently pushed her baby out.

Joan asked me to lay on the bed so she could measure me. No! I responded. Why not? She said a little surprised. Because I’m afraid I’m still only at 1 cm. She laughed, don’t worry, you are definitely not at 1. She was right. I was at 6 cm. (My friend Lindsy had just told me her son’s birth story, how she labored at home for some hours and was in so much pain she could barely make it to the car. When she arrived at the midwifery center, she was only dialated to 1 cm.)

The next 5 1/2 hours are both foggy and crystal clear. Labor had begun taking on a whole new reality. Or surreal-ality. Time became warped, and the only real tangible thing was the exact present moment – each second, each breath, each sensation, each set of eyes, each touch. At times the waves felt like tidal waves, but each one I swam thru was replaced with a deep-rooted strength I never knew I possessed.

At one point my legs shook uncontrollably, and Sally covered them with warm blankets and rubbed them. Joan filled the tub. I felt lighter in the water. I immediately felt comforted when I discovered the altar Patrick set up on the side of the tub. My eyes locked into Maharaji’s eyes and your 31 week ultrasound picture. It was amazing — you were knocking at the door to this world!

Although my memory of the physical pain has softened quickly since then, I remember it was hard at times to focus on you. The pain in my lower back was overwhelming. It felt like someone was prying my sacrum apart with a crowbar. Patrick leaned all his weight exactly where my hands directed him. I’m not sure how much it actually helped with the pain, but knowing he had my back helped me feel stronger. At one point, he tried to leave to eat lazanga, but I grabbed him and held him close. (He did manage to sneak out later to eat because I remember him returning and telling me how awesome it was!) Although labor was more intense than anything I’d ever felt, this pain served a purpose — there was nothing “wrong” — and I wanted to feel it and all the emotions and beauty that came with it. Labor was moving along perfectly. My body knew exactly what to do, and I felt completely safe with the midwives. In between each contraction was a gentle, sweet silence. I rested in Patrick’s eyes.

I remember my om’s growing stronger with the contractions. I think they were more like om-moans. I rode my birth tiger thru all my fears. Everyone kept reminding me I’d meet you on the other side. I rocked my hips kneeling in the hot water and drifted in and out of darkness. Then Elaine arrived.

Elaine is a dear friend of ours. We’ve backpacked a lot together, shared many ‘physically challenging moments’ together and laughed thru them all. She had also delivered many babies as a midwife on a hippie commune when she was younger. She knelt next to the tub and we locked arms. She was radiant as always and dressed in tiel and turquois and purple with beads to match. “There are 20 women at my house doing Sedar right now,” she said. It was Passover. “They are all holding a space for you and the baby.” I dove head first into my next contraction, and upon returning, Elaine said, “Ok, Jenny Sue, stay with me for this next one. Don’t close your eyes. Stare into mine.” As the next one approached, I locked into her bright, sparkly green WIDE eyes. “You can do this,” she whispered. “You’re doing great.”

And something shifted. An opening. The contractions became expansions. I felt held by everyone in the room because I let them. Joan took cleansing breaths with me when I’d feel the next contraction coming, and she fanned me when I got too hot. Sally fed me slices of pear and gave me sips of juice water. Kiersten and Dara kept checking your heart rate. And Patrick’s calming, loving touch was constant. Soon I was at 9 cm.

Then, somehow, I became really sleepy, dozing off in between contractions. I was exhausted and overheated so Joan had me get out of the tub. I tried walking and sitting and went backwards down to 6 cm. It was hard to hear, but somehow I kept going and made it up to 10 cm.

That was the first marathon. Pushing was the second. The rest of labor is a little fuzzy. I was back in the tub, this time with Patrick, my back leaning against his chest. Every time I pushed, Joan checked for signs of your head with a flashlight. Joan announced you’d be born with the full moon. It was 12:01 am. I pushed but you weren’t moving. Then your heart rate dropped to 80. You seemed to be stuck at the pubic bone and stressed. Joan immediately ordered me out of the tub and had me try several positions in order to find one you liked – the birthing stool, the ball, squatting and lying on the bed. Kiersten checked your heart rate with each position. I was in transition and in some altered state. I clearly remember sitting on the birthing stool and Joan saying urgently, “Someone hand me the picture of Neem Karoli Baba,” and she held his photo in front of me. “Focus on this.” I had several pregnancy dreams of Maharaji holding you wrapped in his wool plaid blanket. I prayed to him, and he helped me thru that moment. I moved to the bed, and your heart rate shot back up!

Patrick held me in his arms. The midwives put an oxygen mask on me to help you, although in the moment I didn’t understand that.  I was whirling around the room from corner to corner. It is the closest to an out of body experience I’ve ever had. Patrick chanted to Hanuman and Ganesh in my ear and told me over and over I could do this, that our baby was almost here. The five women cheered from the bottom of the bed and showed me in a mirror as your head started to emerge. You had lots of dark hair, and your head moved slightly out with every push and then back in. I was amazed at what my body was doing, what it knew to do. Still, I knew it would take more strength.

Patrick held my left foot, Dara held my right. The contractions flooded one on top of the other. I locked eyes with each set of eyes in front of me. There was some urgency in Patrick’s voice. I knew you needed to come then. I tore the oxygen mask off and pushed harder and deeper staring into the painting of Guadalupe dressed in royal blue, standing in a golden sky. Patrick kept ‘cheering’ me on. The pressure was unbearable when I wasn’t pushing so I pushed and pushed until your head opened me. I immediately recognized the “ring of fire” I had read about. It was a new sensation that I welcomed with delight! With the next contraction your head was out. Your teeny 5 lb 13 oz body slipped out next. You were here! April 9th, 2009, at 12:52 AM. I fell back into Patrick’s arms, and he hugged me. It was the happiest moment of our lives.

Then came the scariest of our lives. I don’t remember everything that happened next. I was still in a shamanic state. When Patrick tells the story, I cry every time. I just wanted to hold you in my arms, look into your eyes and nurse you. But I couldn’t. I could feel angels in the room but wasn’t sure of their agenda. I heard Kiersten say to call 911. I could see her suctioning your nose and mouth. They gave you oxygen. You were blue and covered in meconium. After a few minutes, Patrick could see you were a girl. Kiersten lay you on my chest for only a few seconds. You were warm, wet, limp, listless, but you were so beautiful. I whispered “I love you.” I wanted to keep holding you, but you had to go. Joan asked if we had a name for you, and I called out, “Tulsi”.  Immediately, everyone began calling you Tulsi. These whisper welcomes were your new cords connecting you to this world. It seemed like your spirit just hadn’t quite caught up with your little body yet.

Within a few minutes, Kiersten and Patrick ran out the door with you swaddled in blankets. The next moment I was shaking uncontrollably again with so many emotions,, nerves, exhaustion.

It was a good thing our birth plan consisted of only one thing: no matter what, present moment, only moment. And that’s just what we did. Your papa went with you to the hospital. He sang every bhajan he knew to you, and he never left your side. He took your first plane ride with you while the full moon set and the sun rose. I stayed at the birth center long enough to deliver your placenta, bathe and regain ‘enough’ strength to walk (I was a bit wobbly after laboring). Then I joined your papa and you at the hospital in Taos. I was relieved to see you pink! I talked and sang to you for hours. The doctors said you inhaled meconium into your lungs and had to go to the nicu in Albuquerque. They wouldn’t let me fly since I had just given birth so our friend Jon drove me. When I finally rejoined you and your papa, he and I cried and cried. It was the first time either one of us could allow ourselves to let go into what we were feeling. Until then, we had to stay so strong, alone. It was the hardest thing ever to be separated from you and your papa.

You were so teeny and hooked up to all sorts of wires. At first a machine had to breathe for you, but you healed quickly. You are a tough little bird! I’ll never forget when I finally got to hold you.

We stayed with you for one week in the nicu – it seemed like forever to us, but it was so little compared to the ‘sick’ babies in the nicu who’d been there for weeks and months. And although that first week was nothing like we’d hoped – we wished we could have simply bundled you up and took you home the day you were born – we had the most precious first week (and every day since) with you.

As I finish this story, you are 6 weeks old and flourishing! Tulsi, we love you so much and our joy-cup is overfilling!!

…..

Left to Right: My midwife Joan, Me, Tulsi, Sally & Dara (midwife students). Kiersten is missing in the photo. ALL of them are angels and are so incredibly special to us! I have oceans of respect for these women and ALL midwives.

Our first family portrait at 2 weeks.

Our labor altar reset up in our hotel in Albuquerque with the addition of Hanuman Jyanti prasad from the temple and your Ganesh doll from Aunti Elaine.

during our last birthing class, a woman was in labor at the center and one of my midwives invited us to sit in the back living room to “just take it all in”. the woman in labor was in a closed room 10 ft away and said it was fine with her for us to sit there. she was at 7 cm then. the baby (in my belly) started moving like crazy the second we walked back there. when the woman’s next contraction started, she was moaning-singing-om-ing, can’t really explain her sound. it sort of took my breath away and i felt like i was on some ocean waves with her. it was incredible, intense and emotional. soon, i’ll ‘know’ what it’s all about.

by the end of our class, the woman had her baby. the center is such a vortex for new life, and you could certainly feel the buzzin that night. our teacher marcy ended the class series by talking about parenting. we had zero time to talk, and she laughed for a moment as she paused to think of what she wanted to say about parenting with only one minute time. her single thought was really profound and has stuck with me every since:  one of the best things parents can do for their child(ren) is to STRIVE. strive to be better people, strive to learn more and grow. that when our children see us doing this, it will inspire them beyond anything else.

my good friend beth painted on my belly yesterday. (like my ’smiling’ belly button?! hee) she henna-ed one big, blooming lotus for Baby and two small lotuses (for patrick and me). maybe it will be a sort of mandala to focus on during labor. plus, it seemed like a beautiful way to celebrate my full moon belly. hmmm, i wonder if this little one will hold out till the full moon…

i’ll be keepin’ ya posted…i also want to say thanks for all the sweet emails and comments. they have meant a lot to us! xo jenny

dear sweet one inside,

i have been wanting to write you a letter for months now but didn’t know what to say. i want to give you a glimpse of how loved you are — even before you are born — if my words can do this.

a group of very dear friends in our community gathered around me on saturday to offer you a bounty of blessings for a safe journey into this world, a journey you’ll be embarking on any moment now. it was a day i want to record here, a day i want you to know. the first, full day of Spring, warm, beautiful, sunny, there was a nice wind blowing thru the valley. Nanette and Angelika brought the circle of women together, kirry (whose angelic voice you are probably already in love with) opened with a song, and Sarah lit 2 candles for us as she said a prayer and brought everyone’s attention to the grace that fills our worlds…that while at times we feel overfilled with love and other times we feel trial and heartache, she asked everyone to focus on the positive, how our lives are so blessed, so privileged. we then took some breaths in silence to feel pure gratitude. for living in a place as Taos, for having the supportive, loving community we do, for the presence of the Divine in our lives, for food, shelter. for our families, partners, children and for you. i felt you moving with my breath, so energetic and alive!

sarah honored all women and noted that every stage of life was represented in the circle. many were mothers, all of us children.  tovia sang a native american song about birth and labor and mothers and grandmothers. so much energy being sent out and received.

then, one by one, each friend offered a blessing. each treasure so personal to us and them. many found or hand-made. a medicine bag to protect our family. necklaces and bracelets of coral, seeds, and turquois. a baby-sized, Native American feathered fan and 3 turtles — apparently, many think you are a little girl! (even your future friend Sheva offered shimmering Indian bangles “for her to put on her dollies.” i told her if you are a boy, i think you’ll enjoy them just the same!) your box is filled with shells from Costa Rica, India, and Hawaii; sandalwood oil from India and bottled herbs/scents from the Native American Church; a mirror to discover yourself; the softest cashmere to wrap up in; there is Ganesh and Hanuman and Maharaji and green Tara; ellie’s photo “a child of the tribe” in Laos; and still more — feathers, leaves, crystals, sage, magical stones, art, words, books, bells, marbles, and musical instruments. each chosen to remind you of your connection to earth and spirit, to laugh and play, to make music all your life. and to love.

terra read a poem that i know will take on more and more meaning as days and years pass. (below)

i imagine days throughout your life when we’ll pour through this treasure chest, spreading everything out on the floor. you’ll ask me over and over what each gift is, who it is from, and what they mean. and i’ll never tire of rediscovering it with you.

it was an amazing day. so many stories shared of birth and motherhood. advice to trust my instincts. so much love — it reminded me of patrick’s and my wedding day. we feel so much support in our community. you will know the importance of this, too, someday.

i know i am supported by so many sisters and mothers and grandmothers as i become a mother to you. i feel held and strengthened by these women (and all the women in my life who weren’t there, too). i feel especially ready now, for labor and for our new life with you.

blessings to you dear one for a smooth, safe journey into this world! we’ll be with you all the way and when you take your first breath and your whole life.

we love you,
mama

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

when i bring to you colored toys, my child, i understand why there is such a play of colors on clouds, on water, and why flowers are painted in tints — when i give colored toys to you, my child.

when i sing to make you dance, i truly know why there is music in leaves, and why waves send their chorus of voices to the heart of the listening earth — when i sing to make you dance.

when i bring sweet things to your welcoming hands, i know why there is honey in the cup of the flower and why fruits are secretly filled with sweet juice — when i bring sweet things to your welcoming hands.

when i kiss your face to make you smile, my darling, i surely understand what pleasure streams from the sky in morning light, and what delight that is which the summer breeze brings to my body — when i kiss you to make you smile.

– Rabindranath Tagore

It’s been longer than I thought since I last posted. Seems I’m in one of those time warps of a soon-to-be-a-mama-surreal-reality and a painting-all-day-and-night-in-hopes-of-finishing-my-book-before-going-into-labor-fantasy. Ha. We shall see. Babies have agendas of their own.

Yesterday my midwife mentioned that sometimes a sign that you’ll go into labor soon is feeling really watery. Uh-oh, I responded. All day while visiting with some friends, my eyes were so watery. Not irritated or even emotional, just pure ocean-like. I wondered for a moment if I felt ‘ready’. Yup. I am. I feel so great, and I’m actually ‘excited’ about labor (as odd as that may sound), so curious about the whole mysterious miracle climax of this little soul coming into the world. We’re also totally fine if the baby decides to take his/her time, too, (that would give us time to finish our birth classes…) Either way, we’ll be ready to meet him or her and love ‘em up!!!

I haven’t done so much nesting yet, but we have the essentials covered including a rocking chair (YAY!) and a baby ’side car’. And Patrick is set to go on a cleaning frenzy as long as I keep painting (Thanks, P!)  I did get the baby the perfect little birthday present, a sweet little peace dove (above) created by my artist friend Kelly Buntin Johnson, which is now hanging in our fig tree, ready for the baby to discover. Kelly included these words with the dove:

Patrick recently switched my book “deadline” mentality to a “LIFELINE” mentality. Much more appropriate since this book feels like a gift for this little one. Plus, it feels like I’m giving birth to TWO babies at once! (I hope to share more about my book/process soon…it’s going GREAT!

Last night, Patrick woke me up from a dream because I was moaning. I immediately said, I wasn’t moaning. I was breathing yogic ujjia breath during labor. He woke me again later when I was making some other noise, and I said, we had a girl…and we’re trying to decide on her middle name. He laughed and said he had been lying awake thinking of a girl’s middle name.

So, now we’re “in the window”, and particularly giddy. It’s such a sweet time. We’ve been hearing from so many friends (which has meant a lot to us), some just to check-in and others who are sharing some incredible birth stories with us. All unique and beautiful.

I’ve heard from many friends who’ve given birth naturally, that just when you think there’s just no way you can do it, endorphins kick in and you do it. Powerful shakti. I think it also comes from the ‘other’ 300,000 women giving birth that same day. Labor is probably the most unpredictable event in life (no way to plan ‘how’ it will go), so my biggest intention is to stay in the moment and with my breath. No matter what happens.

One day we wished for you.

One day i had a dream about a pregnant spider goddess who bit me, and i knew you were already on your way.

One day, when you were the size of a magic bean, we climbed a green mountain together for 10 days, and i planted so many wishes for you up there.

One day i felt you flutter inside me.

One day we heard your heart beat for the first time and your papa and i fell even deeper in love.

One day leaves fell and lemon light danced all around you, and you danced back.

One day i waited up half the night to feel you kick and felt my first worries.

One day the mountains turned pink, snow fell, and we walked on clouds.

One day i sang to you even though i don’t sing well.

One day you grew a LOT, and so did my belly.

One day i dreamed a tiger carried us through moon soaked waters and i knew all would be just right.

One day i’ll draw on the strength of all women and help you enter this world.

One day we’ll know ‘who’ you are.

One day soon.

So much to say and nothing to say. When I was a kid, I remember being embarrassed by my shadow, but now I’m in awe.

Time has been passing by so quickly lately. Thus, the lack of blogging. Feels like I’m on a boat ride in a swift current on the Ganges, feasting on every color and shape and sound, but I can’t freeze a single moment. Everything just mooshes together into a certain vibrancy; a feeling.

I worked around the clock last week on a freelance project. It was a ton of work, but I’m excited about how it all turned out. I’ll share it soon. I created it in collage that I digitally pieced together, which although it was appropriate for the complexity of the project, I realize I just don’t enjoy creating illos digitally. I prefer paint and the spontaneous process of ‘figuring things out’ with my hands — tossing in anything to make it just right. Feels more like playing a game. Plus, I tend to ‘turn off’ my travelin’ eye when it comes to more 2-D, left brain activities (such as staring at a computer monitor), which makes me lead with my right eye and I get all cock-eyed. No fun fer the neck muscles!

I’m excited to have that project off so I can focus more on my kid’s book (yay!!). My process with this book has been a lot different than my first. The first one I sorta just dove into and drew upon my childhood memories. And it worked perfect. But for this book, I taped each double page sketch into a sketchbook and have been carrying it with me everwhere, doodling and writing down ideas for each page whenever they come to me. It’s been such a huge help and really fun to see it develop this way. I’ve also been pouring through my travel sketchbooks and photographs for references. I initially started this process-book so I could show kids at schools how I think and work out my words/pictures, but it’s turned into a beautiful thing for me (and this story).

It’s also been pretty amazing painting this book for kids while a ‘kid’ is growing inside of me. It’s magical to say the least. And with less than 10 weeks to go, the reality (AND EXCITEMENT!) is kicking in. My belly is growing a lot now, and life is expanding with every thought that surfaces of this mysterious soul. My midwives are becoming close sisters, and along with the snow melting down the mountain, the baby will soon be heading downstream.