baby Otto

Baby Luna

The weeks after you died I would wake up so lonely. A scared, homesick kind of lonely, clutching my belly, in a panic, like I'd misplaced you, where did you go?

After being in my belly so big, taking up so much of me, of my body and my heart and mind, it was a shock to have you gone from there, and gone from the room, gone from the house, from everywhere.

Wake up crying and confused, so lonely.

And now I get to lay on the bed on a sunny winter afternoon with my baby girl at my belly. Baby gone from my belly but just outside of it, warming me, right where she should be, both of us needing the other, doing our job for the other. Some call the first 3 months of the baby's life the 4th trimester, and it feels that way. We are still so connected after those long months of love through the cord, sharing heartbeats and breaths, my body still needs to feel her close, needs to mother her.

When we decided to be open to conceiving again I was surprised by a deep new sadness that came, of letting go of my baby Otto as my one and only, of that pure love, giving that to another baby, it was hard for my heart. We waited a little longer to honor those tears, to keep him as my child a little longer, to feel the fullness of only him.

But my body yearned for this mothering, for this 4th trimester and then years and years of care and love. And so came Luna, our rising moon, to carry on the love born with Otto and yet shaped just for her, just for her dear life, her coming.

And I still wish I could do that for my sweet Otto, and part of me still wants him to come back in some bending of the rules of nature. But I have now such a healing little bundle at my belly, lying and sleeping and making the best baby sounds. How a body can conceive so quickly after one pregnancy, after a deep tearing sadness, is to complete the love it was made for. I am an animal, a mama, who needs to mother, and my womb is so happy now, as it goes back down to it's smaller shape, its job done, and now sending love to this baby from the inside out, a job just as important as growing the baby.

She sends it to Otto too, up there in the stars, the Venus I still say hello to as day shifts to night.

In Good Hope

When Josef's (my stepdad) sister and husband came to visit from Switzerland this summer they told us that a phrase there for expecting a child is translated as "in good hope."

I thought this was perfect. Because there are no guarantees, but you're staying in the goodness of hope, knowing the fragility of this little one's life, of life in general.

I can't believe that now she's here! It kept hitting me last night, looking down at her sleeping on my lap after nursing. This is my daughter! This baby is mine! I get to be her mommy, the one who feeds her, the mommy who will comfort her, sing to her, raise her. What an honor.

It was hitting me last night also, how much I love Otto, how I don't know how to place him in our family. And then, the feeling that it hasn't been very long, and I will always be learning this.

Luna and I had our first outing to the grocery store alone together the other day. I had her in a sling, and people all smiled at us, and seemed delighted to see this baby. Especially older men were smiling, and 3 of them have said, "Oh, to be that baby." To have the nurturing and closeness and rest.

One woman asked me if Luna was my first. This question is not as hard to answer now that Luna is here and I don't have to worry if the same thing will happen as it did with Otto. But it's still sad to tell people no, she has an older brother who passed away a week after he was born. This woman looked sad, and said she was sorry. She said, "the same thing happened to my grandmother. She tells me that she still cries about it sometimes."

This made me warm inside. To know that this woman, of a generation where hardship was more common, where babies died more often, still holds this little one close, still mourns this baby.

I'm thinking about if I should change the name of my blog to include Luna. My Beautiful Little Boy and Girl, or Children. It seems like I should. And part of me thinks maybe I should keep this one just for him, since it's hard to keep places that are just his. But then I think, were he to have lived he would be sharing the family space with his brothers or sisters. Maybe it's more of an honor to him to leave this blog for the thoughts of all my children equally.

I'm afraid sometimes I will forget him. Luna is so full and warm and present, how will he compete with that in my heart? I still have hope that in some place and dimension I will hold him again, and know him fully. My oldest child, my son.

And till then, I will be finding my way, one step at a time, paartly through this blog. And now, I have thissweet warm milky baby to hold and love with all my heart.

My Little Girl

Luna Rowan Malmberg was born under a beautiful crescent moon on November 18th, 2009.

That morning Ryan and I walked through our neighborhood park, a winding sidewalk through grass and big oak trees, overlooking the East Santa Rosa hills. It was a fall day of blue skies, white clouds, brilliant yellow and reds and oranges on trees. I felt good contractions, and hoped that it would be the day.

I had a Non-stress test scheduled that day, and spent the afternoon waiting to go to it, on the couch, feeling pressure waves in my abdomen, calm, not painful, but a little dizzy with the hormones and feeling hopeful. My mom volunteered to drive me there since we didn't know if the contractions would keep coming, deepen or fade away as they had been for the past weeks.

When I got in her car the weather had completely changed, it was a low and full mist, enveloping the neighborhood in a pure white, low feeling. It felt beautiful. I thought, "baby if you're coming, this is such a wonderful day to be born, the skies are coming down to you."

Mom and I arrived at the hospital for the test, listening to her heartbeat, looking at the amniotic fluid. We scheduled these tests since 32 weeks to be extra careful with this little one. Meanwhile, the contractions are getting longer and stronger, showing up on the monitor. The nurse comes in, and says, if we want, we can stay and have the baby - her waters are a little low, I'm 4 cm dilated, let's go for it! It is now! I think, this is the room I will have my baby in.

I call Ryan and send him into a tizzy, getting our things together, he'll have to drive to hospital by himself! On his way over the skies fully open up and it's pouring down rain, shifting once again, bringing our baby in. This baby comes in with water, with the heavens to the earth.

Kath Ryn our doula arrives. She was one of our midwives during Otto's birth, and became a good friend this year, helping us with our grief. With us in this birth, we trust her so much to know what is going on, to know where our hearts will be, with two babies. When she comes in, she is full of smiles and light, so excited. We feel calm considering this is the time, this is the moment.

Contractions were about 5 minutes apart. It got harder. I talked, laughed, joked. Then it got harder. I laid down, breathed. It got harder still. Till the point where I truly believed, I cannot do this. It's too much, too hard, I want to be safe and have this stop! I yelled it out. Plus some other colorful words. My body can't take this, my mind can't take this. I missed Otto, I thought of the hospital he was in.

20 minutes later, and only 15 minutes of pushing, I heard my baby criy. She cried loud just like we wanted! She was in my arms, a little fish, I could hardly hold her, she was so fluid. Her eyes open, real, with me, and it all seemed as it should. It was real. I couldn't believe it, but it was. 1:31 am. 7 1/2 pounds, 19 3/4 inches. And perfect.

The grandparents had all arrived, all 6 of them in the waiting room, Ryan's parents all the way from Etna, CA, 6 hour drive. Pretty amazing considering I was in hard labor for about 7 hours, they came as soon as we called them.

After about a half hour of holding her, of having my baby find my breast and nurse, of touching her, unbelieving and yet completely natural, the grandparents walked in, a line of love and tears, men and women, glowing with love for this baby, our girl, Otto's sister, their grandaughter. They stood around the bed and peeked in, cooed, and when they'd given love and kisses enough, went home and celebrated - at 3:30am!

The hours and days following were intense with love and amazement, with tears for Otto, with seeing how things should have been with him, with seeing how she looked like him, how she was different. My baby was put straight into my arms, healthy, no problems. No problems. No problems.

And this is how it has been. She is pink and gaining weight, the doctor compeletely happy with her development, with everything about her. When she cries we want to know what's wrong, it is slowly ebbing from fearing the worst to realizing she is a baby and babies cry, and you can't always know what's wrong. The long learning of letting go, but being completely there.

The first eight days we had her were full of amazement and also heavy with aching for her brother, with remembering his eight days here. And the 8th day was Thanksgiving. All our family around, all our family pouring out love, everyone here for the roundness of our lives, to hold and kiss our beautiful baby girl. To hold us in our pain, to let us feel everything, in any order.

There has been so much I've wanted to write and can't quite get to the computer. This baby loves to be held, and we hold her, and there is not much more important than that. Than this milky love, pure love, that grows each night. My little one, I want the best for her. I want to love myself more so she will know how to love herself. I see how perfect she is and realize that I was that baby too, that I am perfect.

I will fill more in as I get time, many thoughts, and some will be forgotten. I want to BE with her. And let the time pass slow, let the days come and go and love her, fill her up with this cuddling, with being always near her, showing her that now, life is just about being near to each other. What a glorious way to be.