I've been swimming in moody waters this past week. Some really mystical and alluring and goosebumpy...and some very languid and dark and mucky. My clear and confused thoughts and feelings ebbing and flowing...feeling pulled by the wolf moon that shined so brightly down on us. I have often been closely connected to the moon. My monthly cycle, when I am taking gentle care of my body and what I put into it, moves in sync with the moon's phases. When the moon was full, I sat out on our veranda and had to drink her in. She felt like an old, wise friend...a guide, so gentle and knowing. Everything felt so obvious for a moment, so clear under her magnetism. It made me realize how much more centered I am when I am open and connected to nature.
This has inspired a few heart soaked talks with my husband about what it is about nature that makes our hearts sing and our bodies stretch further and spirits feel at peace. We've been talking about how much we ache to leave this city and the many freeways and find our country. Root our home where there is forest and sea and miles of trails for Cedar to explore. Right now he only knows short trips to the park and busy beaches. I desire for him to lay on grass at night and count the stars and feel sheltered by tall trees. To nurture his imagination and dance with faeries and gnomes, which we always joke are "his people". We are feeling a pull to move on and because of this, I am finding it very difficult to stay present. There is a battle within to pray for and manifest and dream up such a place for us but also to stay ever grateful for where we are and what is surrounding us. I can be so hard on myself when I am in an impatient place. I feel impatient with my impatience.
And then there was the other night. I was exhausted and immobile and found myself curled up on the couch watching an episode of Private Practice while Cedar was taking his late afternoon nap. It just so happened on this episode there was a woman giving birth, naturally...drawing all her strength from within herself to work through the pain. When the baby surfaced, I found myself sobbing. Oh man, it brought up so much raw emotion for me. You know...some people have been brave enough to ask me where I am at with all of that since I adopted Cedar and for years wanted to be pregnant and give birth. Since Cedar was born, my answer was always that I feel such a healing has taken place. That I no longer have that desire to be pregnant in that it is the only way I can imagine finding my child. I learned otherwise, feeling so very connected, instantly...with Cedar, that there are other ways to build your family. So, my primal reaction to watching this woman give birth took me by surprise. So many old wounds were torn open and they stung so deep. It made me wonder if that wound would ever fully heal. It left me feeling tender. It has been almost a week since watching that show and I still feel freshly peeled and vulnerable with it all. It is not that I am currently desiring to be pregnant or even have another child. My thoughts are so full of other blessings and life transitions. Its just that ache of perhaps never knowing what it may be like to watch my belly swell and feel a baby dancing in my womb. That I may never know what it feels like to have to take deep breaths through contractions and hold my husband's hand and find that warrior woman within and push through the pain and feel a baby move through my uterus, into my arms, soaked in my flesh and blood. It is something I have to grieve when these deep aches get triggered. I need to allow these emotions to move through me without judgment or fear or impatience and nurture them with only gentleness and forgiveness.
But I have to tell you what happened once that episode was over. I heard Cedar crying, waking up from his nap and I couldn't wait to scoop him and hold him and when I did, he melted into me. Lately when he wakes up from his naps and drinks his bottle, he wants to play immediately. He is giggly and sprite and earnest. But this time he didn't even want his bottle. He wanted to lay on my chest and so I sat down with him in our huge cushy chair and we held one another for a while. He would look up at me with his sparkly eyes and then nuzzle back again into my neck. It was as if he knew I was aching and he wanted to remind me that even though he didn't grow in my womb, he has known me long before. He waited patiently until he was fully grown in my heart, before he came into our world. He reminded me that my long journey to him was like gestation and birth, constantly contracting and breathing and connecting to that warrior woman within, holding my husband's hand and never giving up until we found our child. This all came to my mind when holding him and it has been a constant comfort the days following.
I suppose I have never lived my life in a conventional way and with that, there can be pain and grief but oh the blessings on the other side. I honor all the ways we find our children and I honor all the ways we grieve the path that once was and is no longer.
Moody waters are so hard but they add poetry to my life.