Archives for the month of: September, 2017

I roared you into the world, my son, named for kings and princes among men, named for family and strength and influence. We heard your name whispered by heaven’s messengers. You are the word for our world – stewardship, guardianship, the one who replaces old with new.

It was a new thing bringing you into the world.

I labored at home, in and out of warm waters, relying on your father for strength. And you came within 18 hours. (Eighteen – chai – the numerical value of the Hebrew word “life”.)

By 1 pm, the midwives were checking. Family was waiting. Nurses were ready. By 1:45 we were talking with doctors in the course of active labor. Then I was on my feet, leaning over a bed, and I felt you come on, and your waters burst. Climbing like an animal, I screamed from my cells, what my DNA produced from a fundamental place. I roared. I wailed. I became what I already was.

Transition. I learned later that when the waters broke, your head shifted down, suddenly locked in, fully committed, and here you came. But we were still a walk – or a run – away, and they were talking, they said a room was now ready. They made the call. I bellowed down my body, and we barreled through the hallways, past staff and elderly onlookers. The doula’s voice rang reassuring in my ears, “I’m still here!”

Then bright lights and a fresh bed, and my knees up and pushing. They said you were “at three” – you were nearly among us. So I roared.

Ten minutes, they told me later. Ten minutes of pushing. I saw you emerging, through glasses unfogged, a sign and a wonder, the embodiment of our determination. You’d come through it so quickly – once, twice, thrice was all I could remember. You were wet and alive on my deflating belly. And you sprayed as you cried, and the midwife caught it, one last fountain of your broken waters.

You were hungry. You were perfect. You were oozing with life. You personified every hard-won grace-growth of family and mothering.

And I was amazed, and your father amazed, and the angels attending stood in celebration and wonder. And Father sang your song, my son, called you by name, named the battles you’ve won. You are His favorite song.

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So it’s no surprise I haven’t written for awhile. There are two main reasons for this:  first, Instagram. Second, life stage.

I still love sewing, quilting, creating, and connecting, but writing blog posts doesn’t make much sense anymore. Instagram, however, is efficient and effective. As I’ve always been a fan of photo-heavy blogs anyway, my “professional” @walkingwithfeathers account has replaced blogging for me. Thankfully, you can look up public accounts online, even without the app. Find me through this link:  https://www.instagram.com/walkingwithfeathers/

As I write, my second child is snoozing on my lap. My two-year-old is out with my husband running errands in the new area of town where we just bought our first house. This is a whole new stage of life! And I’d rather spend my precious few minutes of free time quilting or creating than writing about it.

I will keep this blog up. It’s nice having a landing pad on the internet for a bit of prose or philosophy now and again (birth stories, for example). But my creativity will predominantly be documented over on Instagram.

I’ve enjoyed the blogging community and the growth it has afforded me! I hope to keep connected with y’all, no matter the platform!

Blessings until then!