Pre-natal yoga

I write with little legs and arms moving like popcorn popping in my low abdomen. Little girl has a lot to say. I think she might be a dancer. Or a talker. Or a singer. Whatever she is it is wonderful.

I hold her and I hold my baby boy. I hold grief and love, I hold warmth and tears all at once. It makes no sense but it is life.

Today we went to cemeteries to find a place to bury Otto's ashes. It has been harder than I thought, even a year later, this finalizing, another step of reality of death. I don't want my baby to be ashes. I want him to be a baby. But as my dad said when I was telling him about it, it just shows us that we return to Source. Otto didn't just turn to ashes but he came from the earth too, we are always on some part of this journey, it is constantly moving and beautiful if you can see it from the right place. He wasn't born and didn't die in some senses, he always has been.

I went to my pre-natal yoga class tonight. We check in first, say our names and how many weeks we are and how we are doing. The women say things like how big they're getting, how strange it is to see the scale go up, how the crib is coming this week, and I sit there waiting my turn and thinking, "Well today I picked the plot where I will lay my baby to rest. Today I carried his ashes around in my purse. Today my husband signed more papers for a permit to bury our baby."

Part of me thought, how can I tell them about my week? How can I tell them where I am at? How different this pregancy is for me. These are their first babies, and like I was last time, they think about the stuff for the baby and the weight they're gaining. But I ended up with, how can I not tell them? This pregnancy for me, is blasted to a different universe of intense love and life and death that leaves the stuff so far behind, leaves the baby books and the parenting style choice and the concern about how I look many miles away. I have held my baby and sang him to sleep, I have birthed him and helped him die, I know that in the ancient codes of my body, mothering is there and will be blissful and wise as I bring little Lima into the world. As I bring her up. I don't doubt my ability, I know I am a good mama. I know Ryan is a good papa.

I told them that this week is the anniversary of my son's birth and death, how much I miss him, how much I put all the love for him into Lima too, how much I love her. And they didn't look away or feel awkward, they said, we're glad you came tonight and talked about it. I didn't scare them away. It is just my story. It is just my life.

I have no mind for calling people back or keeping up with music promotion or anything extra this week besides doing a couple massages and being with Ryan and Otto and Lima. And Bo.

Sweet Bo has been there every step of the way, licking off tears, offering hugs, and I am so grateful for his presence, a warm body to nap with, someone to tell them I love them who never gets tired of being pet. I think that part of his purpose in being our dog was to be here with us in this time. We rescued him and he is offering his sweet dog heart to us too, in the pain and in the great ball-throwing times. He is sensitive too, and upset when we are, and that is part of his life. But he has a good life, like we do too. Pain is part of the joy sometimes.