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Friday, 10 September 2010

  • Despite Our Differences, We Are the Same

    It never ceases to amaze me how animals interact. In my life, I've witnessed many women giving birth. As I approach the last days of my own pregnancy I have witnessed several births, not of human mothers birthing babies, but of cows. Six calves have been born in the past two weeks, and many more are to come within the next few weeks. Some due before me, some after, but all are sharing in this miracle of life.

    As I talk to other human mothers-to-be, we discuss what our plans for birth and the hours and days following will be like in our minds. We formulate plans of visitors, birthing assistants, support groups, or how some plan on doing this alone, with minimal assistance, perhaps with drugs to ease the pain, or perhaps with breathing techniques, water emersion, or the many thousands of avenues we have.

    The similarities in our own choices and the choices of these six new four-legged mothers are astounding! One mother-to-be wants to try hypno-birth, alone with her doula and her husband. Afterward, once she and her baby have some time to bond, she will allow her mother and her mother-in-law to come and visit the baby once they are home and settled. Now, granted cows don't have the bull next to them, breathing with them, but they do have a community of other mothers there. And they have a choice as to how they will birth. The first cow-mom I watched, cow #50, seemed as though she was in a trance, breathing in a certain pattern, off by herself, save one other mom-to-be, breathing with her, much like a human mother practicing hypno-birth with her doula. When her baby emerged, she was alone. She and her little bundle of joy bonded for hours by themselves before the rest of her family came, one by one, to introduce themselves.

    Another mother wishes to try a home birth surrounded by empowered women, who have been through this before and will be her support. She wants to be surrounded by friends and family, sharing in the joy and spiritual growth of having a baby. Just as her wishes are, so was the wish of cow #46, the 6th cow to give birth this season. She surrounded herself by the five mothers and their babies as she labored and delivered her little one this morning. Empowered by the strength of the cow-mothers around her, she brought her first baby into this world, and shared in the joy of cleaning the baby with a few of the other cow-mothers.

    There are moms who birth in their own homes, with their family pets close by, walking in and out, similarly to cow #26 birthing outside my unborn child's window and she allowed me to watch very close to her as she pushed her baby into this world and to greet her calf, once she cleaned her and allowed her to eat.

    There are women who want to birth in a dark room, with no one around, except those that absolutely must be there, and even they seem like intruders, much the way #49 gave birth after midnight, all alone. There are women who want only one other person around, much like cow #44, who stood beside #50 and birthed her 5th baby. And so on and so on...

    But the similarities don't end there. As I watched the "babysitters" and calves playing, a group of turkey buzzards came down and began to fight over the after-birth, still warm from #46's birth earlier this morning. (Cows tend to leave all the calves in one area for an hour or so with one or two other cows watching over them, only to return to feed and switch "babysitters" with the other mothers. It's a great way of keeping tabs on the curious calves without wearing yourself out.) The group of birds grew in number and the calves became frightened, cowering in the corner of the field, separated from their mothers who were roughly 12acres away, grazing. As the "babysitter" cows protected the calves and sheparded them away from the hungry birds the mothers who were off grazing came barrelling down the path, mooing loudly and rushing at the birds. My heart swelled with joy as I witnessed the maternal instict of protection take over these docile mothers as they charged at the birds, intent on hurting anyone who stood between their babies and themselves, much the same as any mother would do if someone were to come too close to our own children.

    So, you see, despite how different we may be from these furry four-legged cud-chewers, we have so much in common with them as well!

Sunday, 30 May 2010

  • It's HOT!

    The rain is falling outside, cooling the blistering earth. It's still 90 degrees outside, though it's cooling fast now. Sitting at the dining room table with fans attempting to move the muggy air, sheets of paper being held down by glasses of water and sweaty hands, we go over our budget. An inch from the back of his chair is a bucket catching a drip from the celing as the rain comes pouring down.

    The roof obviously needs replacing. Tools and material will equal somwhere in the ballpark of $2,100.00. The cost of labor varies, and we haven't yet looked into the hauling off of the waste from the three layers of shingles already nailed to the roof. The celing and wall will now need replacing where the water has destroyed much of the drywall, but thankfully not the wood. The cost of drywall and paint materials (since we already have the tools from beginning the renovations on our room and painting the dining room only a year ago) will be somewhere around $75-$85.00. Labor will be free since we have ourselves and family doing the job.

    The air conditioner isn't cooling (cost varies depending on the cause). The heating element has gone out on the dryer (cost $150). The kids have outgrown almost everything they own (cost $200). The bedroom needs painting (cost $45). The large walk-in closet/computer room needs renovating so we can turn it into a nursery (cost $45). We have no baby furniture ($665), clothes, toys, safety products, bathroom items, diapers, wipes, bottles, pump, milk storage bags, nursing bras, maternity clothes, after-baby clothes, etc (cost unknown).

    Through all this, we are smiling and taking turns rubbing a very large belly just waiting to feel the baby kick, drinking ice water, and telling each other that somehow, some way, we will get through this because we love one another, and we've always made it work, somehow.

    Until then, it's HOT!

Tuesday, 25 May 2010

  • Journey into Your Mind

    All These Years a String of Lies

    There comes a time when something will smack you in the face. Something that you've spent years denying will suddenly hit you like a Mac truck doing 85mph down the interstate of life. Your world seems shattered, the very fabric of life seems to be unraveling around you, and your heart aches for the realization to just go away. Welcome to square zero!

    Spinning Like a Roundabout in Motion

    So, now you have to figure out where to go from here. What can you do? Will doing it change anything? Will it bring happiness again? temporarily or permenantly? Can you break free from the hurt? Will freeing yourself from it all really make it go away? The more you want to feel free the deeper your roots need to be.

    Act Unpredictable

    So, why not just hang on to what you have? Embrace what's happening, feeling it with all you are. Know what you can and cannot change and accept what life is. Accept that you wanted it hidden until you could cope, and now it's time to cope. You'll feel better just knowing you're strong enough to do it. Belive me...

Wednesday, 24 March 2010

  • It's Positive...

    "Sa-aaint!" she screams from the bathroom. Almost like a cry for help than a scream. Like a spider that just became two or three, all crawling toward a scared little girl. But she wasn't afraid of spiders.

    He came running just the same and saw lying on the counter what had made her yell for him.

    "How sure are we?" he asks, dumbfounded.

    "It says 99.8% right here on the box," she says. By now she's gained her composure, but is still a little shakey.

    "How? When? Are we sure? I mean, is there a chance this is wrong? Don't get me wrong, I want this, but I don't want to be happy and then find out we're not... you know?"

    They both look down at the two pink lines and look at each other. Eos picks up her phone.

    "Who are you calling at this hour?" Saint asks, not really looking at her, but rather back and forth between the instructions and the test.

    "My midwife. And my best friend. And my mom. And then ..." she drones on with a list, but she knows he's not listening. He's tearing up and smiling.

    She hears him whispering to himself, "I'm going to be a dad. I'm going to be a daddy. A dad. I'm a dad," over and over.

Sunday, 22 November 2009

  • Really? Really-really???

    It's November 1, 2009 and we're headed to Sunday service. As we drive past our neighbor's house we see him taking down what's left of the decorations: the scarecrow, the hay bales, the bat-shaped lights strung across his front porch, the window clings of witches and black cats, and a thousand other things that littered his half an acre front lawn. The kids were chattering in the back seat about who they were going to talk to and the stories they were going to share with their friends once we arrived today. I'm half listening as I drive and daydream about the past year.

    Really? Is it already November? What have we accomplished so far? What do we have time to yet accomplish? Not much, but if I get on it, I can do much.

    On our way home that afternoon the two young ones were still chatting a million miles a minute. They were talking about what they were going to do once they got out of their dress clothes. Who gets to play what video game first while I make lunch, how long each turn is, what game they'll play after they eat, and on and on.

    We pass our neighbor as he's boxing up his decorations and his wife is headed out their front door with new boxes. Empty ones, I presume, for finishing the job.

    We wake Monday morning to a brighter sky. Due to the time change we get to enjoy earlier sunshine. I tell the kids we'll have a lazy breakfast and I'll drive them to school. As we drive they're giggling and sharing laughs and information of what their plans are for that week in school and the stories they will share with their friends when they got there.

    We pass our neighbor's house down they way.

    Oh no. No no no no no no no!!!

    Those boxes the wife brought out... they weren't empty afterall. No, instead they were filled with all kinds of treats and goodies for the electric company. Lights covering the front porch, a blow-up Santa doll on a Harley, a blow-up Santa getting help through a chimney from Rudolph, a candy cane walkway, a faux Christmas tree with more lights than needles, window clings of gifts under a tree, draping lights on the bushes lining the house, and Santa with a child on his lap sitting in the front porch swing, the Nativity scene with Santa in the middle of it all, passing out presents.

    Is this necessary? Really? Really-really???

    Do we really have nothing better to do with our lives than live for the greediest of holidays? Skip Thanksgiving. Go straight from the holiday where we dress as bad men and demand candy to the holiday that is all about the presents and the gaudier lights and decorations! Ugh!

    Part of me lost faith in the values of Americans that day. ... But, part of me got a little excited. Soon enough, we will be driving around at night sipping hot cocoa and looking for fantastic lights displays. We'll be gathering with our families and sharing the stories of the times we weren't together, the accomplishments of my kids and theirs, the funny things that happened to us, and the things we used to do and say and think when we were younger. Oh, how I look forward to the whole family getting together again!

    The chatter-boxes in the back stop for a moment. "Oooo! Mom," I hear in unison, "can we go driving to see the lights tonight?"

    Follow this question, which there was no time to respond to, with both talking at once about who had the best lights last year, and who says their parents got more decorations this year than another kid's parents, and what color lights are their new favorites, and what color tree decorations they like best, and on and on and on.

    Really? Have my kids become so wrapped up in the stigma that they don't simply see this as a time to be thankful for what you have and who you have? Oh, I surely hope not.

    Some say I'm ripping dreams from my kids because I'm honest with them. Not once have I tried to make them believe that someone sneaks into our house and takes food, leaving behind presents that are there on the basis of their yearly behavior. I think I'm teaching my kids morals. Never lie, no matter how fun or innocent the lie may be. I also tell them the true origin, doing the research, and teaching them to do the same. We get the enjoyment of the family, the love of time together, the sharing of things greater than toys played with once and long forgotten (though there is that, too), and the true meaning of, not Christmas, but values, the true meaning of family, of love, of appreciation.

    So, for all of you out there that are broke and jobless, for all of you that have love in your hearts, for all of you who know what it means to care for people close to you, though they're miles away, for all of you who cling to their jobs, praying they're not the next to lose it, for all of you who had the decision to make of who had to go, the conscience burdened with deciding who may or may not get the next paycheck, for all of you who believe that God gave us every day we have for a good reason, for all of you that don't know if they believe in something or someone higher or not, for all of you who prettily display their decorations for us to enjoy, for all of you who are reading this, you are loved. You have a purpose. You have reason to smile, somewhere. You are precious to someone. Really. Really-really.



    P.S. May you find happiness in the last days of this year and embrace the year to come.

MoChroi

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  • "Talkin' about it and bein' it, that's two different things. It's real hard to be free when you are bought and sold in the marketplace."