Birth, babies, and a little waiting.

We're about to welcome a shiny new soul into our family; she will be here any time.  And while I've been waiting for happy news, I've been thinking, rather nervously, about bodies and souls and pain. 


Pain is such a strange thing, and really, our bodies have no way of remembering its potency. Even the very second after I pushed Danny from inside of me and out into the world, the deepest, splitting pain I had ever felt in my life was somehow gone. Instantly. And except for that sweet, tiny voice, and my beating heart, everything that was so loud before, was quiet; a moment entirely filled with God.


I own that moment. I took that journey. I balanced on that razor sharp edge. I felt my body (and heart) split wide open. And I remember screaming through that last deafening pain that pulled my baby through that veil and straight into my earthly arms. I shook, and wept and felt holy. This work and pain of labor is holy. It was whispered to my soul at the very end.  


What a journey that even the worst pain could not keep me from wanting to experience over and over again.



[Courtney and her husband delivered their third baby, together, alone, in their upstairs bedroom of their home in Utah last week. Her home birth has somewhat convinced me about my own round three (if there should be one someday). While this is only a part of her birth story, you should read the rest of the story here.] 

When it was time to push I was tired. It had only been over an hour since we had started transitioning, but it had been intense. Up until that point Chup had been with me, with every contraction and seeing to my every need. But this was the place where he couldn't really do much for me. This was that lonely spot in the process where I had to find all the strength and faith inside of me to push. Another contraction pounded my body and I felt my spirit start to leave my body--a dizzy feeling of losing consciousness. I felt it with Ever too. Part of me had resolved that death is part of birthing life. I had to die a little to get enough courage to cross the line of mortality and bring my baby with me.

To my J.A.M.

{jennica holding baby morgan - november 2008}

{ten reasons why i love this lovely lady}

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1. she was my first best friend - my cousin.

2. she sluffed grade school for days at a time, just to visit me.

3. we used to make awesome forts together, particularly one in the crawl space of our home on Sapphire where we carved our initials and the initials of other 'true loves' on the houseboards.

4. we've only been in one fight and it was over doll clothes when i was nine.

5. she's a female michael jordan. seriously.

6. she gave me her abercrombie jeans when i was in 10th grade. a few months later she decided backsies were in order and that she needed them back (seriously, no hard feelings). oh, those few months!

7. she wore a wedding dress tinted ice blue for prom in 2001 and she looked absolutely royal.

8. we used to write eachother secret letters back and forth from twin falls to meridian. i still have them tucked away in the closet of my room at my home in the country.

9. she's been my shopping companion through thick and thin.

10. she was the best at making believe. roller blades and swimsuits transformed us into figure skaters. then, at night, we used to turn off all the lights, using the piano lamp as a spotlight and we'd watch our shadows on the wall while we danced and sang and pretended we were stars. we played 'house', we played 'store'. we were mothers and wives. we drove pretend cars. we rode pretend horses. it was through magic alone that we became anything we wanted to be.

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here's to simpler times. to perfect memories and many more yet to come. To our own little darlings - may they have as perfect of a childhood as we did.

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i love you with my whole heart, jenn. i hope your birthday is splendid. just like you.