tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-52703614350435791892024-03-12T19:19:25.174-07:00SurlyStepfordMeghan Thttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10637046233218748669noreply@blogger.comBlogger11125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5270361435043579189.post-1784669055325336222018-05-12T18:43:00.001-07:002018-05-12T18:52:53.522-07:00Adira Nuelles Birth StoryThis story is not what it seems, so I ask you to have courage to read through the hard parts.<br />
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I had a wonderful birth with Selah Rose. Her story is posted here as well. Four months postpartum with Selah, my family underwent a severe time of trial and change. My marriage was in pain, and like the ballers we are, we made it through, relatively unscathed, despite a pretty big lack of support.<br />
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Then, about six months postpartum, I began to have flashbacks... graphic memories of a rape at age 3. It would occur during intimacy with Michael- while making love, to be exact. I have never been able to stay present in my own body during sex, and always felt a desire to stay somewhat detached from what is happening. Since this is my tendency anyhow, I did not learn until later how to control what was happening to me.<br />
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I would begin to feel a 'trigger' in my mind. My mind would drift, my body would feel heavier, and I would just not 'be all there' anymore. Before I knew it, I was gone. Somewhere else. A man would be on top of me, no face I could place, just pressure on my body that felt like the weight of the world. I felt only fear, only pain, only torment in every bone of my body. I could smell it, see it, feel it, and when I say I was there, I mean I was THERE. I was no longer in my bedroom with my husband- I was a child, and I could feel this man violating me.<br />
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The flashbacks continued- sometimes I would be the child, and other times I would be forced to watch this happen to that child from the other side of the room. I cannot put into words how horrific these events were, and eventually they happened every time we made love. I considered suicide several times during the months that this was happening, because I did not know how to make it stop. Where did it come from? How would it stop? What did it mean? How could I ever let my husband near me again, if this was what was happening? I felt like I was losing my mind.<br />
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Eventually, I found the words to tell Michael about what was happening, and how it was affecting me. He was very supportive, encouraged me to go to therapy and we stopped making love, for several months. This was very hard on him, obviously, but he continued to be the most sensitive and wonderful support I could imagine.<br />
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I began therapy with a trauma counselor immediately. We dove strait in with open dialogue about what was going on in my mind, and EMDR therapy immediately following. The discussion was brutal, and painful, and when I realized that although I was having these graphic flashbacks, the mind is a complex machine, and I could never be sure that these events actually happened to me... and if they did, I could never know for sure who this man was. I spent time calling my mothers friends and asking them if they knew of anything that might have happened to me, and in typical fashion most of them acted as if I was just being 'dramatic Meghan' and this was all a figment of my imagination. I also spent time hunting in my mothers journals for any secrets that may lie inside about a possible rape. I never found anything to prove or disprove what I was experiencing, but what I did find, was countless, relentless confessions of disdain for me and for herself.<br />
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This was heartbreaking to say the least, and required months of work with my counselor to break through the lies, abuse, pain and secrets.<br />
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But then, like the sun through the clouds, nearly a year of hard work in therapy, in my marriage and myself, I found out that I was pregnant. From the very beginning, this child felt strong, for breaking through my flashbacks, my heartbreak about my mother and all of the bullshit. My therapist calls her a miracle, for being conceived so easily, so soon after the rape memories.<br />
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Much like the prenatal counselling I worked through before giving birth to Selah- I kept working on finding forgiveness, and peace in my memories. I worked through the graphic abuse in EMDR therapy and managed to find pity and love for my abusers. From the beginning, this child gave me a will to fight through it all, and an unemotional peace that gave me strength to deal with other peoples nonsense. Selah felt like a little happy fairy, and Adira felt like a quiet, watchful warrior. I was grateful to have her reminding me of who I am. <br />
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The third trimester was tougher than I remembered. She was very active in my belly and kicked me hard, a lot. After about 5-6 weeks of braxton hicks, and other early labor signs, I was exhausted with waiting!<br />
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But then, a little before my '41 week' marker, I woke up after some crampy sleep at 4:45 to find a little pink on the toilet paper after going to the bathroom. I was pretty sure this was it. I was having gentle contractions, low in my belly and legs about every 10 minutes. They felt soft, blissful and real. I so enjoyed this early morning activity. I turned on my favorite birth documentary- Orgasmic Birth, and rocked on my ball, eating oatmeal and coffee. I was glad to let Michael and Selah sleep, while I had this time to sink into my brain and my heart to center. It is so important before labor.<br />
I was completely unafraid, ready for it, and so happy it was here. However because of the many weeks of activity, I wasn't completely sure. I did not want to get too excited and have it stall out.<br />
I just focused on relaxing, enjoying each rush, and letting the oxytocin flow to encourage the strength in my contractions.<br />
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My heart fluttered when I heard Michael wake up at about 6:30. He walked down the stairs, his eyes a little wet with tears... he knew. I cried immediately, and we just held one another. We both knew this was probably it, and it was so joyful.<br />
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We talked for a while, I updated my midwives, and we went on with our day.<br />
I proceeded to shower, and make stuffed french toast with sausage... I wasn't sure why I felt all the energy I did, but I just rolled with it. I felt strong, empowered and efficient. I continued to have contractions while cooking. We enjoyed a relaxed breakfast and called the photographer as contractions continued to get stronger over the next few hours.<br />
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I spent some time in bed, zoning and just being peaceful and unafraid. Laying on my side, feeling blissfully grounded and heavy. Selah laid next to me, forehead against mine, holding my hand and moaning through contractions with me. I never thought I could see a 21 month old doula, but she was exactly that. She laughed with me after a contraction, and pet my face and said "mama" when the next one came. What a joyful, strong little girl. She knew what was happening, and it was so beautiful, that time together, just the two of us.<br />
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After some beautiful time laying down, and the contractions getting stronger, at one point they just stopped. A few very gentle ones here and there, but I felt like something had stalled.<br />
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We took a walk down the hill with our photographer to see the animals, and let Selah burn off some energy. I was a little discouraged that things had slowed, but I enjoyed the family time and snuggle time with the animals. From their behavior and attentiveness to my belly, I could tell labor was close, even if it was not today. Animals always know.<br />
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The sun was out, strong and kind, and it made us all feel so happy. However, after contractions slowed to the point of not having one for an hour, I sent my photographer to lunch, and laid down in bed by myself.<br />
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Then, after some time resting alone, it began. The rushes advanced to the point of needing to work through some around 3 pm. I was watching a beautiful film called Mother Ocean, and sinking into the waves of energy, enjoying being alone... which felt so different from Selahs labor. In that labor, I felt like I definitely needed the support of those around me. This time, I felt alone in a sea of power, and happy to be there. I knew I was doing this on my own, no matter what, and this baby gave me strength to do that. I began to feel the pleasure in even the strong contractions. The ones that left me teary eyed from their power, and the power of my own body to get through them... I still felt pleasure. I felt the joy of the nature of it all, and even a little tingle down low, that sexual feeling. I had been working for months to prepare for a sexual healing birth, an empowering one, one that would free my body of the shame everyone else had cursed me with so much of my life, and I began to feel now that it might really be possible.<br />
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I continued to work. Just resting into that power, and they indeed kept coming.<br />
They came fast... so fast that only a few contractions after I felt totally on top of it, a contraction came that threw me out of bed. I knew it was time to get on the birth ball for more mobility and freedom to 'cope with them'.<br />
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I came downstairs, and like the business bitch I am, grabbed my ball with purpose, brought it outside in the sun, and got to work. The contractions were coming much harder and faster than we had planned... only two hours ago I was perfectly calm, and on top of it. Now was the time to let go, to let the power flow and let the sound OUT. And I did just that. I moaned, low and deep, I rocked and 'moo'ed' through them at times. My birth board read "You are a beautiful beast- meant for birth. Feel your animal within." "Wild Woman" "Birth Goddess", "Stay Wild, Child", "You are free, safe, powerful and so brave. You got this, mama" "Let the powerful pleasure flow through you! So much pleasure." And these helped me, so much, to sink into the power and really enjoy the sensations that come with feeling your body open up and your baby moving down.<br />
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I began to chant, to groan and sometimes moan with pleasure through the contractions.<br />
The sun was so warm, and the air pretty crisp, actually... the contradicting warmth and cool was so nice. Just as a breeze would feel a little too cool for comfort, the sun would beat down on my back and shoulders. It felt like a big hug. It felt like nature loved me... as it often does when labor is natural, undisturbed, and full of hormones.<br />
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In Selahs labor, I wasn't sure what my body was doing, and although I fell in love with my power, and I did enjoy it- it was 'scarier' in a way, and I felt far more dependent on Michael and my team.<br />
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This one... was downright pleasurable. I KNEW these feelings, I knew the pressure I would feel, and I knew what my body was capable of. I felt so free, so utterly beautiful and so ready for it all. The physical feelings were much like Selahs birth, but my soul was so much more ready for it... and my mind could wrap itself around the intensity easily. I enjoyed it immensely.<br />
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My warrior music played in the background, with chants and drums beating my body into a rhythm and my baby down gently. I knew this baby had picked her own music, and from the empowerment I felt as soon as the first song played, I knew it needed to be this. I spent time singing and chanting during contractions and in between... sinking into the vibes around me. It was working well.<br />
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The midwives arrived around 5 pm. Labor had sped up immensely. Laurie came in and I cried immediately upon seeing her. Something about seeing my maternal midwives in labor makes my 'motherless' feelings so much tougher, and I usually emote pretty seriously. I confirmed with her that this seemed like real labor and she smiled and said, "you're going to have a baby so soon!" That felt great.<br />
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I continued to work. The power was so awesome. I felt like a fucking goddess... really, like a sexual monster goddess being from another world. I felt like I was the kind of woman who was the reason men went to war way back when. I felt awesome... like I owned the world. That's the only way I can really explain it.<br />
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A moment that I will always treasure. I sat on the deck, deep in my music, and I began to feel a breeze. The breeze kept on, and I started to feel a deep peace, and suddenly I was moved to a few tears. I felt something coming, and just then, like magic, the music picked up and a burst of wind, like nothing I have ever felt here before, literally shook me as it rocketed past. I wept as it roared through our farm, a violent, long standalone gust, and only Michael and I knew what it meant.<br />
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I have some experience with loss, and those that I've lost communicating with me, through nature. My mother, the day she died, was being brought out of the house by the coroner. My father, sister, husband and I stood outside on the back deck, distraught and waiting for it to be over. We heard the door shut behind them, and just then, a burst of wind, so strong and so long, hit us right in the face and blew the windchimes that my father had bought for my mother. We had never heard anything like it, and never would again. We knew it was her.<br />
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However, we also lost someone else, someone who I knew would be here when this little one would be born. In November of last year, we buried my first horse Star in our pasture. Star and I were kindred spirits, two of the same, both broken and both saved by one another. He loved Selah, even when I was pregnant, and he also was very attentive and in love with Adira in utero. He loved my babies. As the vet administered the drug that would relieve him of his pain forever, he lowered his head to my belly, and then looked at me as I looked at him. We both just stared at eachother as I wept, and I told him I loved him so much, and it would be over soon. His body became heavy, and dropped to the ground. And so did I... I laid down on the ground next to him, touching his face and weeping my goodbyes. "He's gone now" the vet said- but I replied, "No, he's not, not yet." Just a few moments after that, the sun came out, so strong and warm, just for a moment, and we felt a breeze. "He's gone now" I told them, as I felt a peace flow through me. The peace that only comes when you know the suffering soul you loved so dearly, is not suffering anymore.<br />
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This wind, that blasted me with such force, was Star, or possibly all those I've lost... but it felt like a herd of horses ripping through me, and just then, a contraction came. Michael had come to hold me, and I fell back into his arms and wailed through the contraction, and the heartbreak of memory. Then I laughed. I laughed so hard. I laughed with the joy of nature, and power, and loss, and my life, and it was so utterly awesome and beautiful. I chuckled and said to Michael, "I've never felt better in my entire life". Michael said, "Star is with you babe." I mentioned maybe it was my Mom and he said, "I think it takes a bigger animal to do that." What an utterly awesome moment, and something no one could mistake, if they experienced it. It was such magic.<br />
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Labor continued. My birth team quietly witnessing me from inside the house, and me alone on the deck. I felt so quiet, one with everything and so alone in the universe. It felt so great. Then Selah woke up from her nap. Kendra brought her downstairs, and she immediately started crying upon seeing me. I cried too, reaching for her desperately. We hugged and I had a contraction, making her cry more, and she refused to leave me. I told everyone to leave her with me, and I put her in my lap. She faced me, her face pressed into my chest, and her arms and legs wrapped around me. She just fell into my gravity, and we embraced as someone put our favorite song on. It played as she held me, and I held her, and my contractions magically stopped for the entirety of the song. She just rocked with me as I quietly sang to her, and my body respected our space. I loved this moment of my first baby in my arms, my second baby, soon to be born, in my belly between us, and my soul so alive and so in love with them. I was told later everyone was crying watching us. It was truly one of the most beautiful parts of the day.<br />
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As soon as the music stopped, I told her I needed to get back to work, and she seemed to understand. Almost immediately, a contraction began and then they picked up even more. The amount of emotional release had really helped my body to dilate more- so I moved into the tub.<br />
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As I sank into the water, a contraction hit me and along with the pressure came such a wave of pleasure, joy, and hilarity. I laughed. I literally laughed so hard through the entire contraction. Michael was convinced I had lost my mind. And perhaps I did... this felt so good, I couldn't believe it.<br />
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Michael got in the tub shortly after that, and I snuggled calmly into his arms, as we laid back and watched our mountains. The sun became more golden as evening approached. It felt wonderful.<br />
Then, a sexual energy came over me. We gazed at each other, and I winked at him. Michael said to everyone, "It's going to get a little weird, sorry..." Everyone laughed. But as we proceeded to touch each other gently, gazing at one another and kissing, they all slowly left, because I guess it did indeed 'get a little weird.' I felt completely sexually free, powerful, in charge and utterly alive. I'm typically not the biggest make out person, as it makes me feel claustrophobic... but this was different. We sank into each other in every way, and somehow managed to not make love, even though I felt like I wanted to. That's the only way I can describe the feeling, and what happened. Birth goddess indeed.<br />
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As labor proceeded I relied so much to my mantras. "Open, open, open to ten." "Come on down, down, down." I would growl, my eyes became more animal, more primal, and I would let out a little pleasurable shiver at the end of many contractions. It really felt a little orgasmic, that pressure.<br />
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Then maybe around 6:45, I felt some doubt. Some fear, some transition. "Don't fight it, sink into it, you get a break in a minute" I moaned through a contraction. "PRESSURE- PLEASURE" I shouted through the peak of it" and then, the waves of nausea, and then, the vomit. So much vomit. Overwhelming purging, and rapid dilation, and it lasted a little too long. I cannot imagine purging harder. My body was ready to have this baby... now. The contractions REALLY picked up. "Come on mamaaaa" I growled as I let them flow, and then more vomit. It was rapid, and so wrong, and then, so right. :)<br />
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Then, the urge to push. Once I realized that's what I was feeling, I exclaimed, "I feel like pushing ladies!!" as I laughed! But then, Holy. Shit. When I say this child is a warrior, I mean it. As contractions rapidly came upon me, I quickly changed from actively pushing to again just resting as I let my body work. I was not pushing with them. I laid back against Michaels chest, pulled my legs back and felt her slide down powerfully during a contraction but then still pushing down between them, she was descending so fast! The faces I made during pushing were ridiculous, but I don't think anyone could blame me... I was laying flat and she was still coming down this fast.<br />
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At one point in the ten minutes of pushing, I held Michaels head, peered back at him lovingly, and winked at him, smiling. I also gazed at my friend Toni, the friend who helped me as I said goodbye to Star, and I whispered 'death to self'. Another mantra for birth that I have embraced since I realized that the release needed to grieve is so much like the release to give birth to a child.<br />
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Another contraction. I silently pushed and a let out a gentle grunt. "Whoaaa, push baby push, yesss. Yessss. It's ok, girl, gentle gentle. I'm not pushing! You got this, girl. I'm not afraid, I'm not afraid." That was a long contraction. At a point in the end of the contraction, I really did sound like I was having an orgasm. The pleasure was real.<br />
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I continued to be able to be silent as I pushed, with only a look of intense focus but also peace in my eyes. After only a few contractions of crowning, I felt that 'pop' of her head coming out. After the initial shock of that moment, my midwives reminded me to touch her head if I felt ready. I did, and immediately began crying, "I feel her! I feel her! Come on out baby!!!" Just then a new song came on, a gentle flute, as I kept crying and moaning in ecstasy "Yes! Hi baby!" I stroked her head gently between my legs, laughing with empowered, fearless joy. So much pleasure in this moment.<br />
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Another contraction started and I shouted with ecstasy, "I don't want to wait! It's not so hard! Gentle gentle- come on mama" Then, like magic, the music picked up in volume, and I growled the words, "Come on mama- pull your baby out" and then I did. As she descended, I pulled her right out of me and onto my chest.<br />
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The joy can be seen in my eyes as they opened wide and I held my little vernix covered sleeping baby (yes, she came out in a deep sleep..) "I felt every minute, I felt every minute! I didn't leave at all! It was beautiful!" I cried in tears of disbelief. "She's here, my sunset baby." I cooed as I held her, smiling at Michael and Selah in the golden light of sunset.<br />
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I fought like my life depended on it for this birth. I fought hard for the pride in my body, my abilities, and my sexuality. I worked for this, I dove deep into my past for this, and now I found myself healed enough to not only thoroughly enjoy birth, but to also find a new dimension of sexual awareness in it. I stayed present, aware, in control and I did it on my own. All the decades of abuse was no match for my desire for a transformative and healing experience. Those in my past that tried to break me, shame me, hurt me, rape me and affect my life negatively... I refuse to let you determine my mental health, my self worth or the way I birth. I did it with joy, pleasure, freedom and power, and nothing can ever take this away from me.<br />
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Again I have nothing but gratefulness to those who supported me as I birthed Adira Nuelle Luna. Thank you to Michael for knowing me so well, for your love and support, and for that hot makeout session. Also, thanks for making babies with me.<br />
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And a huge thank you to my birth team (midwives, friends, babysitters, etc.) who made it possible for me to really enjoy the day, without worries. I love you all.<br />
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A special thank you as well to the photographer who captured the images you see here. Breanna Kristner Photography<br />
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<br />Meghan Thttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10637046233218748669noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5270361435043579189.post-54862503114423332742016-08-18T12:13:00.000-07:002016-09-26T23:16:09.367-07:00Birth Story<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The Birth Story of Selah Rose- born July 31, 2016 1:22 p.m.</span></div>
<b id="docs-internal-guid-693f32bd-9f11-22cd-2879-8ac885d1af71" style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">My life had been challenging to date. I had a history of physical and verbal abuse, and an obviously strained relationship with my mother and family. We had moved to Washington about a year before I found out I was pregnant. It was a huge surprise, and one I had not welcomed. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I was always terrified of becoming my mother, and ending up abusing my child like she had abused me. I knew I would have to struggle to work past these issues, and it was the most frightening thing I could imagine. The first few months of the pregnancy were dark, and I was very depressed. I eventually moved past most of these feelings by 12 weeks but some nagged me for the entirety of the pregnancy. I had cried to my midwives many many times, and expressed my pain from my past and fear of the future. I knew that a history of abuse can rear its ugly head in labor, sometimes stall it, and also start your child’s life with fear and trepidation. I did not want this to happen to me, and I worked HARD, for the entire pregnancy, to heal enough to get through this experience. It was the hardest 9 months of my life. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1kmaj_PivHpGCJSioWNjll0MGpM_r-sxHGgKxRpSp2Ziwjb6CZkSXwi37yW_f5hkHyVu_LD8k3QcvXNzbOeowA3nXbXFS8aef4R5SacLdBISJX2raMPLYX-ltVFy6B4h-CK2rZUKaEnyg/s1600/11150359_10153225094314509_4327278386510249000_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1kmaj_PivHpGCJSioWNjll0MGpM_r-sxHGgKxRpSp2Ziwjb6CZkSXwi37yW_f5hkHyVu_LD8k3QcvXNzbOeowA3nXbXFS8aef4R5SacLdBISJX2raMPLYX-ltVFy6B4h-CK2rZUKaEnyg/s320/11150359_10153225094314509_4327278386510249000_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I had always wanted a natural birth, but after becoming a doula, I wanted it even more. When we first looked at this house, I saw the deck and thought, “if I ever have a child… this is where I will have it.” I pictured an unassisted birth on my deck, in a tub, overlooking this incredible view. Although more often than not, when I would talk about this, people would say, “ONE WORD. EPIDURAL. You’ll see!” I just kept on with my vision, planning it with precision and preparing everything I would need to safely deliver my own child 35 minutes from a hospital. I used Ina May books, meditation, calm preparation and positive images. The truth is, I was excited to labor, and experience this, but until the day she was born, I struggled to feel excited or positive about the baby after the labor. This was something I was honest about, but struggled with, and felt guilty about. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I had been having painless contractions for about 2.5 weeks, but always figured it wasn’t the real thing because as people had told me, “you’ll know. They’ll hurt.” However, on July 30th, at about 9:00 p.m., after a particularly hormonal night, I began having my normal painless contractions. I thought nothing of it, until I realized they were a little more consistent than they normally were. I began timing them. I timed them sitting down, standing up, on a ball, moving around, and then finally in bed. They grew in intensity, little by little, but I could never say that they hurt. I didn’t call anyone, and told Michael to sleep with his ear plugs in, to get good rest. We went to bed around 2:00, and I didn’t really fall asleep for a while, and only slept for about an hour and a half, waking every so often with a contraction. Until 4:30 a.m… when I woke to a contraction that took some focus. I rode through it, using my birthing noises, and then got out of bed with the clear awareness that it was probably time to notify my midwives. I called one and talked to her about the details, and proceeded to let her go back to sleep since the directions were to “call her when I can’t speak through them”. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I took a shower, got dressed, made a bowl of cereal and some coffee and proceeded to enjoy labor alone. Michael came down shortly after, and we just turned on gentle music and chatted softly. I felt so centered, so peaceful and at ease with my husband. We felt certain it was time, despite the fact that I still could not say my contractions hurt. I felt surges of energy, gently waving through my body, and leaving me with a deep sense of peace and pleasure unlike anything I had ever felt. My doula had been notified and was on her way- she arrived around 6:30 a.m. We went for a walk down to see the animals, and I had a strong contraction while standing in the donkey pasture. I held on to the gate, and dropped into a squat and let out strong noises with it. The sweet donkeys came over to nuzzle me after. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLmUfgZf6_OyyyKOR_7wuZSbL9KpAufSd5w6XASUvhQjCDnOlcuLf4UPXR7TKsd0Y9SD61jsO3uhh1nEPKOB3zvZ3jjSBBq-CuZxGkETpjF5xsT7ElrG0ElF5Rrd03Tpllhyphenhyphen6WeyjMxVVU/s1600/DSCN2301.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLmUfgZf6_OyyyKOR_7wuZSbL9KpAufSd5w6XASUvhQjCDnOlcuLf4UPXR7TKsd0Y9SD61jsO3uhh1nEPKOB3zvZ3jjSBBq-CuZxGkETpjF5xsT7ElrG0ElF5Rrd03Tpllhyphenhyphen6WeyjMxVVU/s320/DSCN2301.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I loved knowing that my animals knew what was happening. Nature is so universal and connected. “Mama donkey” as we call her, is 20 years old and has had many babies. She has always been so sensitive to me, and in love with my belly since she arrived here.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">We then slowly made our way up the hill to the house. My contractions began to speed up after that, and get a lot stronger. I sat on my ball and really began to focus. Beautiful, serene and utterly peaceful music was playing and I remember feeling so high. I was so blessed to be able to be home, in my clothes, and able to process this labor with only loved and loving people around me. Michael was with me from the very beginning of the real labor, watching me with soft eyes and smiling at me when I would look at him. I felt protected, tended to and loved entirely, and my midwives hadn’t even arrived yet! There are not adequate words for the kind of peace I felt through this entire labor. As I let the early contractions flow through me, I was constantly welling up with tears. The music suited the day perfectly and my mind was so focused on the honor I was feeling to be experiencing this, and I could not stop feeling it deeply. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivYfUwOUSaPzPGjSYW0POqAQXjSxy6koZRhuJQXL95YVH-verin_UJur4IQPVBW0L6YA1vaDQ2V8BgKJBj4z0GcRqMFIEHkC4EHX_qtw_gWFXaPXsTmvOSWbJHHFtiuy4awZU0aV-So5EC/s1600/13988035_10154398913289509_7895399333459962958_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivYfUwOUSaPzPGjSYW0POqAQXjSxy6koZRhuJQXL95YVH-verin_UJur4IQPVBW0L6YA1vaDQ2V8BgKJBj4z0GcRqMFIEHkC4EHX_qtw_gWFXaPXsTmvOSWbJHHFtiuy4awZU0aV-So5EC/s320/13988035_10154398913289509_7895399333459962958_o.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I remember when my song, “The Story” by Brandi Carlisle began to play, I was rocking on my ball, and Michael sat in front of me. The first time I heard this song, I was maybe two weeks pregnant, and I stopped everything I was doing to listen to the words. It was the perfect song for my relationship with Michael, and it always makes me cry. A contraction rushed through me as some of the most beautiful words I’ve ever heard played, and I fell into his arms. Tears streamed down my face I kissed him, held my forehead to his, felt the music flow through me, and rocked with him as he rubbed my legs perfectly slowly. I’ve never felt so in love in my life. I welcomed each contraction, and with more pressure came more joy. At this point, the contractions were strong but we were still laughing and joking in between. I wanted to talk through the feelings of the contractions too. I found discussing them very interesting in preparation for experiencing the next rush. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0F4WJSKA3SSP-5W-PaUpB4SSAkol1QItWDiX5ddURpB8PAgUqqK5MbBJvtq3FwH5jkd1uxGU3v46OId3E_ApxdnaZvopoLMEe8E5YpEn9q1b6bfnxMA0WQWtnpKeN3qApSbnewg5Y3nzH/s1600/13923533_10154398912779509_7468452393009275822_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0F4WJSKA3SSP-5W-PaUpB4SSAkol1QItWDiX5ddURpB8PAgUqqK5MbBJvtq3FwH5jkd1uxGU3v46OId3E_ApxdnaZvopoLMEe8E5YpEn9q1b6bfnxMA0WQWtnpKeN3qApSbnewg5Y3nzH/s320/13923533_10154398912779509_7468452393009275822_o.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Very early on, Michael was my rock. I didn’t think about him in that way yet, because I was coping very well. However, upon watching the videos, I realized how often I would look to him, call for him, gaze and smile at him. He was everything for me. If I would well up, he would well up, and if I would weep, we would weep together. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQlMeRpvgC6CACVtNm4GQgOtRT5SM6C5IYFpy64R2_pz2pblRUFZ4qjPczfB0SqoZmz-UPiVXlPSVVnNwskQXlH__RVF86It72jqZ3rjunBEX4bL2uEDc58nXo7OWkbPlMx_BMbJ_8v0gp/s1600/13925857_10154398942454509_1739354418248792553_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQlMeRpvgC6CACVtNm4GQgOtRT5SM6C5IYFpy64R2_pz2pblRUFZ4qjPczfB0SqoZmz-UPiVXlPSVVnNwskQXlH__RVF86It72jqZ3rjunBEX4bL2uEDc58nXo7OWkbPlMx_BMbJ_8v0gp/s320/13925857_10154398942454509_1739354418248792553_o.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The clouds were grey outside. The air was cool and the breeze was soft. I sat on the ball, and then the floor, right in front of the door. The view of the mountains gave me strength early on, as I knew they would when planning this birth. We started to discuss getting into the tub around 8:30 a.m. The contractions were getting much stronger, and I was beginning to feel far more serious in between them. The mobility I needed through the rushes was amazing. I was always moving, and in a particularly strong contraction, I felt an incredible wave of pleasure and joy- falling into a loopy laugh at the top of the contraction. The music playing at the time was a song I loved, and I fell into Michael's lap again, weeping after the laughter. This is when we knew it was moving along well. Michael held my head, combing my hair with his fingers, being incredible, as he was all day. I felt so high and I absolutely loved the power my body was putting out with each contraction. What an incredible ride, to feel a power of your own that even you have to muster all the energy you can to submit to. I’ve never felt more feminine in my life.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYM3ogCHMGto4nv6rrwkcEbYEaQU2P0PzuACLNWeVksi_vpv_jN6SAhw-VOS40p7U6HpD63ocl9-hP_0P_W60Odg70F4yHw6eqFDWRZPJnwSa8sbYKHGxcex9mUhKqnxesIUuQ17J7x_IN/s1600/13938076_10154398912829509_1353978252072848182_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYM3ogCHMGto4nv6rrwkcEbYEaQU2P0PzuACLNWeVksi_vpv_jN6SAhw-VOS40p7U6HpD63ocl9-hP_0P_W60Odg70F4yHw6eqFDWRZPJnwSa8sbYKHGxcex9mUhKqnxesIUuQ17J7x_IN/s320/13938076_10154398912829509_1353978252072848182_o.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">At one point we read one of my affirmations. “I will have a birth that is so awesome, Morgan Freeman will have to narrate it.” We laughed about how there should be a Morgan Freeman app to read anything you type into it. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The contractions were notably stronger each time, which became more of a challenge for me, but I still enjoyed every rush. My sounds became gradually lower, deeper and more animal. My midwives eventually arrived, quietly sat down on the floor next to us, smiled and nodded upon hearing my moans. I loved having their maternal, experienced and sensitive eyes protecting me. It felt so safe, and at that point, I really knew my baby was coming. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">There was a particular moment I love watching. I had a strong contraction- I laid back into my doulas arms, feeling Michael rubbing my legs. I rested, and then felt my Mother. The emotion of missing her rushed through me stronger than the contractions, and I gave in to the music and the power of the moment and let my head fall back as I wept. It was only for a few seconds but I remember I knew I needed to submit to that, and feel the feeling, in order to progress in this labor. The pain of those few seconds far outweighed the stronger contractions in that moment. Submission in birth is the key to success in it. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFdamGk_MgUdaFRCV3eo8UylC40_DeZf5vJXfvzAPIOqRcO4NNFLjURYuLjTvMvYnxT6dqRRoRvyF0prqdMVNrCiuXi6gCDE16frvaYx6QoNjOnqp59hG1KmZ4cF_ZVwz0tjNl3kLKpk6h/s1600/DSCN2316.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFdamGk_MgUdaFRCV3eo8UylC40_DeZf5vJXfvzAPIOqRcO4NNFLjURYuLjTvMvYnxT6dqRRoRvyF0prqdMVNrCiuXi6gCDE16frvaYx6QoNjOnqp59hG1KmZ4cF_ZVwz0tjNl3kLKpk6h/s320/DSCN2316.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The dogs were loving the labor. Samantha kept visiting to check on us. She wagged her tail and looked so happy and at ease. Zombie came and laid down in between me and my doula… and just loved us. It was so peaceful to have my other kids there with me. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWyJR8oGreOWpstToDILTMMF6zXFJZt1kzZa0MlIK3WJHJQRvBiTDK2vsoSxkkDrVtXAMF_TutvcL1FktGLXiAKl4i929SRHqWHCPeClPB5FrIjFLCbEG9oeEXZfER1DkQc1yuCvm4bGZg/s1600/13963005_10154398942269509_3513914636856188937_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWyJR8oGreOWpstToDILTMMF6zXFJZt1kzZa0MlIK3WJHJQRvBiTDK2vsoSxkkDrVtXAMF_TutvcL1FktGLXiAKl4i929SRHqWHCPeClPB5FrIjFLCbEG9oeEXZfER1DkQc1yuCvm4bGZg/s320/13963005_10154398942269509_3513914636856188937_o.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">At around 10 a.m. we moved to the tub outside on the deck. My contractions were tougher, and we were thinking it would ease the pressure of the contractions- we were wrong. As soon as I stepped into the tub, I felt as if I dilated so much faster. The first contraction in the tub knocked me into oblivion for a second. I remember saying “I THOUGHT IT WOULD FEEL BETTER! They lied!” “Nature’s epidural my ass” is something I vaguely remember saying too. Now I know it’s just because the relaxation of the water helped me dilate so much more, which was great. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The freedom and mobility I felt in the tub was amazing. I could move to different positions and rock with the contractions, violently if I wanted to, with ease. It was wonderful. When I got in, I laid back to wait for the next wave, and the midwives asked me, “how does the rain feel?” I replied, “It feels like God.” And it did- it felt like stars falling down around me, and like God was kissing me. What an incredible moment to assure me everything was ok. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1IyG-1vdB2iEtJmeZ_gioDQOgWaaRb6xZd-LdhjtckFk1n11VJOwHZammU_ZUrxnKK-GkcAxzRG3xYypIiDV9vI-ke0HJBgruhIoLdQ-cwYHwnBRjkIzfD7JcWv0b3ucEebmYdZk3EuWr/s1600/DSCN2419.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1IyG-1vdB2iEtJmeZ_gioDQOgWaaRb6xZd-LdhjtckFk1n11VJOwHZammU_ZUrxnKK-GkcAxzRG3xYypIiDV9vI-ke0HJBgruhIoLdQ-cwYHwnBRjkIzfD7JcWv0b3ucEebmYdZk3EuWr/s320/DSCN2419.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhINOuKiJBvKX2mSAKlLi8q64MQQ3OGmECA8usRwu6tFXeSmuOVvdODIGZvClSIsBp6oekwbiwVfX9OcaS-3msD8c0k4PPqm6ctHqlDKqMzkmI1m-q959-hUaxa7YTCpuF8uGgAfPOx4iV6/s1600/DSCN2331.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhINOuKiJBvKX2mSAKlLi8q64MQQ3OGmECA8usRwu6tFXeSmuOVvdODIGZvClSIsBp6oekwbiwVfX9OcaS-3msD8c0k4PPqm6ctHqlDKqMzkmI1m-q959-hUaxa7YTCpuF8uGgAfPOx4iV6/s320/DSCN2331.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">My midwives held my hand and assured me I was coping wonderfully, and my doula kept telling me how strong I was. They looked so proud of me. It carried me through some of the tougher ones. Michael’s eyes were so sensitive and full of love, and each person at my birth brought different affirmations for my journey. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJrEO3sUTjglcxzzEoMCEdDEf4fxvfz01W8O3RYCPrky2pJaSG8srFDEQr1j4iC6ExSy3y5JCUT2yIY4Uct9SJv6kMNM6qBBOYdcc-NPuTz_LXaaCuR_j_hAfwXC1urpMHmir_9_BELW0M/s1600/DSCN2345.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJrEO3sUTjglcxzzEoMCEdDEf4fxvfz01W8O3RYCPrky2pJaSG8srFDEQr1j4iC6ExSy3y5JCUT2yIY4Uct9SJv6kMNM6qBBOYdcc-NPuTz_LXaaCuR_j_hAfwXC1urpMHmir_9_BELW0M/s320/DSCN2345.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">As the contractions kept on, my eyes grew more and more relaxed in between. I would bug them out during contractions and look like a zombie, but then close them completely or look like I was in a trance in between them. In the video, I look like it hurts, but up until transition, I can’t quite say they hurt. It was a strong rush of energy and power, and it brought me to my knees in awe of my own body… and yes, in a way it hurt, but in another way, I just could not help but fall in love with my body with each wave I rode. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I remember when it was time to vomit. I felt it for minutes before it finally came, but when it did, I felt the rapid dilation and it blew my mind. What a gift those vomit sessions were because although I only had two of them, I am convinced it knocked an hour or more off of my labor. I felt my entire body open up. This was not transition.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrxn0qMvKO8hWndUGk5BP149ElDMTphX-7FfFpkqXAT4xrAJoDwgL8oyM9keDs7Ux3NBq5v-IrNapj7Tc5N6KEUnxwHWcvax0KVsDw2oFOc7KFL8MQB4M4smO-RxgTUgyM5epe1_UMWh4T/s1600/DSCN2549.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrxn0qMvKO8hWndUGk5BP149ElDMTphX-7FfFpkqXAT4xrAJoDwgL8oyM9keDs7Ux3NBq5v-IrNapj7Tc5N6KEUnxwHWcvax0KVsDw2oFOc7KFL8MQB4M4smO-RxgTUgyM5epe1_UMWh4T/s320/DSCN2549.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The breaks in between the contractions were incredibly peaceful. At first the clouds were drifting over the mountains, and the rain was falling on us. The breeze was so cool, and the sun hadn’t come out yet. It felt like such an incredible gift to be home, and be facing mountains that were as old as time, really. Mount Saint Helens had not come out yet, but we were waiting.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">While my eyes were closed in a complete zone, the sun began to come out and my midwives leaned their heads back and basked in the sun with smiles on their faces. I am so blessed to have the video because otherwise, I would not have been able to see how happy my whole team was the whole time. I fell so in love with these women as I watched my video.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The contractions definitely grew in intensity, and my sounds grew as well. There were times when I would shake, or vomit, or clench my fists- but I let my mouth open wide to keep everything loose, and I had moments of enjoyment in many of the contractions. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1Q096462ph8ysulfayYF0CNRssfV8wvVflnXTxXUsZQ0mdDZnA2D0qXB8NDG6tB1trcXn-p5UlRqmRFS84SP2SWM2bIg_ONcoXzlGdmtvZcGLrspJSJIS1l3pp6Fw8gPzCocoPXmVgoUX/s1600/DSCN2526.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1Q096462ph8ysulfayYF0CNRssfV8wvVflnXTxXUsZQ0mdDZnA2D0qXB8NDG6tB1trcXn-p5UlRqmRFS84SP2SWM2bIg_ONcoXzlGdmtvZcGLrspJSJIS1l3pp6Fw8gPzCocoPXmVgoUX/s320/DSCN2526.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Transition was less obvious for me than most, I believe. I never had a moment where I felt I couldn’t do it, but there was a moment when I said, “I’m starting to have second thoughts.” It made everyone chuckle and it still makes me laugh now. I love how vague it was- I always knew I could do it, but in that moment, everything started to feel more difficult. It was over quickly, and soon after, the urge to push would come, and blow me away.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZKuIN0g5b9rMipLLu1tYu8iukoniAEdN5R2Rvj1Rklr7WOjnLL26NLMW-kU4NAR65kzgEUe4wybnusYA2wP85W6pVOLcukOBAQGh_N7qblamotB0CF-g6hnZhASG8snzlTGyRaduw8WjT/s1600/DSCN2519.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZKuIN0g5b9rMipLLu1tYu8iukoniAEdN5R2Rvj1Rklr7WOjnLL26NLMW-kU4NAR65kzgEUe4wybnusYA2wP85W6pVOLcukOBAQGh_N7qblamotB0CF-g6hnZhASG8snzlTGyRaduw8WjT/s320/DSCN2519.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The first time I felt the ‘urge to push’, the feeling was overwhelmingly intense and I would describe it as “vomiting out of my vagina.” It was by far the most memorable sensation. I was upright in the water, squatting, holding on to Michael when I really started to work with the contractions. The sun was out. Everyone was smiling and so giddy when I started to push. The variation of sounds I would make as I pushed still make me laugh with a haunted humor. I remember the sensation, and in part it makes me cringe, and in part I want to feel it again... it was so powerful!</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I think I had been pushing for 5-10 minutes when I requested my first dilation check. I had not been checked at all until this point. I immediately had a massive contraction during which I grunted “Your body is doing what it’s supposed to do” and “URGE TO PUSH URGE TO PUSH URGE TO PUSH OOOhhhhhhh….” so I am not sure why I felt the need to check, but my midwife confirmed that she felt the bag bulging. Within minutes the next contraction hit and I felt my bags break. POP! I smiled blissfully in the midst of that contraction- so much work was done, and I yelled “YES I AM YES I AM” in response to my inner monologue of “you’re amazing, you can do this.” </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSRv8wysyftnlV8eZ0fv_YMk2zB5Lk8DHVJSdE48zR5Se83Cqt_2TQ_zURHC2Y68bjUVjCxs8h_otZ-R0lTncS5EV1yeEj2zVyfr3UJXfm3DK3Md_E1NW2HG18DO9hTEd3HvrZ4nA7bQEs/s1600/DSCN2521.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSRv8wysyftnlV8eZ0fv_YMk2zB5Lk8DHVJSdE48zR5Se83Cqt_2TQ_zURHC2Y68bjUVjCxs8h_otZ-R0lTncS5EV1yeEj2zVyfr3UJXfm3DK3Md_E1NW2HG18DO9hTEd3HvrZ4nA7bQEs/s320/DSCN2521.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The contractions were coming so hard and fast, and the sensations of pushing got so much stronger but I began to work with them more. Grunting, moaning and “ooooh’ing” and the rest between the pushes were divine. After a very animalistic contraction I nodded, high off my ass, and said, “right now I feel like I’m going to vomit out of my vagina, that’s what it feels like”, after which I said, “oh, emotions”, and immediately “This isn’t that hard” as I cried and then “Stay strong baby”, to Michael.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I looked up at the sky, saw the sun, knew how blessed I was and said, “I feel so honored.” A feeling I still remember amidst the vivid memories of discomfort, but I love it so much, and it still holds true. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Alison Krauss was playing as we rested, my midwives smiling and gazing over the mountains. Michael held me and me, and we prepared for the next wave. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDhAARr7yJvI694SytOk70tKhsOf3XVf6e9pYP7y3aYtM_c4Ad-BBeewdnpBpykiNbrld2BRcLuFMdbQACZyqJCqLfCMQVvAimR6JP50SZlNwNx8_fWgBBI1cKpdo0eyoAMlBeqL9Od8Bw/s1600/DSCN2573.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDhAARr7yJvI694SytOk70tKhsOf3XVf6e9pYP7y3aYtM_c4Ad-BBeewdnpBpykiNbrld2BRcLuFMdbQACZyqJCqLfCMQVvAimR6JP50SZlNwNx8_fWgBBI1cKpdo0eyoAMlBeqL9Od8Bw/s320/DSCN2573.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Finally, a contraction made me scream. More of a wail, really. I panted after the scream, and said, “it’s such an out of control feeling.” I then laid forward into Michael’s chest and moaned, “I need a break.” But immediately another contraction came- but I just submitted to that one. It’s amazing that after an expression of exhaustion, sometimes you find the strength to fall into them deeper and deeper, rather than fight anything, and that’s when labor does it’s best work. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyjAXgZylR3rraSkSik6mSjlklQDLaABMsKihP2eFZSWWcC7t9z5EeXjLYOtdCiIi5MWm0gsoJZ0TO3LOUNNDI4wDQHaRIlfLCdhrKitLF1SunkpKOhrqwOjlEtRBmeClCcjLrld5DFXVV/s1600/DSCN2567.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyjAXgZylR3rraSkSik6mSjlklQDLaABMsKihP2eFZSWWcC7t9z5EeXjLYOtdCiIi5MWm0gsoJZ0TO3LOUNNDI4wDQHaRIlfLCdhrKitLF1SunkpKOhrqwOjlEtRBmeClCcjLrld5DFXVV/s320/DSCN2567.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The next contraction: Blew my mind. I moaned, grunted, wailed, and breathed so deeply and let out an exhausted “yes!” and “Come on headdddd”. “It’s not stopping, it’s not stopping” “why won’t it stop?” as it lasted a solid 2 minutes 14 seconds. After that contraction, I laid back in the tub to rest. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The contractions kept coming but as I moaned “Come down baby, wiggle wiggle wiggle, please work for me” we knew it was almost time. “Selah, it’s going to be so easy baby, come on.” “Gentle gentle, soft and wide, breathe baby breathe” I moaned as the head crowned. I remember hearing the things I would say to moms as I supported them through labor, and I just said it to myself. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI7BHuZR2tqc4AtG0S6TDLX3wMziBfmMSjVlBBJSO3GGOIhA4Yz7hGTsw85R6sMhOWvOoeT3Nvxa95Ff3qsyDOWQIg23Ec2T1aWafm06wdInTHYaEJM_DpWkP2_TPgWNI9mpKIUtlfW3mQ/s1600/DSCN2593.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI7BHuZR2tqc4AtG0S6TDLX3wMziBfmMSjVlBBJSO3GGOIhA4Yz7hGTsw85R6sMhOWvOoeT3Nvxa95Ff3qsyDOWQIg23Ec2T1aWafm06wdInTHYaEJM_DpWkP2_TPgWNI9mpKIUtlfW3mQ/s320/DSCN2593.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">My midwife said, “Do you want to reach down and touch her head?” So I did, and her head slid back in after which my eyes bulged and I pulled back at the startling feeling and said, “IT MADE IT GO BACK IN.” </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Soft and wide, soft and wide” I grunted as the head kept coming. “Breathe DOWN Breathe down breathe down”- She just kept coming. I continued to smile amidst the pain, and coached myself, “Stretch stretch stretch, YOU CAN DO IT YOU CAN DO IT YOU CAN DO IT.” </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8PPq6l53nzuz5gPVhMRbgxn6vc4-YzYQA0KQ4Uqa8P81GUUuYRKBLaGLPfJy6kT4LK3FjoP89f2RXg-b9ppndSOIIHHd9z1WF6cFsOS_KN4T7NIm6DUOT6Ord_6EmSOA6VuUP9Gq6rpI3/s1600/DSCN2600.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8PPq6l53nzuz5gPVhMRbgxn6vc4-YzYQA0KQ4Uqa8P81GUUuYRKBLaGLPfJy6kT4LK3FjoP89f2RXg-b9ppndSOIIHHd9z1WF6cFsOS_KN4T7NIm6DUOT6Ord_6EmSOA6VuUP9Gq6rpI3/s320/DSCN2600.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ8NTnYyfPhkihVkpvogf4fanfDLFQBu70Db_IGIM_hyphenhyphen0GdXefKnSG0bqqGoVALcKSYFlrrr0nxsbCP7Dwcps7n-bH56eTthCmeLKklSnPcMKeXMubCz94Nq_1cRIG0Jm8WuepdPmqD1-0/s1600/DSCN2601.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ8NTnYyfPhkihVkpvogf4fanfDLFQBu70Db_IGIM_hyphenhyphen0GdXefKnSG0bqqGoVALcKSYFlrrr0nxsbCP7Dwcps7n-bH56eTthCmeLKklSnPcMKeXMubCz94Nq_1cRIG0Jm8WuepdPmqD1-0/s320/DSCN2601.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOsZr5nUl4cT6Ul5TwUfh8ep4G19XLB3pGlcRVOuJT_EUfjPiJkPn8yZormeJ9yXspUUvqGdHZspv-_KkI-Gp0D4JnYtZOZSm7JuY5SgTfhzKVu2HtxF-nIaRuWSwlf1-skluIXub9eJW2/s1600/DSCN2640.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOsZr5nUl4cT6Ul5TwUfh8ep4G19XLB3pGlcRVOuJT_EUfjPiJkPn8yZormeJ9yXspUUvqGdHZspv-_KkI-Gp0D4JnYtZOZSm7JuY5SgTfhzKVu2HtxF-nIaRuWSwlf1-skluIXub9eJW2/s320/DSCN2640.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Finally, the head was almost out. “Come on BABY, WIGGLE OUT!” “Oooooopen up ooooopen up” I moaned as I imagined the most grotesquely open and enormous vagina. “Come on Mama, you can do it”, as I doula’d myself. Michael sat between my legs, stroking my shins gently and waited for his daughter. His strength amazed me. He was so gentle the whole time.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">As the widest part of her head emerged I said, “CLITORIS, OH SHIT” because I’m convinced there is no other way to describe that feeling. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7ENuIPHilsxVoiLBPgcYcjCFjmVsPKURk2k07v-h0QeHTK4uf7fYAB93IhV2ZvLgcqZEKUr-UPyp73uG7Ik2YjHOs8gQD4Y9A-Tdp_lsXz4EZOpK1UGoNxnx4ESC6ngwdYiwVCc4vW5JK/s1600/DSCN2833.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7ENuIPHilsxVoiLBPgcYcjCFjmVsPKURk2k07v-h0QeHTK4uf7fYAB93IhV2ZvLgcqZEKUr-UPyp73uG7Ik2YjHOs8gQD4Y9A-Tdp_lsXz4EZOpK1UGoNxnx4ESC6ngwdYiwVCc4vW5JK/s320/DSCN2833.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I remember at this point, Michael looked at me and said, "babe, the clouds cleared and the mountain just came out." I did not look to see, but it felt like God telling me that she was almost here. It was amazing. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“You’re doin in, you’re doin it” I told myself out loud. I let out an animal growl, a wail, and as the contraction released, I realized her head was almost out but not quite and I shook my head and said, “I’ll just wait here.” Everyone laughed loudly. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Then, in one solid slow consistent moan, “YOU CAN DO ANYTHING” I growl and then the head was out. In between those contractions I smiled, laughed and said, “She’s so happy.” I felt her head turning and wiggling between my legs and the memory of feeling her there still makes me cry. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzdzLl_xJ1A0rmkEVajm1HSw-XQYpIWj2rUSKY9vS9UiY1gkagpJ7M21LKVjnao-JeKnwEgeQqr2BXrstNa0WTYHf_ye9g7-oc6boZbFUa51K8AJYnmhltDdzR4AjgJ77sgzDDlVBErcAY/s1600/DSCN2645.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzdzLl_xJ1A0rmkEVajm1HSw-XQYpIWj2rUSKY9vS9UiY1gkagpJ7M21LKVjnao-JeKnwEgeQqr2BXrstNa0WTYHf_ye9g7-oc6boZbFUa51K8AJYnmhltDdzR4AjgJ77sgzDDlVBErcAY/s320/DSCN2645.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Minutes pass and the next swell hit- I let out a relaxed moan, let my butt lift and float as her body slid out so easily, it still amazes me. It was so quiet, peaceful and easy in that moment. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifdyYWm0BR_biCaNzxGAz39_7D3fL1bBJtfnyoq-3QQGmkG6_b9rv-OruFxS-vqkM50znwJqjAv0tQzjcBhIhWEI8QyMA7GjsbvW4kek5SgkHt0P283ZEaiM77GoC31P9M0R8x12WFNXou/s1600/DSCN2650.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifdyYWm0BR_biCaNzxGAz39_7D3fL1bBJtfnyoq-3QQGmkG6_b9rv-OruFxS-vqkM50znwJqjAv0tQzjcBhIhWEI8QyMA7GjsbvW4kek5SgkHt0P283ZEaiM77GoC31P9M0R8x12WFNXou/s320/DSCN2650.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj50oZNiFy58lwrhBpu2q0XTnqBZhaTo3jyVjfVCjIm7WK2v88pJ7ERR2mMYf5ImnMJFMRritG8cwXnuwMqEoz7_YB1zzEi8EjJUXvRcD9BTk5LxMBCMOxyGa7EVIa98bXo_-7x2I4NkdAB/s1600/DSCN2653.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj50oZNiFy58lwrhBpu2q0XTnqBZhaTo3jyVjfVCjIm7WK2v88pJ7ERR2mMYf5ImnMJFMRritG8cwXnuwMqEoz7_YB1zzEi8EjJUXvRcD9BTk5LxMBCMOxyGa7EVIa98bXo_-7x2I4NkdAB/s320/DSCN2653.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Michael caught her, pulled her out of the water and gave her to me. I pulled her to my chest and held her calmly... and then the moment really hit me, when I started shaking and came back into reality. "What just happened?" With bugged eyes, I asked my birth team. "You just had a baby, girl!" My face in this photo sums up how I was feeling pretty perfectly. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">But as I held her close, and let it all set it, the joy flooded over me. “Oh my god, it’s exactly what I thought it would be!” </span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">There, in the safety and solace of our home, overlooking our mountains and animals, Selah Rose was born exactly as I dreamed she would be- and miraculously, it was the most joyous moment of my life. I had been told that I was ‘crazy’ for planning a home birth for my first, and that we were just crazy hippies for planning a fantasy birth like this. “It will never happen just as you plan”- but it did. It was everything I had hoped for. It was the most beautiful, perfect and healing day of my life. Labor was challenging, but my life has been so adventurous, so full of challenges, that I still cannot say this was my greatest accomplishment, or even the hardest thing I’ve done. But it put me back together again, after 30 years of brokenness… and the love that I didn’t know I was capable of now overwhelmed me. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Although the placenta contractions came upon me immediately, I wept and held her close as she snuggled and cried. The placenta came out after about 15 minutes of strong contractions, and as it slid out I sighed in relief and said, “Now that’s fucking success right there.” </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The peace between us, Michael and I, as we sat in the tub, surrounded by the best team I could ask for, as we held our tiny little wonder- with the breeze kissing us and the sun blessing us, was everything I had planned, hoped and dreamed of. It was otherworldly, and perfect. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.6667px; white-space: pre-wrap;">I am forever beyond grateful to my amazing husband Michael who vocally and strongly supported my birth rights and wishes, and advocated for me firmly. You are the strongest man I have ever known, and you have made me a stronger woman than I ever thought I could be. Thank you for trusting me with the birth of our daughter. I love you more today than ever before. </span><br />
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To my friend Casey, who took these amazing photographs- thank you from the bottom of my heart for the gift of your talent and for capturing the most beautiful day of my life so perfectly. </div>
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Last but not least, to my midwives... you women are the reason I so fearlessly followed through on my hippy dippy dreams. I am truly forever thankful for your belief in me, your experienced hands and your sensitive souls. You listened to so many hours of my pain, my tears and my fears, and you were mothers when I had none. Thank you for encouraging me to walk into motherhood as fearlessly as I was entering into birth. My daughter has a better mother today, because of you. Thank you from the bottom of my heart for every moment I could spend with the three of you. You will never really know how much you've changed my life. </div>
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<br />Meghan Thttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10637046233218748669noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5270361435043579189.post-88415856029553898752016-02-01T15:44:00.000-08:002016-02-01T15:44:55.962-08:00A different kind of pregnancy postIt has been a long time since I last posted anything. My last post was 'the big 3-0', posted on my birthday. One year later, it's the big 3-1, and what a year it has been. We bought a house, built a farm, rescued some more fur kids, and have truly lived 'happily ever after' since we relocated to Washington. It has been an incredible year, full of love and joy, and a few difficult days, but all on the road to a better marriage, and a better life. <br />
I find myself in an interesting position on this February 1- my 31st birthday. I am pregnant with my first child. Today is the beginning of my second trimester, and how fitting it is that a new season in this pregnancy is also on this particular birthday. As I have written about in the past, I suffered a miscarriage when I was 22, and truly thought I was incapable of having children since then. It was one of the hardest experiences of my life, and something I have never been able to forget. <br />
When I found out that I was pregnant a few months ago, I felt no joy. I didn't feel unhappy, but joy was not the first thing on my mind. I felt apprehension, anxiety, fear, and selfishness, because my life was inevitably going to change for good, AGAIN, one way or another. I was just becoming settled into this new life of freedom and security here, and this was a big blow. <br />
After we announced to family and very close friends, a new wave of feelings swept through me. The feelings of not wanting this child, and then immediately following, the realization that I was actually just feeling deep fear of another miscarriage... as I was still only 5 weeks along. I wept for days before I began to work through those feelings, and practiced trust in God and in nature. It truly was only after the last two weeks that I have been able to let go, trust completely and feel joy about this child... something I'm grateful to finally be feeling. <br />
Throughout the last two months that I have known of this pregnancy and been preparing for a child, I have felt no excitement about announcing it publicly. I know how much pain this can cause for many, many women, and I know how much pain it caused me for years to hear about new pregnancies and see constant posts that were completely bereft of sensitivity to the experiences of other women. <br />
To those of you who have experienced a loss of fertility, or the loss of children at any age, or any other test of female strength, I want you to know that I love you with all of my heart. I need you to know that I still feel your pain, and I will never forget how to cry with you. I will never forget how to listen to you, and hold you when you need to be held. I will pray with you, and I will faithfully remember that I am in your family- the family of women who have survived the loss of the thing we hold most dear. For women who have never experienced this, and for the men in our lives, it can be very hard to understand what it feels like to have life ripped out of you- the life you loved and hoped for. I vow to never forget you, our children, and the years of pain we survived to make it through to the other side. <br />
This child inside of me is no longer a burden... he or she has become a reminder of the children lost and the mothers who weep for them. It has become a reminder that life goes on and beautiful mothers are made in many ways. I think often of the incredible adoptive mothers in my life, the women who love any child who needs to be loved, and who give everything they have to love them. I think of women who want children but have yet to conceive and doubt their bodies, and I think daily of the women who have lost their babies. To all of you, I need you to know that if my posts, pictures or words ever hurt you, I want to know. Please, tell me, express your hurt, and I promise to listen. I may sometimes lose my way in this pregnancy, but I promise that my heart is always with you. Please know you can always come to me, even if you just want to talk about your own loss. I will always be here to listen to you. I am still one of you, and always will be. There has not been one day in this experience that I have not remembered the child I lost, and the women who have suffered the same.<br />
As I take this giant leap into the second trimester as I turn 31, I feel a new season emerge, and I ask you to walk into it with me. I cannot do this alone, and your experiences as mothers are valued more than you could ever know. I ask for your blessings and your love, and I ask to partake in your strength. Finally, I ask that you keep me accountable. If I am ever insensitive... speak up and tell me how I've failed you. You will always be my sisters, and I will always stand beside you. This is my love letter to you, and as I step into the light and announce my pregnancy publicly, I hope you can stand beside me too. I need you more than you could ever know. <br />
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<br />Meghan Thttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10637046233218748669noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5270361435043579189.post-33082503776113330822015-02-01T13:59:00.001-08:002015-02-01T14:06:49.784-08:00The big 3-0.The worst year of my life is now over. 29. It was intense. It began as I prepared for the last 4 months with my Mother. She was diagnosed 2 months after my wedding day, and she would pass on and out of my life the day after my 2nd anniversary. Just as every birthday before it, she sang happy birthday, only this time with a muffled voice due to her lack of breath, and she ended with "and many more" as she always had. I knew it was probably the last time, and just like the 28th birthday before it, I savored every moment of that song and held back tears of pain.<br />
That would be the last time I would hear her sing Happy Birthday to me. That would be the last time I told her what my birthday plans would be, and share my cake with her. That would be the last year I would have with my Mom. An extraordinarily painful time was coming to a close. 29 was tough. 29 was the year I would bury my Mother. It was the year I would lose all of but two members of my family due to dishonesty, backbiting and horrible gossip. It would be the year I struggled with my marriage due to grief, pain and loss of a huge part of myself. It would be the year I questioned everything I live for, everything I had and everything I've done. It was hard, in every way. <br />
However, it was also the year I would find out what I was really made of. It would be the year I built my marriage up out of it's darkest times to date. It would be the year I rid my life of toxic people, and it would shine bright with clarity after the the toxic were thrown out and the very few devoted friends and family remained. It would be the year I found my first horse, and also found my second, truly a 30 year old dream come true! It would be the year I became a Doula, and had the priceless opportunity to serve 4 beautiful women, and help 4 babies to be born into this world, including one of my best friends in the world. This was an incredible gift, and something I'm immeasurably proud of. It would be the year my husband and I reached the point of desperation in our personal lives and our marriage, and burst out of the Illinois rubble, moved to our new home, and began to rebuild all that we had lost after we moved to tend to my Mom and family. It would be the year I realized that my family was bullshit. That family is who you choose it to be, and has nothing to do with blood relation. It was hard, but letting go of the trust that a blood relation means anything was one of the most liberating things I have ever done for myself. If you are lucky enough to have blood related family members that also genuinely love and stand by you- thank them every day. I was not blessed with the same in my extended family. However my father and sister are incredible, and I love them more every day. I'm blessed to have a stronger bond than ever with both of them now that we've lost our most loved one together. <br />
It can be hard to say goodbye to an age, a year or a season- even if it was a very hard one to live through. 29 was easily the worst year of my life, for many reasons, but somehow I still grieved for the last day of it yesterday. <br />
But as I awoke today, with my dogs snuggled up on me, my husband holding my hand, warm in our bed in our lovely home in a beautiful state with natural beauty surrounding us, and my horses outside... I just thought one thing. Thank you. Thank you, 29 for being so hard and for testing my limits of mental survival. I'm grateful for the loss, for the pain, for the tears, and for the months I screamed and begged God for answers... I'm grateful because as that year came to a close, it was so simple to see how good my life was after it all and in that moment. The release of that year gave way to so much gratitude, and joy- I believe that is what life is all about. Pain in 100% necessary, because without it, how can you fully appreciate the moments without it? I'm not known as the most happy or positive person, but I can tell you, the joy I have each day, knowing I am far from the toxicity of Illinois and the majority of the people in it, and the joy in knowing that so much pain is behind me, is overwhelming. And the appreciation I have now for every blessing I have, and I have many, is like nothing I have ever experienced. Life is so good, if you let it be, but that goodness is amplified 1000 times after the pain. I am so glad I said goodbye to 2014, and 29... it's a bight new day, and although I could lose everything else tomorrow, today I have more than I could ask for. And it's beautiful. Hello 30. Meghan Thttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10637046233218748669noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5270361435043579189.post-26206035697577261922014-09-29T14:58:00.001-07:002014-09-29T14:58:01.716-07:00I'm sorry it's been a while.I apologize to you, blog, and dear reader, if there are any. I apologize that my creativity and passion has checked out for some time. I apologize for my crazy life and for my being so sad. I didn't mean to leave so abruptly...<br />
More than that, after looking at my other blog posts, I realize how off topic I had become. This blog was supposed to be about marriage, uniqueness and life's honest issues. So, without any further ado- here we go again. I'll try to stay on topic, and I hope you won't be disappointed.<br />
So, dear reader, stick with me as I sum up the last several months. Then we'll get to the good stuff. <br />
The last we spoke, I was bitching about Christians. My Mother was still alive, and I was still deluding myself into thinking that I knew what I wanted in life. Well, this is the update. May 27, 2014, the day after my two year anniversary, my Mother passed away. I had been in NJ for several days for my nephew's briss, and I was anxious to get home to see my Mother, since she was near the end of her fight against ALS. We thought it would be a few weeks, but the day after we returned, two hours before I was due to see her, she passed away. I do not have words to describe the pain of this. <br />
Along with the pain came a strange relief. It wasn't the relief most people talk about feeling- the "thank goodness I have my life back and I don't have to take care of a dying person anymore". My Mother was the one person, ever, that I have been afraid of disappointing. I was always afraid of disappointing my Mother until the day she died. Well as she passed, so did that fear. I suddenly felt free to live my life the way I wanted to. <br />
Her funeral was a few days later, and due to the fact that a few weeks earlier, some members of my family had launched an all out attack on me, it was an incredibly awkward time. I successfully mourned my Mother will all I had in me, and shortly after the funeral was over, I began to feel healing. My amazing husband took such good care of myself and my family, and I don't know how I would have made it through without him. He helped us stay focused, stay as close as we could and helped us to begin to heal. He was a saint. <br />
I continued to mourn and heal in my own way, and I continued to try to keep my wits about me. However, I started to feel a shift. A shift that was slightly uncomfortable. That was the shift of feeling that my marriage was not where it needed to be. It started small, and I thought it was just simple grief. I thought that perhaps I was confused, or that I was bored. We began to fight, or just have squabbles. It was more than I was comfortable with and it made me feel like a horribly unsuccessful wife. I began to feel my husband's discontent and it was clear he was running out of patience with the situation. To be clear, we have always been best friends, so we did talk about things and we were honest and clear with one another. However, the question lingered- were we happy together? Was this working? As much as we had made it through together... it seemed that we both felt something was missing. <br />
We mutually decided to take separate trips. I decided to go to Italy for two weeks and he would go to Glacier National Park to backpack for a week, much to the dismay of most of the people in our lives, especially married people. We both needed to find ourselves again, as it seemed we had perhaps lost sight of who we were throughout the last two years of marriage and severe grief. I can wholeheartedly say that I do believe a part of ones self is sacrificed in marriage, and it can be lost forever if you do not hold it close, and protect it. For me, this was my sexuality, and my love for life and myself. I'm not sure why marriage affected me this way, but it did... absolutely. <br />
So, off I went to Italy. As soon as I arrived I felt that familiar wave of passion and love for life and self that I used to know so well. I felt the bliss and joy that comes from independence, and freedom to act however one feels is true to them. Over the two weeks I met amazing people, and I met new parts of myself. I fell back in love with who I am, and feared returning to the life I had created. I had experiences I'll never forget, and I realized that my sexuality requires freedom to continue to live. <br />
My husband's experience is for him to discuss, but through his trip he learned that he did like me (which seems like it should be a given, but if more married people are honest with others, they might say this is not always clear), and he wanted to be with me. <br />
I can honestly say that although I always loved and will always love him, and I do sincerely like him, I did not know how to feel about my marriage. There had been SO, SO much grief, and so many troubles, and we had just been clinging to survival. Illinois was a problem for us, and our life together, basically since month 2 of marriage, had been nothing but grief and hardships solely due to outside forces. <br />
I also found that the loss I experienced, that loss of the most beloved person in my life- led me to feel a deep and undeniable disassociation from society and the people in my life. Even today, 4 months later, I struggle to feel connected at all, even to those who I love more than anyone alive. I experienced the worst thing, besides losing a child, that one can experience- and I don't fear anything anymore. That is, I don't fear anything except for living the rest of my life unhappily. Let's jump back to the fear of disappointing my mother. As she passed, and I had new experiences, I realized that I had so feared disappointing her with a divorce, or with sexual choices I might make. Those were the big doozies of disappointments for her. I'm sure many of you can understand this part. <br />
Now I wonder: Am I a decent person? Am I a good wife? Am I able to love one man for the rest of my life? Am I able to remain sexually monogamous? More than anything, am I content? Am I capable of maintaining contentment in my current life situation? I have lost SO much of myself through the years, and although I don't know the answers to any of the questions, I do know one thing is true. <br />
The life I have been told would make me happy since I was a little girl, the life I was told was "right" and "would be a blessing" has meant nothing but emptiness and confusion. It has been the opposite of what is true for me. It has set into motion a slow death of my wild spirit, and I only felt life again once I left this life for a time. As soon as I returned I felt the slow death again, and I wonder, why have I been lied to? Why has every choice I've made along lines of a traditional lifestyle only meant pain for me? Why is my husband discontent as well? Why are we left wanting when all we tried to do was live the life we were taught was right to live? <br />
So now, with the absence of fear, and with these new questions and concerns, I find myself at a point of change in life. We don't know what this means for us personally or for our marriage, and we don't know what the next few years will look like for us. We know we love one another, we know we love ourselves, and we know that we need not fear disappointing anyone any more. We have the freedom to make our own decisions for our marriage- and so does everyone else. I never knew this before, but I know it now. I pass this good news onto you, whoever you are, if you're struggling with not being able to live a life you feel is true for you, for whatever reason. I hope you don't have to learn this lesson the way that I did, but I hope you soon feel the freedom I do. It's the first time of clarity I have felt in a long, long time. <br />
<br />Meghan Thttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10637046233218748669noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5270361435043579189.post-45365485053706238642013-05-08T16:51:00.002-07:002013-05-08T16:51:50.454-07:00The Greatest GiftOne day, we received a new and strange visitor... well, three in fact. Three young men, around 18-20 years of age knocked on our door, and we welcomed them in. They happened to be Mormon missionaries, and my husband, being the open minded person that he is, was very interested in speaking with them about their faith. Now, we were not planning on accepting the Mormon faith, but we love meeting new and different people, and they certainly were exactly that!<br />
Over the next hour or two, we questioned, inquired and discussed and when they were preparing to leave, I mentioned that I was very interested in speaking to an educated Mormon woman about women's issues in the Mormon church. I have a basic background knowledge of Mormonism after being a pretty huge fan of Big Love, so I'm proud to say, I knew the questions to ask. They told me they'd look into it, and I figured my request would be forgotten as soon as it was asked, and did not think they took me seriously.<br />
Well, after a second visit to discuss with Michael and I, they told me they believed they had found the perfect woman to bring to the next gathering. I was instantly excited about this, and we planned on a dinner at our house to discuss the questions that were plaguing me about their faith and church system.<br />
So the evening of the dinner came, and I had devoted my day to creating the perfect scenario for the dinner so that these new strangers would be as comfortable as possible. When they arrived, we went to answer the door, and I can confidently say that as soon as this woman and I met, it was basically a 'love at first sight' friendship. I haven't connected that quickly with anyone in years, and we quickly jumped into relatively deep conversation that would take most people many meetings to become comfortable with. (Anyone who knows me even just a little knows that I love putting it all out on the table immediately, so if I ever find someone who will do the same, it is VERY refreshing.) I quickly realized that this woman was one of the strongest women I'd had the honor of meeting, and whose faith and marriage was the kind of strength that I dream of building for myself. We had so much in common as people, that our difference in faith really faded into the background, and in fact when we did discuss it, I found it to be different and beautiful- and something that I valued in her!<br />
We have since then found even more that we connected about, and I can say confidently that I think I have found a new friend for life, which I know is so rare today. This new friendship, so open, honest and deep, was built upon differences, openness, understanding and the absence of fear and bigotry. It is a connection of acceptance, and has opened my eyes to the strangeness of religious pride, and fear of the unknown. I have known mainly only Christians in my lifetime, and I have a real bad taste in my mouth from my history with them. I know that this in itself is a form of bigotry, and I am working daily to re-evaluate my thoughts on it. <br />
It does seem, however, that most people of any faith mainly enjoy being around people who are so much like them, that so many have a real fear of those that do not believe what they believe. I have been called out and shamed for having a difference in belief from fellow Christians so many times that, at this point, I have stopped telling people I am a Christian. I just do not want to be thought of as a part of that group, due to my personal experiences of them, and the experiences of others as well. <br />
My fascination and love for difference has opened my eyes to the absolutely strange and curious issue of religious hate, war and crime... why do these issues live on, just because of a difference in faith or lifestyle? It is a story as old as time: People fighting and dying for their faith, and inflicting pain or abuse on others for simply being different. The story, although time tested, is empty, and without reason, and I do believe that the key to 'peace on earth' is not God, but people... if we would all drop our mission to speak out against other beliefs and to open our minds to the beauty of what others hold dear, we may find a true, deep and profound joy in life that is based on truly loving people, and what they believe, no matter how different they may be from us. There is nothing to fear in any other faiths, no matter what our government or church may tell us, and religious intolerance and animosity are the enemies of understanding and peace. We have got to start speaking out when someone mutters about "Muslim bombings", or when someone may talk about a "Mormon or Jehovah's witness being in a cult"... this sort of speak breeds fear, intolerance and ignorance, and although I do believe some people in certain faiths may act in unhealthy ways, that is just people- it has nothing to do with their faith.<br />
Get to know any person behind any faith, and if you really listen to their experiences, truths and humanity, they may just sweep you off your feet. It happened to me, and now I would never wish for a life without her! I'll never pretend to understand why someone would only want people around them who believe what the believe, who think what they think, and who rarely challenge them to grow and see things differently. Especially concerning Christians: this is not what Jesus taught, and it's certainly not how He lived... let's begin welcoming change and evolution of faith that will bring us closer to everyone around us. I believe that the title of this post applies to one simple fact: The Greatest Gift God has given us is our differences, and the growth and beauty that can come from accepting and loving those differences is extraordinary. If you can grasp this concept, I do believe you will find not only some fantastic new friends, but a new love for the things that throughout time have caused war and hate... and this is simply a miracle. One step for our personal happiness, and one giant leap for the peace of mankind.<br />
<br />Meghan Thttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10637046233218748669noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5270361435043579189.post-22411436293193087492012-12-12T16:03:00.000-08:002014-09-29T13:39:01.714-07:00To be, or not to be... (who you really are)I ponder "identity" fairly often. I think about my own identity, what it means to me, and what it may mean to other people in my life. What is it that distinguishes me, and who am I at my core? As for myself, and anyone who knows me well knows this is true... I am who I am, and I will not change to please anyone or put forward a facade. My identity is truth, and reality, and the understanding that no amount of dishonesty about who someone is will make them anything but what they really are. <br />
What does this mean to someone of faith? I hear all the time, "my identity is in Christ", but I think that's a cop out. Even Christ had an identity, and it was different than His Father's. I have always been intrigued by the world of "religion" or even "society" and the amount of people who put on a shiny smile and act like everything is perfect in their lives. No matter who you are, and no matter what is going on in your life- you know struggle and pain is real, but somehow some people can never manage to open their mouths and tell the truth when someone asks, "how are you?" <br />
So, how are you? No, really... how are YOU? Are you really doing okay when you are struggling with being a single parent or a parent of 2+ kids? Are you really doing okay when you're losing or have lost a loved one? Are you really doing okay when you and your spouse are struggling with your marriage or haven't had success in intimacy? Are you really doing okay when you're just an average person with average life issues? I try everyday to hold to my own identity and have genuine concern and understanding for those who would answer "no" to those questions. I am no better than those people and when life is good for me, I know it's only a matter of time before hard times come again, and when that happens- I'll be honest about it with those who ask.<br />
The same goes for WHO you are. Are you free to live an honest life in your community, or are you just living the life that is expected of you? God gave each of us a specific and very individual personality and identity... so why do you all act the same? The hard truth is that not everyone will like who you are, but isn't that wonderful?! If you are true to yourself, and free to express that openly, you will surely find that the people who do not truly accept you will just fade away. The beautiful thing is that when you can achieve true love for who you are, and can live that freely, those left in your life will be people who will completely love, support and value you for everything that you are. <br />
I was blessed enough to find a partner in life who does know exactly who I am and loves me, flaws and all, but I also have a number non-marital soul mates who help me to keep my belief that people can love each other without judgement or harsh expectation. The truly frightening thought is that after 10+ years in the Church and involvement with the Christian community, I have walked away with an unbiased understanding of the facade that is put forth everyday by so many of those who are an integral part of the church. The discouragement of being who you really are, if it does not fit the mold for the "good Christian person" is simply wrong and the opposite of who Christ is. True peace, which all Christians say they have, is found in living an honest life that is expressive of who God created you to be- not just playing the part of the perfect Christian husband, wife, son, daughter, pastor, teacher, or believer! So I want to encourage you, reader, to live YOUR life, and to act like the incredible, unique and wondrous individual that God created you to be. Be prepared to leave those behind who will not accept you for being different, and likewise, prepare just the same for the tremendous blessings that you will find when you love who you are, and expose the world to your true identity. To be or not to be (who you really are)... I think the answer is clear.. <br />
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<br />Meghan Thttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10637046233218748669noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5270361435043579189.post-57137036697785165412012-09-18T11:43:00.005-07:002012-09-18T11:44:00.742-07:00The Lost Child and the Weeping MotherI recently came upon a blog post written by a friend of mine. The gist was whether or not it is sensitive, or even good to express publicly or loudly, your joy of being pregnant. The concern, I believe we should all feel, to be sensitive to the issues of women in the context of motherhood is not only "nice" but it is absolutely necessary. <br />
As soon as I log onto Facebook, I am bombarded by large bellies with happy looking women attached to them. They hold their tummies, and gaze with a happy, dreamy look on their faces... and every so often there's a nice big picture of their ultrasound as well. Now, there are plenty of reasons to do this very thing (which I'm sure any pregnant woman reading this has done). I can understand, the joy you must be feeling and the overwhelming urge to tell everyone you know, or don't know, about it. Especially if you are married, the wave of "Congratulations!" is instantly sent to you, and you must feel so good. With every post, you get another wave of well wishes, congrats and prayers. This is a "good thing" I believe, but the question is, should it be public? <br />
An experience of miscarriage, stillbirth or infertility is by far, <u>one of</u> the most painful experiences in a woman's life. This is not a theory, this is fact. We were created to bear children, and a strong desire, or even need to do so has been planted in each of us, whether in a small dose or very large. If for some reason, we are incapable of this, or have lost a child, that need or desire does not go away. I speak from personal experience, as I lost my child years back to miscarriage after 2.5 months of pregnancy. I remember the instant overwhelming and dizzying joy of the news, and I still clearly remember that first day of singing to, dreaming of and talking to my tiny, unborn dear about how much I loved him or her. To any inexperienced onlooker, I was just "pregnant" with no signs of a child inside of me, and it really doesn't strike many people to consider the emotional bond that is formed upon the immediate realization of a child being inside of you. From that very moment on, I was a mother. <br />
I also clearly remember the day I lost my child, and how much I died inside. I remember the pain that knocked me to my knees of something being torn out of me. It happened like a tidal wave, and instantly, everything had changed. In the bathroom, I discovered, I was no longer pregnant and held my child in my hands as I fell apart inside. I buried my child that day, and wept with everything I was. <br />
I was not the same woman for a long time. A part of me had died, and to this day, I remember my child and every moment I had him or her with me. I don't remember a "fetus", and I don't remember a problem... I remember my baby. <br />
I am now married to a wonderful man who helps me to look forward to our own children, and who in his love has helped to heal that hole inside of me that the death of my baby left. In this conservative world, in which I live, a pregnancy in marriage is far more accepted, congratulated and even valued than one that is out of wedlock. I know that if my husband and I are blessed with our own natural born children, then that will be wonderful- and if we aren't blessed with that, then we will be adopting children who have no other hope for a home (and sometimes that gives my heart more joy to dream about than my natural children). <br />
If you are sitting there, reading this, with your own children around you, or one in your belly, I ask you to consider yourself an equal to any woman who has lost her child. Consider yourself, not "blessed" but part of a community of women. If you are in fact, a part of that community, do you really want to ignore the pain that surrounds so many women's experiences of their own pregnancy? Understanding and empathizing with the pain of another, should not at all decrease your own joy... so why turn a blind eye and remain ignorant and uncaring to the struggles of others?<br />
When I tell someone about losing my child, on many occasions, they furrow their brows and say "Oh, I'm so sorry." Then without hesitating, they shift uncomfortably and change the topic. As much as pregnancy and childbirth are just a part of life- so is the loss that so many women experience. <br />
On the topic of it being publicized- I have one question. Is it any personal accomplishment to become pregnant? Is it or is it not something that many many many people, including irresponsible adolescents, can make happen? Just a thought... your pregnancy is not special to anyone outside your intimate circle. Something I have learned in wedding planning: Your joyful time is never as important to anyone else as it is to you. In fact, very few people genuinely care. It it just a part of life, and although special to you, may bring intense pain to someone else, so is it 100% necessary to publicize? I waited a long time to marry my husband, and all the bragging posts about engagements after months of dating were not only a joke to me, but incredibly painful. Even though I am married now, the pain has not gone away now that all I see are pregnant women. It is only in the recent four decades that pregnancy is public and openly discussed, and I find it fascinating that now pregnancy is as outspoken as it is... this is very new and relatively nonsensical. Is it possible that we may be using social networking to the detriment of women dealing with heartache around us? In closing, all I ask is that if you are in the midst of your own joyful times, please consider the loss that so many people/women are experiencing but not able to express so openly. Your growing belly is wonderful for you, and also a dagger through so many weeping hearts. We want to sing and dance with you about your baby, but we also ask for understanding. That is what the community of women should be about. We should hold hands and dance together when a child is born, and also hold each other and weep together when a child is lost. In the memory of so many children who have died and the mothers who have buried them- freely celebrate your own joy but please remember what memories and losses may be reawakened every time you post it publicly. <br />
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<br />Meghan Thttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10637046233218748669noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5270361435043579189.post-16050186284085164982012-08-27T06:40:00.000-07:002012-08-27T06:40:00.580-07:00Grief in MarriageI have been married almost 3 months, and my husband and I are working through our first time of grief. I received notice that my Mother has been diagnosed with ALS, and is expected to be immobilized in a matter of years. Upon hearing this news, I completely fell apart into my husbands arms. My mother and I have had troubled early years and have worked through some very emotional times, but she is and will forever be a huge inspiration to me and a light in my life. It took over a month of dealing with this news and working it out in my brain, and I am only now functioning again like an active and productive wife. I had a moment of discouragement today as I realized that as soon as I had begun to heal, my husband had to have a moment for himself to deal with his own pain. I had needed so much love, support and encouragement that he had to be so strong for me that he could not manage to feel his own grief until I was finished. <br />
In a moment of quiet in my home, I sat down to do a "devo" and opened the book of Job. I know this story well, as most "Christians" do, but today it rang so true in my heart and I knew how weak I had been for my husband, my Mother and my home. Obviously, yes, grieving is important and understood... but then there is also a time for strength, trust and hope. My mother has incredible faith and "knows where she is going" as she said when she told us the news. This, of course, did not soothe me in my own personal feeling of pain and loss. However, even though the grieving process is different for everyone, I know that my time is limited and I have to be strong. It may hurt, but I have always had pride in my ability to withstand the emotional pains in life, and trust God through all things. So this is that time- the time to trust, to stand with faith for my mother and my family and KNOW that God is there with us. <br />
To be honest, I am not writing this to say anything except for that I know now that I desperately needed to move past my own feelings and trials. I am part of a team, and even if the world falls down around me, I need to tend to my husband and household first. Of course I will grieve throughout this painful process and even more one day when I lose my mother, but this sadness cannot overcome my marital duties. From physical love to dusting the house- I am a wife, and need to take care of my family first and without fail. The lesson of my selfishness in sadness is an interesting one to learn so early in marriage, and definitely not something that would have hit home as a single girl. When no one is counting on you, it's easy to wallow. However, I know now that no matter what, God wants me to remain strong, and defiant against weakness in loss for the betterment of my home, family and in the end, the world. I must continue to be a constant support and provider for my husband's personal needs because we, as wives, are a crucial ingredient in our husband's success in all things- including taking care of us. <br />
In all of this, the pain has not gone away, but priorities have changed... and I am constantly amazed by the trials of life and how they are used for the ever evolving happenings of this earth and God's plan for it. It's so much bigger than my pain. I am but a speck in the universe.Meghan Thttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10637046233218748669noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5270361435043579189.post-32919841180330744412012-07-08T14:00:00.003-07:002012-07-08T14:53:25.501-07:00"We'll see how long that lasts"I have been married to my husband for almost a month and a half, and life is blissful. Now, I am fully aware that we are newlyweds and to feel infatuated with one another is natural and healthy... and most, if not all couples feel it for the first year or so of marriage. I am also aware that the expectation of the first year of marriage is that it's hard- riddled with arguments about the toilet seat or laundry being put in the wrong place. I have heard women complain about everything from eating habits to the toothpaste being an issue, and quite frankly when I hear someone tell me that the first month of marriage is challenging- I can't help but laugh now. I know that a month and a half isn't a long time, but I am saying... so far, I don't know why you ladies complain so early! My husband surely is not the most clean nor organized person in the world, and the fact that he slurps almost 80% of what he eats, no matter what it is, certainly is not pleasant. <br />
Now, the point of this post is not to blather on about how happy I am with being married... but the point is to advise anyone who has said the words in this title about or to a newlywed couple to shut the <beep> up. Let me explain. When someone asks me the common question of "how's married life?"- I am starting to believe they may just want to hear me bitch and moan rather than exclaim with joy. The reason for this being that when I respond to this inquiry with "Wow- life is awesome, and marriage couldn't be more wonderful for us. I love cooking every meal for him, and seeing him every single night- we do everything together and I love him more now than the day we got married!" The response has been on several occasions..."Hm, well we'll see how long that lasts." This has come from family, friends and Christians, so their negativity absolutely baffles me and leaves me wondering- would you rather I respond with "egh, it sucks and we're so unhappy"? Do you wish we didn't get married? Do you hope we don't work out? That's the only thing I can come away with if you respond in this manner. <br />
Again, let me state- I AM AWARE that the newlywed glow wears off. However, since I hold myself to my own personal standards of Stepford wife behavior- I will continue to live my daily life in sincere devotion to my husband, and my household. Marriage is a commitment, and I understand that it does not matter if I don't want to clean the dishes, and it does not matter if I merely don't want to have sex- it is necessary for the good of the relationship to uphold my own personal responsibilities in this marriage. I will get up with my husband every morning, and make him breakfast. I will make sure he is provided with food for his day at work, and I tell him every morning before he leaves that I love him and he's the most important thing in my life. Then I will make dinner for us, every night, and make sure he is relaxed with a drink of choice in hand. I will make love to my husband as often as possible and always hold close the understanding I have and teach- that a man's sexuality is closely tied to his relationship with his wife and the best way to make a man feel like a man is to physically rock his world. I certainly do not do these things for any reason except for the health and joy of my marriage. Therefore, I will continue without fail to live life in this way because it was a vow, and a promise, and it does not matter if I "feel like it".<br />
The newlywed glow will not affect the amount of devotion I show to my husband, so I surely do not understand why these people think it will "wear off"? With divorce being such an overwhelming inevitability for 50% of marriages today, my advice to anyone who says they believe in a Christian marriage is: Stop the negativity, have faith in love, and instead of responding with this statement, be prepared to encourage and support, and possibly even learn a few lessons from said couple. <br />
Simply put, if you are not prepared to share in the joy- do us a favor and do not inquire at all.Meghan Thttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10637046233218748669noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5270361435043579189.post-23035509306493654652012-07-06T12:13:00.002-07:002012-07-06T16:52:31.978-07:00The First Post: The WriterI have never blogged before. I have never considered any of my experiences worthy of a blog to make them public. Quite frankly, I am considered by all who know me to be a very outspoken, blunt woman, who freely states what is on her mind. I am not particularly considerate if people are offended by me, and I consistently and brazenly stand for what I believe is correct, and right. <br />
My life has been freely lived, with no regrets and nothing to hold me back. My experiences overwhelm me when I look back at them, and somehow at age 27, I feel ready to die. This is not to say that I WANT to die... on the contrary, I love life. This is only to say, that at a "young age", I have experienced all that I had on my "bucket list", if you will. I have been told, "Your life is like a movie!" and "You need to write a book" when people hear of the life I've lived. So why, with this notoriously exciting life, am I only starting a blog now? <br />
On May 26th, 2012, I married my husband. A little over one month into marriage, I now realize how little I know, and how many more experiences are to come. So much about my relationship has changed everything in my life, and so much about me. The only things that have not changed are my sexuality, my passion, and my honesty. <br />
For this reason, I stick out like a sore thumb in my community- that being, the traditional christian community. I am talking about the place where sex is a taboo subject, where people act <u>much</u> differently than they think, and the only thing that matters in life is getting married. I, on the other hand, will happily talk about sex with an open mind and welcome all thoughts and questions. You will NEVER not know how I feel about you, because I will tell you to your face. Not to mention, I certainly believe there are countless things that mean more than just being married. This obviously is not the case for the rest of this community, where it is encouraged for a girl especially to be married at any age, just as long as it's before they fall into sin with each other. Please forgive my personal frustrations with organized religion and the posers that surround me- and bear with me in future posts where this may be expressed further.<br />
This blog is intended to reach women of all kinds, with a healthy dose of bluntness. I wish you to know, there is a woman here who wants to talk honestly about everything from being a woman, to a wife and eventually, a mother. It's rare that I see wives really talk about anything beside the niceties, and life is full of shit- so why are we not consoling each other through it? Instead it is pushed under the rug, and a smile is slapped on our face. No more. I am putting it out into the open. If you find offense with this, I hope to high heaven you don't read further posts.<br />
In Conclusion: I have named this blog SurlyStepford because as a wife, I hold closely to the 50's standards of women. I believe my personal job is to tend to my man, and my household. I am an accomplished woman, with a full array of life experiences under my belt, a healthy social life, and a company that I founded two years ago and currently run. However, now that I am a wife, my first priority is my husband's happiness and the second is a clean house. As for sexuality, my body belongs to my husband and sex is never taboo. I will always grow in my sexual knowledge and the word "no" is not to be said to him. <br />
On the flip side, I have not lost my Surly manner of thinking and speaking... therefore- SurlyStepford is meant to be a candid, open and honest expression of the joy and pain in marriage and womanhood. Do not expect Christian judgement, sugar-coating, or editing of any kind. I am here to speak my personal truth and experience, and hope very much someone will find comfort through it. That is all I ever wanted.Meghan Thttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10637046233218748669noreply@blogger.com0