Poems: Your Topic Your Price

We met William the Poet at the University Farmer's Market last weekend as he was tapping away at his typewriter. In addition to collard greens, cranberries, squash, and apples, who doesn't need a fresh poem from the market? I introduced William to Georgia, a bitty few weeks old, and asked him to write a poem for her. And he did.

For more information on William, you can watch a great clip here from our local news. You can also order a poem postcard for yourself, if you have a hankering for a customized ode to anything under the sun. Thank you William!

Introductions All Around

Though she be but little she is fierce.
~ William Shakespeare, A Midsummer Night's Dream

I am so happy and proud to introduce my daughter Georgia Elizabeth!

Now that she is snuggling here at home with me after a scary start in the world, I can finally write about her. 

She arrived on October 20th, a week after her due date. We had hoped to avoid a repeat c-section, but after many hours in labour she began showing signs of distress so we moved to surgery. When she was born, she didn't cry out and they whisked her past me to the NICU (neonatal intensive-care unit) as she needed oxygen. I didn't get to hold her for seven excruciating hours. When I was finally allowed to go to her and hold her skin-to-skin, she looked beautiful and was stabilizing quickly. But because I had spiked a fever during delivery, they were concerned about a possible infection so they put her on a seven-day course of antibiotics. She was hooked up to an IV and monitors for her heart, her blood pressure and her temperature. They had to give her a spinal tap to check for meningitis. Thankfully, she latched and we got off to a good start nursing. Then, when she was 48 hours old and just beginning to pink up, she started spitting up bile. To check her intestines, they ran an x-ray which came back abnormal so her doctor decided to transfer her immediately by ambulance to a bigger hospital for more tests to check for a possible twisted intestine - in which case they would have to do surgery on her tiny little body. Christian and I followed the ambulance in our car, stunned and terrified. But within several hours the tests came back negative and the doctors told us she was going to be okay. She had to complete her course of antibiotics and stay in the NICU for the rest of the week, but then we would be able to take her home. 

Art on the NICU walls at Swedish Hospital

That night, in the hospital room where Christian and I slept two floors below our daughter, I wept. I wept with relief, I wept with gratitude, I wept with love for my daughter. Then I wept for all the babies alone in their NICU bassinets, I wept for all the families who didn't hear good news from the pediatric surgeons, I wept for all the families waiting to take their children home from the hospital, I wept for all the single mothers who didn't have supportive partners, I wept for all the non-English speaking families trying to navigate the U.S. health care system, I wept for all the kind nurses and doctors who cared for these babies, I wept for families all over the world without proper medical care, I wept for all the parents who lost a baby and all the babies who lost a parent. I wept for all the unfairness and tragedy in the world. I wept for love and I wept for happiness. I wept because we were going to take our healthy daughter home with us to live a wonderful life.

Art on the NICU walls at Swedish Hospital

Throughout everything Georgia endured that first week and all the fear Christian and I experienced, we also felt we had the best possible care from all the doctors and nurses at both Group Health Hospital and Swedish Hospital. So many little kindnesses helped to ease the most terrible week of my life.

A great big thank you to:

• My midwife Sally Avenson and her midwifery student Claire who were my strong and steady birth team, along with Christian and the nursing staff at Group Health.
• My mother for staying in town with us for three weeks.
• Catherine and Jason for hosting Xavier for his first - and wildly successful - slumber party the night we transferred hospitals.
• Melinda for bringing food to the hospital for Christian and I, giving me a aromatherapy hand massage and then taking Xavier home to play with her son.
• The many other emotionally and physically nourishing meals lovingly prepared by friends and neighbors.
• The double rainbow I saw out my window for appearing right after I heard the frightening news Georgia had to transfer hospitals for more tests. It felt to me like it appeared just for me as a good omen. (Can I thank a rainbow? Why not.)
• Dr. Badura for counseling Christian not to google anything about her possible condition.
• Nurse Kate and Nurse Casey for giving me firm and positive pep talks before we followed Georgia's ambulance. 
• Nurse Lori for working at both hospitals and walking down the hallway at 11:30 pm just when I most needed to see a familiar and smiling face.
• Nurse Valerie from Group Health for serendipitously taking a tour of Swedish Hospital and stepping out of a crowd to hug me and cry with me when I fell into her arms to tell her that Georgia was going to be okay.

Nurse Alice taking such good care of Georgia

• Nurse Alice for helping Georgia immediately when she was born and caring for her in the NICU during her first night at Group Health Hospital. Alice put Georgia into my arms for the first time. She also works at Swedish Hospital and was our nurse the second-to-last night in the hospital when Georgia was able to room-in with me. I was again so happy to have a familiar face. Alice actually picked up an additional shift to be with us again the following night before we went home from the hospital. I cried when we hugged her goodbye.
• My husband for being such a strong rock during that emotional week. He was the logistics and communications man.  He is my foundation.
• Xavier for being such a good brave boy. You already are the best big brother.
• And to all of you for your calls, emails, texts, presents, flowers and love sent over the past few weeks. We felt the love and it carried us through.

Whew, birth...what an epic, crazy, beautiful, scary and intense journey. Thankfully my daughter came through healthy and hearty. Georgia and I are both now enjoying the "fourth trimester" as she sleeps, nurses, poos, and goes back to sleep again. She makes all these sweet little snuffling, sighing, grunting, cooing noises. She guzzles milk like she is doing keg-stands. She is nonplussed as Xavier goes about his general rowdy toddler play and doesn't mind when he rubs her head, kisses her eyes and not-so-gently squeezes her in hugs. Her personality at this point is remarkably relaxed, given what she's been through. She gazes at us all with the calm eyes of heaven. She's a keeper.

And Georgia, meet everybody. I can't wait to introduce you in person to all the wonderful people who love you.

She Will Gather Roses

When I found out I was pregnant, I asked Anne Marie Belanger of Fait Pour Toi to make me a little blonde doll, hoping for a baby girl. Soon after, we found out we are having a girl! Xavier now carries "his" doll around and tells everyone proudly, "I'm having a baby sister. I'm bigger and stronger. I'm going to be a big brother."

She is due to arrive in the next two weeks and I am very ready to meet her. We've checked off all the practical preparations:  she has quite an extensive wardrobe assembled from gifts as well as boxes and boxes of adorable hand-me-downs sent from friends and relatives (and a few tiny pieces I couldn't resist buying her myself). Hospital bag is packed and we've toured the maternity unit. We've flipped her into head-down position with the help of some acupuncture and moxibustion. I've been doing sporadic prenatal yoga classes and our awesome midwife Sally is at the ready.

The most important preparation however is emotional. Some important women in my life gathered together to throw me a Blessingway and I am so very thankful. Planned mostly in secret by my dear friends Michele, Julie and Catherine (with some logistical help from Christian), a whole weekend was set aside for me to be surrounded by women who love me. What a gift.

First, the girls whisked me off to the Olympus Spa for a soak and a prenatal massage. Then we gathered for a slumber party at a swish hotel downtown for time to chat and laugh while Michele adorned my belly with henna with this intricate design she drew freehand!

Julie organized a candle-lit ceremony around an altar containing a flower to symbolize sweet conception, a shell to symbolize pregnancy and the water home that nurtures and protects life, a piece of lightning glass to symbolize the magic of nature, a gourd to symbolize transformation and an open seed pod to symbolize birth.

In the morning, we met up with more friends for brunch and all-too-rare girl time to chat, laugh and tell stories. Julie had asked all the guests to bring a quote or poem for me to assemble into a special keepsake box. She also included distant friends and relatives who sent in cards by email and post. As we read the thoughtful quotes and poems out loud around the table, we all shed happy tears.

  
This precious box of notes from very dear women in my life is such a treasure. It is a beautiful addition to the journal I've been keeping throughout this pregnancy, like I did with my first one. It has been important for me to record my emotional landscape while anticipating her arrival. Here is a recent lullaby I found to slip into it:

She Will Gather Roses

A Tsimshian Lullaby for Girls

This little girl

only born to

gather wild roses.

Only born to

shake the wild rice loose

with her little fingers.

Only to collect the sap

of young hemlocks

in spring. This woman-

child was only born

to pick strawberries,

fill baskets with

blueberries, soapberries,

elderberries. This

little girl was

only born to

gather wild roses.

~ Weave Little Stars Into My Sleep:  Native American Lullabies



We are all prepared for you, little one. Come when you are ready.

Five Years Hence

Happy First Day of Autumn! I love this season for the crispness in the air and that crackling anticipation of a new beginning. I get so excited to buy fresh blank notebooks and begin new projects. My birthday is in autumn, so it is also a natural time for me to spend a bit of time in self-contemplation to think about where I am along this life path and where I want to go next.

As much as I love to make lists, I've never really been a big long-term thinker. I'm more a short-term planner, as in what cultural events are on this month, what recipes should I try this week, what books are on deck...that kind of thing.

I gave this book 5: Where Will You Be Five Years From Today? to my husband a while back thinking it would inspire us to fill in our goals together. It has since sat on my shelf whispering reproachfully to me. While I have read the great motivational quotes within, we have yet to do the fill-in-our-goals part. However, going through some papers, I came across a list of things I wanted to do in life - dated exactly five years ago in 2009. I was astonished and pleased to see that here, five years later, I can check off many of the items. Five years has a way of seeming like a very long time and a very short time simultaneously. But during this particular chunk, from age 35-40 a lot of big stuff has happened:

• Worked for Starquest Expeditions - traveled to Peru, China, Samoa, Australia
• Traveled to Oaxaca for six weeks to study Spanish
• Moved to Argentina for six months but ended up on an icebreaker sailing to Antarctica with One Ocean Expeditions which I continued for three seasons.
• Got engaged
• Traveled to Guadeloupe
• Eloped to the courthouse on New Year's Eve
• Moved to Canada
• Got married again (to the same man) with family and friends in attendance in Vancouver
• Honeymooned in Vietnam
• Worked for Outstanding in the Field as the "Director of International Events"
• Got pregnant
• Had a miscarriage
• Got pregnant again a month later
• Pulled off a European Farm Dinner Tour for Outstanding in the Field - six dinners, six countries, three weeks.
• Spent a month in Italy with Christian
• Got laid off along with the rest of the company and scrambled to find a job whilst three months pregnant
• Watched in awe as my body grew a human
• Gave birth to my son
• Took full advantage of Canada's very civilized year-long maternity leave policy 
• Bought a house in Seattle and moved back to the United States
• Started this blog
• Traveled to Turkey, France, Hawaii, England, Gulf Islands
• Got pregnant
• Watched in awe as my body grew another human

     and in a few short weeks I am about to....

• Give birth to my daughter
• Turn 40 (How is that possible? I didn't think I would mind when it loomed far-off in the future. Now that is is suddenly upon me, I do rather mind.)

But looking back over the list, I realize I have well-earned 40 - not that I'm quite there yet - and I have packed quite a bit into these past five years. Perhaps writing that list helped plant some seeds which grow to fruition. That is the whole point of taking the time to physically write down your goals, according to the experts. What adventures await in the next five years? Time to write my Five Years Hence Plan.  Let's steer this ship.

Peach Pancakes

Oh no, summer is not over yet. I've been waiting, only somewhat patiently, for the local peaches to ripen and that time is finally here. My mom used to make peach pancakes when I was growing up and the taste takes me right back to childhood summers. We are visiting my mother and my sister's family in Idaho for Labor Day Weekend. This has become an annual road trip over the past several years and this year is extra special because it is the first time we are meeting my new niece Evelyn! 

First thing on our first morning, Mary Ellen made peach pancakes for us, which we ate slathered with butter and sprinkled with sugar in her lovely and shady backyard. These taste even more delicious when you have a sweet baby on your lap making little newborn mewings and sighs.

Our husbands then took themselves off on their own adventures for the weekend, so my mother, sister and I are having rare girl time to play with the kids, go to the farmer's market, attend a pig roast, play three-handed cribbage and just laugh and chat.

Yesterday we picked up another flat of perfectly ripe peaches from Tonnemaker's Farm at the Moscow Farmer's Market in order to make more peach pancakes. I love this small town market where we run into my sister's friends, play at the playground, dance to the band and stroll with the community.

We had more peach pancakes this morning and I daresay we will be having them the next two mornings also. Here is the recipe my sister uses and my mother approves. Note: You may want to double or triple the recipe. Trust me.

Peach Pancakes

1 cup whole wheat flour

1 cup milk

1 egg

1 T. baking powder

2 T. sugar

1/4 t salt

3 T. coconut oil

Mix all ingredients together and add fresh diced peaches to the batter.

Another fun recipe that I want to try is the mini peach pies from my cousin Jessica's blog, although I may be too lazy this weekend.

And because he captures the joy of biting into a fresh peach so well, I give you poet Li-Young Lee on peaches:

From Blossoms

From blossoms comes

this brown paper bag of peaches

we bought from the boy

at the bend in the road where we turned toward   

signs painted Peaches.

From laden boughs, from hands,

from sweet fellowship in the bins,

comes nectar at the roadside, succulent

peaches we devour, dusty skin and all,

comes the familiar dust of summer, dust we eat.

O, to take what we love inside,

to carry within us an orchard, to eat

not only the skin, but the shade,

not only the sugar, but the days, to hold

the fruit in our hands, adore it, then bite into   

the round jubilance of peach.

There are days we live

as if death were nowhere

in the background; from joy

to joy to joy, from wing to wing,

from blossom to blossom to

impossible blossom, to sweet impossible blossom.

~ Li-Young Lee

A New Family Heirloom

When I was a kid, I used to gaze in awe and envy at the art hanging in my best friend Anne's home. Her grandmother painted three beautiful life-size portraits of Anne and her two brothers as young children, maybe age 4 or 5. The paintings seemed so romantic and old-fashioned and very, very special. They made Anne and her brothers seem extra important and adored. I wanted someone to paint me. Looking back, I guess that was the spark that fanned my love of great portraiture and I've always been drawn to the work of John Singer Sargent, Edouard Manet, Thomas Gainsborough and Ingres. I love to imagine the inner thoughts of their subjects, now-long-gone, looking straight back at me from their frames. If I had lived one hundred years ago and had loads of money, I would have sat for a portrait at eighteen or before my wedding or with my family and hung the portrait over our grand fireplace. This is the same part of me that as a bookish and romantic child wanted to have a coming out ball, go away to boarding school and summer on the French Riviera - none of these normal things for a girl growing up in South Dakota.

But now that I am an adult with my own son, I can have his portrait painted. I've been looking for someone to capture his spirit in a style I like. I found that someone in the Ukraine thanks to Etsy and her name is Inna, aka Miss Black Eyes. In this day and age of digital photography, it is easy to send a jpeg file half-way around the world to a talented artist who can take her time to paint an energetic 2-year-old who would never be still enough for an actual sitting. 

Thank you, Inna, for turning this photograph of my son...

...into this beautiful oil portrait!

I can't wait to have Inna paint a portrait of my daughter, due to join our family in October, to hang next to this in two years time. These will be our new family heirlooms.

Like A Definition Of Love

We have arrived home in Seattle and it is hot here. Well, relatively hot. Hot for the Pacific Northwest. Windows are thrown open, we don't turn on lights and we can barely sleep with sheets on. No one in this part of the world has air-conditioning and we only need fans maybe this one week of the year. It doesn't help to be 31 weeks pregnant. I'm feeling nostalgic for the white house with green shutters where I grew up, which had a wrap-around upstairs sun porch off my parents' room. We'd ro-sham-bo to sleep in the canopy bed out there in the summers. Soft breezes would rustle the leaves on the trees, drift through the big screen windows and lull you to sleep. Even better was sleeping out there during a big old midwestern summer thunder storm (I miss those too). Ruth Stone's poem below taps into that childhood memory and melds with the everything-is-right-in-the-world-feeling I have now when my sleeping son is curled up against me. Isn't it amazing how another person's poem, someone else's very specific experience, can hurl you beautifully back into your own life? 


Green Apples

In August we carried the old horsehair mattress
to the back porch
and slept with our children in a row.
The wind came up the mountain into the orchard
telling me something:
saying something urgent.
I was happy.
The green apples fell on the sloping roof
and rattled down.
The wind was shaking me all night long,
shaking me in my sleep
like a definition of love,
saying, this is the moment,
here, now.

~ Ruth Stone