Close to My Heart

I don't even really know how to start this post. It's going to be close to my heart, because it's about my heart. This is about pieces of my heart, and how I lost one of those pieces. I cried again last night. It's been awhile. I don't usually cry, and I'm doing pretty well most of the time. Sometimes though, I think of her... She would have been so perfect. Tiny hands and face. Sweet baby smell. Little pinched mouth and squinty eyes. I never got to see that though.  I read once how your children are like pieces of your heart running around outside your body. Vulnerable and precious.

About 3 years ago, just about this time of year, I discovered that I was pregnant with my 3rd child. I was so happy! I'd wanted another baby for about a year now, and finally my dreams were coming true! My children are my dreams. When I was a little girl I knew I wanted to be a mommy. I often wished someone would leave a baby on our doorstep with a note that this baby was for me to raise. I was probably only 7 at the time. But I knew my dreams.

It didn't last though. I don't know what happened. Maybe I was doing too much lifting, not enough resting. My other 2 children definitely kept me on my toes, especially my youngest. I don't know if it was my fault or not, but one evening I started bleeding. I had a lot of lower back pain. I knew that I was losing my baby. A piece of my heart was dying, bleeding out of me, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. Sobs wracked my body and I cried for the pain that comes with loss of life. I prayed that she didn't feel pain when she died. In my heart I knew she was a girl. River. Baby River.I will never get to hold you in this world.

5 months later I was blessed with another pregnancy, and this one stayed. I named him Jonah River so that his sister's memory would always be remembered in his name. Jonah's life helped ease the pain of River's death, but nothing can erase it. I will always carry that hurt with me. The empty hurting in my heart where she took a piece away. I will always love her and remember her. I still sometimes imagine what she would look like. Probably have curly red hair and chubby cheeks. I am confident that I will meet her one day, and I'll finally have my heart completely whole.

I put together a special locket (thanks to my dear friend Mirenda who sells Origami Owl), representing who I am as a mother, and the pieces of my heart that I will always love. 4 tiny hearts, each the color of their birthstones. One for May because River would have been born in May. The disc inside says "mama." And the tag on the outside says "warrior." I am a Mama Warrior.

 And so I wear this necklace as I enjoy, remember, and love my children. I am blessed, even though it still hurts sometimes.

Prompt :: What is your one thing? Are you holding it close or letting it get away?

I signed up to take a creative writing class. I'm super excited about it! I think it's exactly what I need to get my creative juices flowing, and to help me get focused. Before the class begins there are optional prompts sent out each day to help us prepare and get warmed up. I'm very grateful for that especially since I haven't done a whole lot of writing for a while. The title says what this one's about. Here goes:

     I had to think about this for a couple hours. What is my one thing? Being a mom? Being there for Jon? Relationship manager? Artist? Traveler? Writer? Lover (and I mean that in so many more ways than just sexually)? Adventurer? I am all those things and more, but the thing that kept coming back to me was something I started when I was 15 years old. Nearly 14 years ago. Playing the Saxophone. This is my story of the journey I have taken with saxophones. I'm the star and Bari is the co-star.
     As a young child I had always longer to play a bright, shiny instrument. I really wanted to learn the trumpet for a long time, but then when I watched the video of 'Riverdance' and listened the guy play the sax while 2 guys tap danced I knew that I had to learn the saxophone. It was calling me. My parents helped me out and were able to afford a cheap soprano sax. I then joined a middle-school band that welcomed homeschoolers. My dear friend Mirenda who was just learning the clarinet joined as well. She's the only reason I had the guts to set aside my pride and sit with kids younger than me and learn to play. Best. Choice. Ever. I picked it up pretty quickly, thanks to a wonderful band director, and after playing there for a year the director invited me (and Mirenda as well) to come play with the college band that he also directed. I was beyond thrilled! Playing in that college band was such a wonderful experience for me. I learned so much from the director and from those around me. I sat in the trumpet section and played the 1st and sometimes 2nd trumpet part along with one of the trumpets. The soprano sax is in Bb, same as trumpets, and doesn't usually have it's own music for a wind ensemble. It's more of a solo instrument because it is really difficult keep it in tune and not go off pitch. That worked out for 1 semester, then the director told me I needed to play the school's baritone sax, as the wind ensemble really needed a bari, and the soprano sax wasn't really helping out. I was not a happy camper at first. I took the bari home and set it up. It was huge! I set it on the floor and it came up as high as my waist. I sat down and picked it up. Carefully put my mouth on the mouthpiece and blew. Squeeaaaakkk! Ack! That sounded awful! I tried again. Squeeaaaak! I hated it. It was heavy, hurt my neck because of the neckstrap it dangled on, and I was terrible at playing it! I didn't give up though. brought it to band rehearsal and told my director that all I could do was make it squeak. He told me to relax my embachure and try it again. I did, and out came a low growl. Well that was better than a squeak! I finally managed to figure out how to get a lovely deep sound out of the thing, and from then on it was true love. Bari and me. We were going to conquer the world! I joined the jazz band (another dream come true) and played my heart out! I practiced 5-8 hours a week, and slowly got better and better. I lacked a lot of self-confidence, which definitely held me back when it came to improvising in jazz band. I wish the me now could have the opportunity that the me then did. I'm not lacking as much in the self-confidence department. Kinda helps when you're not a teenager anymore, who's trying to find her place in the world.
           Somewhere along the way I fell in love with someone who was not made of metal, and I married him. He supported my bari obsession, but soon I got pregnant and one night after playing in a jazz concert I came home to discover that I was bleeding. Was I loosing my baby??? No!!! This can't happen! I set Bari aside then and there. I don't know if that was the cause. There are so many reasons you can bleed in early pregnancy, but I wasn't taking any chances. The pregnancy went full-term and I was blessed with a chubby red-headed baby girl. All my time was now spent learning how to be a mom. My daughter was my teacher. I listened to her and she told me her needs in her own little way. I sometimes thought of Bari, and missed him. He wasn't mine though. Someone else played him since he belonged to the school. I did actually get to go back when Lacey was a little over a year, I think. My little brother would come over and watch her while I walked down the road to play in the wind ensemble again. It was nice, but it wasn't the same. I didn't stay long. I didn't feel like I belonged anymore. It was probably about 5 years later when I finally got the opportunity to get my own Bari. I was so excited!!! It worked out! We were able to pay for it in payments, so I took it home right away. Not long after that (we had moved during that time) I found a local community band to play with. I enjoyed that very much. Still wasn't quite the same as my college experience. The music was somewhat boring, but it was good practice for me to get back in the swing of things. Well, we moved again and I haven't played in a band since. We just keep moving around, and bari sits at home, untouched. I miss him. I miss that outlet. I get nervous if I try to sing a solo in front of people, but if I am playing bari and not singing, then I have all the confidence I need. He's like a shield and a channel all at the same time. When I play it's like "listen, world. This is me and Bari, and together we're beautiful and strong." Listen to the music. It can take you anywhere.  Someday, somehow, I will be a part of a jazz band. And I will be bad ass when it comes to improvising. You'll see.

Sunday Again

    Here it is, the start of a new week. That means it's Sunday. How I used to dread every Sunday from the bottom of my heart. Growing up we had to wear dresses to church. That's just how it was. Anything else would be disrespectful to God. I hated my dresses. They were all hand-me-downs with those huge collars that would cover your whole face if you lifted it up...which wasn't so bad if you were having a temper tantrum and wanted to hide... We also had to ride in our great big chevy van for 45 minutes on winding mountain roads, which tend to make you feel carsick when you're in the backseat and your little brothers are munching on cheerios while their little feet scrape your leg because they are bouncing their legs non-stop. Walking into church was just more misery. I was shy, lost in the shuffle. The only one at church I ever remember talking to me was my Sunday school teacher. I was bigger than the other kids in my class, and I thought I must be fat. The only other girl in my class would look at me smugly when I couldn't remember all of the verse we were supposed to have memorized. Yes, Sundays were dreadful. I don't blame my parents. They did exactly what they thought was best for all of us, and I have a lot of respect for them. I have a confession to make. I still don't like church. I do like Sundays now, because we don't usually go to church. There was a brief time in my married life that I loved church. We were in a very unique church for a couple years. A church where you are loved for who you are, and they don't try to change you. They love that you are different because it adds to their diversity and they accept that you are following God because you keep showing up and showing your love. Right now though, we are nomads. Not belonging anywhere, and yet maybe belonging everywhere. We have each other, we have community through so many different outlets from skype, to emails, to facebook groups encouraging me to continue seeking. We're not in one place long enough to have a local community. That might change, but for now, this is what we have, and it's enough.

Respecting Children

I know that it's not the norm now, to hear that children should be seen and not heard. I know that we are told to value our children, and put them first. To be good parents. Don't spank, don't do time-outs, don't do this or that. That's good to hear, but it's not enough. Children aren't respected like adults are. How are they going to learn respect for themselves and each other if we don't show them how? We start when they are very young, and try to teach our toddlers not to snatch from other toddlers. I think it's something they do naturally because they don't know it hurts feelings, but I also think that they pick up so much of their behavior from us, their parents. How often do we snatch away things they shouldn't have (even if it's not necessarily dangerous for them to have)? How about how we talk to them? Do we use the same kindness we would use in talking to the bank teller, or the lady at the checkout, or the barista at the coffee shop? Why not? WHy are we short with them? Why are we exasperated when they won't take "no" for an answer? It's simple. They are children. They are not always easy to deal with. They have huge feelings that they haven't learned how to control yet (seriously, aren't we all still working on the whole, self control thing?). This is something I am working on. I want to treat my little ones with respect. Just as much respect as I want to be treated with. Before I tell them to do (or not to do) something, I need to think about it, and make sure I know why I'm requesting this. Why do I want my daughter to change her mis-matched clothes before we leave the house? Is it because I think people will think I'm 'one of those moms who doesn't have it all together and just lets her kids run around looking like...well, kids? Or is it because I have an eye for fashion and I can't bear it that she's wearing that top with those leggings! Insert confession: I'm a little OCD. Not majorly, but it's there.
When I analyze the Why in my requesting my daughter to change her outfit, I notice that I'm not respecting who she is. She is a brilliant child, with an individual mind and her own taste in colors and patterns. I shouldn't be forcing my own preferences on her just because it doesn't look like I think it should. That's disrespecting her, and inadvertently telling her that her choices aren't good enough. That's not how I want to be treating my daughter. I want her to grow up being confident and strong, and that strength and security doesn't just appear when you're all grown up. I believe I can help her with that by giving her a safe place to express who she is, and supporting her with all I've got! There is so much more to write about concerning this, but I don't want to bog you down (heck, I'm bogging myself down already).  This is a journey for me. Here's a challenge. Next time you're charged with a little one, and you're about to give them an order, put yourself in their place. Imagine how tall you are from their point of view, and how much bigger your emotions are to them, because if you are their parent, then you're their world. Would you want to be told what you're about to tell them? How would you want to be told? What tone of voice would you long to hear? Trust me on this, I'm preaching to the choir. I needed to write this because I needed to read this.

Starting Again

It's been awhile since I really sat down and wrote in my blog. Actually wrote. About things that really matter to me, or just things about me. I'm gonna reintroduce myself because I'm not the same girl who started this blog. I still am very similar, but I've changed a lot. Things have happened to me, I've happened to things...yeah. It's life. Keeps on going and pulling you with it. Here goes:

Hi. Welcome. My name is grace Nathan. I'm 5'8" tall, have red hair and a smattering of freckles because it's nearing the end of the summer, and I don't tan very well. I freckle. I'm almost in my last year of being twenty-something, and I'm not gonna lie, that scares me. I consider myself a kind person, but if you mess with me or mine, you're goin' down. I do have a redhead's temper, and I'm not afraid to use it. I believe that the greatest power is Love. Love made me. Love made my family. Love makes the flowers grow, not just rain (take that, Eponine).  Relationships are very important to me. I've been married to my partner for over 9 years now. He's a man and I'm a woman. I didn't say husband and wife because I really want to convey that we are partners. We married because we are best friends who wanted to partner up in this life so we would never have to go through anything alone. We've had times of trying to control each other, and times of trying to submit to each other, but all in all nothing describes us better than partners. We are equal. He's a wonderful man. I've never had to fight to be heard. The thing that first attracted me to him was his kindness and caring to everyone around him. You don't meet people like that everyday. We have 3 kids who are constantly teaching us how to be parents as they seem to come up with a new curveball to toss at us every other day. I wouldn't trade them for anything. My heart never ceases to melt when they call me "mommy." Because for right now, for these few short years, I'm the center of their lives, and I will protect and nurture with all my strength.

And now there's this; I think I'm a very open-minded person. I could be wrong, because I think my world is small right now. I have a lot of thoughts and opinions that are new (within the past 5 years) to me and I know I can be used to help bring more Love into this world. I see doors opening up and new things are about to happen. I think maybe they've been happening and I've really only just begun to notice. Sometimes I get so caught up in the blur of everyday life, that I forget about that huge world out there. A world full of pain, sorrow, courage, healing, hate, and Love. I'm a part of that world whether I think I can choose to be or not. I can shut it out (and sometimes I need to so I can refocus), and I can let it in, or rather, let myself out. There is much to be done, so here I am. grace. Oh yeah, one more thing. I think capital G's are ugly. They're fine for random words, but I don't like to use them for my name. I prefer a nice lower case little squiggly g. grace.

This is the Posted Title

Here I am, inspired by my sister to write, even though I cannot think of anything to write about. I do feel the need to be creative, but I don't think writing is totally my outlet. It has been far too long since my last post though. That was over a year ago, when my sweet JoJo was born.

Let's see....Life is. Life is crazy. Life is crazy, insane, uncertain, and exciting! I never know where the next bend in the road will take me, but I love that. I love not knowing, and I love change (I needed to tell myself that, because I forgot.) So many things have been changing lately, or been thrown into the 'uncertain' pile. I was really upset about that at first, but now I'm just looking forward to what that change will bring. What's in store for us in the near future? I'm really cool with whatever, as long as I have my Jon by my side, baby on my hip, and kids trailing along. I think this is it for now.....I'll try to pop on again soon and give a few more details about my juicy, exciting life! ;)

Jonah's Birth Story

Ok...let's see how much of this I remember. It has been nearly 7 weeks already ;)

I woke up Monday morning, four days past his due date, feeling rather depressed. For the past several nights I would go to bed feeling strong contractions, but they would fizzle out during the night. I would also have strong contractions whenever I took a walk or climbed the stairs, but they never kept going. I decided to call Amy (my amazing midwife) and just get some advice from her. She told me to go ahead and come in and she would check me and see what might be going on. I had a feeling that we would somehow get labor started, so I wanted my kids and Jon with me. We drove 45 minutes to the birth center from my parents' house. Amy checked my cervix, and found that I was already 5 cm dilated! We talked, and she said we could get things going pretty fast and have the baby today. I was totally on board with that, so she swept the membranes, and then had me take drops of herbs to help get things going. Now, this whole pregnancy I had been saying that I was not going to induce in any way, and that I was going to let Jonah come when he was good and ready. The reason being, was that I took castor oil to get labor started on Simon's due date, and really regretted the experience. This time was different. The methods we used were much gentler, and most importantly, I had peace. I prayed, and felt like God was leading in this, and I was following. Anyway, I called my mom who was on her way back home with Jamie and Cameron (they had been visiting a friend), and asked if they could just come straight to the birth center to take care of the kids. They came, and Jon brought our stuff in from the van and set it up in the blue and brown birthing room (incidentally, the color combinations of blue and brown had been following me around the entire pregnancy, and I love those colors together so I felt very comfortable in there. It was also the room Lacey was born in nearly 6 years previously). Mom and Jamie took the kids to chickfila to get them out of the way while I labored. The contractions had picked up ever since Amy swept the membranes, and were getting pretty intense. Amy checked me again and I was dilated to 7, I think? She had me push on a contraction, and that broke my water. I continued to walk laps through the birth center to keep things moving. It got to the point where I had to stop walking and squat so I could get through the contraction, then continue walking. It got pretty intense soon after that, so Amy helped me get situated on the birthing ball. At one point I remember feeling so helpless and in pain, and thinking I just couldn't do it (transition, I know ;). I had this sudden need to see Marianne, and have her look in my eyes to encourage me, but she wasn't able to make it there in time (she has little ones, but was on the way to the birth center), so I looked at Amy. She looked straight into my eyes and smiled. I don't know how, but I felt like she transferred some strength into me, and I knew I could get through this. Jon was also there, constantly encouraging me, and making sure all my needs were met, and reminding me to keep my facial muscles loose (open mouth, open cervix). He was awesome! Not too long after that I told Amy I was ready to push. She let me get into the tub (ahhh, I love the water) and I began pushing with the contractions. At first I would keep my head back while pushing, fully knowing that I needed to put my chin down, but somehow not being able to. Jon kept reminding me to put my chin down, but for some reason it was impossible to do until Amy told me to listen to Jon, and do it. Then suddenly I was able. The whole world was tuned out, and things seemed hazy, but I could hear Amy's voice clearly. I followed her directions, and somehow managed to stop pushing while Jonah was crowning (ow!) and then just push very slowly. If you have never had a baby, you have no idea how hard that is to do! Jonah's head eased out, and then one more push and suddenly Amy was laying him on my chest. Such a miracle! I was so in love once again, and so amazed and this sweet little darling. We just met, and yet I had known him all my life. My darling Jonah River. He weighed 8lbs 11oz, same as Lacey when she was born! I think labor lasted approximately 3 1/2 hours. This had been the hardest pregnancy yet, with me being sick so much. I knew that everything would be fine though, and that he would be born a healthy baby boy. Near the beginning of the pregnancy I had been sick with a fairly high fever, and I was so worried that it would hurt my baby as he was developing. I had picked up my bible, and was reading John chapter 4. When I got to the end of the chapter I read verse 50.

“Go,” Jesus replied, “your son will live.”

Your son will live. From then on, I knew that Jonah would be fine, and whenver I had worries, I would return to that verse and remember that God is in control. Not me.