Posts Tagged ‘magic’

30-365 THREE

June 21, 2013

The only thing I thought tonight’s walk would have going for it was that I was wearing sandals, shorts, and a sweatshirt. Such a summer’s evening outfit, I thought, even as I stifled a yawn and cursed having to leave the house. I planned on an amble, taking it easy as I’m sore from yesterday.

Well, I didn’t count on the storm system that was blowing in. The wind was cold and fierce, and at one point I realised I was leaning into it and it was holding me. I went along to the woods/meadow I walked in the first night, hoping for shelter, and you know what? It was AWESOME. The wind was whipping the leaves of all the trees upside down, so they looked all silvery. The grasses in the meadow were rippling violently and it was just beautiful. That wind blew a smile onto my face, and I swear I opened my arms up and just smiled so wide I thought my face would crack in half.

On the way home, the wind dropped and I actually felt disappointed. In the stillness I noticed how achey my legs were – it would be a lie to say they weren’t – but then I realised I was thinking about my legs. Muscle aches. I didn’t even notice my pelvis. And that was the greatest gift the absent wind gave me. I felt like the old me, the ‘normal’ me, who was feeling the same aches and pains any other able bodied person might feel.

You’d better believe I smiled even bigger then, and the wind kicked up again just as I did. It was perfect.

30 minutes, 3.2 mph, 1.64 miles


To Aussie, and Walnut.

February 3, 2011

Something switched this evening. It started innocently enough.

Earlier in the day, Aussie had said, ‘But they aren’t really babies anymore, are they?’ We looked in silence at our children.

As the afternoon sun began to turn golden and then pink, we continued to sit in the lounge, talking about our days at Day Job, the lazy afternoons in the pub, pregnancy, etc. We laughed about her first visit up to see Snort and Coconut, her belly so swollen with the baby that would turn into the little boy dancing around with my children.

My eyes filled with tears.

It had been an afternoon of poop, of bumped heads, of macaroni thrown across the room. We sat as afternoon changed to evening, both reluctant to stop talking.

She was right. They aren’t baby babies anymore, not any of them. Not the three children standing around the play kitchen, seriously stirring things and puttting lids on pots. Not the three children poking each others’ bellies.

The tears began to spill; I felt unaccountably sad.

And then it all switched.

Neither of us had noticed when all three kids, so close in age they may as well be triplets, wandered as a pack into Snort and Coconut’s bedroom. But we noticed what happened next.

Little baby (sigh, no, little children) squeals of delight, periods of booming belly laughs. We locked eyes. We stopped talking and started listening. Seconds of laughter stretched into minutes stretched into forever.

‘If we go try to watch them,’ I whispered, ‘it will stop their fun.’

So we did the hardest thing, we sat back and let our babies go. They turned into children who chased each other up and down the hall, into children who bounced on the beds, into children with breathless laughter and happy exhaustion.

We sat. We listened.

‘It’s the next generation of you and me,’ I said.

‘My god, you’re right.’ We both smiled.

Our friendship has blossomed in the unlikeliest of ways. Both of us lived as far apart on the globe as you can imagine, both of us came to inhibit this small country so very far from our family and friends. We have the accents of outsiders, yet are united in the many cultural commonalities our home countries share.

We have become family, and we have become mothers.

Mothers of small children who inexplicably seem to be passing an empty  milk container back and forth. Mothers of small children who spent 45 minutes playing Рwithout any toys. Mothers who are friends, friends who listen and long and yet somehow, somehow, the sheer beauty of the evening makes us feel that little bit more aged, more beautiful, more lucky. More at peace.

Friends who are mothers of small children who become babies again as they toddle into the room, just to check we’re still here, the world is still functioning properly. Mothers who smile at these babies who become small children as they say ‘bye bye’, waving to us as they back out of the room, shutting the baby gate behind them, running down the hall.

My multipronged plan of healing.

January 18, 2011

I’m going to come at this from all sides. Not like a major campaign of war, but like a gentle and persistent approach.

One –

I’ve just ordered a necklace. Nothing special to you or anyone else, a cheap, small pendant on a chain. But it is an ancient Egyptian symbol of healing and protection. Scoff if you’d like, but I see it as a tangible way I can focus on healing – a sort of daily reminder to focus my energies. And hell, if it comes with its own innate superpowers, I’ll take ’em.

When I knew we were going to do IVF, I ordered a ‘fertility necklace’ that had some fertility related gemstones, silver fertility related charms, and a tiny piece of paper with a positive spell on it. Before I put it on I made TMD (against her cynical judgment!), hold hands with me, I said the little spell and visualized myself with a swelling belly, and then baby, and I put that necklace on. It did not come off until the day I gave birth.

Two –

We’ve not had our post today, so that means that Yogalates DVD may still come or it’ll be here tomorrow. Again, core exercises. I need to strengthen them, because mine are so weak it’s crazy. TMD points out that I often say rash and grandiose things like, ‘I will do exercise every day!’ and then if I don’t, I stop. Sort of an all or nothing kind of girl. That’s got to change.

Even if i do five minutes of these exercises two or three times a week….well, quite frankly, it’s more than I am doing now.

Three –

Someone mentioned the Bowen Technique to me. I’ve been googling and having a good old nose around – turns out that one of the world experts in SPD/PGP (a specialist physiotherapist, she actually writes all the articles on SPD for the major charities who support sufferers) recommends the Bowen Technique. My mom has just offered to pay for me to have this sort of treatment, and it turns out there are three or four practitioners about a half hour away. I’m going to write up a list of questions, ring them, and see if I vibe with any of them. Also if they work on weekends, because otherwise I won’t be able to have it.

Four –

The other non SPD/PGP related thing that may help, that does require a rash and grandiose commitment: writing. I’m going to commit to writing 500 words a day, which is nothing, really. Especially as I like writing. But it does fall by the wayside because I am so tired in the evenings – and like now, it hurts to physically sit up. So I’m going to get over this current Bad Time and then get back into it. I figure it’s a nice outside interest that is actually very inside me – and a nice reminder that I am capable of great, awesome things. (We hope.)

I feel like there was a ‘five’, but these first three things are really what are sticking out to me: belief, hard work, and help from others.

(Oh yes, there is a five. More on that later. And a six – weight loss, weight loss, weight loss. But for right now, and say it with me: belief, hard work, and help from others.)

Yummy (in my tummy).

October 9, 2008

When I was a child, I was quite mystical. I was drawn to rose quartz, fully believed in ghosts, and even had a ‘magic’ ring I believed I could control the weather with. I wanted to be a magician when I grew up. I walked alone for hours in the woods, along the beach, in the fields. Any weather, any time. I created stories and invisible others to people my life.

I had no trouble talking to my idea of God, no questions, no qualms.

I’m not that open to spirituality anymore, particularly anything that smacks of ‘crazy shit.’ I’m not sure why that is, although in sessions with Kleinette my distaste for my family’s extreme Catholic superstition came up again and again. I am simultaneously drawn to things…and repelled by them as well.

I feel embarassed to admit that I would like a little help from outside, a little magic to bolster me up a bit. I want to be able to believe in something, but the realist in me has squashed that. Now I think I look for things that just help me to believe in myself rather than an outside being. But I still like little charms, things that can be held and looked at.

With that in mind, I really want this: I love the necklace, and also have a little shine for the bracelet. Do I believe this is a magic thing that will make me get pregnant sooner rather than later? Not really. But do I feel a constant low level of stress – good and bad – about this whole trying to conceive thing? Yes. And would I like something tangible to make me feel a little bit better, something I can touch and be reminded of how worthwhile this all is? Yes. Do I want to have a secret delight in making ‘public’ what we are trying to do, all the while shielding the real meaning of the charms to protect us? Double yes.

All our money is going to go to the actual process of making a baby – and me getting my fricking license. I found that fertility website a few days ago, during a google moment, and was led to it again today by another blog.

Yesterday the rose quartz heart necklace my mother bought me when I was 15/16 broke, and I miss it. I think I just need to feel like I am doing something to help a little baby into being, and if I’m so hungry for it that wearing a necklace or bracelet helps, so be it. I am declaring myself open to receiving the above things, in the hope that they somehow float into my life.