On Forgetting to Remember

Today I had a three hour conversation with a client who I haven't seen in ages. The last time I saw her was in passing at Costco while I was still pregnant with Carina. So at least 8 months ago. We hugged and talked about meeting up. But that didn't happen immediately. People collide when they need to most, don't you find? Turns out she needs me, and I need her.
We met first when I was in a frantic "get back to normal" phase after Cecilia was born. A week after, to be specific. She was one of two women who came into my life as clients that week, and who would turn into two of the most important and transformative relationships I have developed in my adulthood. Reconnecting with this woman was amazing for my soul's focus. Have you ever had a conversation with someone where you're coaching them or giving them advice and you realize that you're saying exactly what you need to be hearing yourself? Yes. It was one of those.

I told her a story about something that happened during my labor with Carina. I was in the zone, at home in my bathtub, being the walrus. (Anyone who knows my birth story knows what that means. If you want to know, please ask.) It was about time to head to the birth center, and Kris had gone around letting everyone know. Francesca came into my bathroom, into my sacred birth space, crying. She told me she was afraid that I was going to die.

In that moment, I met her right where she was. I went to her in her fear, and I counseled her. I told her what a good job my body was doing. How strong I was. How my body knew just what to do, and so did the baby, and that we were working together so beautifully. I told her that on the off chance that something wasn't happening correctly, I would be whisked off to the hospital for a c-section just like last time.
Just like last time. The time I needed an emergency c-section. The time that I was working so hard to forget this time. The time that I was comparing this experience to, and the time that I was so afraid would be repeated.
I was talking to my daughter, but I was also talking to myself.
I was coaching myself. Pumping myself up. Telling myself all the things that a good doula would. "You're doing it."
"You're so strong."
"You can do this."
"You're going to be OK, no matter what happens."

I didn't realize until later that Francesca coming in at that moment needing what she needed was so necessary. But since the time that I did realize that, I look for opportunities for personal growth in the things that I am saying to others, and the things that they require from me. It's all a series of tests, right? A series of possibilities, and of chances for growth. But sometimes I forget. Sometimes I forget for a relatively long time.

So meeting with this woman and then getting to tell that story? Double clarity whammie. Doubly redirected.

Having three children at such different stages, plus another adult human to share life with, provides at least a hundred opportunities a day for these moments. Add in my clients and friends and you've got a couple hundred more. The day is full of chances. It's just being able to spot them that's the challenge.

Often they are overlooked. Sometimes they present as annoyances. As another someone needing another thing. As a bad mood or a temper tantrum. But my faith was renewed in the power of taking a breath and diving in as if it was your own issue. Because, in truth, it probably is. And even if it's not, I am positive that there's some aspect of that work that will propel you forward if you let it.

Daily Conventions

I suppose it's common to start a blog, not post on it, pick it up again, and so on.

I just returned from the Birth Without Fear Conference in Arlington this weekend. I brought Baby GoGo, and we had an amazing time being immersed in the thick, estrogen-filled air that is a conference for women on the topics of childbirth and postpartum care. In addition to some pretty sweet swag and some cool new friends, I took away a renewed passion for getting the birth-care aspect of my business and life underway.
And I knew that would happen. And I think that's why I went. I don't know a body that can go to a group event like that and not  get inspired or reinvigorated.

What I remembered about myself is that I need constant reminders of my path, my goals, and my ambitions. And that it's as easy as reading an article or talking to a friend. I don't need a weekend-long convention. But rather a daily one. A small one. One that will make me think and create and remember why it is that I do what I do, and what it is that I need to accomplish to get to where I want to be.

So, it's about finding those daily conventions. For me, I think this means seeking them out directly. I think it means incorporating study, contemplation, writing, conversing, and booking events. I imagine myself riding in a hot air balloon. When I leave a conference like the one I attended this weekend, the fire is blowing full blast and my balloon soars higher and higher. But after a while, if unattended, the fire will turn off. And it will seem like the passion is all but gone. But if there were moments of daily fire lighting...

I am committing to setting myself up for success by including opportunities for my fires to stay lit. Hell, I may even make a vision board. But I think that the start of this process is naming the fires themselves. Determining what it is that I want to do, and what my timeline is. Then I can determine what I can do to keep myself motivated, and how much I may need. Yes. I will start there. Or rather, start here.

Baby Steps

I am currently pregnant with my third child. This child, like the others, completely blindsided me with her decision to arrive exactly at the time when I thought I was the least equipped and least desirous of the role of mommy. But here she comes. And I'm very, very glad. I used to think that kids kept getting in the way of my career. Then I thought that my career kept getting in the way of my kids. Now, I think that there's GOT to be a way to do everything I want to do, and do it all really well. Without killing myself, figuratively or literally. With #3 on the way, I know I have to be over-prepared. I need to be emotionally and mentally present and aware. I need to kick ass. So, I need the tools in my toolbox to be able to effectively manage house and finances and food and kiddos and wellness and schooling and ambitions and my relationship with my husband. This will involve delegation and shrewd attention to detail. Neither of which am I particularly good at when it comes to my family. So, here I go.

Baby steps.

The sensation of feeling a life growing inside of you is indescribably powerful and humbling. I love to really allow myself to get all hippie about it. I dramatically caress my belly in yoga class. I communicate with my baby, and tell her how joyful I am that she is coming. I imagine a passionate and connected birth, where the baby emerges from my body on a beam of sunshine. I really get into it.

I relish being pregnant, despite the growing list of (minor) complications that occur with each go-round. My veins like to expand and then explode. My back was 'adjusted' during a car accident in '07 and all the bending and pulling makes for some sensations that are annoying at best, excruciating at worst. By brain seems intent to test the resolution of my nutrition beliefs, craving everything terrible under the sun.

But it's all so very worth it.

Each pregnancy has been different in some ways, similar in others. Just like the children that are the result of the process. My two daughters that are currently here seem like they couldn't be more different, but each embodies characteristics I recognize in myself, which is all at once gratifying and horrifying.
Dealing with each individual personality, giving it respect and care, and responding appropriately to two very different people requires executive management skills that would surely make me look like a viable option to Donald Trump. There is little preparation for the staggering mental and emotional control that is required for shifting gears from child to child. For parenting the individual and not the collective. For understanding that there must be a different approach with equal attention paid to both (or all) tiny humans vying for your attention and love. But I am determined to kick ass. Because I apply myself, dammit. And I am good at stuff. And this is one of those responsibilities I can't get lazy with.
I. cannot. screw. this. up.

Here I am. Trying, every day, to be better than the day before. Trying to clean more thoroughly, parent more effectively, organize more creatively, partner more amicably, and indulge more wholeheartedly in the beautiful family I am lucky to take care of. I came upon this quickly and mostly by accident.

But that's for a different post. This post is to tell you that I am here, I am trying, and I am excited to see how the future unfolds. And that I am not entirely sure what this blog is for, other than for documenting my trials and errors, and my successes, through this time of transition and growth. Thank you, Internet, for making it so easy.