To Touch the Wild Goose Cry

I (Jason) stayed up good and late last night, because I had something I needed to do. Today, you see, our family was slated to open our "big present," which was the envelope containing some very important (or perhaps not so important...it all depends) information about the little jumping jack Janelle's been carrying around these months. That is to say, when we went for our twenty week prenatal ultrasound, the family compromise--in accordance with a friend's excellent suggestion--between those who desperately wanted to know the baby's gender and those who wanted a surprise was that the sonographer would take note of the relevant information and record it on a little folded card we supplied, and then seal it into an envelope, taking pains not to reveal it to us. We said we'd open the envelope at Christmas, and here we are.

I, being the one who didn't want to know, was not quite ready. Intuitively I realized that I needed to spend some time connecting with this little one without having a cultural category prepared. Based on recent experiences, I decided to use name searching as my vehicle to the spiritual process I sought.

I spent some time with baby name websites, playing around with various sounds, meanings, and associations, following rabbit trails from sound to idea to sound, flipping around between languages, cultures, genders...eventually I narrowed the standard Western selection down to the unisex names, and found a handful I could work with. But things really came together much better when I landed on the Native American section of one of the naming sites. Here were names that seemed to suit my purpose much better. Making my way through the alphabet, I soon had a list of them which are known to serve for either gender, which sounds interested me, and which meanings I was attracted to. I crawled under the covers with paper in hand, and gave myself over to swirling rounds of sound/meaning combinations, weighing and testing them in my heart and mind.

What I discovered through this practice about the coming of this child into my life was that I wanted this child to have a name that conveyed freedom, lightness, breath, air, freshness...something along that line, combined with some implication of sensory experience and connection. Of the list I was working with, I was most attracted to the meaning "Wild Goose Cry" (especially as a second name), combined with the meanings "to touch" or "fragrant" for first names, such that the child's name might mean, in combination, "Fragrant Wild Goose Cry" or "To Touch the Wild Goose Cry." The second of those was the one that really came home to me and I was able to put the paper down and go to sleep. I had made contact with part of what I feel this new parenthood experience will mean to me, and also part of what I hope for as I think about this new one's experience of this wild world we live and move in; the sky we peer through.

I think holding this baby for the first time will be to make contact with something untamed, intangible, and altogether lovely, and I hope (and will work and scheme to promote it) that this child will feel an intimate connection to the undomesticated elements and life expressions of the world she finds before her.

That's right, I wrote "her." This child will be female, and I for one found this evening that I just can hardly wait to meet her! A whole new person!

This morning when I was thinking over last evening's meditation, and looking forward to this evening's revelation, I felt glad that I had taken the time for that exercise. It seemed to me that the wishes and urges I had discovered in myself towards this new person were enlivening, humanizing ones, and though freedom and love of experience can have everything to do with gender at times, they are simultaneously gender-neutral values. I want this child--a baby girl, as it turns out--to feel free, and, when the wild goose lets loose its cry, for her to notice it, feel it, and understand.

You may be wondering whether we would hope to use this deeply spiritual name for our little one. Hmm. Probably not. You see, in order to achieve the meaning "To Touch the Wild Goose Cry", I was working with the name "Helki Saloso." Very lovely in its context I am sure, but for the Shenandoah Valley in 2010, it might come across as just a shade out of touch!

Last night's process was more for me and my relationship to the baby than about actual naming. Over the next few months, however, we will actually be in search of a simple, pronounceable, meaningful, easy-going name for this baby...information about any resources (or process tips) of which you might be aware and of which we might avail ourselves would be welcome.

Cleaning break...

I'm working at gearing up to wash the final three floors of our house! I got a major "cleaning bug" today and it was a good thing as our house had reached an unprecedented level of filth!! So I'm taking a break to put a very important picture up on our blog!!

We went from trying to find as many ways to use eggs as possible to having a "egg-free baking tips" sheet on our refrigerator. It's cold, hens are molting and our new hens have not started laying yet. That was until Thursday, when the first egg was laid by one of the Marans as we were getting the first significant snow fall of the year. Actually it was probably laid sometime Wednesday as it was frozen solid, but still an EGG! And she has laid one more since, which brings the cumulative total number of eggs in our house to two!

Kali is thrilled for there to be snow. We had to do a little rushed shopping this week when her snow boots from last year no longer fit. We tried the new ones out today (during an earlier cleaning break) and they kept her warm and comfy on our walk and as she made the hardest, packed ball of snow she could make.

She then took a turn being the photographer and had me pose. I chose some of the pictures I wanted her to take but the one here is the one in which she told me how to stand, where to put my hand, etc... It ended up being my favorite! I continue to enjoy my expanding belly, and the outlook is promising that I might even get an "outie belly button" this time around - for some reason I've always coveted them!!

Days at home!

At the end of two wonderful days at home, here are a few visuals from the past few days. Kali is munching on some of our home grown popcorn for a bedtime snack, while we both enjoy the warmth emanating from the wood stove. I'm enjoying an occasional jab from Tadpole, who is in the habit of giving me pretty frequent reminders of his/her presence (I am almost certain I enjoyed feeling hiccups earlier this week).

So some quick snippets from a glorious sabbath we have enjoyed from stepping foot in our car yesterday and today. Instead we (Kali and I while Jason and friend Tim worked on installing an attic staircase accessible from our bathroom) spent our time:

- taking a walk each day
- baking green turtle bread, gingerbread cookies, peanut blossoms with fair trade, dark chocolate wafers inserted (strongly recommended!), pumpkin bread and muffins
- Kali was found stuck in a book for a good number of hours each day and when she was not she was often doing very creative things like attempting to be a replica of her doll Zelda (see photo below)
- cutting up our 23 butternut, 20 of which had frozen solid in the shed, much to our dismay
- preparations for taking meals to two families this week who recently welcomed new babies into their families!
- making a Christmas chain noting "fun and exciting things" Kali can do each day between now and Christmas
- reading the last two chapters of A Life Worth Living for our final discussion time at church next week (it was just as good reading the book the second time!)
- reading Christmas in the Trenches and helping Kali find her "army outfit" for the Christmas pageant tomorrow
- making butter and yogurt from our milk share; and making potato soup with the fresh buttermilk
- enjoying eating 3 meals each day together as a family
- playing Christmas carols on the piano and enjoying Kali's expanding repertoire of songs (most of which she has taught herself with no formal piano instruction)
- delivering some of our baked goods to neighbors and playing hide and seek on our way up and down the driveway
- sleeping in until after 7am (or like today after 8am)
- and last but not least sitting down with a large sheet of paper and writing out the details for the coming week, which will not be very much like the last two days - busy full of social engagements, Christmas gatherings, and therefore many trips into town in our car!!

It's not even December yet...

and we have put up a Christmas tree AND decorated it!!

We enjoyed Thanksgiving - complete with the first snow we've seen this year - with the Benner family in PA and were grateful for safe travels to and from. We decided to take advantage of the great opportunity of getting a cedar tree from the Benner homestead for our Christmas tree this year.

This evening, after a hike to the lake, we had fun decorating it. It seemed to also help transition us out of "post holiday/travel/family fun" blues that had been impacting the mood of at least the youngest of the family.

Ultrasound and the emotional aftermath...

We sent the following email out to a group of our family and friends a week ago today after our ultrasound and midwife appointment:

"This was a day full of much emotion in our home as we headed out to our 20 week ultrasound to learn a little more about how Tadpole is doing. In short - wonderfully well!! And that news is still sinking in. We are so so grateful for all those that have been journeying with us to this day, sharing with us the waiting, hoping, wondering...letting me share my hopes and fears and validating both. For those that sent notes today and recent days and the many sending thoughts and prayers our way. For the women that gathered with me Monday evening. For my dear friend Jen who accompanied us to the ultrasound (visiting all the way from Canada). For my parents who were in the waiting room to hug us as we came out. And for the tiny orchid bud we saw on the plant given to us by my parents when Nora was still with us - Jason noticed the bud just as we headed out the door and as I said "thank you little bud" Kali chimed in that that would be a good name for the baby. We are liking "little bud." We have a sealed envelope prepared by Kali and filled with a picture identifying our baby's sex that we'll open as a family at Christmas. But that present hardly compares to learning that all measurements were right on track and that all organs supporting our baby's growth and development looked great. We are so grateful and have some very cute pictures. Tadpole was basically folded in half with one foot above his/her head most of the time. We got to see a big gulp of amniotic fluid, hearing the heartbeat several times, and seeing a very cute profile. Now to let all this soak in.... The journey continues and we look forward to this second half of the pregnancy, as we prepare for this little one entering our family. Thanks for your support, care, interest, etc... I imagine we'll add more thoughts and pictures on the blog before too long. If you want to catch up with pictures and news leading up to this time see http://myers-benner.blogspot.com/"

So here you are at the blog. I started this entry the day after our ultrasound and have never gotten back to it - partly because of the busyness of the week and partly because my emotional landscape keeps changing at such a rapid pace that I keep wondering if it will settle out enough for me to write clearly how I'm doing/feeling/being with all that is taking place in our lives. I've come to the conclusion that things will likely continue as is (with emotions and circumstances continually in flux) and so this is a Friday 11/19/2010 9am update!

To set the stage, it is almost always a "good" morning when I am sitting with my feet up in the recliner with the sun shining in our front room and the house completely quiet, as Kali is still sacked out. And knowing that the day includes cooking, baking and being at home (not stepping foot into the car until Sunday!!) doesn't hurt anything either. Jason and I finished off the granola this morning, the cookie jar is empty, butter needs to be made from this week's cream, soups are getting started and chicken barbecue is in the crockpot doing its thing for supper this evening, to have along with fresh rolls that will also be made sometime today.

It's also a good start to the day when it starts with Tadpole doing some kind of gymnastic practice and Jason getting to feel a couple good jabs. Also in the last number of days, Kali has gotten to feel her little brother or sister move from the outside - a long awaited thrill for her!! We continue to dream about this little one's personality and the upcoming transition, not to mention wondering whether "boy" or "girl" is written on the little paper locked up until Christmas. But that has actually been very much in the background as we have found ourselves reveling much more in knowledge that right now this baby's growth is right on track or slightly ahead of the curve.

But I haven't been "steady" in my hopefulness and enthusiasm this week. I've waffled from moments of euphoria to worrying that it may be too good to be true. We had our third Centering Pregnancy group this week and at the end I requested a print out of Nora's 20 week ultrasound. I found it somewhat reassuring to see that there were two striking measurements behind on her 20 week ultrasound (abdomen and femur - ones that fell farther and farther behind as time went on) but surprised also at how "normal" the rest of the report was.

The most striking difference that I'm noting in this pregnancy, besides a more positive outlook and intuition on how the pregnancy is going - which I'm apt to doubt even more than the perspective of the caregivers working with us - is how much movement I'm feeling with this little one. And I'm enjoying it thoroughly, as much as I can become completely distracted from what I'm doing when the squirming, kicking and poking starts up!

Outward signs of the well-being of this baby are reassuring. But they don't necessarily take away from the complexity of my emotions as I reflect back on my pregnancies with both Kali and with Nora. The evening after the ultrasound, I found myself strangely exhausted and a little sad. The exhaustion made sense when thinking of the emotional build up to that day. The sadness was more confusing and the questions going through my mind were hard to find clear answers for. I was trying to balance the joy and relief of knowing that this baby did not seem to present like a baby with Petty Syndrome. I was thrilled to think that maybe we would have an experience closer to ours with Kali, where we have a baby and bring him/her home after a day or so. A baby that Kali could hold and help with, without interference of cords, hospital schedules, and the baby's extreme fragility. Those things are some of the things lumped for me in the "too good to be true" category.

Some of the other feelings and musings and questions came from my reflections on Nora's place in our family. I feel so grateful to Nora for so so many ways in which she impacted my life. I'm glad she was and is a part of our family's story. I feel more ready and able to embark on the mysterious journey of parenting another little one because of her impact on my life. I feel more steady, believe it or not, and centered in my life much of the time. And yet I don't want to do it again. I'm sure we'd grow and even thrive in our own way, but I would have been devastated for some time had we learned that this little one was already falling behind on growth. I wanted to analyze those feelings, try to figure out what they meant about my love for Nora and for this new baby. Once again I found myself grateful for friends who spoke into my life, encouraging me to just be with the emotions or those that helped me normalize my ranging and ever shifting feelings.

So I'm allowing myself to experience the swings and attempting to not label or judge them. Someone recently shared with me advice given to them when they were in seminary. "Don't judge, wonder." I am drawn to that approach to life and hope to approach my own internal processing with curiosity and wonder in the weeks and months ahead.

These pictures are not necessarily as connected to my musings above as I thought they might be when I uploaded them a week ago. But they are a snapshot of that day for us - being with wonderful friends, the comic relief of a fashion show with Kali as our fashion designer of string gloves, shoes, etc..., Kali coloring to pass the time as we waited for the ultrasound and a very blurry and not so clear picture of one of the pictures we got of Tadpole.

Morning of firsts!

It's only 8:15am and this day has already included two firsts of the year!

I've happily been enjoying increasing squirms, kicks, and jabs from Tadpole and my uterus has officially encroached upon my belly button! Those are fun changes and the movement has been a reassuring confirmation of this little one's presence inside me. This morning neither Jason and I had to rush out of bed to get to work, and Tadpole had also woken up. Jason got to feel the baby moving too: a special start to the day!

Also, one of the side effects of our new (no longer leaking) roof is that our home is staying much warmer. Prior to this morning we would have roasted ourselves to burn a fire in our wood stove! This morning was still "borderline" but it seemed like a good morning for a cup of decaf coffee and a few minutes in front of the wood stove before starting our day. So that is what we did. Now we received strict instructions from our daughter last night to let the fire burn until she wakes up to enjoy it. Let's hope this is not one of her 11am wake up mornings or we will be opening windows!

All Saint's Day

Today we shared the following as part of a special and very meaningful service at Shalom honoring persons whom we love whose physical presence is no longer with us:

Jason

We will be sharing reflections today about our second child. Yesterday would have been Nora’s third birthday, but she only lived for 7 short months. During her life and since her death, this group accepted her as a part of our congregational life, even though most of you never had a chance to meet her. As time passes, we are grateful for opportunities to continue reflecting on Nora’s contributions to our understanding of what it means to be human.

Janelle

At the time of committing to this sharing, I was feeling positive. Life was full and the lessons of Nora’s life were not only apparent to me, I even felt I was embodying some of them. We were in our first trimester with our third child and I felt grateful, excited and amazed at how my emotions were much steadier than I might have expected.

That was several weeks ago. Recently, when I sat down to prepare these thoughts I felt like a hypocrite and was not sure I had anything much to say. As we approach the halfway point in this pregnancy, my emotions have begun to overwhelm me. It was that day that a daily quote I receive said the following: “Our lives improve only when we take chances and the first and most difficult risk we can take is to be honest with ourselves.” And that same challenge also came to me from a friend who encouraged me to be present to all of my emotions, even those that I normally label as negative or bad. So I’m modifying the quote for myself to encourage me to risk being honest with both myself and my community and in doing so I will be able to be more fully present to all that is unfolding in our lives.

And maybe that is one of the most important lessons that I did learn from Nora’s life. While we have always benefited from being part of community, we never felt that as keenly as we did in the weeks leading up to Nora’s birth, during her life and in the weeks following her death. She needed us to help her live as fully as possible for the time she had with us, and we desperately needed others to help us to keep living fully, creating memories, and facing the challenges with courage and as much grace as we could muster.

So, in short, my honest confession: Sometimes I’m scared! I’ve had anxious dreams about our 20 week ultrasound when we will know if this little one is on the right trajectory with growth. I have trouble finding the courage, strength and hope that have been so real to me at times over the past 3 years. And, if this baby comes to us with needs beyond our own ability to provide, I wonder if I can really do it again.

Admittedly, I’m a perfectionist through and through. And so these times are often perceived by me as lapses in strength or a failure to honor Nora’s life and her memory. I tend to think that somehow I’m backsliding, losing all the ground I had gained. Jason has reminded me multiple times since Nora’s death that he sees the journey as being much more fluid than that. That we rise and fall, have moments of vulnerability in which we need others to help us see our way, and that it is all part of the journey.

One of the things Nora did so well was accepting life for what it gave to her. Not that she didn’t protest at times the perceived “unfairness,” particularly towards the end of her life when she resisted both her feeding tube and oxygen being delivered through an uncomfortable devise in her nose. But she didn’t let those impediments stop her from soaking in her surroundings and being fully present to life’s experiences. We are so grateful that among our memories are those times when her face lit up to be in her big sister’s arms, craning her neck to get a good look at her face; when she turned and twisted and strained to roll her little 6 pound body over, and then was surprised at her accomplishment; her fascination with every aspect and angle of her pacifier, though she was quite indignant if anyone tried to convince her that an appropriate use for such a contraption was to suck it; her determination to hold and turn the pages of her little books all by herself despite them almost being too heavy for her; and of course her coos and smiles. She did not approach the world, as many of us hate to admit that we do, as if it owed her anything. Those beautiful moments that came were gifts, and they could be found in the darkest of times, even at death’s door.

I know deep down after having Nora grace me with her presence, trust and love that I do believe, even when I falter, that loving is worth the risk. I still remember holding Nora and crying as I listened to the words of a song (by “Over the Rhine”), “I was born to laugh, I learned to laugh through my tears. I was born to love, I’m gonna learn to love without fear.” I’m still aspiring to that.

Several weeks back, as I was taking out the compost, I was thinking about Nora and how, as much as I don’t profess to understand a lot about how those of us still living communicate with or relate to those we love and loved who are no longer physically with us, I really wanted her to talk to me. I wanted to have her tell me that I was okay, that her little brother or sister was going to be okay, that she was okay with us having another baby. I had this odd realization that here I was wanting Nora to relate to me in a way that she had never related to me in her time with us; verbal communication, outside of coos, was not part of our life together. And in that moment what I realized was all the things that Nora’s little spirit was – she was a presence in my life that was unassuming, nonjudgmental, accepting, always giving and receiving, needy and yet rich, beautifully imperfect, and fully present to the moment. It will always be a gift to have had someone in my life who so innocently and without effort lived these qualities for me to get a glimpse of.

Jason

One evening a year and a half ago some of you came with divisions of perennials from your own yards and helped us fill the planting bed of Nora’s memorial garden. I wrote the following poem around that time, but I find many of the thoughts and sentiments expressed in it to be what I would want to say today, and so I offer it now:

Reiterations

A father’s love ignores the border death presents. I worked for you in every way I knew, now
what to do with this: my aimless drive to help, my hoeing the abyss? There’s nothing you could need from me; I’ll turn my hoe toward earth and let the rocks and soil absorb my effort, and I'll wait for birth among the blooming celebrations. I can work on these reiterations.

And so we put together what we can: we scrape the weeds aside and mark a place where, when it needs to huddle with the memories, a heart may hide. We’ve caught a hold on changes
in the calendar and seasons, have made spaces full of time: ad hoc creations. We’ve established these reiterations.

I think it helps a little. Do I need to see reflections of my baby girl out there exposed to wild, swirling air to keep me from forgetting? Maybe not, but there is satisfaction in the knowledge that in moments when I need to whittle down into the quick of loss, or glory in parental, proud elation, I can turn to these reiterations.

Thank you, child! You never read the clock to know the shame of dallying too long. Your fingers never curled around a cent. When it was time for you to go, you didn’t worry, you just went. Your heart and mind and palms were full of room; your presence was a balm for wounds we couldn’t feel. How many repetitions of your memory will be required for me to heal? What is my hurry? If I sit awhile in a place, perhaps an insect sipping from a bloom will show the way to freedom from the hectic expectations. I’ll depend on these reiterations.

I didn’t know I feared a fading of your presence, but I found that when I cleared the soil space I knew relief, anticipating sprouting seeds. Your memory’s alive, and here is how I know: I’ve seen it grow! How can this be: while thinking of the years ahead, a smile? I’m eager to be watching all you were to us becoming what it is, what it will be, and relishing your place within our family. Our love is strong, so time will find us living out a leafy incarnation, still repeating these reiterations.