Things I want to remember:

Her hands holding my fingers as she falls asleep nursing
The smell on the top of her head, sweet and a little sweaty
The puffy cool cheeks as I kiss them
When she puts her hands slowly on my face
Her experimental screams
her words like "bwa" and "mmmmmmommmmommmomm"
Her giggles at things we have no idea about
Her peals of laughter when we kiss her belly
her little feet on my legs as we sleep, warm and cozy
Comforting her when we FINALLY get home and I can pull her out of the carseat with big tears on her cheeks, and she stops crying and sighs
Her wonder at everything in the world
Her beautiful eyes that seem too liquid to be of this plane
Dancing and singing for her as I make lunch to make her smile
So much
so many things
make my heart so full

Luna Love 4 months

Sweet Luna girl, 4 months now! 15 pounds, 9 ounces, and 25 inches long. She grew 4 inches last 2 months! She's amazingly wonderful. Smiles and sings, she's taken with the world. Laughing at Bo, and at Daddy. We're so so proud of her!

The light at the very end of the day,
Blue wateriness coming through the windows,
I hold my child in my arms,
Wrapped in a blanket,
Sleepy head in the crook of my arm
I bounce on the red yoga ball
As I do every time
She goes down for a nap.
On the edge of dreams,
She waits with me
As it takes her over.
Sometimes I start out tired,
A little complainy,
And then realize what I am holding,
What I am doing:
Holding my own babe
As she drifts.
She trusts me;
I love her.
Holding her in my arms
I say Thank You.
Thank you for this gift,
This gift of all I wanted
This precious moment
Of bouncing
Of almost sleep
Of my baby.
Thank you for hearing me
And giving her to me
Thank you that I get to do this.
And I realize
I've been bouncing
Long after she has fallen asleep,
It's just you and me, kid.
Do you mind
If I keep you here a moment longer
before I lay you in your bed,
So content to rest?

I can't believe she's 10 weeks

I can't believe she's already twice as big as she was when born. Almost.

In the morning we get up and she sits in her bouncy chair and we just make each other laugh for about an hour. It's part of my schedule now, and every little sound she makes, every joyful smirk, is like cleaning out some soot from my heart. It's so wonderful to love her.

I love Otto when I love her. When I see the beautiful blue veins under the skin of her forehead, I think of him and the wonderous veins I followed with my fingers, trying to memorize them. I tell him I love him too.

There is a beautiful painting in an article I read in Mothering Magazine, and a memorable day when I bought it because I decided to let myself be excited about wanting to be a mom, let myself prepare and plan, and it felt so freeing and satisfying. It was January 2007.

She was a first time mama and noticed her baby stopped moving after the water broke. They did an ultrasound at the hospital and found that the baby's heart had stopped beating, and she had died. She was in labor and gave birth to her daughter, knowing it was the hardest thing she'd ever have to do, push out a baby who had already gone. She and her husband spent the day holding this baby, talking to her, singing to her, and then had to let her go. I cried and cried reading this article.

It seems strange now that it was part of my decision to open my heart to really being a mom, this article. She had gone on to have 2 more children by the time it was published, and I read it over and over again after Otto left.

The painting that opened the article is of a mama nursing a baby in one arm, and in the other arm, under the ground, she holds another baby, and a tear falls down for that one, a drop of milk falls for the baby who is alive. She holds them both at once, and doesn't let them go, and it means so much to me that someone painted this, someone understood this, that the mothering keeps going for this baby that has gone to heaven.

I've been feeling this lately, that I hold both babies, that I love both of them so much. Luna brings up my love for both of them, and her sweet body makes Otto real again, and makes me love him and miss him so so much.

At night I need to go outside to the tree by our bedroom window and talk to him, talk to the moon, feel the earth, my connection to a deeper place, a place to give my grief to. My friend Jula reminded me of my need to do this, and it is so necessary, so helpful.

And in the morning, I will get a straight hour of laughter and silliness. I am so excited of the months and years to come of this love. And I will always miss doing these very things with Otto, taking care of him, seeing who he would be. I hope and hope and hope that in some way and realm, I will get to talk to him and hold him and see him again. Maybe that includes now.

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.